Disclaimer in previous chapters. Please see Author's Notes at the end.

- x -

"It is the finding of this Parliament that Creta is in violation of the Treaty of Seines, articles one, two B, four, seven, eight, and twelve. Due to the nature of the violations, Amestris has no choice but to declare war."

It surely hadn't come as a surprise, and he watched the posturing of the four diplomats with a bored expression. They had had reason to be surprised two days ago, when they were graciously invited into the House only to be immediately placed under arrest and notified of their trial date. They also had had reason to be surprised when their government had demanded that the treaty section six be honored, and Amestris had ignored them entirely. He had ordered that not even an acknowledgement of receipt of the message be sent them.

But they had no reason to be surprised by the idea that Amestris would retaliate. They would have been facing her retaliation even if they had succeeded in capturing West. He hoped Parliament was as unimpressed as he was by the large eyes and sudden protests.

The Speaker was indeed largely ignoring the show, continuing to read from the accord they'd hammered out last night. "The full might of Amestris' State Military will be brought to bear on Creta if we do not receive her full and unconditional surrender by the fifteenth of the month." Giving them a full three days to consider whether it was worth it. Also giving the State military three days to get their act together, in case Creta called their bluff. "You are hereby released to convey the message to your country's leaders. You will be escorted to the Amestrian border and left with reasonable provisions to sustain you until your country should arrange rescue. We shall communicate our demands and your position via telephone and telegraph, and each of you shall bear one copy, signed and dated by this Parliament."

The redundancy added insult to injury, and the protesting Cretians were being quick to point it out. Luckily, the Speaker was carefully folding his document and paid them no more attention, addressing the Parliament as a whole. "At this time the prisoners will be released per the three-day deadline. Does any member have any objections at this time?"

While last night the objections might have been suggestions to send them over the border as the Cretians' declaration of war had been sent to Amestris, this morning everyone was too tired for such drama. The diplomats had been housed in the capitol building and while they hadn't been comfortable, in a concrete cell minus the usual provisions of a sink, toilet, furniture, or bedding, they had not been subject to significant amounts of taunting. In their defense, they truly were just the messengers, and Parliament had shied away from behavior that might link them back to the days of Bradley.

Roy had been slightly surprised to see that Hakuro supported this strategy, considering how he'd been handling the interrogations of the internal suspects. Who, unfortunately, were next on the agenda.

"There are no objections. General Hakuro, please carry out your duties as defined by the Parliament."

His duties turned out to be a rather noisy affair of Cretian bluster and gnashing of teeth, but soon enough the diplomats were herded out, and the House was rather quiet as they listened to the parade make its way toward the street, where an armed convoy waited to escort them to the train that would take them to West City.

"I don't suppose anyone remembered to give them the copy of the documents?" one speaker murmured, and the tension was broken by laughter. The Speaker looked over the assembled men, waiting patiently for the general to return before resuming session.

"I think that went rather well, gentlemen."

Full might of the military indeed. They had chosen quite ambiguous wording, perhaps a bit more than Roy himself would have. But then again, that was why they were Parliament, and he was the Prime Minister. Politics were a fact of life in the military, and he played them well, but he wasn't playing in the military court anymore, and the people's politics truly needed the responsibility of that role.

General Hakuro and one of his aides re-entered the room, and he bowed to both him and the Speaker. "The diplomats are safely on their way, Speaker, Minister. I daresay I've never had to babysit such large children in my life."

Another round of laughs from the House, and the general retook his seat. The Speaker cleared his throat. "Onto the next order of business. If it pleases the House, I call on General Hakuro to give us an update on the suspects currently being held in relation to the assassination attempts on Prime Minister Roy Mustang."

Roy remained silent and still in his seat at the bench while the general gathered up his notes and took the podium. Despite the long night and continued deliberations, he looked better than he had for several days, and his tone was brisk. "I'll get right to the point, gentlemen. We have only one signed confession at this time. The man we believe masterminded the plot, Avram Blane, has confirmed only what we are able to guess. Lieutenant Maves was released from the HQ infirmary this morning with thirty-nine stitches in the bitten limb, and at his own request is resuming his duties." The general turned to the next sheet amid almost pin-drop silence from Parliament.

Obviously the rumor of what Hakuro was going to share with them was out.

"The Mechanical Alchemist, the suspect widely believed to have performed most of the actual work, has been thus far unwilling to speak in his own defense. Due to his youth, the most serious forms of coercion are not being utilized with him, but it is the belief of the chief interrogator, Major General Lee Tash, that such measures will be necessary to extract honest and accurate information from him."

A brief murmur, but nothing more. "I stand before Parliament today to request that three trial dates be scheduled immediately for the following suspects: Avram Blane, citizen. Dr. Timothy Patterson, citizen. Franklin Sorn, major of Amestris' State military. All three suspects are to be charged with the following offenses: high treason, misprision of treason, sedition, and espionage. Avram Blane is to be additionally charged with kidnapping, assault, aggravated sexual assault, bioterrorism, several counts of attempted murder, and intent to commit murder. Timothy Patterson is to be additionally charged with two counts of attempted murder. Franklin Sorn is to be additionally charged with assault, assault on a superior officer, attempted murder, desertion, failure to carry out a direct order, forgery, and attempted human transmutation."

The hundred voices poured forth in a dull roar, and Mustang went over the list in his head. Attempted human transmutation instead of going for it all. The general would put a humanitarian spin on it, but it was probably the best he thought he could prove. Fletcher had apparently refused to admit to the general's interrogation staff that he had seen the Gate, saying he remembered suffocating and then waking up in the same room. And no one had given Sorn the opportunity to demonstrate that he could indeed perform alchemy without an array. He wasn't sure the teen was stupid enough to demonstrate even if he was given the opportunity. Or whether he actually could. Unless Alphonse's theory that Sorn transmuted a Philosopher' Stone years ago was correct, it was fully possible Sorn just happened to get to Fletcher in the nick of time.

The Speaker was to his right, and tilted his head towards Mustang without looking at him. "Are you permitting the release of all details?"

The general and the Speaker had always had most of the details, and once he'd included them, requiring them to stay silent was equivalent to wrapping blackmail material in festive ribbons and having it delivered via candygram. "Of course." And if Creta got wind that the alchemist that was helping them was intent on human transmutation, all the better. It only strengthened their military position.

The Speaker stood. "I will have quiet on the floor," he demanded, and eventually the men settled down. "Your list of charges is quite serious indeed. Do you feel you have sufficient evidence to proceed with such trials at this time?"

The general inclined his head. "We do, Speaker."

That was pretty direct. "Do any of the members have questions for the general at this time?"

This time the speakers were required to be recognized before speaking, and the questioning process went along a bit more smoothly. Explain the human transmutation charge. Explain the bioterrorism charge. The general was quite patient as he laid out the truth in concise, easy to understand sentences. He did an acceptable job of keeping his personal opinion out of things, and was forced by Morian, of all people, to explain the reasons for Patterson's, then Sorn's role in Blane's quest for a Philosopher's Stone.

"Are there further questions for the general?"

"What steps will be taken to ensure the process is objective?" Morian indicated the bench. "As you know, trials including charges of high treason are overseen by Parliament in conjunction with the judicial system. Though he is a victim and will be called upon to testify, the personal relationship of two of the accused with the Prime Minister would normally exclude him from the sentencing proceedings. Will such an exclusion be advised for these trials?"

As if one vote would make much difference. Mustang considered moving that Morian's comment was inflammatory and should be struck from the records, but it was a valid point. He would be called upon the stand to testify that people came to try to kill him. If he was very lucky, he could weasel out of having to swear under oath that he had seen the Cretian plot coming all along.

Lying under oath at this juncture would require one hell of a good reason.

Hakuro hesitated. "Due to the unique nature of these proceedings, having never occurred under a people's government, I recommend we call upon the Prime Minister to vote objectively. As you pointed out, he is the victim of this plot, and his life and the lives of his people were placed in danger, but as a prominent political figure, that is to be expected of each of us. I do not believe it will cause him to unduly punish the accused."

That wasn't how Morian had meant it and he knew it well, but Hakuro finished it with such finality that he could hardly protest. The Speaker didn't seem ruffled by the question, and when everyone indicated they had no more questions, the vote was taken.

Two days.

- x -

"You really weren't kidding, were you."

The familiar realization that someone was talking about him, again, while he was right there washed over him, and Edward Elric pried open his eyes to glare death and destruction on the guilty party.

The guilty party, quite unfortunately, was currently being protected by thick steel bars. He was also grinning disarmingly. "Wow," he continued in a chipper voice. "It does work."

"I think he's conditioned himself to respond to it," Al agreed, seated safely on a cot that was too far away to reach. "But he falls asleep so often and so deeply the only way to wake him up is to piss him off."

"That's because it's all you've tried," Ed grumbled nastily, realizing that he had indeed drifted off. Again. "I'm sure I'd be in a much better mood if I wasn't getting picked on all the time."

"You'd be in a much better mood if you didn't have the heart of an eighty year old," Russell corrected him, from well within beating distance. His wheelchair had been brought quite close to the bars to allow Fletcher Tringum to be tested as well as to assess in diagnosing him. He had been vaguely alarmed when Al had been revealed as the performer of the healing alchemy that had been used on him thus far, and had barely stopped himself from demanding Winry to tell him what the hell she thought she was doing letting Al of all people use alchemy on him. At the last second he remembered that Pinako was probably still in Central if Winry was, and he knew exactly what she'd put in her chart.

But as soon as she'd left, he'd forbade Al from any more alchemy and demanded that if he was that determined, he needed to get the Tringums involved. And neither had wanted to do that, since Russ was all but incarcerated with Fletcher to keep Hakuro from torturing the poor kid, so he'd thought he was home free.

Until Al - or Winry - or both - had conned Dr. 'I'll yell' into allowing this little field trip. Only after his water therapy, of course, and the accidental nap that had occurred while he was waiting for the nurses to hoist him out . . . and when he was drying off . . . and the trip back to the room . . . and apparently the next few hours. He felt like one of Al's stupid kittens, couldn't even keep his damn eyes open.

So he found it exceptionally tacky that the guy he'd covered himself in blankets for and allowed himself to be wheeled visibly through half the Prime Minister's wing for would be giving him a hard time. "It's not that bad."

Though he'd fallen asleep during the evaluation, apparently. Unless they put him out on purpose . . .or they fucked up and he passed out . . .

Or Russ was right. The physician in him readily agreed with the elder Tringum's assessment. He was going to be this weak for at least ten or eleven days more, and probably wouldn't be fully up to snuff for months. It was almost as bad as getting automail.

Which, incidentally, had not helped him in the least. The strain on his body, carrying automail as a child, had been huge, and had probably shaved a few years off his life. This had certainly not helped. He sobered a little as he realized, yet again, that he was rather glad he'd missed whatever Luis had done to him between the time he started and the time he woke up to find himself in front of a firing squad.

And he could only hope the kid was either too damn proud or too socially maladjusted to have been affected by however it had looked and sounded. Hopefully once he'd lost time he'd stopped showing the pain.

This new doc was right. He was damn lucky.

"Maybe the soul of one, too. You're getting downright crotchety, Full Metal."

Luckier than he had any right to be.

"You wander around in enemy territory missing you know what and we'll see how happy you are," he grumbled in return, but he didn't mean it. His own tests had confirmed that there was a soul - maybe Fletcher's, maybe someone else's - attached to that body. It was worth the teasing to confirm that Fletcher was indeed alive and well and sitting in front of him, in a cell or not. Currently scratching his head with a gauze-wrapped arm that didn't seem to be paining him much at all.

"Need another blanket, then, old man?"

Ed glared at him, but didn't move his arm to hit him. Russell was on his right, and he couldn't very well beat on the younger man without giving away to his guard - who was, in actuality, Vato Falman, and unlikely to say anything - that his right arm was flesh and blood. It was in a long-sleeve shirt under piles of blankets, but it was flesh and blood nonetheless. His left leg, if anyone could see it through the pants and yet more blankets, was the same.

Dalyell had allowed him to go to provide the Prime Minister with information pertaining to a victim of one of the accused, but she had not allowed the armor to go with him. If he got caught, it was on his head. She'd made that clear.

She'd also given him a tiny bag of light yellow, familiar looking fluid that left him almost pain-free without the noxious braincloud, and he didn't need to ask Al if he'd recognized it as well. He'd been staring at his own pair of pills in a paper cup with a shocked look on his face, and she'd indicated they'd been checked and manufactured explicitly for them from Dr. Patterson's notes.

He had almost asked, but thought better of it. And knowing the doc was only a few cells down the hall, he couldn't quite bring himself to ask Winry to take him down there. Not just yet. She'd probably refuse, thinking it would be too upsetting.

And it would be. Too upsetting for Patterson. He was too damn tired to get worked up about anything. Almost too tired to even perform simple alchemy, apparently.

"I bet I could transmute you into a nice one," he said quickly, when he realized he'd been thinking too long. "So what's the verdict, sonny?"

Russ's amused look fell flat. "You feel like every other heart attack survivor I've had the pleasure of treating. A few rounds of treatments can help, the first one already administered, of course."

Of course. He'd slept through it. "Should you be transmuting?" he asked Fletcher, who grinned again.

"Nothing else to do. Besides, the arm's worse than it looks." It looked like it was wrapped in cotton, and he elaborated. "Seriously. Better to heal burns from the inside out. Right, Al?"

Ed glared daggers at his brother, who just held up his hands. "Hey, you said I couldn't do it to you. Didn't say anything about helping Russ with other people."

Winry was curled up on the cot beside his brother, watching them all with a happy but distracted look. She'd been thrilled that they'd asked her down to visit Fletcher, mainly because Al said he was certain Fletcher was Fletcher and there would be no risk of heartache to her. And she'd made Falman let her in the cell so she could properly hug the alchemist that had helped her make automail, and there had been tears all around. Now she seemed content to listen to them, despite the topic of conversation, and flashed him a quick smile when she caught him staring.

He still couldn't believe she'd let Al perform alchemy on him. Maybe she hadn't been in the room at the time. He almost wished she'd ask to use the powder room so he could try to talk the Tringums into taking care of Aunt Pinako, but the chances of a prison having a ladies room worth using was nil.

Besides. She'd have to go past that row of occupied cells again. Not even he was looking forward to that.

"If I didn't say it before, I've got a meeting with the bastard right after this, and I'll kick his ass for you if you want."

"Get in line, Ed."

Fletcher gave his brother a slightly reproachful look. "It's my own fault for not defending myself," he said, a little more seriously. "Don't be mad at him for this. I'm not." He waved the arm around. "I'm lucky he didn't do worse."

That was probably more true than the younger Tringum realized. Roy had taken a hell of a risk. "He's lucky you didn't do worse," Ed grumbled, but without heat. "I'm pretty sure any of us could take him in a fair fight."

Fletcher opened his mouth, then shook his head, while Russ got a glassy look in his eyes. "Not that I've put any thought into it, but you realize all it would take is-"

Ed laughed outright when Falman cleared his throat, relieved to hear other laughter reverberating with his. He was actually glad the entire thing had been settled before he'd even been back in Central. It was a hell of a lot better to hear that Fletch was alive and well than hear there was a homunculus running around.

But some of the things he'd heard had been less than pleasant. "So, I assume he's been down here and talked to you?"

Fletcher sobered and nodded. "Yeah. I told him . . . everything I remember." Which Al had told him, sometime late yesterday afternoon. Then Fletcher seemed to square his resolve. "Can you tell if my soul has ever been unattached?"

Edward regarded the man. He still thought of Fletcher as a sweet little kid, though half the time, when he wasn't being an ass, he thought of Al the same way. Sometimes it was hard to remember that this sweet little kid was a genius, and an accomplished alchemist. One who knew nearly as much about the Gate as they did, now. One who had seen it more than once.

One who knew enough to ask.

"Hard to tell," he hedged. He knew where the question was going, and Al's fears that Sorn had actually transmuted a Philosopher's Stone before they had. That he'd used it, and had to use it, because Fletch had actually died. "You say you remember the Gate closing, though, right?"

Fletcher hesitated, then nodded. "They seemed happy to see me," he murmured. "It felt like they recognized me."

They might've. Ed glanced toward Al, who had wrapped his arm around Winry's shoulder. She looked far less happy with the conversation than she had before, and he knew it was an uncomfortably close subject for her at the moment. Talking about death, and what Fletcher had seen. "Al, when . . . you were there, did-"

He shook his head. "Reacted differently to everyone. Or I guess everyone reacted differently to it. People that tried to run away got grabbed much faster, people who just walked in were never touched." He hesitated. "Fletch, when you were telling us about it, you said that you heard voices."

Fletcher gave Al a very odd look indeed, but he answered. "They were laughing, and talking to me. I don't know if I didn't know the language, or I did then and I don't remember it anymore, or if I could even make it out . . ." He shook his head, and looked back towards Ed. "Does that mean anything?"

Nothing good. And he knew damn well that he'd hated it when sensei had known things about the Gate and not told him, so he asked the question in front of all of them. "You thinking what I'm thinking, Al?"

His brother thinned his lips. "If it has to do with hanging on to him for a reason, yeah."

And it did. The Gate had seen him before - when he'd come to get something it had taken. He'd been with others who had done the same thing, so it stood to reason that someone would come for him. Someone who had something to trade, instead of someone demanding fair trade.

Instead of passing through as he should have, something held him up, and before Sorn got there.

He sighed. "And you don't remember anything after the doors shut?"

Fletcher shook his head mutely. Russ, on the other hand, was getting more agitated by the second. "What are you saying-"

"We're saying that either the Gate took something from him and he hasn't realized it yet, or the Gate did recognize him, and held onto him because it knew one of us would come for him." And having a personal relationship with the Gate like that, Ed could tell them from experience, was not a good thing.

"And . . . what? It can take him back?"

Ed shook his head quickly. "No. His soul's on there tight, Sorn didn't bind it with an array. He actually did it properly." Which was surprising, actually. Attaching a soul, he'd found, was a good deal of sensing and instinct and not very related to math and equations. "Which is more than you say he did for Fletch's body."

Russell's expression was dark. "There wasn't much damage left by the time I got to him. And more important things to work on."

Like his arm.

Ed nodded. Well, unless the kid manned up and admitted to using a Stone, or the Gate had taken something besides tissue, some part of Fletcher's mind or soul, they'd probably never really know what happened. "And Sorn hasn't said anything?"

Russ shook his head. "Not a word. If he doesn't start talking soon . . ." He didn't finish the sentence, but they were all thinking it. If he didn't start talking soon, the fact he was a 'whelp' wasn't going to mean much here at all.

"Well, then wheel me over." Sorn had made some admittances, maybe he could make a few more. Of course, if Al was right, the kid was facing the truth that he'd murdered forty innocent people, and even though he'd used them to bring someone back from the very edge, it was still murder. Something he'd told himself at the time, probably, would never happen, because he'd still believed he could go back in time.

Hell. He might still believe it.

Falman cleared his throat again, and Ed tried to give him an irritated look over his shoulder. His neck, shoulders, and back protested dully, and he gave up and relaxed. "You wanted to add something, first lieutenant?"

Vato's voice was quite innocent when he replied. "Franklin Sorn is unavailable for questioning per General Hakuro's orders."

Ed mulled that over for a minute. "So?"

"So if we transmute our way in there he'll accuse us of trying to break the kid out and arrest us," Russ grumbled. "I don't like the idea of what he'll do to Sorn any better than you do, but I've already had this conversation. And all I wanted to do was thank him." It was a bit too bitter to be true. More like interrogate him to find out what he'd done to Fletcher and why he'd bothered.

"You had a conversation with Hakuro?"

Russ's expression was quite unpleasant. "Can he still walk?"

Al's eyebrows shot for his hairline. "Yeah, okay, stupid question."

The general atmosphere seemed to get a bit heavier as everyone withdrew into their thoughts, and Edward was quite irritated to find himself being jostled out of the elevator.

More irritated at having been woken up than the fact that he'd fucking drifted off. Again.

"-should really do it to Mustang," Al murmured to Winry. "I've been wanting to do that for years."

"Fall asleep while he's going on and on about some inane bullshit?" he mumbled, just to see if his suddenly joining the conversation would surprise them.

"Exactly," Al confirmed, tone positively nasty.

Ed gave a jaw-cracking yawn. "Did we say goodbye to the Tringums?"

"Some of us did," Winry responded, turning his wheelchair for the main hall. "They said they expect Fletcher to be released fairly soon, and they'll come visit you next time."

Good. Tringums in the hospital meant that much closer to Pinako. All he had to do was get rid of Dalyell and Ackernath. Even if Pinako was angry at him, that was okay. So long as she didn't take it out on Russ or Fletch -

Which she would. Cranky old bat. Maybe they could give her something.

Ed blinked, then shook his head. Somehow drugging Aunt Pinako was just . . . just wrong, somehow. Disrespectful. Even though she would and had done it to him faster than he could blink when he was getting the automail.

Of course, he'd been being a stupid stubborn kid. Which wasn't unlike the way she was being.

"Nii-san?"

He rolled his head on his shoulders until he found his brother, walking easily beside the wheelchair. Someone had gotten himself discharged that morning, adding salt to the wound, and despite the sling apparently his shoulder was much better.

"Just not looking forward to giving the bastard a report right now." He really wasn't sure what to say. He'd fucked up. He was supposed to make the kid disappear and not get caught, and he hadn't done either. If someone didn't transmute Franklin and Patterson the hell out of there, he wasn't sure how Mustang could protect them. Fake their deaths, like Havoc had faked his?

Very Bradley thing to do. Tucker came immediately to mind.

Of course, if Sorn hadn't found that human transmutation circle, he probably wouldn't have been able to save Fletch. It was a confusing hodgepodge that made his head hurt, and he tried to ignore the curious stares he was getting as Winry rolled him effortlessly toward the Prime Minister's offices.

Goodman watched them enter, not stopping them to examine the wheelchair like he would have expected, and it only belatedly occurred to him that there was likely a very good reason for that that included not giving away his lack of automail to the most important people in Amestris. Colonel Hawkeye was crossing the lobby, having just taken a report from Challiel, and she glanced up coolly.

"Good afternoon," she greeted them, then gave them a brief smile. "Ms. Rockbell, what a pleasant surprise."

"Hi," Winry replied, the smile evident in her voice. A way out, Ed realized, and he leaned his head back until he'd butted her in the stomach.

"I think Al can handle pushing me around for a while. He's been doing it since he was four." His brother, oddly, didn't smile or nod. "I promise I won't leave you with her too long."

Winry gave him a look that was withering, even upside-down. "The colonel is pleasant and civilized, unlike present company, and if she has the time, I would love to share a cup of tea with her."

Shortly he was handed off to Alphonse, who was uncharacteristically silent, and they both watched Winry disappear into the colonel's office. Sheska had also poked her head around the corner, apparently at their voices, and she gave them both a hasty salute before peeking curiously into Hawkeye's office. Ed gave her a smile.

"She misses you too," he said, and Sheska gave a guilty start.

"Oh, I was just making sure I'd heard her, sir, I'll just stop by a moment-"

Good thing Win didn't know Challiel, or all Mustang's female staff would be having a tea party.

He waved to her, letting Al propel him towards the Prime Minister's door, and it opened as if by magic to show them Brooks. His gaze was tangible as it swept them up and down, and then he stepped aside. Neither said anything to him, and Al pushed him towards the desk at the far end of the room, where the Prime Minister was standing. His hands were empty despite the paperwork there, and he was surveying it as if he had no idea where to even start. His first glance didn't seem to really recognize them, but the second take lingered far longer.

"Good afternoon," he greeted them, and Al put the wheelchair in park between the two chairs. Ed fiddled with one of the blankets. He couldn't even shake the man's hand without showing off his shoulder, and he wasn't in the mood to try to pile them all on properly again.

In fact, he recognized that he was also comfortable, and moving them might make him cold. The last thing he wanted to do was start shivering. Al was probably unhappy enough at the length of the current excursion. And just because Al'd been discharged didn't mean Dr. Dalyell couldn't still make his life miserable.

"This couldn't wait?" Ed asked bluntly, and Roy gave him a rare smile.

"I assume your assessment of Fletcher Tringum agreed with your brother's?"

He shrugged. "Al's the expert, not me." Then he lowered his voice, just out of habit. "Sorn did a good job."

Mustang paused a moment, clearly weighing something. "As relieved as I am to hear that, it's not actually why I called you here." He made no move to kick Al out, and after a moment he seemed to come to some sort of decision, and leaned on an empty corner of his desk.

"As I'm sure you're aware, you arrived in West City without automail." Trust the bastard to get right to the point. "Olivier and Alex Armstrong took great pains to hide this from the men, as well as Havoc and Breda during your transport to Central." He let that hang in the air a moment, but Ed didn't see a need to interject, and after a moment he continued.

"If you wanted to keep the armor, you conceivably could."

Edward blinked at him, taken aback. " . . . and why . . ."

And then it clicked.

Mustang was watching him carefully. "It is common belief among the Cretians that you died. They did execute you, after all. It was also initially reported to us that your body had arrived in West. Alphonse Elric was nowhere to be seen at the time. " and Roy gave his brother a considering look. "It will also be common knowledge tomorrow if it is not already that Franklin Sorn stands accused of attempted human transmutation."

He was giving him an out. A permanent out with the armor.

"The Stone we supposedly took from Craege Irving."

Roy shrugged. "I thought you should consider it. I doubt an excuse will come again in your lifetime."

Whether that was a crack about how close he'd cut it this time or a warning that his shenanigans would not be tolerated further was up in the air.

"Do you really want to say that you've used it if the Cretians haven't capitulated yet?"

"I have never performed human transmutation," he replied smoothly. "Though I believe if I had had an amplifier in my possession at the time I gave you your orders, I would have been inclined to give it to you as well. If you were then in possession of said amplifier and were grievously injured on the battlefield, I don't doubt that in that state you might surpass healing alchemy and accidentally rebuild your lost limbs."

Which would put him right back where he was now, a walking admittance of human transmutation. "I doubt Parliament will be any happier about it if it's accidental."

Mustang shrugged. "You're the liar, Edward. I'm sure you can come up with something if you put your mind to it."

He bristled before he could stop himself, though he had no energy to get really pissed off. "You want my report or not?"

Roy watched him, really looked at him for such a long time it started to make him feel uncomfortable. Even though he knew damn well it was just Mustang's way of getting him to admit his own uncertainties, and hell, he'd used it on Franklin down in the dirt tunnels, he still felt like squirming.

He didn't, however, give in, and eventually Roy modulated his gaze. "Is there anything you can tell me I don't already know?"

Probably not. "Sorn transmutes without an array."

Roy inclined his head. "I guessed he might. He's bound in an alchemist's chair. I doubt he will escape."

Edward chewed carefully on those seemingly innocent words. "Fletch feels the same way I do. Kid was used. And so was Patterson."

Mustang stood suddenly, looping around to the proper side of his desk. "Anything else?"

No. "Is Havoc around?"

Roy glanced at one of the piles on his desk. "He's taken leave."

Dammit. "I'm sorry. I really thought I had it."

. . . whoops. Where the hell had that come from?

Behind him, he heard Al's breathing still, and Mustang looked up. Again with the searching eye, but much less intense. "Your performance of your duties was acceptable. Your current state is not. Do not return from any future missions in such poor shape again."

If he'd wanted to be an ass, he would have said that Roy was telling him to just finish dying and spare them all the drama, or telling him he wasn't going to luck out like this again. But he was too tired to be an ass, and he was frankly floored that Roy would speak so openly, particularly in front of Al.

"Think on my offer," he said dismissively, turning back to his desk and surveying it for a likely point of entry. "Will you need transportation back to the HQ hospital?"

"We can handle it," Al replied, and withdrew the wheelchair. They were back out in the main offices before Ed leaned his head back and glanced up at his brother.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," he answered, giving him a quick smile. "Just thinking."

"About?"

"The fact that we've been out longer than three hours. We might be better off trying to get you to the border than trying to sneak by Dr. Dalyell."

- x -

Author's Notes: Oooo . . . no, wait. No plot. Just filler. Ed now has an out with the automail, but he doesn't seem too happy about it. Mustang is trapped between a rock and a hard place both with Creta and with the 'suspects.' Sorn and Patterson are in deep trouble, and we haven't seen the last of Pinako.

Standard typo disclaimer applies. And I see some of you are already taking bets on the chapter numbers. Remember, that includes just fic, not any notes I might post. (To give you an idea, my notes file is currently 65 pages in length. Not kidding. Almost all of it is rewritten scenes.)