Author's Notes

I know that at the end of the 2003 anime, it's stated that the Fuhrer's seat is dissolved and an Assembly is formed instead, but I think that not only did it happen to fast, but there are still problems floating around (some admittedly of my own making). As a result, there is still a Fuhrer and they're proceeding slowly along the road to rehabilitation, beginning with Liore which is the only one mentioned so far. Since Grumman's the only one I recognised in that few second snippet, he's the Fuhrer by default.

Most military members are apparently named after military vehicles (surname) so my OC (who isn't important but simply needed to be named) Lieutenant General Cougar is also named as such, after the ACGP Cougar.

I'm not entirely sure about the ranks, so I'm following the list I put up in Six Feet Under. Therefore Major General comes after Brigadier General, and Lieutenant General comes after that.

Funnily enough, I actually wrote this before the previous chapter. A case of revamping plans.

Enjoy. And some feedback please? I was rather surprised no-one had anything to say about the last chapter.

In the Midst of a Dream World

Alfons Heiderich is shot in Munich. When he wakes up in the middle of what looks like a war, the first thing he thinks is that he's failed. In fact, that's the second thing he thinks too. Post CoS/Slightly AU on tech.

Alfons H& Roy M

Chapter 5

King in the Middlegame

Mustang had eventually returned to Central Command as the sun fully sank from the sky, removing the red tint and shading it in a blanket of black, save for the stars that twinkled from the sky. Alchemists had gotten to work repairing the damage; someone'd had the sense to order the street lamps to be repaired first so they could continue to work a little further into the night. Hopefully, with the number, the area would, at the very least, be hazard-free before they all dispelled from duty and returned to their homes or dorms…provided they still stood.

The interior of the building was in a rather good condition, all things considered, although many of the surviving military personnel appeared to be shaken. Considering they'd, just hours ago, fought walking corpses crushed with severe pressure, he couldn't blame them. But it gave the command centre an almost eerie aura.

The front wall was crushed, and most of the offices situated to that face experienced some degree of damage. The upper ones had been completely crushed, including the Fuhrer's. Apart from that, there were a few shattered glass panes on other parts of the main building, and the chaos of the shaking tossing the more fragile ornaments onto the floor. Broken frames, mugs in pieces with coffee spilling over paperwork…oh, the irony of that last example, he thought to himself as he carefully stepped over the bludged papers. He'd done that himself many a time, albeit on purpose, but Lt. Hawkeye simply replaced the stack and gave him a look that prompted him to, without a work, diligently sign his name until his right hand cramped.

Apparently, Sheshka was going to have a lot of work to do as well, as not every lieutenant was as diligent as Hawkeye…and every higher ranked officer wasn't as well known to procrastinating as he had been during his time as a Colonel, so most others didn't get the paperwork duplicated. So it would be up to the brunette's impeccable memory to put them back together.

And to think, it had been Fullmetal who had found her. They were very fortunate to have a woman like her on the staff.

In fact, if truth be told, he was very fortunate to have come across Fullmetal.

Almost subconsciously, both eyes travelled skyward: the one with sight and the blind one. How many times had he stood in a similar position, coated in snow or dry and cracking wear, looking into it seemed the same spot in the sky as if waiting for a boy with golden hair to fall from there? Many times over the past few years. But the little he'd seen of Edward showed he had matured into a man during the years he'd been gone, and by his timely arrival and somewhat untimely departure, he had brought the waiting of a lot of people to an end. Not just his.

He couldn't wait for Edward Elric…even if the little voice in the front of his head grumbled the boy still hadn't handed in his report on the situation in Liore. The report was, admittedly, irrelevant in any scheme of things; they'd lost hundreds of soldiers in Scar's transmutation circle after all, and then the Fuhrer had put the word out that the Elric brothers were responsible. He'd of course received the letter beforehand…but he'd never have guessed the reason behind all those events. Not the entire reason anyway; it was Hughes' death that had really highlighted the corruption in the military, or more directly, his phone call. But he'd leant from Ishbal that the path of revenge led a person no-where; he couldn't do what Sheska had wanted of him, and so it was he was forced to turn his back to her tear-streaked face with a cold mask…and similarly to Winry Rockbell's as she pleaded for the life of her two closest friends to the man who had murdered her parents.

From that point of view, he was a very cold man. Here he was, almost farewelling a boy matured into a man that was not only a part of his team but of his heart, and his expression hadn't changed at all. Not a single muscle slipping a pocket of skin out of place.

'Ah, Mustang.'

The gruff voice caused him to spring into a reflexive salute.

'Fuhrer Grumman,' Mustang responded.

'At ease,' the old man replied, rubbing the bridge of his forehead. 'What has you looking so melancholy?'

So maybe his face wasn't as expressionless as he thought…or believed.

The Fuhrer's blue eyes twinkled at him. 'You wouldn't still happen to have the men I gave you, would you?' he asked. 'Mine are unfortunately…indisposed.' A subtle reference to the mess that was currently his office. It was somewhat ironic that the head of the military had taken the brunt of the damage while the subordinates were mostly safe. What was almost typical was the state that was only a few blocks away, slowly being repaired.

He couldn't help but think that if Edward, or even Alfonse (who while was unable to transmute without a transmutation circle due to losing his memories of the Gate), they'd have had Central back on his feet. And they'd probably have uncovered more dead bodies too. Alphonse had mentioned one, a little girl's body crushed a wall of her home, hand reaching out for a teddy-bear splattered in blood. The hazel eyes had still shown the horror of the sight. He had simply nodded in response.

He had almost forgotten about Grumman's question until he met the older man's eyes. The "men" referred to was a chess set they'd used over the years to challenge each other. The last time they had played was during his transfer to Central Command as the turmoil, nudged along somewhat by Scar, had risen to new heights. His record to date against the other was 1 win, 15 draws and 97 losses.

'Would you like to play a game?' the protégé asked in reply. 'I did bring them back with me, yes.'

'I had a feeling you did. Since my office is…in shambles for lack of a better word-' His lip quirked at that. 'Perhaps we can get some interior re-designing done. But in the meantime, we'll have to play somewhere else.'

Mustang wondered if he would have so readily agreed if he had known where the other was planning on leading him, but in terms of space and in terms of conversation.

'I am sure Lieutenant Colonel Armstrong won't mind us using his office.'

'Tell me,' Grumman said almost conversationally as he set the board, seated comfortably on the couch that the Fullmetal Alchemist had frequently slumped over when the office had belonged to a different Colonel. 'What have you been up to this past few years?'

'Nothing of particular interest,' Mustang replied, seated across from him and accepting the black pawns the other handed him and assisting in the setup. As there wasn't much semblance between 'I was stationed in the far eastern border for a while, and then transferred to an outpost up North.'

'If I recall,' the other pointed out, moving his king pawn two spaces forward. 'You requested that transfer, did you not?'

There was a pause before the Flame Alchemist admitted to the point, nudging his own pawn only a single space in front. The queen's pawn however, not the one in front of the king.

'I did not question your decision then,' the Fuhrer mused aloud, mirroring the move. 'However I admit I was curious…and somewhat relieved.'

Blue eyes met a single grey orb for a fraction of a second before a black-clad knight moved out of place.

'Trade had begun over the eastern border,' Mustang responded. 'I felt…somewhat uncomfortable dealing with the situation.'

'And yet you possess a natural charisma that endears others to you.' The worn lips twisted into a smirk as he shifted yet another pawn. 'Particularly when it comes to woman.'

'Not for a long time…sir.' The king's pawn jumped forward.

'Oh?' He figured he shouldn't be too surprised. 'Well, my granddaughter is still available. I'm sure this is not the first time I've asked you to take her as your First Lady.'

'I'm not sure that would be advisable,' the raven-haired man replied, contemplating his next move. 'I've outlined my reasons before.'

'And I've told you,' the older man replied. 'That your reasons are weak at best. Although perhaps they are more pronounced now.' The Fuhrer dropped his voice. 'Tell me why you resigned your rank as Brigadier General, Mustang.'

'I believe we've been over this before,' Mustang repeated without pause, finally pushing a piece into place with gloved fingers.

Grumman's eyes at that moment appeared to piece the eye-patch over his left eye.

'I don't believe you were particularly truthful about your reasons,' the old man responded. 'Considering the circumstances regarding the…two missing personnel we accounted for at the end of the coup de tat that was apparently administered under your command, one of which was your subordinate the Fullmetal Alchemist and the other of whom was the Fuhrer himself, coupled with the suspicious death of his adopted son, I chose not to pursue the matter, accepting your resignation and reintegration as a consequence of the failed uprising. As did many others, although there were some in rank who were not pleased you escaped with no punishment. Of course…' He stroked his moustache. 'By withdrawing before your trial, and with the added support of not only your subordinates but those of Brigadier General Hughes and men from other divisions as well as the autopsy proving a man with bigger hands than yourself was responsible for the murder of Selim Bradley, there was of course nothing I could do.'

'I must disagree sir,' Mustang replied, in equal quietness, examining the board once more. The last few moves had served to reset the middle game. 'The coup de tat was enough to earn me a place in front of the firing squad. And I was found at the scene of Selim Bradley's murder.'

'As was Colonel Frank Archer,' Grumman pointed out.

'And Lieutenant Hawkeye.'

'There was very clear evidence that the Lieutenant had acted in her defence and yours,' the Fuhrer responded, his expression not changing at the mention of his granddaughter. He wondered if Mustang was aware that the two were one and the same; he knew after all that Riza did not know part of her family was still alive. 'There was the bullet in your eye as well as the account of the MPs. And considering she was your Lieutenant and this presumably acting on your orders, there was never a case against her.' Another piece slid into place as the man folded his arms.

There was a pause as Roy digested that. 'Is it wise?' he asked finally. 'Taking our side on this. There are still enemies in Central after all.'

'But that is not the reason you put yourself in a lonely outpost away from the city.' The blue eyes again attempted to pierce him. 'Your talents would have been of far more use in the city, as you proved today.'

Another piece forged forward.

'I restored your rank as Brigadier General and you said not one word against it,' Grumman said finally as the other failed to answer him. 'You do realise I will not accept your resignation again.'

A wry smile greeted him. 'I admit, with Central under siege from the undead and the glimpse of Fullmetal flying ahead, I had not considered that.' The lips turned downwards following the statement. 'The outpost-'

'Has been given to a man more suited to the task,' Grumman responded. 'He will leave at dawn-break tomorrow. Thankfully, the train-lines were not affected. He is also taking with him a message for the Major General Armstrong. As it is, rebuilding is going to take quite some time due to the shortage of alchemists. Three years, and we still have not restored our ranks.'

'Fullmetal would have had this place right in a jiffy,' Mustang sighed. It was unfortunate that, while his flame alchemy was proficient, other forms of alchemy were rudimentary at best.

'It is a shame,' Grumman replied. 'But he has chosen his path, and his brother is with him. It's a shame the entire family could not stay together.'

Mustang blinked at that. 'Their mother died years ago,' he pointed out. 'And their father has also disappeared.'

Grumman's smile seemed a little too understanding. 'Am I incorrect in assuming you did not consider the pair to be somewhat like your sons? After all, you told me the full version of the events that had occurred on the way to Resembool after all.'

This time the smile was definitely melancholic, and they were both aware of it. 'If I had sons like them, I would never let go.'

'You do have sons like them. Or was I imagining the help you'd been sneaking Alphonse and Miss Rockbell from your outpost. I must admit I was surprised by how far your ears reached.' Grumman's blue eyes twinkled in amusement. 'I was concerned my secrets would soon be cast into the open.'

'Ishbal will never leave a person,' Mustang replied, and in a way that served to begin the conclusion. 'I may be a soldier, and I may have been a soldier then, but the hands that killed in that war were not soldier's hands. There weren't even the hands of an executioner.' He raised a left hand to his eye and said no more on that statement, diverging somewhat instead to the initial topic. 'I didn't use my alchemy from that day until earlier today. I've had too much time to think.'

He closed his eyes, before moving his king. The queen stood still, straight upon the board, oblivious and yet safe to the dangers that surrounded her.

Grumman's eyes eyed the king as it moved. 'You rarely make a move so bold,' he commented lightly. 'Tell me, is this your way of telling me you have changed your goal?'

'Not the goal. The path.' There was a pause. 'I don't need to sit at the top of the world to change it. I'd do better near the bottom.'

'Alchemist be thou for the people,' the Fuhrer commented. 'I take it you are not trying to match the People's Alchemist. You may just start another uprising.'

This time the smirk was genuine. 'I highly doubt we'll find anyone who can match the likes of Edward Elric,' the Flame Alchemist replied.

The game ended in another draw.

'My, we seem to be losing our touch, don't we?' Grumman commented as he handed the board and its pieces back to Mustang who took it with a slight inclination of his head with thanks. The outer-office was louder now; it had been unoccupied when they had entered but apparently that was not the case now, even if Armstrong didn't appear to be in immediate need of his office.

A smirk greeted him in reply. 'I have won once in 114 matches,' Mustang pointed out. 'And then because you let me win.'

'Now why would I do that?' the Fuhrer asked, opening the door for the other. 'Now, considering the unfortunate demise of Lieutenant General Cougar today, I need someone to head the Eastern Headquarters.'

The Flame Alchemist's lips tweaked slightly towards a frown. 'I-'

Grumman held up a hand. 'I know I still haven't managed to fully weasel an answer from you, and it's probably none of my business, but I am your Fuhrer and I hereby promote you to rank Major General and place you in charge of Eastern Headquarters. Before that though, I'll need to you find Sheshka for me. She can handle the paperwork, along with finding the papers that restored you to your former rank today…and the papers I was supposed to get signed as well.'

For an old bat, he really was very manipulative. Mustang saluted and left the office with barely a glance at its occupants (there was nothing to argue with); he noted Havoc and Hawkeye at their desks. The male winked at him, cigarette dangling from his mouth, but Hawkeye did not shift her focus from the papers in front of her. Their paperwork appeared to be in one piece, elsewise the First Lieutenant had allowed for disaster and had extra copies at a separate and safer location.

'By the way,' Grumman called after him as he turned the handle of the outer office door. 'I hope you're planning on recruiting a few pieces as well, because it seems we'll be in need of this office, considering several unfortunate officers are now without room. I particularly feel it will be more appeasing to my poor back.'