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

- x -

You won't agree, I'm sure, but looking back most of our disagreements have ended in your best interest. The enclosed papers include everything I've discovered since my partnership with Avram Blane. I don't put a lot of stock into reputation, and I have no favors to ask. I think your disappointment will probably be all you need to leverage these confessions to every advantage.

Utter nonsense.

It was a slow-burning anger, one long experience told him wasn't going away anytime soon, and Roy Mustang tossed his jacket onto the back of his chair, staring at his desk for quite a while before he realized it was much cleaner than usual.

This usually meant Challiel knew he was about to be meeting a dignitary. However, since his calendar was in plain sight on the upper left corner of his desk, he could see that wasn't the case. He had a one hour recess and then was scheduled to be right back in the chambers.

He took his seat stiffly, looking over what remained. All important, all needing review and not just a signature. He worked his way through about twenty of them, a good seven from Hakuro himself, trying to slip something by in his distracted state. At a quarter after the hour, Challiel appeared with his lunch and a cup of tea, and he nodded his thanks, gesturing at the mostly clean desk.

"Your mind was cluttered, sir," she told him matter-of-factly, taking the silvered lid from his platter and letting the trapped steam escape before placing it almost directly on top of the next document. "This and clearing your calendar for an hour was all I could do. Please eat this time. I have a four year old with better habits than you, Minister."

He accepted the chiding without comment, and she waited until he'd actually taken a bite of chicken before she left him. She was right and wrong at the same time; it was easy to crave mindless distraction when problems weighed too heavily on his mind. One of the reasons he had excelled in the military, as it was filled with triplicate forms and meritless approvals. But the fact that he could see desk made the task manageable, and maybe that was what she was getting at.

Too little too late. Someone else had already made it manageable.

Mustang pushed away from both the desk and his lunch, rubbing his thumb and middle finger together and letting his head fall onto the back of the chair. That bastard had taken everything right out of his hands. His revised confession included providing information to all the assassins, effectively taking away any reason to suspect Sorn. The order they'd found, scheduling the catastrophe drill in West, could be used in Sorn's defense or never tied back to him at all. The human transmutation charge could be argued, could always have been argued, but Patterson admitted now that it would have been possible to resuscitate Fletcher, and only four minutes would have elapsed before the paralytic was completely broken down, as he'd mixed it that way and there was no evidence to the contrary.

Sorn had never directly attacked him. As of that morning, all charges relating to conspiracy, espionage, and treason had been dropped by the prosecutor.

And all of this without a single page of written confession from Sorn. Between his original guard and Alphonse Elric, by the time Franklin had decided to talk, everything he said was protected by the State coercion clause. There was no record of Sorn contradicting any of it. The only thing Timothy Patterson hadn't managed to do was make sure that Franklin Sorn would actually go along with it.

Go along with blaming Patterson for almost everything he'd done.

Oh, Sorn was still going to face scrutiny for mining the Incomplete Stone, unregistered chimera, and somehow being involved with the Cretian army. He was pretty sure he could count on Fullmetal to give the boy a good alibi, Edward was still obviously feeling guilty for being unable to make the redhead disappear. His attempt at escape once in State custody could be explained as a desire to protect the State, or he could bargain with Hakuro to stifle the abuse Sorn suffered at the hands of his guards in exchange for watering down the facts. The piece of Craege Irving under his library could have been being kept for research purposes, not the first time an alchemist kept something illegally for that reason, and no one could prove that the traps Franklin had laid were not for Blane. Fear of the man could have driven almost everything Franklin had done.

No matter what Hakuro knew, he was limited to what he could prove.

As long as the redhead didn't throw away Patterson's sacrifice, the worst he would get was some jail time. Probably not even very much. That and fines he knew the boy could pay. And thanks to additional details, mostly medical in nature, the evidence against Blane for terrorism was more iron-clad than ever.

Excellent headlines, too. The people would get to see the mastermind assassin executed and know that the other partner, consumed with guilt, took his own life in a cold, spartan prison cell.

Both bodies would be cremated and buried in unmarked graves. Open and shut.

No threat to his people. No organizing rebels to stage a breakout. No hiding fugitives, no smuggling them to Xing. No need for Franklin to run at all.

Mustang remained where he was, quietly examining the texture of his gloves, and at a quarter till the hour, Challiel re-entered the office and issued her first-ever threat.

"Minister, if you don't want to finish your meal, may I present it to Black Hayate?"

- x -

No matter how guilty it felt, it also felt good, and knowing it wasn't the best thing for his brother, knowing it might even hurt him, he leaned hard on the offered shoulder, wondering what transmutation he could use to make it stop.

Ed didn't need this. He was hurt. He shouldn't have been out of his bed. He shouldn't have gone to the hospital until he was sure, sure that he had control of himself and could explain everything concisely. This was going to raise nii-san's blood pressure. Upset him. Dr. Dalyell had warned them against upsetting him, it was bad for his heart, hadn't Russell just finished telling him not to let nii-san strain himself? The anger surged upwards but came out as a sob, and his frustration only grew worse.

"I'm fine, nii-san-"

"I know." His tone was easy and low, and he slipped a flesh arm around him. Al's stomach churned as he realized that Edward had gone out in the hallway. Standing. When they transferred him to therapy he was wrapped in blankets in a wheelchair. Now he was in only boxers. People could have seen him. Seen his flesh arm and leg.

"You idiot," he chided, picking up his head to see Ed watching him, half a sad smile on his face. "You could have been seen."

Edward shrugged in that eloquent way of his. "Eh, I've been seen anyway. Only reason I can think of Hakuro hasn't been beating down the door to get a report out of me." His expression softened a little and Al felt more bitter guilt, but for some reason he just couldn't bring himself to move away.

Ed didn't need this, but he did.

"Can I help?"

And that was all it took. Every bit of composure he'd scrounged together since leaving the MPs was gone. It was bad enough that Winry had caught him in the hall, if she just hadn't touched him he'd have been fine, but she had, and she deserved to know, he didn't tell her before for the same reason Mustang hadn't told him and that made him just as bad and just as conflicted but this was completely different-

Alphonse Elric growled, wiping his face angrily. He couldn't even think straight! "No. You can't. I'm sorry, nii-san. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"You're upset," Ed told him matter-of-factly, and then lifted his chin. This was a signal to Winry; moments later a tissue floated into his line of sight, and Al accepted it, releasing his brother to wipe his nose. Ed kept a hand on his shoulder, though, and Al wanted to curl up around it and cry until his eyeballs fell out.

Unfortunately, he wasn't nine. And with everything else they'd been through, it was so strange to be this upset by something so commonplace. People died every day.

"You wanna talk about it?"

He crumpled the tissue and shook his head at Win as she tried to ply another one on him. "I'm - I didn't mean to be this upset when I told you." Al grabbed Winry's half-outstretched hand and tugged it so that the three of them were all sitting on the side of Ed's hospital bed. "Patterson . . . he died. Last night."

Winry pressed her lips together but didn't immediately tear up, and Edward squeezed his shoulder. "What happened?"

"He did it himself. He left some letters and Russ thinks a new confession." It was hard to be still. "Russ and I got there, but there wasn't much to be done. He knew we were around, so . . . he planned accordingly."

Maybe that was why it hurt so much. That the doc had had to go to the trouble to kill himself in such a way that he could be sure he couldn't be brought back, instead of a thousand more comfortable methods. He was so terrified, of dying, of living and being faced with the decision to do it all over again-

"Russ had some ingredients, but not enough to make up the blood loss. He woke up briefly, but-"

Winry's hand crept into his, holding it tight. "Oh, Al-"

"He say anything?" Ed's voice was strangely calm, and Al didn't dare look at his face.

"Yeah." He said he was scared. He said it hurt. He said he was going to Hell. "He said he was sorry. He wanted to know what he'd see."

The softest snort from Ed. "You tell him?"

Al folded his lips into a smile, scratching the stubble on his cheek as the tears tickled through it. "I did."

"That's good. I'm glad you got the chance, Al."

Al suppressed another sob. "I . . . I just don't know if he heard-"

If he believed. If when he stood at the Gate he honestly believed that he'd been forgiven, or that he deserved to be ripped to pieces. The Gate would lead anywhere if you were strong enough to ask. If his self-loathing consumed him, if he honestly thought he deserved to go to hell . . . then he could ask for it, and the beings in the Gate would oblige.

He hadn't been trying to save Patterson's life. He'd tried to save his soul.

And he would never know if he managed it or not.

"He heard." Ed cleared his throat, and Al felt his brother's arm hook around his neck and drag him close. "You did good, little brother."

Somehow just letting himself go for a few minutes was better than all the breathing exercises he'd done before, and it was much easier to calm down. If Den had been around it might have seemed like old-old times, three orphans on the eve of someone's death, and Al leaned up off his brother quickly, blinking furry eyes and squinting at the equipment. Despite the news, Ed's heart rate hadn't climbed significantly, and he wasn't surprised to see that nii-san's face was dry.

His eyes were sad but bright. "Thanks for telling us as soon as you could."

It might have been a subtle barb, that he'd noticed Al's absence from his water therapy this morning, and Al took a deep, still-shaky breath. "Sorry about this morning. They kept me and Russ quite a long time." Al far longer, of course, to work out his motives for striking a prisoner, but while Ed might be able to take a friend's suicide in stride for his sake, mention of Hakuro's meddling would be pushing things too far. He wasn't even sure if Hakuro had thanked him for preventing them from getting a confession or giving him a reason to yank his State Alchemist title.

"Oh, but you missed the excitement," Edward teased. "I didn't take a nap in the pool this time." His assumed cheerfulness slowly faded. "I won't break, Al. I'll be okay."

Al glanced at him, a little unsure. Did Ed think he was -

He got that damnable empty smile. "I know. That you heard the rumor, before . . . I'm not gonna die, Al. At least not yet."

Alphonse fought the urge to pull him into a tight hug and tell him how terrifying and infuriating and overwhelming and empty those few hours had been, and instead punched him in the arm half-heartedly. "Big talk for someone who's only got two weeks." His brother blinked at him, and he tried for a wicked look. "That's how long I have to wait before I beat the living daylights out of you."

His grin wasn't empty this time, but it still hurt to look at. "Winry beat you to it."

She'd been silently watching the two of them, rubbing his hand, and when she heard that she squeaked indignantly. "Hey, I didn't-"

"I saw," Al interrupted dryly, and both of them stuttered to an uncomfortable halt. He let the silence drag on until it was downright hysterical, but eventually relented when Ed's heart rate started to climb. "Hey, I approve. About time someone got Winry to sleep. I was thinking about mixing up some chloroform."

He turned from Ed when Winry snatched her hand away, but all of them were laughing, and she impulsively threw her arms around him and hugged him hard. Before she could say anything that might make him break down again, he added, "If I'd known you were that hard up, Win, I'd have asked Havoc to date you years ago-"

She screeched, but of course he had her caught in his arms, and all she could do was beat him on the shoulders. Which she could do pretty effectively, actually, and he'd never seen her so red-faced. "ALPHONSE ELRIC, HOW DARE YO-"

"Hey, whoa, hospital voice-"

"WE DIDN'T DO ANYTHING, YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE JUST BARG-"

"No kidding, that would've been exercise and then Dr. 'I'll yell' would have been peeping next to this perver-"

"YOU SHUT UP TOO, YOU LUNK-HEADED JER-"

Alphonse snaked a hand over her mouth, at least muffling the rest of her tirade. "I'm kidding, Winry. Sorry."

Her glare was smoldering. "Zeh ell yehsery."

"Now look what you've done, Al," Ed complained good-naturedly, and he heard his brother settle back against his pillows again. "I actually figured you stayed out late celebrating with the Major General and had a hangover. How was it?"

When Winry gave him silent assent that she wouldn't continue screaming, he let her go, and she socked him in the chest - hard. He oofed and pressed his hand to it as if wounded, and she flounced off the bed and busied herself with folding something. Probably just to hide her blush. Al stayed where he was. "It was nice. He cried-"

"Big surprise-"

"Well, no, actually, he didn't cry at the ceremony. At the dinner, his mother and father toasted him-" forever and ever and ever -"but it was his sister that got him."

Ed hmmed thoughtfully. "Haven't seen much of her. She threatened to kill him if she caught him crying again, though-"

Al grimaced. "Yes. We know."

His brother stared at him for a moment in surprise. "She doesn't seem like the type that would do that in front of the military-"

"Well, General Hakuro didn't say anything . . . Alex is fine. At least I assume he's fine. Russ and I split after the violence to check up on Fletcher . . . " He trailed off, not sure where else to go with it, and watched his brother's gold eyes cloud again.

It was hard to tell who he was more sad for, and that pang of guilt stabbed at the place Winry had hit him. "He asked about you. The rest of Mustang's guys were there too, even Fuery."

At the mention of the diminutive man Edward perked up. "In uniform?"

". . . yes . . . any reason he wouldn't be?"

Ed shook his head. "No, I just knew he'd asked for reinstatement. Wasn't sure if it had been granted."

Outside of the fact that there were probably ten year olds in Amestris that day that outweighed him, he seemed okay. Relieved. Hopeful. Very happy for Alex. Breda had been his usual self, and Havoc a bit more reserved than usual. Too bad Falman missed the fun. "I think he's gonna be okay. Breda too. He's got his appetite back, certainly."

"Good." Ed leaned slightly to his right. "You going to rejoin the conversation anytime soon, Winry?"

She turned with narrowed eyes, still smoothing a folded blanket, but otherwise seemed her usual cheerful self. Pinako was probably thrilled that Ed was there, actually; it gave Winry something to do besides hover. The fact that Pinako had not been checked out of the hospital when she was supposed to be spoke loudly to her current condition, and Al made a mental note to go speak to her the next time he could be sure Winry wouldn't be around.

"I'm glad Fuery is better." It was quite sincere. "Actually, I was thinking about your automail."

Al watched his brother balk. Though he had just said that he expected Hakuro already knew about the flesh limbs, and that was probably true - more ammunition for his court martial, at any rate. "W-Winry, I don't see how I could-"

"If you think it's too late, then we need to get them out of here," she told him matter-of-factly. "It will be worse if you tried to hide it, right?" She eyed the cabinet. "If only I had the Tringums around again . . . I guess you'll have to do, Al."

He felt his eyebrows raise at her disappointed tone. "Well, gee, Win, if I'm not gonna cut it I'm pretty sure Russ and Fletch are getting out soon, and I wouldn't want to make a mess of your work-"

"Are they really?"

He nodded, finally standing and giving his brother a pat on the knee before following her to the cabinet. "Maybe as early as tomorrow." But she was right, as soon as Hakuro had the trial out of the way they couldn't count on continuing to skirt by under his radar. Particularly not with his own court martial upcoming.

Ed was going to kill him for not telling him. "So, what would you like you relief slave alchemist to make for you? A nice doll?"

Her glare spoke volumes. "How about a self-portrait - maybe try another pig?"

"Ha ha, very funny."

- x -

He could have been Bradley, standing there.

There was no breath of wind from the opened window, nothing differentiated him from something cut of limestone and washed with paint. His clasped hands were loose, giving nothing away, and they did not tighten at her approach. He'd summoned her specifically so she hadn't seen any need to knock or announce herself, but watching him now, she really wasn't sure he knew she was there.

He couldn't see anything out of that window anymore. Not since Johann Irving.

It wasn't hard to imagine what he was thinking about. The court had recessed only an hour ago, maybe less. Sorn would be sworn in and interrogated tomorrow, as Avram Blane had been today. The ruling wasn't going to be a surprise on two counts - Patterson's confessions were as detailed and probable as his lies had been before. Avram Blane had managed to keep his temper only until he'd seen Russell Tringum up in the 'loft;' the elder Tringum was present only because he could soon be called for questioning in regards to Blane's capture, and something about him had tipped the visibly conflicted alchemist right over the edge.

He didn't incriminate himself - far too oily for that. Instead he'd attempted to redirect the court to human transmutation and his own attempts to fix the virus he was wrongly accused of spreading himself. When the Speaker attempted to thwart the tangents the man had become incensed and accused the Parliament and Prime Minister of a witch hunt, attacking non-certified alchemists in an effort to keep alchemy skills only within the military's ranks. He eventually was led out of the room when he started personally singling out and attacking Parliament officials and judges. His failure to cooperate had not left a favorable impression with the court, and what Patterson had left in the documents that had been copied and provided to all judges had given them the means to logically counter most of Blane's spin.

His questioning would finish tomorrow, but his fate was already sealed. He would likely never admit to what he had done in the hopes his rabid insistence of his innocence would buy him some credibility, thus a less serious sentence, but it was extremely unlikely. By the end of the week he would likely be put to death.

And that was a death she knew Mustang would not regret. Executing someone was different from killing them in combat, but in this case there was no real moral difference. If released there was no telling how many he would kill in retaliation, or to hide his escape. It was simply a shame they could not place the blame solely with him.

Mustang hadn't said what was in the letter Patterson had left him. It was far more likely that was what was bothering him, the idea that Patterson could not trust him enough to handle this, and had chosen to handle it himself. Perhaps it was simply the idea that even when he presented his true self, his true intent, that anyone would fail to trust him.

"Can I get you anything, sir?"

No movement at all by the window. "Challiel tells me Black Hayate ate well today."

"Your current habits are spoiling my dog, Minister. I'm going to have to formally request that you desist."

"Duly noted." A long pause, but still, his fingers never so much as twitched. "Have you completed your revised threat assessment against this office?"

As it would likely be required in the trials at some point, it had been completed the same day it had been requested. "Yessir. It-" Her eyes slid over the polished wood and oiled leather writing pad. "-was on your desk . . ."

"I see. My apologies then, for misplacing it. Can you summarize it for me please?"

For a brief, ridiculous moment she wondered whose face she would see if she marched to the window and pulled him around. "All previous attacks on this administration have been investigated and traced back to the two men accused. It appears all previously marked enemies have been identified and are being monitored. West confirms Creta has sent an emissary who should be in Central by noon tomorrow, and Aerugo has made no hostile intentions clear." For all intents and purposes, the danger he'd been facing all this time was effectively contained.

A damn pity it had taken her a year to get it done, but at least he hadn't been killed. Or lost the war.

"I see. That's quite an achievement, colonel."

Her eyes narrowed slightly in the darkening office. "Thank you, sir."

"Given the lowered threat status, do you believe a separate security detail is necessary for my continued safety, or is it possible that the State-mandated service currently protecting the Speaker and other cabinet members would suffice?"

Hawkeye relaxed her tightening throat. "I would recommend that you keep Goodman and Brooks, sir. They are very capable and extremely adept at handling politically sensitive matters."

The smallest trace of a smile in his rising cheekbones. "You've completed that investigation as well, then?"

They'd been on her list, too, but nothing Sheska had found gave her any reason to doubt. "It would appear that Brook's actions on the day of the attack on the Cretian diplomat were merely an overreaction, sir." An overreaction to protect her.

Not unlike what was going on right now.

"I see." He gave the window a last, long look, then turned, his left eye to her and right peering around the bridge of his nose. "Then it appears your assignment is complete, colonel. Please make your recommendations for my personal guard to the appropriate parties in the morning. Upon the completion of the trials and verdicts, I will be making a formal announcement." Which would bolster confidence in the government, of course, that the added security on the Prime Minister had been lifted, and was also a boldfaced excuse for his real purpose.

"Sir, I think that might be in haste-"

"Riza, how long has it been now? Eleven years? Twelve?"

She carefully didn't grit her teeth. "I'm not sure what you're asking, sir."

"I've really known you longer than Havoc," he murmured, almost to himself. "It's been a long time since Ishbal."

She hesitated, and he faced her fully, his expression unusually kind. "Where are you standing, colonel?"

Damn him. Damn him for seeing it as an obligation. "With all due respect, sir, the Creta situation could turn on a dime-"

"Which I assume you took into consideration in your report-"

"And both Edward and Alphonse Elric are facing intense scrutiny-"

"Are you saying Hakuro can use them to attack me?"

"Of course!" She took a step forward, hating him more with every passing second. "Don't-"

"You said you'd follow me to the top, you'd help me get here." He unclasped his hands, waving one at the office. "I never asked you to help me stay here."

"Mustang-"

"Hear me out. You've spent the last thirteen years of your life working for this. You've met your goal, haven't you?" He tucked his hands into his pockets, all arrogance and exactly the man she'd sighed at as a first lieutenant. "You didn't join the military to help me. You've gotten me as far as you could."

And now you have to trust me to do what I said I would. It was unspoken, possibly unthought, but she heard it ringing clearly in the air.

Of all the times to have this fight with him-

"You are occasionally an idiot," she told him evenly. "You cannot be trusted to operate successfully on your own."

She used it, the forbidden word, and she expected amusement, sarcasm, one of a dozen mechanisms he used to deflect such things from her, from Breda, from all of them. She knew it would hurt and she expected it to, inflicted on purpose because she would be damned before she let him do this-

But his expression didn't really change, his lips didn't quirk. "I'm beginning to see that."

For the first time in a long time she wasn't sure what to say to him. If this was just a crisis of faith it would be easy enough to handle, but something more than Patterson's death had to have precipitated it-

Alphonse Elric. He must have said something the day he walked out, she knew that from the way he'd treated her. Fuery's fidgeting in their meeting. Havoc's request for transfer and subsequent behavior. Breda's reaction to being left on administrative leave. Brook's move to save her from her own hostage, in the fear that she couldn't handle it herself and Mustang couldn't protect her. Juggling so much information and so many people that he couldn't be sure what they thought of him anymore.

Which boiled right back down to his fear of screwing up.

"We all operate with that understanding, Minister," she told him dryly. "Havoc chose to rescind his transfer without any input from me. The general asked him directly, and he made his own decision. We're under no obligation to follow you, and we're all well aware." His eye was too dark to make out in the dim, so it was difficult to tell how much to say. "You don't think we'd all walk away after we spent all this time working on you, do you?"

An arrogant smirk was his reply. "I'd hoped so. The alternative is actually issuing orders, and I don't want them to reflect poorly on your record."

It was like a slap in the face, one she supposed she deserved. "Well, a demotion, abandoning your command, and running to lick your wounds in the north doesn't appear to have hurt yours, sir. We'll take our chances."

She hated fighting with him, hated the shadows that hid how deeply she had struck. He was hard enough to judge after the eyepatch, then again after losing the rest of the eye, but he couldn't be so blind, it just wasn't possible-

"What power do you really think you have?"

She reeled at the deceptively curious question, barely preventing her jaw from hitting the floor. She'd hit him quite deep, then, if he'd come back with that.

"Colonel, your command will be dissolved at the end of the week. It's not chance, it's fact. I suggest you give serious thought to where you'd like your career to go from here. I don't believe Hakuro will interfere but I'd like to reduce that risk."

So that was the problem. She should have seen it - he was the reason she got Mustang back, after all. It was no surprise the threat of losing him again would leave a mark. "You can't both protect us and push us away, Mustang. Didn't you learn anything from Edward's execution?"

A barely perceptible stiffening of his carriage. His tone was still quite mild, though. "You've spoken out of turn, colonel."

She graced him with a glare. "You gave me an order to do so when necessary, Minister."

"I judge it to be unnecessary."

I don't give a damn what you judge, Roy Mustang. It almost left her mouth. Almost. "I respectfully suggest your judgment is not at its best, Minister, and that is precisely the reason we're having this conversation."

She heard a slight crack, bone shifting on bone, and she wasn't sure if it was her jaw or his. "Dismissed, colonel."

Riza saluted. "Good evening, sir." She turned on her heels and crossed the office, not bothering to hesitate as she pulled the doors closed behind her. He wouldn't call her back, at least not tonight. She'd made mistakes handling him like this before, and had erred toward compassion and understanding.

Unlike him, she wasn't going to make the same mistake again.

- x -

Author's Notes: Well, Mom and Dad certainly don't seem to be getting along . . . but on the plus side, Patterson managed to clean up most of the mess, didn't he. Makes you wonder, if that was Mustang's letter, what he might have said to Fletcher . . . also, I think I wrote myself into a great big plothole. :covers face: What I get for dragging this thing on, I think. The faster I write stuff the better I can keep complex things in my head, so now I am learning all about the art of not procrastinating. At your expense. \ Sorry, guys - if I need to retcon something I will, otherwise I think I'll try to weasel out of it quiet-like . . .