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

- x -

"Cutting it a little close, aren't you?"

He gave her a casual salute and offered the envelope. "Better late than never, right?"

Colonel Riza Hawkeye regarded it a moment before accepting it, unwinding the stamped string that sealed it. Not that she would have even believed a wax seal, if the delivery method was alchemist. Then again, it was probable Al had penned it in part or whole; he undoubtedly knew what it said.

"Are you ready for your court martial?"

Al dropped into the seat in front of her desk; obviously he felt this needed some explaining, then. "He deserved it."

She reviewed the document quickly, giving him a look over the edge of the papers. "Please tell me that's not your defense strategy."

Alphonse shrugged, and she raised an eyebrow. "Isn't it a little early for the sling to be gone?"

"Russ and Fletch do good work. It's still sore but it's better for me to be moving it around." He eyed her desk curiously. "I take it Creta told us to shove off?"

The colonel ignored her desk entirely, reading one particular passage several times to ensure she understood it entirely. "No, I'm fairly certain they'll agree to the treaty we sent. It wasn't entirely unconditional the second time around." She set the sheets down in surprise. "And he's certain?"

Alphonse nodded, his eyes warm and steady. "Yeah. Nii-san thinks it's time."

She couldn't agree more, but she knew both him and the Rockbell girl enough to realize it hadn't been an easy conclusion for him. "Did you and Sorn part on acceptable terms?"

"You mean will he tell the truth specifically because we need him to lie?" His tone was wry. "I don't know. Has anyone explained everything to him?" His voice lowered fractionally. "He didn't know nii-san was still alive."

Of course he would have mentioned that to Alphonse. "His full sedation was lifted early this morning to prepare him for trial, and I answered his questions. He knows more than he did." As did she. "Dr. Patterson left a letter for him, but it has not yet been released to him. As of now he is aware that Patterson revised his confession, and aware of those revisions. He filled in the gaps so we know what he had done and what Patterson had merely inferred from Blane's comments." She patted the top sheet of paper. "This shouldn't be too much of a stretch." Considering it dealt with an imaginary Philosopher's Stone and human transmutation.

Al looked surprised. "Hakuro let you?"

She thinned her lips. "He had the sedation lifted earlier than scheduled. I arrived at the end of his interview and Franklin did confirm that he already spoke to the general about Fullmetal. He can't easily recall what was said, he's still quite groggy, but I think we can count on the fact that the general is aware that Edward recovered his limbs prior to the Creta invasion."

It really didn't matter - Edward was going to be charged with human transmutation no matter the story. They could have attempted a coverup if Edward had truly wanted one, and for a price she was certain the general would have allowed it. It gave him the perfect piece of blackmail to use whenever he liked. The distinction came between the idea that he'd done it with premeditation and study or he'd done it accidentally. Edward's court martial would mark the first time the military charged someone with accidental human transmutation, and his record, while pardoned by the Prime Minister himself, was not spotless. Mustang could make it disappear if he wanted to, but it would probably cost him control of the National Alchemists.

Al did a good job of looking unconcerned. "So he'll know that Franklin is lying on the stand today, if he chooses to lie."

She inclined her head. "Yes." Though the lie would be small; with the way this debriefing read, Edward was struck by an artillery round when his makeshift fort was attacked, and as he was trying to transmute the tunnel to get them both out of there he reacted instinctively to the pain by utilizing the amplifier by will alone. Bradley's files documented instances where alchemists had utilized Incomplete Stone without arrays, so they could back up the claim that Ed had done it entirely on accident. His automail was buried somewhere in that field, probably never to be seen again, and the enemy had captured him without it, leading him to lie and claim to be Russell Tringum, but later confirmed to be Edward Elric by his unique eye color and reports of the surviving scouting wave that he'd had automail.

All Sorn had to do was say that he'd been knocked briefly unconscious in the explosion and had woken in the dark, not realizing Edward had his limbs restored until he witnessed the other being interrogated by the enemy. There was nothing concrete to prove this lie; the armor itself was long gone, and they had Major General Armstrong's firm commitment that her men would not contradict that story. It didn't matter what the Cretians said - Amestris would call it propaganda and her people would believe it. By the time the trial today was finished they would be celebrating their alchemists, two of which held off an entire army for a day.

This was not likely to go over well with the general, but there was little he could do about it. That didn't worry her; he wasn't going to use Franklin as an excuse to pull the alchemists away from Mustang. He'd use the Elrics.

And it wasn't her concern anymore, by order of the Prime Minister.

"Then I guess he's going to have a bad day," Al concluded, sitting a little more upright. "There's something else. I'm sorry for the scene I made a few days back. I know what you were doing," he spoke over her attempted interruption, "and I know I would have done the same in your place. Please forgive me."

"I don't know what you're referring to," she replied briskly, tucking the papers back into the envelope. "This is the briefing Edward wishes released to the military, correct?"

Al was giving her that look, a little exasperation, a little relief, a lot of gratitude. "I'm serious here."

She raised an eyebrow. "As am I. Please wait here; I believe the Prime Minister has a document he wishes your opinion on."

A subtle tightening of the skin around his eyes. "Then he can ask me himself."

He was frighteningly observant sometimes. "He is very busy at the moment."

"And going to be busier after your reassignment." Alphonse dragged his gaze across her desk. "I see he was generous enough to let you have your pick."

She knew she'd invited the scrutiny when she'd refused to answer his question directly, and given him everything he needed to draw the correct conclusion, but she also knew exactly what was going to happen if she didn't head it off immediately. "There's no reason for him to have a dedicated security force. The threat has been eliminated, and this demonstrates the government's confidence in that. He'll keep Goodman and Brooks, but they will be managed by the Parliament security chief."

Al's eyes, the rare color of baklava, were saddened, and it annoyed her. "He doesn't deserve you."

"It's not your concern, Alphonse. I would be worrying about your own career, if I were you."

An oddly Edward-like twist adorned his lips when he answered, and she realized there was no heading him off. It had probably been his intention the moment he'd walked into her office, then, that his next stop would be Mustang. "Why should I be worried? Mustang won't let me resign, and he won't let me be discharged. I could flatten this building and that wouldn't change."

"Alphonse-"

He climbed to his feet, looking very amused. "I'm not going to flatten the building, Hawkeye-"

"He has trial in less than an hour-"

"Perfect." The blond was halfway out the door. "Then he has time to ask me my opinion."

She stood quickly, following him as best she could without looking like she was running, but when she got to the door of her office she hesitated. Though he wasn't nearly as goofy, and they weren't nearly as close, she had failed to fill that vacancy and while she doubted Alphonse was really ready for it, maybe Roy would listen if it came from one of the Elrics.

Or maybe Alphonse really was going to flatten the building.

"Don't do anything stupid," she said quietly, and then Alphonse had crossed the outer office. Challiel gave her a questioning look, hand on the phone, but she shook her head.

It wasn't her job to keep Mustang in that office. All she'd had to do was get him there.

- x -

Goodman was giving him a peculiar look and Al grinned at him disarmingly, approaching the door as always. Usually Challiel called ahead, but this time he didn't hear the phone and when the older man's eyes flicked behind him Al knew he was looking to either the colonel or Challiel for direction. He still let him approach, far too close, before casually stepping in front of the door.

Far too late.

Al struck with his right arm, which hurt like hell but was unexpected enough to make Goodman dodge rather than block, and that got him access to the doorknob. He stepped in, blocking a retaliatory swing with his left forearm and an attempted sweep with his right leg. Goodman was fast; he'd always expected it, but neither of them was fighting seriously yet and he doubted this was all the man was capable of.

He'd brushed his fingertips together on the walk across the outer office and grazed the other's uniform as he wound around his opponent, who was trying to get between him and the door again. Goodman just didn't have room; he'd practically let Al open the damn door before he'd made up his mind. Instantly all the cotton on his body bound upon itself, all but mummifying him, and Al opened the door quickly, slipping through before Brooks could get off a shot. He was pretty sure someone was going to take a shot at him - Hawkeye would have done it already, but he'd been right about that too.

That must have been one hell of a fight.

Unsurprisingly, the use of alchemy significantly upped the ante for Goodman, who despite his massive size and limited mobility snaked into the doorframe as well, blocking it open for his colleagues. Which was a bit of a problem, and Al conceded, grabbing his collar with his left arm and hauling him bodily into the room. He kicked the door closed, transmuting it solidly into the doorframe and wall as something thumped against it. He completed the transmutation as quickly as possible - it was necessarily to get everything the same thickness, and it allowed him to seal all the other doorways and windows as well, but he didn't want to make it obvious. The walls were thick; there was shouting but it was believably muffled. At Mustang's desk they could probably ignore it altogether.

It did mean there would be a witness, which was unfortunate, and Al glanced across the office, just to get his bearings on the Flame Alchemist.

He was standing behind his desk, plain white glove at the ready, and his pen had just finished rolling to the edge of the desk. It fell with a muffled plunk onto the carpeting.

"They're not ready," he said, loudly enough to carry across the space between them. Then he clapped, ignoring Mustang altogether and modifying Goodman's wrappings so that his ears were covered as well.

By the time he'd straightened Mustang still hadn't moved. "Have you lost your mind?"

"He should have gone for my shoulder. He thought about it too, but didn't." Al gave the infuriated bodyguard an apologetic smile, then walked calmly across the Prime Minister's office. "Assessing security was one of my jobs in Germany. You need to keep Hawkeye on, at least a little while longer."

Mustang looked supremely unamused, "Are you so unhappy with the military that you'll compound your prison term to ensure discharge?"

He didn't bother to salute before taking a seat in front of the Prime Minister's desk. This did not put Mustang at ease; the man remained standing, looking far angrier than Al had seen him in a long time. He'd aged ten years in the last few days, though his uniform was as crisp as ever. He didn't deserve Challiel, either. Though in truth the Academy didn't deserve Dueys or Bansk. "Oh, I'm sure you'll think of something to make this go away."

Roy's eye narrowed, and Al briefly wondered if maybe the other alchemist really would attack him. "What makes you think you're still worth the trouble?"

"If I wasn't, you'd have let me resign last year. We need to talk."

Mustang's dark eye flicked at the door, then glanced at his bookcases, and his expression grew downright wary. "You sealed all of them, didn't you."

"And reinforced the glass with manganese, just in case someone gets the bright idea of using smoke bombs. I really don't think Hawkeye would allow that," he added, "but then again she's pretty damn hurt right now, so I didn't want to take the chance."

The difference between angry and furious was a very hard one to tell in the office, and the hair on the back of Al's neck stood up when Mustang calmly retook his seat. "I see. What would you like to discuss that would have required these measures?"

"My State Alchemist certification." The thumping on the main door had stopped; they'd realized what they were up against. Hawkeye would keep a tight lid on this for as long as she could, and he hadn't changed the way the door looked from the outside, but he knew he didn't have all day. "Obviously you don't feel the ability to control inanimate objects is valuable to the military, so I felt I needed to demonstrate something a bit more traditional for you."

Mustang started to reply, then apparently thought better. "I'm well aware of your level of combat training, Alphonse. Including what was left out of your debriefing when you returned."

That was unfortunate but not a surprise, and Al didn't bother to posture. "I really don't think you are."

He received an arrogantly raised eyebrow. "What idiot do you think would believe that a well-organized military would place at the head of their training division a soldier that had not already demonstrated in the field the tactics he would be training others to use?"

"Nii-san."

The barest snort. "If you believe that he's better at lying than I thought."

Al really wasn't sure how much Ed really knew about what he'd done for the Germans. He'd certainly been surprised at what he'd found on Ed's side of things when it had all fallen apart, and it was probable both didn't know the entire story and never would. "And if you didn't believe it, then why would you send Edward to take care of Sorn, when you know I'm far better suited? I've killed thousands more than he has."

He had hoped for some level of surprise at his cavalier tone, but Mustang gave no visible sign. "You were injured, Alphonse."

"So was he."

"Your injury directly interfered with your alchemy."

"A concussion doesn't interfere with your ability to think on the fly, to concentrate?"

"You were both concussed," Roy countered, a bit of impatience in his voice. "This is not a conversation I am willing to rehash, Alphonse."

"He told you not to, didn't he."

"Yes." His tone indicated exactly what he thought about the question. "If you're unhappy about it take it up with him."

"You're the guy that deploys us, remember?"

"What do you want? An apology?" Far more impatient - something about this conversation was bothering Mustang a great deal. Al had glanced at Riza's calendar, still exposed over all the personnel manifests on her desk, and he'd had no meetings scheduled until trial resumed. This impatience wasn't solely based on time.

"The next time this happens, you send us both." Resigning wouldn't get him a damn thing, the best way for him to protect his brother was to go with him. It had worked when they were kids, and it would work now. "I know you've played enough chess to understand that you can't always protect the pieces you risk."

Though Mustang never moved, there was a marked change in him. "I will not be lectured on this topic by the likes of you, Alphonse. This conversation is over."

"Hughes wouldn't let it go here. And you wouldn't let Hawkeye -"

Both of them were on their feet, and Al wasn't sure which had moved first, but he'd already brought his hands together before he realized it was too late - he'd let Roy get the drop on him. Yet the older man didn't strike; his hand was shaking with either emotion or the desire to end the conversation in the way most comfortable for him. "Back off."

"I'm not saying that we could ever take his place, Roy," he said, as calmly as he could, and he was amazed Roy let him continue speaking. "but he would have been sitting here days ago telling you that Patterson wasn't your fault."

"Of course it was!" Mustang's hand curled into a fist, but Al didn't relax for one second.

"How do you figure? He chose his path before you ever met him! I loved him and forgave him but even I recognize that he was a coward and nothing you could possibly do in a year's time could have changed that!"

"I know that!" It was a roar, and he swallowed the volume of his next outburst with visible effort. "Which is why I should have seen it coming."

"Why you and not the rest of us? You're surrounded with geniuses, and none of us thought . . . why do you get the blame for something we all missed?"

A bitter smile, devoid of humor. "Because I'm the guy that deploys you, remember?"

Touché. "It's a two-way street. You don't get to choose what you get credit for."

Roy gave a surprised laugh. "I'm well aware." His eye was piercing. "I get credit for the fact that you now carry the same virus as the townspeople of Jannai, for example."

Al blinked, completely nonplussed. How - ? Then he closed his eyes briefly. "You're having our medical records scrutinized because Sorn's childhood records managed to slip between the cracks."

He'd figured he'd been exposed the moment he heard about it, though now he knew it must have been in the food the Blanes had offered him. The other drug Avram had used was actually probably one of Patterson's designs, a powder on the felt card table. When Avram had shuffled the cards it had been puffed into the air, he probably used it regularly to interrogate his guests. It was conceivable that Dante's virus had been in that soup of chemicals, but more likely it had been in the actual soup - viruses did better in liquids than dry solids.

And while it was disappointing to give Roy another brick for his guilt fortress, it wasn't even an invasion of privacy. They were military records, and military doctors. "I'd say preventing a war outweighs all that, Roy."

He got a dark look. "Then why the hell are you in my office attacking me for endangering your brother?"

Trust him to miss the point entirely. "If you can risk him, risk me! If you want so much to protect him then let me!"

He got a rare conflicted look - half still furious with him, wanting to hurt, the other half hesitant, and Al took a step towards the desk. "What, you think I love him less? If one of us had to live without the other I'd be less likely to do something stupid? I killed thousands of people to get him back, Mustang! At least he only risked himself!"

"Is it something you can't forgive yourself for or a medal, Al? If I presented you with a city full of people are you telling me the great bloodthirsty Alphonse Elric would transmute them, even if you knew without a doubt it would bring your brother back?!"

That was a stupid question. "Neither one of us would and you know that."

"You were nine years old, Alphonse! Do you know what other brilliant nine year olds do? They play with toy cars!" Roy had also approached the desk, so that their thighs were pressed to its edge. "The fact that you've done so much in your life isn't justification to inflict worse!"

"It's my choice! Just like Patterson's death was his! It's my choice to stand here right now, it was my choice to stay instead of walking away a year ago! God, Mustang, you're so damn good at manipulating everyone that you can't see you're doing it to yourself!"

"It was never your choice!" Both of them were yelling now and neither seemed to care. "Your father took that choice away from you four hundred years ago and I didn't do any better!"

Al was stunned. "You still think that way? After all this time? As soon as we made enough noise on our own Dante would have become our teacher! Dad would have had to come out of hiding sooner and we'd all be dead!"

But Roy was shaking his head. "Hohenheim would have protected you-"

Al knew that wasn't true; the moment Dante knew about Sloth it was over for them. "Then why the hell didn't he protect us from you, Mustang? Have you ever wondered that? He knew exactly where we were, and he knew who our superior officer was! If you're so damn dangerous then why aren't you floating in pieces in the Gate?"

"Because it was too late and he knew it! Don't you see you're making my point for me?"

"No! If we never had any choice and we were destined to end up here then how the hell is that your fault?!"

They were inches from each other, almost out of breath from shouting, and Al wondered how they'd managed to get to this tangent. "Dammit, Roy, you didn't do this to us. I know you had to send at least one of us, I know why you wanted it to be Ed, but he can't handle everything. The only reason we survived was because we were together."

An odd sort of calm permeated the room, though the banging on the transmuted door had started up again. Apparently they were making enough noise that everyone outside knew they were both still alive, at any rate. Roy took a deep, slow breath.

"I won't deny that the two of you can accomplish almost anything. But even together you're not invincible, Alphonse. No commander in their right mind would transport the safe and its key on the same train."

He paused, for so long Al thought he was done, but when he opened his mouth Roy cut him off. "I see your point. See mine. I haven't lost you yet, Alphonse Elric. Not really. And I know you know the two of you could not have held back that army. Every alchemist in Central together could not have held back that army, not at that location. He was never supposed to be there."

And even with that, he'd sent Havoc and Breda, just in case. In Cretian uniforms made by his own seamstress, he could have called the mission espionage if he'd needed to cover it up. "I'm not faulting you for not seeing it. And I know you took every precaution you could. I'm telling you it's a flawed strategy."

Oddly, the smile Roy gave him seemed genuine. "I know. But it's the only one I have."

It was a reflexive response to Maes and they both knew it. "One hundred and eighty degrees of wrong is not necessarily right."

"To lean too far in the other direction is the same error," Roy murmured aloud. "That's the same advice Shurik Tolya gave me a little over a week ago."

"Well, I did just overpower your personal guard and take you hostage. It makes sense I'd be in cahoots with the Drachmans."

A brief flash of humor in his eye, but then he became serious again. "What's the point of all this power if I can't use it to protect the people I care about?"

"You are. We'd be in the middle of a losing war sandwiched between Drachma and Creta if not for you. If Hakuro hadn't already used the uranium bomb on one of them," he added, and Roy crossed his arms. Al was surprised to find himself with his hands in his pockets. While they hadn't agreed in so many words, they had certainly come to an arrangement, unspoken. They had acknowledged each other's points of view.

"Do you really want your State title stripped?"

Al exhaled slowly. "No. And I want to be used in military applications. I trust that you will only ever act in the best interest of the people, and alchemists are for the people."

"I thought you felt trusting me was in error."

Al was briefly unable to meet Mustang's eye. "Eh. About that . . ."

"Would you still be here screaming at me if you hadn't known the rumor until after it was disproved?

Al grinned sheepishly. "I wasn't screaming at you. And probably not. I did the same thing."

"I don't blame you for being angry."

"I know."

They stared at each other, seeking and finding that mutual understanding that said things were as okay as they were likely to get at this juncture. Al glanced at his pocketwatch. "Looks like you have about fifteen minutes before trial. I guess I should get to putting the office back together, huh."

"I'd appreciate it." His tone was dry. "I'd imagine this will make your court martial a bit more serious."

"Eh, I don't know if Hawkeye is mad enough to actually get me in trouble along with you. It pays to hang out with the kinder, gentler Elric." He clapped his hands and put them to the ground, using the interconnecting rebar and concrete to move the transmutation. "By the way, the colonel said you wanted my opinion on something . . .?"

By the time he was done, and had crossed the room to unbind Goodman, Roy had pulled a folder walked over to the door of his office, offering it with the cover closed. "Patterson left this. It's not addressed but I suspect it was intended for you as much as anyone else. Your brother was a medical doctor in the other world, wasn't he?"

Al nodded cautiously as he offered Goodman his hand, pleased when the burly man accepted it. He didn't retaliate at all; he'd seen their discussion even if he hadn't heard it, and he must have understood it was necessary to have that conversation. If anything he looked a little ashamed that it had taken so little to take him down.

"Thanks for not clobbering my bad shoulder," Al told him, and he meant it. They shook hands, and Al had just accepted the folder when there was a slight frequency change in the air. Not so much as a lessening of air pressure, just a difference in the ambient noise.

Then the main door seemed to shimmer slightly, and Darr Swolls stepped through it like it wasn't there.

The older man was of Ishbalan descent, his features very much like Scar's - strong jaw, prominent eyebrows, commanding gaze. His eyes swept the room, clearly not happy that they were so close to him, but when he saw that none of them were injured in any way he raised his eyebrow and inclined his head.

"Prime Minister, sir. I was alerted that there was a mechanical problem preventing you from opening any of the doors of your office?"

Alphonse deferred to Mustang, staring at the folder uncertainly. What would Patterson have wanted him to have that wouldn't be addressed to him? And why would it be filled with medical jargon? Was it a request to have Edward do something with all his experimental drugs?

"I'm unaware of such a problem, Major. Did you try the door?"

The large man gave them all another impassive look, lingering on Goodman, before he turned around and put his hand on the doorknob. It turned easily, opening out on to a startled office. Hawkeye hadn't been able to ditch the main door guards, so she'd taken the route of summoning an alchemist who could effectively see what the problem was without resorting to destroying anything.

Darr Swolls changed the frequency at which molecules vibrated, thus employing the vast empty spaces between molecules of a solid and then moving through it.

He said nothing at all to them, merely stepped back out of the office, and Goodman and Brooks exchanged a long, silent look. Then they too turned and walked into the outer office, giving Alphonse no option but to follow.

The colonel was there as well, her eyes questioning, and he gave her a quick nod. Whatever fight they'd had, he had faith that they could handle it. In a way, Roy was probably right - it didn't make sense to keep his own security chief when no other government official qualified for one. He still had to know how it would come off, though, having just dealt with the same thing from Breda and Fuery.

Al was allowed to leave without so much as a word, only curious glances from the enlisted, and he sat down in the driver's seat of the Bert's still-unreturned car, flipping open the folder and taking out the first sheet.

Without the ability to reference Pinako Rockbell's most current medical records, some specifics should be reviewed by her attending physician. Assuming the internal bleeding has not significantly increased and her kidneys and liver are still responding well to transfusion, a combination of healing alchemy and surgery may be administered to secure the fractures of her pelvis. In the following page, please refer to figure 1.1.

The fatal hemorrhaging risk associated with surgery is directly due to the invasiveness of the procedure. Alchemy can be employed to significantly reduce the size of incisions to be made and to reform the pins once they have been introduced to the patient. Precise angles will need to be calculated to determine the most effective position for surgery, but I have made a recommendation based on the patient's weight and height -

Al went through it, page by page, studying each clearly sketched figure, and then he closed the folder and turned the key, heading immediately for the hospital.

- x -

Author's Notes: I haven't counted recently, but I'm pretty sure my best guess at chapter count is still off. On the plus side, Al and Roy got to let off some steam, and maybe all's not lost for Pinako just yet. If Sorn behaves and plays along, Ed might get out of trouble as well. Not much left to do here but see if Hakuro will let them get away with it. ; )

Standard typo disclaimer applies - if you see anything, please let me know! I'll try to have this thing wrapped up in the next week or so!