Have you yet noticed the subtle difference in my usage of Roy Mustang's name throughout my story? Let me know if you have.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist

Chapter 5

"What're you thinking about, boss?"

"Hmmm..." Mustang breathed in as he eyed his subordinate. "I'm thinking about that pile of cases on your desk that need solving."

"Lies."

"You asked," he quipped, much to the irritation of Havoc. "Hey, Hawkeye, did we make any progress on that jewelry store theft over in Youswell?"

"Nothing so far, sir," Hawkeye responded crisply and Mustang sighed, flipping his lighter one more time before shoving it in his pants' pocket.

"Somehow, I don't think we will."

"That's not like you to give up, sir."

"I'm not giving up," Mustang reminded her with agitation, tousling his hair. "I'm just not spending time on a case that will solve itself. I'm not too worried about it."

"Almost seems overly optimistic," Havoc remarked as he grabbed a case file from the stack on top of his desk. Mustang shrugged. "Oh, Breda, if only we had the crime-solving skills of our dear leader, then we could solve cases by just thinking about them."

Breda stood from his desk and whacked Havoc over the head. "That is how we solve cases, you dork." Havoc merely glared at his partner for the name-calling, though the burly man seemed entirely unaffected. "Anyway, I'm going to get a sandwich. Anyone want one?"

"Ooh, I'll come with you. I'm starved," Havoc announced, grabbing his coat as he stood.

"Then bring the case file so we can get cracking on it." Havoc sighed but reluctantly agreed as he and Breda left. Roy exhaled loudly, earning an upward glance from his ever industrious partner, who was busy scribbling away at things on her desk. After a minute of the scritching and scratching she laid her pen down to stare at Mustang intently.

"Sir, can I ask why you believe the Youswell case will solve itself?"

"Youswell's a pretty tight-knit community, right?" Mustang asked with a cocked eyebrow and Hawkeye nodded. "Well, you and I both know that in such a small community, it's very difficult for there to be any real thieves since the citizens would be onto them like locusts to honey."

"Just like back home," Riza commented and Roy could tell she was fondly remembering the day that Mustang had come to her hometown. He, himself, remembered with a scoff that it wasn't exactly the warmest of welcomes. "So, in essence, you're saying it was a local."

"Yeah, it'd be easier for a real thief to just steal some of the refined stuff from the mines there. Probably just some kids doing it on a dare. Give it a day or two and I bet the jewels will be returned with the most sincere apologies."

"I suppose…" Hawkeye agreed with a frown. "But if you're wrong, I'm throwing your ass on the fire instead of my own…sir," she added as an afterthought. Mustang could only laugh, and left it to the silent agreement that he'd gladly take the heat. Hawkeye went back to her work at her desk as he turned to the, once-again, ever-mounting stack of paperwork on his desk. He emitted another sigh and grabbed the papers on top and got to work.

He knew he should've been grateful that he had the time to work on the menial work like this, especially given that his hours practically forced him to work on Saturdays. That didn't change the fact that he still felt most of his work was pointless. He had gotten a thrill two days ago when they had caught The Chopper, but it hadn't panned out anywhere. In fact, for all the haste that the case had brought about, its conclusion only signified a return to normalcy. Normalcy, of course, being the tens or hundreds of other cases they had to work and the grueling paperwork that seemed to accompany them. Not that Roy didn't like normalcy, but when there had been a possibility that Hughes' killer had been in the room, even if it was only a slim one, letting go of that feeling was the most difficult thing in the world. His eyes narrowed as he thought about it, the ink on the pages blurring somewhat. Two years and not a single lead beyond what had originally been provided.

It made his lust for vengeance burn all the brighter. He knew that Riza wouldn't approve of those dark thoughts, but in all honesty, Roy could care less. He had made a promise to the late Hughes and he would make sure, one way or the other, that it was fulfilled. Roy scratched his head in frustration and then cringed when a glass-shattering voice called out.

"Yoo-hoo! Riza!" Roy didn't need to look to know who had just arrived at the station.

"Rebecca?" came Riza's completely astonished, and somewhat mortified, voice. Roy closed his eyes, as if doing so would make his wish that this was all a dream, a reality. That very hope was nullified in the next instant.

"Roy," she sniffed in greeting and Roy looked at her with something akin to a scowl.

"Catalina."

"Always the policeman, aren't you? Honestly, I don't know what Riza sees in you."

"Well, considering that she has-"

"What are you doing here, Becky?" Riza asked and Roy got the message, slumping back down in his seat.

"Boss man's here," Rebecca told her, casually inspecting her fingernails. "Sheska's getting some files and I'm here because I want to be."

"In other words, you're still working desperately hard to get the whole anti-fraternization rule done away with."

"Every woman needs a man, Riza. You're proof of that." Roy made sure to ignore that last comment. "Preferably, someone who's rich."

"If by 'man' you mean Havoc, then I'll agree for you," Riza conceded, "but if you're looking for someone rich then I say keep looking."

"Oh, Riza, don't be like that!" she pouted loudly and Roy rolled his eyes. "But since you brought up the subject of Havoc, where is he?"

"Out to lunch with Breda."

"Hmm…that's a shame."

"Yes, it is a shame," Roy mumbled. "We won't get to see you act like some lovestruck schoolgirl around him."

"Just ignore him, Becky, he's in a bad mood."

"You always use that excuse," Rebecca countered and Riza sighed. Well, Roy thought, that's what you get when you have a friend who's such high maintenance.

"Wait a minute, if you're here…" Roy stroked his chin in thought. "What's Internal Affairs doing here?"

"Geez, you're slow. It took you that long-"

"Just answer the question already!" Rebecca opened her mouth to reply but was almost immediately interrupted.

"Mustang, my office," Grumman announced to the station, causing the head detective to scowl as he stood. Both Rebecca and Riza watched him go with a small modicum of interest as he stepped into the chief's office.

"Mustang."

"Fokker. What's IA doing here?" Fokker merely smiled at him. Unfortunately, it was a smile that made his hair stand on end. It wasn't that Fokker was an unpleasant man; in fact, he was probably the nicest man in all of Internal Affairs. He treated his subordinates well and was more or less impartial when it came to his reviews of others in the department. He was smart too, and was almost a lock for DA in Central a few years down the road. But he also had ambition to make it straight to that very position, and sometimes landing a high-positioned cop was the way he would do it.

"Is there somewhere we can talk privately?" Fokker asked Grumman and the chief cleared his throat.

"There's the conference room."

"Too open." Mustang grimaced. There went any hope that this was a friendly visit. "Don't want any prying eyes peering in."

"There's always the interrogation room, I guess…" Grumman, however, did not seem very pleased with the idea. Mustang wholeheartedly agreed with that sentiment.

"We'll take it." The doors opened again at this moment and in walked a short, mousy woman with bushy brown hair and large framed glasses. "Ah, Sheska, back already?"

"Y-yes, sir," the girl, Sheska, replied timidly. "I finished pulling all the files on Detective Mustang that you had requested me to mem-"

"What?" Mustang blurted out uncontrollably and Fokker glanced momentarily at him as he grabbed the files. "I'm sorry, you're here for me?"

"Surprised?" Fokker asked and Mustang fumed silently. "Good work, Sheska. If you'll wait for me by the entrance, I shouldn't be too long. Oh, and grab that slouch that calls herself an Internal Affairs officer."

"Of course," Sheska replied, shifting her feet uncomfortably. "Uh, sir, since you'll take some time, I was wondering if I could visit a friend. He works here now."

"Sure, not a problem." Sheska bowed her head and quickly scurried from the room. "Shall we?" Fokker motioned out the door and Mustang left the room in a huff. His very demeanor seemed to practically silence the entire station as they watched their head detective leading the way to the interrogation rooms. Mustang's eyes briefly locked with Hawkeye's and she sat back in her chair, a concerned look on her face. Not long after, the two men had reached the interrogation room and entered it, Mustang sitting on one side of the table with Fokker on the other.

"Mind telling me why I'm here?" Mustang asked with vehemence as Fokker placed his documents down on the table.

"I heard you caught a high profile serial killer the other day." Mustang didn't say a word, folding his arms as a sign of protest. Fokker finished organizing his papers and looked to the surly detective. "Liore City DA, huh? Must've had some heat coming down on you."

"Should I take that terrible pun as a joke?" Fokker straightened his glasses. "Can we skip the formalities? Just tell me what IA wants with me."

"We've received formal complaints of harassment from several individuals."

"'Harassment'? You can't be-that's a load of crap!" The very idea was absurd, harassment indeed. If he harassed people, then it was because they needed to get their work done, and quickly. There was no time to be lollygagging around. "Look, just talk to my subordinates and they'll tell you."

"No, that's not it."

"Then how-"

"Head Detective Mustang, have you or have you not been asking multiple accused criminals about their potential involvement in the death of Detective Maes Hughes?" Mustang's glare tightened, but he refused to answer the question. "We've received several testimonies from various criminals that you've interrogated, concerning your inquiry into detective Hughes' death. As I understand it, you consistently ask whether they performed the deed themselves. Is this true?"

"Funny, I didn't know the department was accepting allegations against detectives from known criminals these days."

"Please answer the question."

"Yes, I have asked, on occasion, whether or not certain criminals were involved in Detective Hughes' death. But," he leaned forward and held up a finger for emphasis, "if you will look at each of those reports, you'll realize that the only criminals whom I have bothered to ask are those known to be serial killers. It follows as a logical assumption that as a serial killer, they may have also potentially killed a cop."

"You are aware that the investigation into Hughes' death was being handled by those at Central, correct?"

"I don't believe jurisdiction really matters in this case. Maes Hughes was killed here, in the Eastern part of Amestris. By all rights, it was our case. Just because Central has taken over the case does not mean that we do not still carry the responsibility to solve it and bring the killer to justice."

"Debatable, at best," Fokker informed him.

"What part of that could possibly be said to be debatable?"

"You went beyond your duty."

"As officers of the law, is it not all our responsibilities to go above and beyond the duty expected of a normal citizen?"

"That's not the point here, detective."

"Then, please, by all means tell me what the point is." Fokker stared at him for a moment before releasing a breath.

"As an officer of the law, you have various duties. Are you aware of these duties?"

"To apprehend those who are criminals and a danger to society; to perform our work efficiently; and to obey our superiors to ensure the stability of our State of Amestris."

"You have violated one of these," Fokker said with as little emotion as possible. "Your superiors determined that the case should be handed over to those at Central. By asking these questions of criminals, it gives the appearance that you are still actively working on this case. On top of that, it could potentially be construed as police brutality and may reflect poorly on the department as a whole."

"I'm sorry," Mustang said with a humorless laugh, "I wasn't aware my superiors or the department were in the practice of letting a killer walk free because it wasn't assigned to the detective who caught him."

"Be that as it may, there is still-"

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were on a witch hunt right now. I really don't think there's anything to discuss. Someone killed Maes Hughes. That someone was never found and the case is still open. Whether the detectives in Central abandoned it or not isn't part of the question. I am free to search for the killer so long as my methods do not impinge on any practice of the law, or interfere with the current investigation, assuming there is one."

"You're quite well aware of our bylaws." Mustang only continued to emit a glare at him and Fokker sighed out of frustration. "In either case, I am not entirely satisfied that these allegations are not without merit. I'll have another look at your case files and I may return to interview some of your colleagues. I hope you won't mind."

"Not at all. The faster and more efficient your investigation is, the quicker you're out of my hair," Mustang explained to him. Fokker grunted in response and started putting all of his papers back together. "I'm sure that you will not find any more issue with my practices. Are we done?"

"Yes, you can leave." Mustang stood and immediately exited the room, back out into the brightened station. He saw Hawkeye sitting at her desk, typing quietly on her computer. Rebecca was nowhere in sight.

"How did it go?" she asked as he approached her. Mustang's brain struggled to think of a response that wasn't laced with poison.

"What's a synonym for the word 'frustrating'?" Mustang growled, skirting around her to sit at his desk. "They were asking me questions about Hughes' case. The thing's been active for two years, why should anyone care if I go poking around?"

"Maybe the people in Central decided to take another look at the case." Mustang stroked his chin at the thought. There was certainly no doubt that someone from Central had sent Internal Affairs after him for looking into Hughes' case. Well, it was that, or Fokker had come to stop him from looking into it too much on peril of his job. Either conclusion was disturbing, and not one he cared to entertain. But with another run through his hair, he determined that it was about time he did entertain it.

"Riza," he started and her eyes flicked briefly toward him, shocked at his use of her first name, "meet me at the pub down the street after work."

"I won't bother asking why. I'll be there." Mustang nodded at her as he stood and strode over to the corner where Armstrong was working furiously on a load of case files. He was still wearing his jacket, so Mustang assumed he must have just arrived back at the station.

"Alex, can I speak with you?"

"Detective Mustang!" Armstrong reacted with surprise at being pulled away from his work. "Is this about those complaints? I tried explaining-"

"No, I'm not here to talk about your shirt-ripping habits," he groaned. "Look, can you meet me at the pub after work?"

"I believe my schedule is free. What is this about?"

"Hughes." Armstrong murmured his acknowledgment as Mustang wheeled away from him and headed for the front of the station, where Rebecca was standing about lazily. "Nice to see you're getting work done, Rebecca. I'd almost mistake this entire visit for a social call otherwise."

"What do you want, Roy?"

"Did Fokker ever tell you his reason for coming to East?"

"Nope," she answered, popping the "p" at the end. "I don't think even Sheska knew and she's his loyal assistant, leastways until she came here she didn't know. Why? What's this about?"

"Nothing that concerns you."

"Stingy."

"Clingy."

"Wet match."

"Shut up and go home, already."

"Hey, I answered your questions, so you owe me a favor."

"I'll put in a good word for you with Havoc." His departure from the young woman put a complete stop to their conversation. Mustang quickly returned to his desk and began focusing his mind on the papers in front of him. A few minutes later, Fokker swept past him, a look of contempt clearly present on his face. Something was strange here, but he decided it'd be best to keep his actions under wraps until he had spoken with his fellow colleagues.

Breda and Havoc returned sometime in the late afternoon, but failed to notice, or at the very least comment, at the changed air around their boss. Both of them left for home soon after that. When the clock finally struck six, Riza announced she was going to get dinner and Roy kindly offered to take her. Moments later they found themselves joining Armstrong in a small, secluded booth at the pub.

"Fokker kept the reason for his visit to East a secret from his staff," Mustang informed the both of them and his two companions looked to one another. "The reason was to question me about my looking into Hughes' death."

"But why? We never found his killer, the case is still open," Armstrong protested loudly, though there was enough chatter in the establishment to prevent him from being heard.

"Except for the fact that it's not East's case anymore," Hawkeye reminded him, "Central took it over after the first month."

"I know, but that doesn't mean they can stop a detective from investigating suspicious characters."

"They shouldn't," Mustang agreed. He was about to continue when the server approached and the three ordered their drinks. As soon as she walked away, he continued. "That's what concerns me. Apparently, news of my individual investigation has pricked someone's ears in a way they normally shouldn't be pricked. The case wasn't solved but now they're harassing me just for looking into it? Something doesn't add up right." Hawkeye stared at him in reflection before giving her thoughts over to words.

"Are you saying someone blew the whistle?" Hawkeye asked in a fierce whisper. Mustang inclined his head toward her in response as their drinks were delivered. With a heavy breath, she blew her bangs up as she sat back. "Another cop…unbelievable…"

"It's impossible!" Armstrong countered. "How could we even think that of our fellow officers? No. People who choose this profession want to protect; why would any one of us kill our own?"

"It's not completely unheard of," Hawkeye informed him and Armstrong only stared at her in incredulous shock. "Before Commissioner Bradley took over, the department wasn't exactly the cleanest. I don't like the thought of it either, Alex, but…it does make some sense."

"I don't like it either," Mustang told them, "and I'm not saying it's even true. But this just roused my suspicions. The only reason someone would send IA after me is to stop me looking into it. It makes sense. By all rights, we were the best group of detectives on the block, even without Hughes as your partner, but even we couldn't catch the killer. If there's something else at play here then I can finally understand why: missing evidence, Central taking over the case. Personally, it all reeks of something foul."

"Then…what are we going to do about it?" Armstrong questioned.

"This situation can mean one of two things: someone from Central ordered Fokker to come here and not breathe a word about it, or Fokker himself made some trumped charge because he has some kind of stake in the whole affair. I really don't want to believe that people in the highest echelons of the department are behind this, so we'll have to look into the one we can, first: Fokker. I want to know everything. If I go poking around it's bound to raise some red flags, and at this point we need to tread lightly."

"I should be able to do that," Hawkeye stated. "I can do my research through the station at night; there should be something there. On top of that, it wouldn't look strange for me to stay late."

"All right. Just make sure we get everything we can. Where he was two years ago, what he's doing now. Family, friends, I don't even care if you get his eating habits. We need everything we can find, even if it has no relevance."

"I'll inquire with my parents. The Armstrong name has much influence in society. I should be able to put out feelers without arousing too much suspicion."

"Good." Mustang stood, leaving his drink abandoned. "Tread carefully, everyone. We'll meet again as soon as one of us has some information."

"Very well, sir."

"I hope that the both of you know what you're getting into. I'm asking you to put yourselves in danger, to potentially put your jobs on the line. Are you sure you want to continue following me?" Armstrong and Hawkeye shared a similar look before meeting his gaze.

"Sir, if you so asked it, we would follow you into the very depths of hell." Mustang smirked, but accepted the pledge of loyalty.

"Then make sure you tell no one of this investigation."

"Not even the rest of the team?"

"I don't want anyone else to be dragged into this until we're sure." Both gave a mumbled agreement as Mustang left them. He'd be lying to the both of them and himself if he said he wasn't worried about the storm that would come down from this. But he was ready, either way. This time he would catch the killer.

Roy barely slept a wink that evening. The whole night his head had been filled with thoughts of Hughes and he constantly cursed himself for failing his best friend. When he awoke that morning he immediately went for his phone and found no messages waiting. Not that he really expected any: his team worked fast, but not that fast. With a groan upon his realization that it was Sunday morning, he changed his clothing and quickly made his way over to the station.

Like every Sunday, the station was virtually empty, only a few detectives and other officers were on staff, making their rounds. Usually, even he took off on Sundays. But with his current investigation and the paperwork that was still mounting up before him, it more or less forced him to work without reprieve, He was surprised to find that Hawkeye wasn't at her desk when he sat down but decided to take it in stride and set himself to work.

Hawkeye, however, didn't show up the entire morning, even though he kept hoping that she would. This fact alone stymied his efforts to do any real efficient work. At times he even found himself wanting to make airplanes out of the poor pieces of paper, or otherwise glaring at it so vehemently that it might set on fire. When neither of these things really happened, he figured that it meant he did have to, in fact, do his paperwork. He had only gotten through a little over half when he noticed a very disturbed Hawkeye stroll through the station. Mustang stood to greet her but she merely grabbed his collar and started dragging him down to the interrogation room.

"You look upset." She said nothing as she examined the room to make sure they were, in fact, alone. Or, at least, that was what Mustang presumed. "What did you find?"

"If Fokker's behind this then he's very good at covering his tracks. I'll do a little more digging, but so far there's nothing there."

"Usually stuff like that doesn't upset you."

"I tried to find out why IA got called here, and you won't like the reason." He continued to look at her as a prompt for her to continue. "It turns out someone at East looked into the Hughes case, that's why a flag went up for it."

"Who?"

"Edward Elric."

"I'll kill him."

"Sir, I'm not entirely sure that's the best course of action."

"I don't care; he shouldn't have gone looking into an investigation he had no right looking into!"

"Well, going to Forensics isn't going to help. He's not here today," she informed him, preempting his attempt to leave.

"Then what's his address?" Hawkeye glared at him, but at this point he couldn't have cared less. His blood was boiling. "Never mind, I'll get it myself."

And Roy Mustang was true to his word. Only a quarter of an hour later and he was on his way to what he presumed was Edward's house, absentmindedly following the directions from his GPS. It wasn't long before he arrived outside a plain, two-storied house with an attached garage. It was somewhat surreal, knowing that a 20-year-old lived in such a place. He reached the door and knocked loudly. A sharp outcry of pain came from the house before a loud, "Don't worry, I'll get it." Then the door opened.

"Oh, Mr. Mustang. Car giving you problems again?" Roy stood there, completely dumbstruck at the sight of the woman (somewhat scantily clad, if he thought about it) that was standing before him.

"You're…Winry, right?" he said slowly, trying to recover in the opposite fashion. "Sorry, I must have the wrong house. I'm looking for an Edward Elric."

"Then come on in. Ed and I were just finishing up in the other room."

"Wait, what? I'm sorry, Edward's here?"

"Of course he is-he's my husband," Winry chided him for not remembering. "I'm Winry Elric."

"I didn't-"

"Hey, Ed, you've got a visitor!"

"That's great, now can you get me my pants since you threw them so unceremoniously."

"Oh, don't be a baby."

"You're the one who didn't warn me before you reconnected the nerves." The bickering continued as Winry ran back to where Edward was. Roy was still in shock over the connection between the two people as he stepped into the house. There were pictures lined all along the halls: pictures of kids fishing, three kids hanging out by a tree, and a picture that showed a slightly younger Edward smiling brightly in a tuxedo, the lovely Winry positively beaming in her wedding dress. "Oh, it's you." Roy turned to look at Ed, who was buttoning up his shirt, and scowled.

"I wouldn't be here if you didn't make it necessary."

"What did I do?"

"You looked into the Hughes murder investigation!"

"So what if I did?"

"You had no right-"

"I'm a Forensics Specialist. I had every right."

"Do you realize what you've brought down on me? Now I've got IA sniffing up my ass!"

"Because I looked at a case file? Please!"

"Listen, you-" Mustang was ready to grab hold of Edward when Winry entered the hall.

"Will you be staying for dinner, Mr. Mustang?"

"No, he won't," Edward answered her through clenched teeth. "In fact, I was just about to see him out." He quickly pushed Mustang back and the Head Detective got the hint, backing out to the front porch as Edward closed the door behind him. "Yes, I looked at the case file. I was interested."

"Well, your 'interest' had someone sending the hounds after me."

"And you're trying to figure out just who that someone is, is that it?"

"Yes, I am, no thanks to you," Mustang snapped at him. "You have a tendency to interfere and get nothing, don't you Fullmetal."

"Actually, I did get something." Edward smirked at him and Roy found his face being etched into an even deeper scowl. "You probably wouldn't have noticed it, since it was added after the case was taken from you, but there was a name attached to the file."

"And what name would that be?"

"Homunculus."

Author's Note: As you may be able to tell, this story is now starting to move forward at an accelerating speed. Before any of you assume, there is a meaning behind Homunculus here but it is NOT the same as the one in the series. Just remember that this is an AU, a world where alchemy does not exist and thus there is an entirely different meaning behind this word. Also, for those of you who may be confused as to who Fokker is, he was a character appearing around the time of Chapter 15/16 in the manga and appeared to be Sheska's boss after Hughes died. Envy impersonated him once. That's all I can really tell you, look him up if you don't remember. One more note, I find it interesting that the chapters with Ed seem to get less reviews. The response last time was…less than favorable. I really do enjoy getting reviews and getting feedback on the story. Without them, I can't know how my plot is going or, more importantly, my characterization. So I'd really appreciate lots of reviews this time. So, please review and Dare to Be Silly.