What Could Have Been

by Margaret Holt

When Mustang gets a position at Central Command, Evelyn tries to avoid being used by one of Central's corrupt generals to spy on him. Unfortunately, she has little say in the matter. Between investigating Central's criminal activity and looking into the mysterious circumstances of Hughes' death there is rarely a dull moment, but the truth will come out sooner or later.

The scent of blood mixed with the extreme Ishvalan heat made me almost feel like I was in a frying pan. I would have said hell, but the one thing that kept it from being just that was the unflinching, glorious blue sky. The sun, of course, glowered down on everyone equally. After a great deal of thought, I'd decided that the sun was probably Ishvalan. Solemn, without humor, deadly.

We were experiencing a bit of a lull. Now that the State Alchemists had arrived on the front, the fighting had gotten less intense. Less fair, perhaps. There was a boy, younger than me, who had arrived on the front at the same time as I had. We'd gone through basic training together. He was better than me with guns, a dead eye shot. He'd taught me a few tricks, tricks that had saved my life more than a couple times. He'd grown up on a farm, unlike me, and had had time to practice with his dad. I'd never held a gun before I'd joined the military.

All his work, all his training, his natural skill, It hadn't been nearly enough. Almost a month ago I'd seen an Ishvalan cut him nearly in half. Effortlessly. The military either had or would send his family a notice, informing them that they'd never see their son again because he'd been killed in action.

That was the thing about people. We felt special, we had people, but in the end we were all just… meat.

I had his gun. His personal weapon, one he'd brought with him to Ishval, God knows how. I knew he'd want his family to have it, that I should send it back, but I needed it. I wasn't sure why, but I had to have it. I told myself I'd give it back to his family when I got out of here. When the fighting was over. They deserved to know that he meant something to somebody, that he'd saved my life, that he'd died a hero.

He hadn't, of course. Before the State Alchemists it was more like mutual butchery. Bloody, brutal, primal. He'd been one more body for the stack. The man who had killed him had been shot in the head just a moment later. Who really won? Who benefitted from that?

"Water?" A mellow, masculine voice asked from beside me, nudging my shoulder.

"Thanks." I took it and poured it down my parched throat. The water was lukewarm and tasted metallic, but quenching my thirst helped a bit, made the heat bearable.

"You're going to blind yourself if you keep staring into the sun like that." There was a hint of a grin in his voice. How he kept that in this God forsaken place, I'd never understand.

"It looks so big out here, Maes," I said, turning towards him a little. He had a point. I wasn't staring directly into the sun but the way things were out here, it hardly made a difference. "Sky never looked like that back home."

"That's what happens when you grow up in the city. Although out here it feels a bit too-"

"Exposed?" I suggested.

He gave a little shrug.

"Thanks for the water," I said. Maes Hughes was probably the nicest guy I'd ever met. I hated that he was here. The idea of something happening to him, like it did to everyone around here, turned my stomach. "Didn't even realize how thirsty I was."

"I don't know how that's possible in this heat. If you're not careful, you'll get dehydrated." He wasn't joking anymore, but he still seemed calm, upbeat even. Almost like he was happy about something. Almost.

"I'll try to be more careful." I gave him my best approximation of a smile. Owed him that much. "What're you all excited about?"

"Just met up with a friend of mine," he said.

"Sounds like bad news." I took another sip of the water. Even lukewarm it somehow felt cool going down my throat.

"As if there's any other kind down here." He laughed, and it almost set me at ease. After being out here this long it was impossible to be completely comfortable, but with Hughes it was about as close as I could get. "But it could be worse. He's a State Alchemist."

"Oh?" I tried not to look too surprised. I hadn't ever met one before. It was a fairly new program, sure, but I also didn't run with the kind of people who applied themselves to chemistry and physics, and even if I had, that stuff went way over my head.

"We were at the academy together," he said.

"Oh." I honestly wasn't sure what else to say. "So if you're not scared for your life I guess he must be pretty good."

"He is." Hughes laughed. "But don't tell him I said so."

"Not sure when I'll get the opportunity," I chuckled. Even if I'd known Hughes' friend I doubted our paths would have crossed too often. Lately I'd been trying to spend some time alone. I felt like I was behind, like everything was happening too quickly for me to catch up. Spending time with other people often felt more like a burden than a relief. Hughes was one of the few exceptions. He didn't ask for me to give him too much of myself and that made it easy.

"Maybe tonight," he said. "I was thinking I could introduce you."

I was about to excuse myself, to tell him that I was already starting to get a headache and would probably call it in early, if the fighting wasn't too heavy, but instead I heard myself saying, "Sure, I'd like that."

"I think she's been drinking again," a familiar voice mumbled.

"Uhhh?" I groaned, trying to push myself up. My cheek peeled painfully off of the fabric of the couch. Then I remembered. I hadn't quite made it to bed the night before…

My body felt stiff and it ached slightly in a few places. My head was pounding like there was a jackhammer trapped inside of it. A good shower would probably help. It usually did.

"Ev?" I felt a warm hand tapping the side of my face. It wasn't a slap, not quite, but it was insistent. "Ev, wake up."

I pushed myself all the way up into a sitting position. "Jack?"

"Well. She knows your name. Thank God for that at least." The short clipped words made me wince. Allie, my roommate, was in one of her moods. Probably brought on by my irresponsibility, if nothing else.

"Sorry," I mumbled. "Don't know what happened, exactly… Just kinda… fell asleep." I caught sight of half a bottle of leftover whiskey. "Oops."

"Oops?" Allie's eyes blazed. If I wasn't so exhausted and my head hadn't hurt so much, I might have been afraid. I simply didn't have the energy.

"It wasn't much, Allie," I said, pushing myself to my feet. Jack steadied me as I tried not to tilt. "Honest, it wasn't. Just a sip. Been putting in a few extra hours at work…"

I leaned over to collect the bottle, but Allie snatched it off the coffee table before I had a chance. "It's half empty, Evelyn."

I grimaced. "I know…"

"I thought we were past this!" She stomped into the kitchen and shoved the bottle into the cabinet above the sink.

"Allie, you're overreacting," I knew as soon as I said the words that they were a mistake. It was like throwing a bucket of gasoline onto a fire instead of water. She whipped towards me and I knew I had to say something immediately to salvage the situation. "It was just a little bit. I just needed a little help getting to sleep."

"On the couch?" She snapped. "Funny, I would have thought you'd try to get to sleep in your room."

I ran a hand through my hair and grimaced again when it came away greasy. I didn't just need that shower to help with my headache, I needed it so I could feel like a human being again.

"Alright Allie," Jack said, finally intervening. His leg twitched, catching my attention. With a start I realized that he'd kicked a little orange bottle under the couch. I felt sick. I couldn't have been that stupid, right?

"You're going to be late for work if you don't leave pretty soon," he went on, as if nothing had happened. "I'll talk to her."

Allie sputtered for a moment, trying to decide between several different appropriate responses, no doubt, but in the end she said, "Make sure she gets some black coffee. That's supposed to help."

Jack nodded as Allie collected her things and practically ran out the door.

"Ugh…" I shuddered. "Thanks, Jack."

He raised an eyebrow. "Ev… You're better than this."

I felt a tiny white-hot ball of rage in the pit of my stomach, but I knew he was right. This had been stupid. Irresponsible. All things considered I was pretty lucky. "I know. I don't need a lecture. Just… couldn't sleep."

"You were dreaming," he said. "You mumbled something in your sleep. Something about… Ansaldo?"

That didn't sound right. I'd been in Ishval, thirteen years or so back. No reason for me to start muttering about my boss. That didn't mean I hadn't, though. Dreams, sleep, all of it was very mysterious.

I shook my head. "Doesn't ring a bell. Dreaming about the war."

"Ah." He gave me an almost pitying look. "Your friend… his funeral probably shook something loose."

"Probably." What would be the point in telling him that it was always there, looking for a chance to strike. Ishval stalked me, trying to exact revenge. I wasn't supposed to make it out of there alive and the experience had scarred my soul. Probably did the same to everyone else who was out there. Everyone who was still alive.

"If you need to talk about it…"

"Thanks."

"Just… Maybe don't swallow down your sleeping pills with alcohol, okay?"

"I'll try." There was no way that I was going to admit that it was the only way I could get them to work. I'd just have to stop being dumb enough to leave evidence. Of course, not crashing on the couch would probably help with that.

He sighed. "Maybe you should call in sick today," he said finally. "You look terrible."

"That's always just what a girl wants to hear." I gave him an impish grin. Or tried to, did my best not to let the pain from a thousand fairies trying to pound open my skull from the inside show. "Don't worry about me. I'll be just fine once I get a shower."

He rolled his eyes. "Seriously, just do everyone a favor and call in sick."

"I would if I could, Jack." I said. "But I've got to finish this project, and it's got to be today."

"What project?" He asked, golden eyebrows drawing together. "You're in the middle of a project and you…?"

"I really needed to sleep." I reached up to run my fingers through my hair again and then decided against it when I remembered that greasy feeling. "I know, okay? I know it's stupid, but lately… Damn, I'd do anything just to be able to get some rest."

He sighed. "You haven't been right since his funeral."

My stomach sloshed around uneasily. I couldn't decide if it was from my overindulgence or from the painful memory of that funeral. Or maybe it was just the way Jack was talking, like I was losing control of myself. Maybe I was.

"It still doesn't feel real," I admitted. "You didn't know him. Maes wasn't the kind of guy that… that could just die. And the story, how he died, something feels off."

"You could be right." Jack said quietly. "But you need to find a better way to deal with this. Investigate if you want, but don't do it between whiskey and sleeping pills." He took a deep breath. "I'll help, if you want."

I hesitated. Jack was one of the few people that I'd confided in about my opinion about what really happened in Ishval and what was really happening now. And he hadn't called me crazy. He never had. He and his sister had practically taken me in, treated me like family. I would never be able to pay them back for what they had done for me. "Maybe," I said finally. "I have to think about it first. Get my head on straight. You're right about that much."

He nodded, looking relieved. "You better go take that shower you were talking about. You're going to be late for work too."

"Right," I said, trying to drum up enough energy to face the rest of the day ahead of me.

It shouldn't have been a surprise that Colonel Roy Mustang was getting transferred to Central. People had been talking about it, buzzing about it, practically, since before Maes' death. And yet, somehow that idea had never really stuck to me or taken hold in my mind, not until I literally knocked the man on his ass right inside the building.

I was about to take the stairs up to chat with my boss. Honestly, my mind was still on that dream. That memory, really. It all felt so real, like I was really there, living it for the first time. I could smell the blood, feel the heat. And for all I'd told Jack, the sleep that I'd gotten out of the bargain almost didn't seem worth it. I didn't feel rested at all. More like I'd taken a break from running a marathon to climb a mountain, then resumed at the end of it all. I came around the corner of the hallway, still not looking, and collided with someone a bit taller than me and with a more solid build than mine. I got a quick impression of black eyes wide with surprise, and dark hair flying back, before I tumbled down to the floor, narrowly managing to avoid striking my head against the corner of the wall.

I think we were both in shock, but he recovered first, pulling himself to his feet and then leaning down and offering me a hand. Our eyes met as I took his hand and pulled myself to my feet. I saw the blaze of recognition and to my surprise felt utterly ashamed and disgusted with myself.

"I…I'm so sorry…" I looked down and brushed off my uniform, wanting some excuse to break eye contact. I'd seen Roy Mustang from a distance, but even then I'd been too ashamed to say anything. He would grieve in his way and I would grieve in mine. And besides… He didn't know who I'd become, what I was now.

"Evelyn Winchester?" He let go of my hand, now that I'd regained my feet.

"Guilty," I said. "Look at you! All grown up and a Colonel and everything." I swallowed down the self loathing. It wasn't the best time to deal with it. Whatever I had to deal with now could be unpacked later at the bottom of a bottle.

He smiled, and I realized that he wasn't doing much better than I was. He'd nicked himself shaving and there were dark circles under his eyes. The man was holding himself together with chewing gum and a rubber band. I knew the feeling. "And you made Major."

"Well," I tried to look humble. "Work as hard as me and you might make Major someday too! Just gotta keep working at it."

My face heated as I noticed that a few other soldiers were shooting us odd looks. This wasn't how one talked to a superior officer, sure. But then, I wasn't really concerned about my career. Not at this point. Besides, I knew Mustang from Ishval. What was he going to do? Put me on report? I didn't think he was the kind of guy to do that, but if he did, let him.

Instead, he laughed, and the sound warmed me up in some intangible way. He had a nice voice, clear and beautiful. I'd always thought so.

"I'm almost afraid to ask," he said.

I shrugged. "It's fine. I've been working with the same people for a while now. Having a routine is helpful. No point in pushing too hard. Let the competitive people wear themselves out."

"Maybe," he said. "But if you're not moving forward, you're moving back."

Or not moving at all, I thought.

"Speaking of moving," I said, dusting myself off again, although I was pretty sure there wasn't anything there to dust off. "I heard that you'll be making Central your more permanent stomping ground for a while. Why'd you want to go and do a thing like that?"

"I just told you," he said, and though he seemed serious, I thought he seemed at ease. Or at least, calm. "If you're not moving forward, you're moving back."

I grimaced. "This place though? There's nothing but-" I stopped. I'd been about to tell him what a viper pit it was, but if he wasn't an idiot, and I knew he wasn't, he already knew that. He was here anyway. And pointing it out wouldn't just be clumsy, it would imply that just like all the others I had something to hide. "Lame wax museums."

"Wax museums?" I could see the gears turning in his head as he tried to figure out what that meant. I wasn't quite sure why I had said that. There were one or two maybe, but they were more tourist attractions, not something that Central was known for. He was probably thinking that if I had brought them up that I meant something by it. That was the problem with Mustang. He was bright. So bright, that sometimes he didn't fully appreciate how idiotic other people could be, especially yours truly.

I decided to lean into it. I knew very well what I looked like and if he wanted to believe there was some kind of hidden message there, so much the better. I didn't need help to look like an idiot. "There's one just a few blocks from here," I said. "I may have said lame, but the truth is, I think that that particular one is very interesting. Sometimes you'll find something you weren't expecting."

Something subtly changed in his face and I knew that he'd bought it, that I was trying to say something significant and profound. His next step from here was probably to wonder what it was I was trying to point him to and why I would go about it in such a bizarre way. He would probably come to the conclusion that it was because Central, as I had almost just told him, was a disgusting viper's nest.

"Well, it can be worthwhile to try new things, on occasion. I've never actually been to a wax museum. I don't think we have any in East City."

"I'd be surprised if you didn't," I said, concentration broken. "Someone always seems to set one up. It's actually very interesting, if you stop and think about it."

"I was working," he said. "I didn't usually have enough free time on my hands to discover them."

That was probably true. Wasn't he the youngest man in Amestris to attain the rank of Colonel? Mustang was barely older than I was, about thirty or so, if I remembered correctly. You didn't get to where he was by being lazy and going to wax museums. You got there by working hard and having good friends that worked hard too.

"I…I wanted to say…" I cleared my throat, suddenly finding that it was dry. "I'm so sorry… about Maes." I wanted to tell him I'd seen him there, at the funeral, but to what end? It didn't seem like it would accomplish much.

A wall went up and I knew that I'd made a mistake. He'd been warm, if tired, but now he was cold and almost mechanical. It was terrifying how completely he transformed.

"Yes. What happened to Brigadier General Hughes was a tragedy."

I swallowed, trying to beat my mind into working order as it started to melt. "They're still looking for his killer," I stumbled out awkwardly. I wasn't quite sure if it was true, but I still was. Maes had been my friend. The only one I had had for a long time. He'd saved my life. Everything I had I owed to him, and I would not let him go down to the grave without taking vengeance on whoever was responsible, no matter who it was.

"Are they?" He asked, his tone mellow, almost reflective, but there was something subtle there, a hard bite at the end, as though he didn't really believe it.

He gave me a polite smile as I stared stupidly at him. "It was good to get to see you again, Winchester. Maybe we'll run into each other in the future."

"Right," I said, giving him a small, appropriate bow. "Only hopefully next time I won't knock you over."

He laughed, only now it didn't quite sound real to me, and turned to leave. "Take care." With that, he took off again, making his way towards one of the halls, very deliberately.

I couldn't help but stare after him for a moment, trying to figure out what to make of all of it. What to think of seeing him here, his cryptic response, the way that he'd shut down when I brought up Maes. That part I understood, how could I not? I knew that I was coming unhinged and had no way to stop it. But I'd always thought Mustang was stronger than that.

Of course, he and Maes had always been closer, too.

I blinked, forcing myself to come back to the present, and checked my watch. Shit. How did it get to be that late?

I tried not to run up the stairs to my boss's office, partly because I was starting to feel sick and partly because I didn't think it would make him any happier if he saw me running.

General Ansaldo was a very particular man. He liked things to be done his way and every time he'd had to remind me I had paid dearly for it. In a way, I was still paying for it.

I stopped in front of his door and hesitated, taking stock of my appearance and hoping that I wasn't too bedraggled for him. Once I had surveyed the damage and decided that there wasn't much else I could do, I knocked on the door to his office three times.

"Come in," a rich bass voice said from the other side of the door.

I swallowed down the anxiety that was threatening to make its way out, and pushed the door open. General Ansaldo was seated at his desk, his iron gray hair neatly combed back. Not a hair out of place, as usual. His blue eyes were hard as they looked at me, though I couldn't tell if it was because I'd already angered him in some way, or because they were always like that, cold as steel.

His secretary, a large eyed, blonde haired doe in a pencil skirt, clutched her notebook to her chest, as though she was concerned that I might try to read off of it. She stared at me and I had the uncomfortable feeling that I might have come up once or twice in their conversation.

"That will be all, Captain."

She gave him a quick, formal bow, and scurried out of there, ducking her head as she passed me. I almost felt sorry for the girl, but for some reason I got the feeling she enjoyed her arrangement with General Ansaldo more than I enjoyed mine, and my heart wasn't really in it.

His eyes followed her right up until she closed the door, then snapped to me. "Major, you look like a corpse. Is there trouble at home?"

Stay calm. I told myself. Don't play his game. I moved a little closer so that anyone passing the office wouldn't hear the conversation.

"It's nothing, sir. Just some difficulty sleeping. I got a prescription to help, but I'm sure you don't want to hear all about that."

"Do they know what's causing the insomnia?" He asked, almost conversationally. In the way a cat might conversationally ask a mouse about its gym membership.

"No sir," I said. "But they're looking into it. I'm due back there in a few days."

"Without any idea what's causing the insomnia, they won't be able to solve the problem. The pills are just a short term fix, a band aid solution." He narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. "That's why you're not taking them on their own anymore, isn't it? They're not even working now."

I shifted uncomfortably. "About that thing you asked about…"

"Don't change the topic," he said flatly. "You've been self medicating, haven't you?"

I met his gaze, but didn't say anything. He didn't care about my wellbeing. I knew that well, and I'd known it for a long time. He wasn't forcing me through this conversation for my health. He had another reason. Either it was a power play and he wanted to make me uncomfortable, or he was about to use it against me to get something else he wanted.

"How did you know?"

He gestured towards my whole body in an almost distracted manner. "It's written all over you. I've seen it before."

That didn't surprise me. Amestris was a troubled country, and I was hardly the only soldier to land myself in a less than optimal place. The fact that anyone was able to sleep was a surprise to me.

"It hasn't kept me from being able to get my work done," I said quietly. "Which is all you wanted."

"You have one week," he said. "Then I'll take care of the problem my way."

"Your way?" I stared at him. Why would he care about my health? There was something else going on here.

"My way," he said vaguely. "It might be unpleasant, but it should take care of the problem. One week, then the self medicating stops."

I wasn't quite sure what he meant or why he would offer me a cure. The only thing I could think of was that he was going to offer me up to his buddies in another branch, let them experiment on me or whatever it was that they did with people. I only had a vague idea, but the little I knew had not made me trust the government more.

"Yes sir," I said, unsettled. Whatever he was going to do, it probably wouldn't be worth what I was paying just to be here.

"Good," he said smoothly. "Because I have another job for you."

"But sir," I broke in. "You just had me do one for you. Don't you even want the results?" It seemed almost like he'd completely forgotten what he'd had me doing in the first place. What was so urgent that he was skipping over the last task he'd asked me to perform? I had thought that that job was important to him, but here he was, glossing right over it.

He got to his feet, pushing his chair back, and strolling over to one of the enormous book cases that lined his wall. He was solidly built, something that was more obvious when he was standing. It was immediately obvious that he was a good soldier and a powerful man in his prime. Even as he was aging, I would put all my money on him over a younger man, in a fight.

The office reflected his personality so perfectly that sometimes it felt like I was standing inside his mind when I came here. Bookshelves lined both walls adjacent to his desk and there was a variety of books, some ancient, some new. The most recently published one that I had seen had been published only a few months ago. A few of the books on the shelves were unmarked. I'd always wondered what was in these but had never had the stones to touch one of his books, much less take it on off the shelf and open it.

He stood with his back to me, almost like a challenge. If I wanted to, I could draw my handgun and kill him in his office. A part of me itched to do that, to take him out, be done with this whole charade. But I didn't. I couldn't.

I was helpless to him and he knew it.

"I know you finished your last job," he said patiently, like he was speaking to a child. "If you hadn't, you wouldn't have come. You can leave the pictures on the desk."

I drew out the film from my pocket and gently laid the canister on the desk, my cheeks warming against my will.

"Now that that's over with," he said with the air of someone that was tired of being interrupted. "Your next task will be to infiltrate Colonel Mustang's office and watch him for me. You will report everything that he does, every place he goes on official business, every place he sends one of his people. You will know who he socializes with, what women he brings home with him, everything. You will report it in a manner that I see fit, and you will keep your task secret."

My stomach turned. Maybe a part of me had had a feeling that this was coming. Taking pictures of General Raven and his affairs had been simple, comparatively speaking. It wasn't like being a plant and actively spying. And what made this worse was that it was a friend that I was being asked to betray. Not a close one, perhaps, but someone that Maes had loved, someone who had also been good to me when I needed it. Whatever else I had been degraded to, this was too low.

"No," I said, trying to keep the fear and nausea out of my voice. "I'll do anything for you, but not that."

He was lightning fast. His hand had already closed around my throat before I even saw him move. I was roughly shoved into the bookshelf on the wall behind me. The wood from the shelves pressed painfully into my back and shoulders and I gasped, trying to pry his fingers off my throat.

"You will do anything I tell you," he snapped, his voice barely above a furious whisper. "You are nothing but a rat, Winchester. I hold your reputation, your freedom, your life in my hands. The moment you stop being useful I won't hesitate to destroy you. Remember that."

I was beginning to see spots and couldn't stop trying to pry his fingers loose. His hands were like iron and I couldn't move them even a little.

For a tense moment I thought I was going to pass out, and then he dropped me. I fell to my knees, gasping as my vision cleared.

"I own you," he said, the words ringing in my head as I fought back tears. "Even if your own life doesn't mean anything to you, your friend's lives do. I know where they live, where they work, where they shop. I know who they see, I know how to make accidents happen. I shouldn't have to tell you this."

He'd never made that threat before, but as he said it I realized it was all true. He had dirt on every general of Amestris, some dirty little secret they wouldn't want getting out, some error in judgment, some weakness to exploit. I wasn't sure whether he'd used what he had yet or if he was waiting for something, but I wasn't sure how much I cared. Most of the people he'd had me dig up dirt on deserved what they had coming to them. I wouldn't cry over it when they got what was coming to them.

If that was how he dealt with colleagues, how much more would he do the same to his subordinates? He probably knew everything about me by now, what I feared, what I cared about, what made me tick, and he had just made it abundantly clear how easy it would be for him to break me.

And yet… how could I do what he was ordering me to do?

I realized with a sick feeling that he was right. I would do what I was told. Because there wasn't a choice. No matter how repugnant I found it, Mustang's life wasn't in danger. Not like Jack's and Allie's. And I owed him, but I owed them more.

The light in Ansaldo's eyes made me realize that we were on the same page. I hadn't even had to say anything, he already knew what my answer would be.

"Yes sir."