Games without Frontiers

Chapter 18: Nothing in the World Like a Big Eyed Girl

Rating: PG

Soundtrack: Chantilly Lace – The Big Bopper

The courier delivered a letter, postmarked Eastern, the writing in a lazy, but controlled scrawl. Maes turned the envelope over to open it and noted that the seal had already been broken. Of course it had been. Maes chuckled and shook his head.

Things are duller than dull around here. Been trying to chat up a new girl, but I'm having a bit of trouble. Can you imagine? Me? Having a hard time with a girl? Perish the thought.

"This guy really needs to find himself a good girl to settle down with," he said for the benefit of the courier. He thanked the young man who'd brought the mail and spun around in his chair, casually reading more:

Anyway, the cute little blonde. Evelyn's her name. Nice girl; sweet, petite, but a little headstrong. Think she's playing hard to get. Heard she went on a date last night with a mutual friend, Andrew Kemmins. Word is it was FUBAR. Heard the poor girl's all broken up about it and she's gone to the country to lick her wounds. Wish I could comfort her, but she took Jackie with her, and you know how that one is. Wouldn't give me the time of day. They've been thick as thieves lately; not sure what that's all about. Did you know they were friends? You holding out on some juicy gossip, buddy? Anyway, I'll keep you updated on the prowl. Gotta go, getting the stink eye from the Babysitter.

Shit. He was hoping that he could finally shelve the case of the Alchemist Killer. He tossed the paper on his desk and leaned back in his chair, cursing the powers that were for the failure.

The fact that Lieutenant Havoc was accompanying Fullmetal to Risembool meant that the young alchemist couldn't travel alone, which meant that those extensive repairs were truly extensive. And if this… Scar could stop Fullmetal in his stubborn, obstinate, locomotive tracks, they were dealing with something formidable indeed. He would contact Havoc later and find out more details.

"Jackie and Evelyn, hmm?" he said softly to himself with a wicked smile. "Now that's a bit of news."

And speaking of pretty girls… he picked up the receiver and dialed up his favorite combination of numbers.

"And how is my little sweetheart?" Maes said, almost ready to burst at the sound of his precious little angel's voice over the line. "My little ray of sunshine, of course Daddy loves you!"

"Ah, sir?"

"Just a minute, Sheska. What's that honey? Aw honey! Ah, aren't you just the smart one!"

"Sir, it's..."

"One more moment, Sheska. I'll be home in a few hours, darling. Yes, I will! Really? I didn't know that." Ah, the joys of fatherhood! "Okay, go ahead and sing, honey, Daddy's listening."

"Sir!"

Maes' frowned at the preemptive tone and looked up at the librarian. And into the face of a Lieutenant General.

He almost gave himself whiplash standing up, especially since he still had the phone pressed to his ear. "Um...honey-I-have-to-go-I-promise-to-hear-you-sing-tonight-bye!" He almost broke the phone hanging it up, then snapped his most efficient salute. "Afternoon, sir!" He looked closer and almost had heart failure right there.

"Sit down, boy. Don't go imploding on me now," the grizzled old man waved a hand, seating himself in the chair across the desk and crossing his leg at the knees. "The day a man can't take a moment to talk to his favorite little girl, is the day I'll shoot myself between the eyes."

That didn't help Maes' desire to sink below the desk. "Yes, sir!" It was rare that someone this high up came to his office without notice, yet the day they do, he's jabbering on the phone – on a personal call, no less. Granted, it was to his darling sweetheart, but still. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Lieutenant General Grumman, sir?"

"I don't think I've ever been 'sir'ed so much in my life." The man slapped a hand on the top of the desk. "I'm here for two reasons." He peered at Maes again. "Hughes, would you relax, man! With all the cases you have to handle, I would suspect you need to take a moment or two to yourself. I'm not planning on writing a report to the Fuhrer about you making goo-goo noises at the perfectly perfect fruit of your loins."

Maes did his best to look relaxed. At least he tried for a less frantic tone of voice. "Ah...to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, sir?"

"That's better." Lieutenant General Grumman nodded. "As I said, I'm here for two reasons. I'll get straight to the serious one. We're having a problem with a couple of production warehouses near my headquarters."

"A problem?" Maes leaned forward. Problems were his bread and water. The meaning of his life in this man's army was to solve problems.

"In a town just to the north. Tin City, I believe it's called."

"I know the city." Tin City was one of the major producers of gunpowder and dynamite. Situated in a mountain valley, it was a sparsely populated city, kept that way to ensure minimal casualties should an accident happen at one of the warehouses.

"Yes, well, we have been receiving reports of theft, accompanied by extreme vandalism. Someone is stealing basic components for explosives."

Maes looked confused. "I don't understand. Components for explosives?

"Our finished materiel is guarded by our best security, you know that." Grumman snorted. "It would be unlikely to get their hands on a box or two of dynamite, or a couple barrels of gunpowder, no? However, these are deft thieves."

"What exactly are they taking?

"It started with small amounts of potassium nitrate, sulfur, charcoal. Then it started to increase. One night it's a barrel of potassium nitrate. The next, they're taking sulfur. Down to the glycerol and nitric acid. It's crippling our production – not much right now, but if it gets worse, it gets to the attention of the Fuhrer. Not something I need."

"And no one has any idea who is doing this?" Maes frowned. This was uncommon thievery; surely there was some kind of evidence.

"All of the employees in the plants in question have been interrogated. Whoever is doing it is infiltrating from the outside. And that is not all."

Maes leaned forward.

"The vandalism consists of wholesale destruction of evidence or witnesses."

"Damn."

"And when I say destroyed, I mean destroyed." Grumman steepled his fingers under his chin. "Reduced to slag, meat and bits of bone."

Maes paled and retreated from those facts. The last time he'd heard that type of devastation was in Ishbal. He leaned back in his chair, giving himself distance to consider that piece of information. "Are you sure?"

Grumman pulled a couple of photographs from his shirt pocket. Maes took them and his hand shook when he saw blackened flash points, the discoloration of concrete, broken bits of glass. The slag left behind from steel support beams. There weren't any corpses – any complete corpses, just the blown up bits of flesh and bone normally seen on a battlefield.

He also saw clear demarcation lines, as if the demolition was choreographed, planned. Elegant destruction.

Maes held in his bile and pinched the bridge of his nose. "This does not look good at all."

"That's why I'm here, Lieutenant Colonel. What we're seeing does not fit what we know."

What we know. That was saying a mouthful there. He only knew of a few people who could cause such damage, and they were accounted for. So this made no sense.

"I need someone on this right away. If anyone higher up gets wind of the fact that someone is running about with our explosive components and making their own weapons," Grumman shook his head, "and the fact that they're making Tin City look like another Dahlia district, my head will roll for dereliction of duty."

A cold chill trickled down Maes' neck. Interesting that he would mention that particular wasteland. "Of course..." Maes' intuition was starting to churn, and it thought that the making of bombs was too obvious a motive for such theft.

"I want a crack team of people on this. People who know all about these type of chemicals, how to use them, what they're used for – aside from the making of explosive materials, that is."

"What about among your staff?"

"My subordinates are all foot-licking dingbats," Grumman said. "Sent to me because nobody else wanted them. They think the thieves are just intent on stockpiling weapons." The man shook his grizzled head. "Now, I've been around the fence quite a few times. If a person wants to make a bomb, they steal finished components – gunpowder, the actual sticks of dynamite – and boom! They do their deed and they're off."

"You're right, sir...they wouldn't go through the trouble of taking the components, destroying the evidence – in this fashion – and constructing a bomb. Too much time."

"I knew I came to the right place." Grumman waved his hand. "You never mind those things they say about you, boy– you've got your head on straight!"

Maes scratched his chin. Exactly what were people saying about him?

"They're doing something else with the components. I know it."

Maes' looked at the Lieutenant General. "Why?"

"Call it a gut reaction. And this." The Lieutenant General handed over a folded slip of paper. A simple piece of foolscap cut in half, folded once, slightly charred in places, but not so much that the hastily scrawled patterns were illegible. "Before he died," and Grumman shuddered. "Horrible business, that. One witness described something that… well, look at it."

Maes opened the slip of paper carefully – and then almost dropped it.

"This is–,"

"I know exactly what that is, Lieutenant Colonel." Grumman growled. "And that definitely doesn't fit with anything we know."

At least, nothing that the General would know. The order that had crossed his desk was Order Number 2-703. The number two indicated that the clearance required to review the order was far higher than the man seated in front of him. That information was highly classified; so classified that it was kept in his office, under very special security, with other inflammatory documentation. The only thing that was missing from the order was the reason for the order.

"He doesn't need these to explode anything!" Maes muttered, almost to himself. "He doesn't require any external accelerants, nor any type of ignition…" The bottom of Maes' stomach dropped out and he almost lost his breath. It finally dawned on him what those picture portrayed. These were not mere explosions. He looked at the pictures again. "This is arson," he said quietly.

"Yes. That's what it appears to be."

Maes heaved a heavy sigh. "I'll get right on this, sir."

"Make sure you do. I mean it, I want your best of your busy bodies on this."

"Of course, sir." Well, at least he had something other than the Alchemist Killer to keep him busy.

The man smacked his knee again and stood. "Well, that's all I need to know! Get up, get up, boy and let's go!"

"Go, sir?"

"I told you, I want your crack team on this! We're going to Eastern Headquarters. And–," and here the man smiled, suddenly looking twenty years younger. "It gives me a good excuse to go and say hello to my granddaughter." He laughed outright. "Spunk! Pure spunk that girl has! Makes me proud every time I think about her!"

Maes rubbed at his temple. In all his days in this department, he didn't think he'd danced so close to edge of a precipice in his life. He stood, straightening his jacket and prepared to follow.

In the private train car, Maes spent some of the trip puzzling on what the General had told him and had shown him. He would need to see the scene of the crime, and if he was guessing right, Grumman intended for Roy and his team to go.

Then he thought of something the Lieutenant General said. "Sir?"

"Yes?" Grumman asked.

"You said there were two reasons you'd come."

"Ah, yes."

Maes waited.

Grumman smoothed down his whiskers. "There have been...certain rumors floating around that I want cleared up."

"Rumors?" Maes arched an eyebrow.

"About my granddaughter."

Maes was absolutely sure that he had heard a shoe dropping somewhere. A size 15 military issue boot. He kept his expression completely blank while in his brain, though, gears were turning so fast, he was surprised the man didn't see the smoke. "First Lieutenant Hawkeye?" he said needlessly, hoping to stall the inevitable.

"You dammed well know who my granddaughter is. And I know about your connections with my granddaughter."

Maes felt himself shrink, even though he tried not to with all he had. "Connections...?"

"You and her commanding officer are best of friends. Bosom buddies. Life-long pals."

Inwardly he sighed. "Yes, sir. That we are." Maes leaned forward and folded his hands, giving up his most earnest look. "What rumors are you hearing sir? Knowing the First Lieutenant, I can almost guess that mere rumors are all they are."

Grumman shook his head and waggled a wrinkled finger. "Don't give me that earnestly innocent look, you young whippersnapper! I told you, I've been around the fence a few times. This is not the kind of rumor that would even get out of Eastern had it not contained at least one grain of truth. If it had been all lies, my granddaughter would have found out and stomped the fallacy dead into the ground and shot the perpetrator in the ass as well."

Maes swallowed and pulled at his collar. "Ah..."

"And, if there is a grain of truth to it, you know all about it."

"Well, if I knew what the rumor was, perhaps I could–,"

"Is my precious granddaughter pregnant, Lieutenant Colonel?"

The heart in Maes' chest completely stopped beating for about two seconds. One month. It had taken all of one month for the news to travel from Eastern all the way to her grandfather's ear. "How would I know such a–,"

"You and that Mustang character are thick as thieves. If I know my girl – and I do – she would have felt compelled to tell her commanding officer. If it were true. And, if it were true, he would have told you. Because, rumor also has it–," and the man's eyes practically glittered with-anger? Speculation? "That she's not naming the father."

"Ah–,"

"And if that's the case, then, the information will be in one of those special folders in of those special little filing cabinets. Oh, don't look so shocked, Lieutenant Colonel. I stay out of all of the political gyrations because it's easier to observe the whole game that way. Those precious cabinets of yours has been around since before you were a twinkle in your mother's eye."

Maes wondered if he could get out this by saying he had to pee. Because, the urge to wet himself had become a singular pinpoint of obsession in his mind.

"And, truth be told, I know many of the people in those files of yours."

"You do?" Maes blurted, his voice breaking on the second word. Then he straightened, cleared his throat, and asked in a more professional manner. "Ah...I mean, you do?"

"Beside the point. Tell me. Is my precious granddaughter pregnant?"

Maes closed his eyes and said a silent prayer. "If you know about these kind of things, sir, then you know that I'm not at liberty–,"

"I can make it an order, boy. Or you can tell me what you think will be safe for me to know, and save us all a lot of trouble."

He sent a silent apology to Riza. "That...that is what I've been told, sir," he muttered. Pure truth, but no confirmation.

Lieutenant General Grumman nodded. "And she isn't naming the father?" The man actually smiled and smacked his knee. "I knew I raised that girl to have some balls! And that girl's got a brass set of them! Balls, I tell you!"

Maes smiled weakly. He only wished the girl had balls. Then perhaps he wouldn't be sitting in the middle of this conversation right this moment.

"The doctor push her for the name?"

Maes shook his head. "Honestly, Lieutenant General, I have no idea what the doctor discussed with the First Lieutenant."

"Hmm. I bet that's the truth. Oh, and, Hughes?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Don't think that I don't realize that there is more to this story than you're telling me."

An invisible chasm opened at Maes' feet. He almost wind milled to keep from falling in.

"However, I won't order you to tell me everything. If a mere order could get you babbling all of your secrets, I wouldn't trust you as far as I could throw you." The man leaned back and regarded his timepiece. "And neither would anyone else. I won't ask any more on the subject."

"T-Thank you, sir."

"Don't mention it. We'll just see what my Riza has to say about all of this. I want to hear it from the horse's mouth, as it were."

Maes almost laughed out loud. Horse's mouth indeed.

"So, young man, while you get us to Eastern, tell me about this daughter of yours? How old is she?"

Maes looked at Grumman a second, thinking that perhaps the man was joking. When he saw that he wasn't, Maes grinned like sunshine and whipped out his latest photographs.

They spent almost the entire train ride talking of new teeth, and ankle socks and which mashed fruit washed out of a uniform the fastest.

###

Riza woke slowly, stretching luxuriously in the sheets. She smiled, and spent a few precious moments thinking about the night before.

She looked down and put a splayed hand on her lower abdomen. Anyone who saw her and didn't know wouldn't have noticed much of a change, but Roy noticed. She recalled his hands fluttering, ghost-like over her, tracing an abdomen that had once been flat and firm, now giving way to the life growing inside of her. Where once had been a slight muscular definition, now there was a softness of skin, a minute rounding, that his keen eye picked up and his touch confirmed in wonder.

His reaction to the physical changes had left her flat-footed in surprise. To her, the changes were the simple indications of her condition, experienced by women the world over. To be cherished for sure, but she hadn't expected such a reaction from him. Not the swaggering, bragging, sometimes sarcastic Roy Mustang.

He had acted nothing of the sort when he made love to her that night before. Slowly, tenderly, even sweetly, he moved over her, bringing her climax to a swelling height with a gentleness he rarely showed. No horseplay, no challenges, and no rough passion last night, she thought, unable to keep from smiling again. It was the first time in her entire life that she felt able to say that she had been worshiped.

It gave her a warm feeling that she would do her best to save for the rest of her life.

Sighing, she swung out of bed and padded to the shower. Her stomach was starting to rumble, chasing away all of the sweet lethargy that he'd left behind when he returned to his own home. If she didn't feed the beast of a stomach soon, it would strike back, and she would spend most of the day shying away from food in general.

After her shower, she gave into a few more indulgent grins and intense examination of her body, keenly noting the all of the minute changes going on. Then she donned her uniform, her armor against the world outside, and pushed all soft feelings into the protected part of her mind. As she wound up her hair and put in into its trusty clip, she finally felt ready to face the insanity of Eastern Headquarters with the same cool headedness that had become her trademark.

She didn't make it past her kitchen before noticing the wrapped package sitting on her table. She picked it up, gingerly examining the light tissue paper and the flame-colored ribbon that secured it. Where he'd gotten a ribbon of such a color was beyond her. She pulled it loose and spread open the package on her table, gasping as she saw what lay within.

On the paper, an array had been softly sketched. And, in the center of the array was a ceramic rose. She picked it up carefully, examining it in the light of her kitchen. It was a perfectly formed closed rose, its entirety the color of light cream. In fact... she frowned, then went to her cabinet, opened it. Smiling, she pulled out one of her tea cups, holding it up to the light next to rose. It was the same.

Around the stem was a silk cord and a card, covered with Roy's careless scrawl. She read the words, and had to fight the prickle of tears in the back of her eyes:

What was once broken is now whole, but entirely changed. Nothing I could do would be enough to show you how honored I am that you are in my life. I hope this makes up for the night I made you so angry and caused you such pain.

She chuckled. Idiot. She had to make sure to remind him of this moment when he was being particularly unmanageable. She gave Hayate a gentle pat and placed her newest treasure on a shelf of some prominence.

The office of the Colonel was in a peculiar state of chaos when she arrived. Because Havoc had decided to accompany Edward to Risembool to get the repairs to his destroyed arm, the others were trying to pick up some of his slack. Expense reports were scattered in front of Fuery and Breda, split between the two. Fuery was muttering and chewing on a pencil like an overexcited squirrel.

"How does he do this?" the young man muttered. "I can barely read half of this chicken scratch!"

"I don't know," Breda grumbled, "but he deserves a medal for doing this. This is worse than breaking a message encrypted by a rabid cow."

The Colonel himself was sitting at his desk, having pulled himself up from a slouch when she entered. She watched as he put a pen to the paper on his desk and made an attempt to at least look like he was doing what he was supposed to, moaning and asking everyone why he was being put upon in such an obtrusive manner.

"Because you are a paragon of efficiency, sir," Riza said dryly, scooping up the pile of new transfer folders on the large desk. She flipped through the first on the top to check them before promptly placed them on his desk. "These are yours as well. I'm sure you can sign them without pulling a muscle somewhere."

He groaned, pulled at his hair and muttered. "When I become Fuhrer–,"

"Don't say it, sir," Riza said. She moved over to the table again and took in the work left there. She shook her head and sat down with the others. The amount of bureaucracy in this army was sometimes ridiculous. She took half of the stack of transfer paperwork and began sorting them in chronological order. "Is this all for now?" she asked him.

Roy muttered something only half-intelligible. His tone caught her attention, and when she looked at him, she saw him try to slide some of the bottom folders off of the desk and into his right bottom drawer. She cleared her throat and he froze, gave her a look, and pulled the files back where they belonged.

Only the commotion in the hallway outside broke her concentration a few hours later. She sat up and rubbed her neck, wondering what all the noise was about.

Before she could even move from her seat, the door banged open. The first warning she got that something was slightly amiss was Fuery dropping his pencil. She gave her full attention to the visitors, then wished she had something to drop.

The Colonel was scrambling up as well, uncaring of the folders flying across his desk. She hadn't seen him snap such a precise salute in quite some time. Truly, she was impressed as she joined the line of soldiers in front of the Colonel's desk.

The adjutant made his announcement as if he were introducing the Fuhrer himself. "Lieutenant General Grumman!"

Riza could see Hughes behind the Lieutenant General, and tried to question him with her eyes. He gave her a helpless shrug.

Grumman eyed the line of soldiers for a long moment, before giving a grin big enough to split his face. "At ease, Colonel!" he said, coming forward. He took the Colonel's hand and gave it a healthy shake. "Good to see you again, boy!"

The Colonel blinked for a few moments before recovering. "What a surprise to see you, sir..."

"Been a while, been a while," the old man said, looking up and down the rest of the line. "Wanted to see one of our crack teams in action. Especially one in particular." He stopped in front of Riza, who wouldn't break her salute if it killed her.

Smiling, Grumman said. "Are you going to release your soldiers, Colonel, so that I can greet my granddaughter properly?"

From the corner of her eyes, she say the Colonel's eyes widen slightly. Didn't he know? She wondered.

"Ah...your granddaughter, sir?"