I truly enjoy writing this story and am looking forward to the next few chapters. I hope you all are enjoying it enough to review it. Please and thank you. Now, it's time for Chapter nine.

Chapter 9

"I should've known I'd find you here, Roy," came a soft voice, almost as though it were a whisper of the wind. "You never did miss a chance to visit him."

"Gracia, how are you?" Roy asked, swallowing the lump in his throat to turn and face the woman now standing beside him.

"Better," she answered. Roy thought she looked it too. The smile she had didn't quite reach her eyes as it had when her husband was alive, but she no longer looked like a depressed and mopey wreck. No, Gracia Hughes was on the road to healing, and she looked all the better for it. At the very least, she kept herself; her mousy hair was still perfectly done and her clothes didn't have a single wrinkle or fold. Her voice drew him out of his observation. "Elicia's doing well, too. She's really looking forward to seeing you tonight."

"So am I," he breathed, turning back to the grave. From the corner of his eye he noticed Gracia pull out three rose petals and watched them drift onto Hughes' grave. A rose, because it had always been his favorite flower; three petals for the number of times he had been shot. Never did a full rose sit on Maes Hughes' grave, not until the killer was caught. "How's the flower shop doing?"

"Very well," she beamed at him, and he smiled back at her. "Then again, when you stock as many flowers as we do, it's hard not to do well. What about yourself?"

"Same as always, I suppose." Roy scratched the back of his head. "Things are never dull, I'll tell you that much. Case after case and nothing changes." He had said that last part rather bitterly and Gracia observed him with her soft eyes.

"Yet you seem happier, why is that?" Gracia's question startled him and he dwelled on the events of last night. Of course, that probably wasn't the only reason he was better than he had been. "What's going on with your team?"

"Oh, you know them…Breda's still taking lead over Havoc, who's still obsessing over women he'll never have. Armstrong is as exuberant as ever and Feury is coming into his own as a detective. Meanwhile, Riza got transferred to Central, but she'll be here on weekends. I, supposedly, meet my new partner today."

"I'd imagine Riza is the reason you're happier, then?" Roy couldn't help himself; he laughed. It wasn't like there was anyone else in the cemetery to take offense, or to care.

"You always were perceptive, from the day I met you," he told her and she kept on smiling at him. Roy's thoughts drifted away for a moment, to the conversation he had had with his forensics specialist earlier this morning, before he had come here. "Maybe everything's had an effect on me…"

"How do you mean?" Roy took a small respite before answering.

"We have this new Forensics Specialist, Elric," he told her as he shook his head in disbelief. "He kind of reminds me of Hughes in a way. He's inquisitive, curious, doesn't know when to stop…and he's got a wife who's just as perceptive as his."

"Sounds like people I'd like to know," Gracia joked and Roy smirked, responding to her rapidly.

"This guy? Nah. He's got a foul mouth and a short temper. His wife seems okay but they are only twenty, so they could be two complete wild cards. He's a good kid but definitely not good company." Gracia stifled her giggles at Roy's little joke and he couldn't stop himself from chuckling with her. After the sounds of amusement tapered off, the two stood alone in the cemetery, staring down at the slab of stone before them. "Who knows…maybe I will introduce you some day…"

"Maes would like that, you making friends and all. He was always a people person."

"Maybe a little too much sometimes," Roy said in both agreement and protest. Another cessation of noise followed.

"He would have been thirty four today…if he had…" Gracia couldn't finish her own sentence and Roy merely put a soothing hand on her back. "And here I am, still making his present. I suppose you'll still share it with the others?"

At last, Roy caught a whiff from the package that Gracia had brought with her. She held it up and Roy took it tremulously, and held it with reverence. "Apple pie, and still the best one I've tasted. I'm sure the guys will eat it all up within seconds, like always."

"I've never had any complaints," she admitted and he nodded, securing the package underneath his arm.

"I'd imagine all you'd get would be compliments," Roy argued. "Heck, we were tormented everyday when Hughes would walk in with the heavenly scent of apple pie on him. If anything, I would hope you'd take requests."

"Not yet anyway, you'd run my inventory dry." Her laugh now sounded like tinkling glass, but to Roy, his thoughts had started drifting darker, and the glass suddenly shattered.

"I'm close, Gracia," he stated with temerity and the woman stopped her sounds of mirth to look at the head detective. "I have a good lead this time, I think."

"That's what you said last time, Roy. We both know nothing came of it."

"But I have a really good feeling about it this time. I can catch him. I can get his killer."

"What happens then, Roy?" Her voice was soft, but for all intents and purposes, she was yelling. "Do you think it will give you closure? He's dead, Roy, and catching the person who killed him is not going to bring him back. There won't be any closure."

"Closure isn't for the dead," he breathed, hanging his head. "It was never for the dead. It's for those who are left living and have to move on, but never really can. I've seen it too many times."

"That's all well and good, but you don't need to do this." Gracia walked around to look directly at Roy, and when she spoke again, it was with an unwavering tenacity. "Maes told me that detectives give their lives for bringing people closure every day. He wouldn't want you to throw your life away, though, going after his death. That's no way to live…just think about that." Roy exhaled as Gracia gripped her purse and wished him a farewell, walking away from the cemetery and leaving him alone. His left hand clenched into a tight fist as he remained.

Out of all the people in the world, Gracia should have been the one to understand the pain he was going through. She should have understood the yearnings he had, that desperate need for answers. Instead, here she was, dissuading him from seeking those answers. Then she had dragged his name into it, as if he himself were communicating with Roy through his wife. It stung more than the chilled East City wind, or the tears that threatened to engulf his face. He quickly composed himself and inclined his head toward the grave. His footsteps then led him away from his best friend and into his car back at Riza's.

He wouldn't want you to throw your life away, though, going after his death.

What could Gracia know? She accepted his death as a fact of life because she had no power to change it. But for Roy…death had always been around him. In some ways, it was his closest friend and companion. Striding through a world of variables, death was always the constant, like flames reaching outward toward the nighttime sky. Roy Mustang didn't fear death.

Are you really just going to sit there and drink your life away 'cause of one mistake? Don't be rash, Roy.

He had always been the voice of reason. Whether it was dating advice, case solving or just life lessons, Hughes was a man that people always listened to. Roy quickly parked his car and stepped out, striding into the station with his mind still sufficiently occupied. He was torn from his musings very suddenly as he noticed a man at a nearby desk. Balancing the package precariously between his arm and body, he made his way over.

"Solf J. Kimblee…" he breathed contemptibly and the black haired man turned to face him. As he seemed to take in Mustang's presence, a smile stretched itself across his face.

"Roy Mustang, it's been far too long since we've seen each other," the other man replied and Mustang glowered at him.

"Not long enough in my opinion," Mustang confessed. "What are you doing here? Last I heard, you were suspended."

"A minor misunderstanding," Kimblee urged and Mustang felt his eyes narrowing, his vision tightening on the man in front of him.

"You threatened civilians in order to catch a criminal and endangered numerous lives. I don't see that as a misunderstanding, minor or not." Kimblee chuckled, his laugh sounding positively eerie to the head detective.

"Oh, don't tell me you haven't done something similar once or twice, Mustang." Mustang winced at the implication and Kimblee laughed again, this time louder and drawing attention from many of the station's occupants. "All the world's like a symphony of chaos where we detectives are the conductors, the people are the musicians and those criminals are the elusive notes. You've got to move all the pieces in the right order to catch it, you understand?"

"I'm afraid I don't. I've always thought you were just a touch crazy, though, ever since Ishval."

"Maybe I am," Kimblee admitted with a shrug, "or maybe I'm not. The higher-ups certainly seem to think so, or they wouldn't have demoted me to this place." He gestured around the room and Roy found his hands involuntarily crushing the box he was holding. "On the other hand, look at you: Head Detective last I heard."

"Which also makes me your boss while you're here," Mustang hissed at the other detective.

"Looking forward to it, then…sir." Kimblee gave a theatrical bow before he seemed to notice something. The waving of his hand prompted Mustang to turn around and notice a younger man walking purposefully up to them. The sight of him personally disgusted Roy. His hair was long and somewhat unruly, even if it was styled well enough. At the same time, he seemed to be nothing but skin and bones, a grotesque sight if ever he saw one. "Mustang, have you met my partner, Detective Jealot?"

"Can't say I have," he grunted out in response to the other man. The skinny man came and stood next to Kimblee. In that instant, he decided there was something about the man he just didn't like. Maybe it was the fact that he was associated with Kimblee. Or maybe it was the taunting smirk that held his face, as if looking down on everyone around him. Or perhaps, it was just the fact he felt this man was extremely unlikable. "I'm guessing that you were transferred from Central, too?"

"That's right." The answer was harsh and barking. Mustang didn't like either, and he scowled to indicate his displeasure with the man's response.

"Well, then, welcome to East." He didn't bother going to shake his hand, and it was clear Detective Jealot didn't care to either, instead sniffing at the air like a dog.

"Hmm, that's a pleasant smell. Apple pie, if I'm not mistaken," he said and Roy felt as if his veins were about to pop out of his skin. This guy was really starting to tick him off. "Do you bake?"

"No, it's from a friend, for some of the other detectives." He had certainly stressed the word "other". "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work that needs doing." He briskly strode away from them and over to his desk, slamming the apple pie onto it. A small pang hit his heart as he saw the cleaned off desk of his previous partner. Clearly, his new partner had not yet arrived at the station.

"So, that's Crazy Kimblee, huh?" Havoc's musing seemed to bring Roy out of his own, and he faced the younger detective. "Man, the number of stories there've been about him are enough to make grown men wet their beds."

"I guess that's one way to put it," Mustang responded, prompting Havoc to give a low whistle. A shuffling of papers at an adjacent desk indicated that Breda was also there.

"Sounds like you know him, boss," he quipped and Mustang scoffed. For a moment, he debated whether he should tell them, but in the end decided there was no harm in it.

"Yeah, I knew him," he told the larger detective and both Breda and Havoc leaned in to listen. "Him, Hughes and myself were all part of the same class at the Academy. After that, the three of us were together at Ishval."

"I forgot, you guys were in Ishval at the time of the bombings, right?" Breda said and Mustang issued a curt nod. "I remember, 'cause I was only two years behind you and by then they had already stopped sending so many officers into Ishval PD."

"The bombings were the reason for that." Mustang took another deep breath before going on. "Anyway, the three of us served in Ishval for about a year, and then the bombings happened. Naturally, it was like an exodus of police officers, but the three of us stuck it out, as did Hawkeye when she joined us. He loved it, Kimblee did. He reveled in the terror that the bombs brought, called it a symphony. I'll never forget his words. They were part of what inspired me to be the detective I am."

"What did he say?" Havoc asked avidly and the head detective could only frown at him.

"You don't want to know. So, after a time, I took the DET along with Hughes, and Grumman moved the two of us here to East PD. Kimblee, meanwhile, was picked up at North. Rumor had it they wanted him moved out of the volatile east region. Don't know much about him after that, I'm happy to say. Heard he got transferred to Central after about a month or two…something about Chief Armstrong calling him an 'untamable dog'. Can't fathom why they'd send him back here."

"Well, whatever the reason, I'm sure it won't be too bad," Breda chortled, but the head detective's stern look of disapproval clammed the man up almost immediately.

"Then you really don't know Solf J. Kimblee," Mustang mused. "I'm still not convinced he had nothing to do with those bombings. Or at least, he didn't become a police officer to protect civilians, I'll tell you that much." Silence followed until Havoc made an abrupt noise of recognition.

"Is that what I think it is? Gracia Hughes' apple pie?" Roy could tell Havoc's mouth was watering and he was about to laugh it off, until he caught sight of Fokker strolling through the department to what seemed to be the records room.

"Yeah, help yourself…Excuse me." Both made sounds of acknowledgement as he stepped away, pausing only to say, "Just make sure you save some for Feury and Armstrong." Not sticking around to listen to the two men's lies of confirmation, Mustang quickly dashed in the direction from which Fokker had come. A grin spread across his face. His intuition had been right. "So, I see you guys are back again."

"I guess the boss doesn't have enough information to make any kind of case against you," Rebecca said, snapping her phone shut. "As it were, he's back here to look into your records room and question some other officers of the department."

"Do you really think he'll find anything?"

"The better question is, I believe, do I care?" The scathing look she gave Mustang indicated that she obviously didn't. "Where's Riza?"

"Transferred to Central." Ever a creature of habit, Rebecca's eyebrow raised and Mustang just hoped she wouldn't start making a scene. Oddly enough, she didn't.

"That's weird."

"What's so weird about it?" Rebecca's sigh showed that she really didn't want to answer, but allowed herself to let go of her forebodings and tell him anyway.

"Just the timing of it all," she quipped, checking her phone once again, to Mustang's annoyance. "Some weird stuff is going down at Internal Affairs. Transfers left and right, mostly pertaining to the East area, and Fokker's all in a tizzy. I mean, the man's dedicated and all, but he's never gone on a witch hunt like this before. It's just…weird…" she tapered off lamely. The head detective quickly mulled over the words in his head before coming to a satisfying conclusion.

"Rebecca, can I ask you a favor?" Rebecca, who had been mindlessly flipping her phone open and shut, stopped and stared at him suspiciously.

"And why, in all of Amestris, would I do you a favor?" she asked him warily.

"What if I said it was for Riza?" He had her attention now. "I'm convinced there's something entirely more…sinister behind her transfer to Central."

"Then what do you want me to do?" He had grabbed her: hook, line and sinker.

"I need you to look into IA and see what's going on there," he told her and she frowned intensely.

"No way. If I go poking around at Internal Affairs, people will know that something's up. They'll seal their stuff up tight and I won't even get a peep. On top of that, I could lose my job, which I'm not quite willing to do, seeing as there is still stuff I have to accomplish." Mustang groaned inwardly; the girl sure could talk incessantly. Before she could continue with her babbling, the head detective cut across her.

"Okay, I get it. How about Fokker, then?" She refrained from continuing her tirade and paused to think.

"That, I think I can do," she answered tentatively. "What do you need me to look into?"

"Little things: meetings he's had, memos he's received. Anything to give an idea of what he's up to." Rebecca was on her phone again, but he knew that this time it was because she was taking down notes. "Thanks, Rebecca."

"Oh, I'm not done with you," she snapped as he rushed to beat a hasty retreat. "I'll need a favor in return, Head Detective Mustang."

"If this is about Havoc-"

"No, I'm just asking you and your little crew of men to sign the petition when it comes to call." Now, he was absolutely bamboozled, and his face displayed it as such. "Those old men on the board decided to give my repeal of the anti-fraternization policy a shot, only I need a bunch of signatures to get the ball really rolling. So, they'll be sending petitions around to get police department approval."

"All right, consider your favor granted, then." With that, he took his leave of the over-energetic, raven haired, Internal Affairs officer. It wasn't long before he halted at the appearance of a rather portly man standing near his desk.

Ironically, this man seemed to be the practical antithesis of Detective Jealot. Whereas the latter was bony and thin, this man appeared to have eaten too many crème-filled doughnuts in his lifetime, a no doubt unhealthy habit. His entire body was pudgy and round, which was only highlighted not just by the roundness of his head but by how short he was as well. It all made for a rather comical appearance that suggested the rotund-ness of the little man. Nonetheless, Mustang approached.

"Can I help you?" he asked, pushing his hands into his pockets. The man turned to face him, and somehow, Roy wasn't surprised when even his nose turned out to be a little more…well, rounded.

"Roy Mustang?" the man asked in a slightly higher-pitched voice than one would've expected. Mustang nodded at the man in confirmation and his lips twitched slightly. "Detective Vorac, your new partner."

"Ah, pleasure." He had held out his hand, but Vorac seemed to ruminate over his large and pudgy fingers before grinning wide at him. Mustang wasn't entirely sure of what to do, so he withdrew his hand and used it instead to motion at the workspace. "Well, feel free to set up your desk in any way you'd like, and we can get working on our cases as soon as possible."

"Of course…I'm sure we'll make great partners." Seeing no fit need to respond, the head detective turned back to his desk and pulled the nearest case file, a robbery at a high-end clothing store, towards him. Vorac was still standing there, and Mustang's diverted attention revealed the portly detective to be sniffing the air.

"Apple pie," he told him with a smile and received a jumping response in turn. "Feel free to have a piece if you'd like…assuming Havoc or Breda's left you any." Nonetheless, he was actually pleased to see the man eagerly devouring his piece. "You have a first name?"

"Most people just refer to me as detective or Vorac…" Mustang merely shrugged and turned to him as he cleared away the remaining vestiges of the pie.

"Well then, Vorac, whenever you're ready, I've got our next case to work on." And work on that case they did. Mustang soon learned that Vorac wasn't necessarily the sharpest tool in the shed, which caused the head detective to do most of the heavy lifting. Nevertheless, he seemed amiable enough and, to both his bamboozlement and amusement, the detective knew all the best restaurants in the area for lunch. He couldn't say the two had bonded over the course of their investigation, which ended in the arrest of the store's assistant manager, but they had formed at least a solid working relationship by the time that the two had departed from each other. The head detective was only glad he hadn't seen Kimblee or his partner the rest of the day.

As the day started drawing to a close, Roy stopped by Riza's and the two made their way to the Hughes' household. A little girl with light brown hair opened the door and her smile immediately brightened.

"Uncle Roy!" the girl squealed and quickly hugged him around the waist, Riza laughing beside him. "C'mere, c'mere! Let me show you what I drew for the school art show." Roy quickly found himself being dragged off by the eight-year old. Passing by Gracia he uttered words of greeting as she moved on to speak with Riza.

"They're…uh…magnificent…" Roy commented once he had arrived at the young girl's picture hanging in the living room. "Is that…a duck?" Elicia Hughes quickly put her hands on her hips and pouted at him.

"No!" she teased, with her tongue sticking out. In order to humor the miniature girl, Roy leaned in to examine the canvas, taking his time while Elicia stood there rather impatiently. He drew back and folded his arms.

"Looks like a duck to me." Elicia aimed a kick at Roy and caught him violently on the shin. "You little twerp." Before the little girl had a chance to run away, he had scooped her up, with all her giggles and squirming, and carried her to the kitchen, where Gracia was finishing setting the table. He quickly dumped her into her seat and tweaked her nose before seating himself next to her.

As usual, dinner made by Gracia Hughes was a delicious affair, and at some point, Roy felt he had lost years of maturity when he and Elicia started flinging peas back and forth at one another. He could tell that Riza wanted to remonstrate him, but found herself laughing too much at the little girl's wild stories and Gracia's infectious smiles. Only after the meal did Roy find himself separated from Elicia as Riza took over the duties. Gracia collapsed next to him on the couch soon after.

"Drink?" she asked, holding up a bottle of beer that was opened. He gave her a sliding look and she chortled, placing the bottle on a nearby table. "Just thought I'd see."

"You've done a great job raising her. Give her a few more years and she'll turn into a fine woman," he said and she smiled dolefully at him.

"You've already got yourself a fine woman. You won't find better…few people do."

"You did." She sighed, as though she had been afraid they were going to breach the topic.

"Yes…Maes and I were practically made for each other…and I miss him terribly. I can understand how those army wives feel, hoping it doesn't happen to anyone else. But…" She broke off here and Roy looked at her, wondering just what she was thinking. "Roy, what you said this morning, about never being able to move on. Well, I just don't think it's true.

"Sure, that kind of pain is always with us, but if we let that pain and anguish fill us up, we're nothing more than empty husks. We block out all other emotion, and we stop living. Then we shame whatever that person died for." She fiddled with her earrings as Roy remained silent to her statement. "You will find a way to move on."

"How?" His voice had been little more than a whisper, and soon after he felt Gracia's soft hands rubbing his back gently.

"That's up to you. Sometimes it can be something or someone so little or insignificant, but it can change your world for the better. All I know, is that somewhere along the way…you'll find it." And Roy wanted to believe her. He wanted to believe her so much that after both he and Riza had left, and she was safely back home, Roy merely questioned what in his life could help him make it all better.

Saturday morning was not a good morning for Roy Mustang. To start with, he woke up obscenely late and then realized he still had to go into work. Rushing himself, he scurried through his refrigerator only to realize he hadn't gone food shopping in over a week. Grumbling and cursing to himself, Roy quickly hopped on over to the station. With an eternal scowl, he filled up a stale cup of coffee and grabbed two doughnuts from a tray, wrapping them up in a napkin. His grimace remained until he caught sight of the figure by the chief's door. She spoke to him first, however.

"Doughnuts, sir? I always thought you hated that stereotypical police food," Riza commented idly and Roy frowned, taking a bite out of the powdered one to disprove her point.

"I was out of food…didn't really have a choice," he informed her. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"Grandfather and I made plans for the day, but as you can see, he seems to be busy in a meeting." She motioned behind her and Roy noticed for the first time that the chief's office was closed and all of its blinds were down, preventing anyone from seeing in. "It's been like that since I got here."

"Sounds phenomenal. Well, I have work to make up, so…catch you later." She waved him good bye as he finished his first doughnut, and started hungrily on his second. Vorac was already at his desk, scribbling away at some reports. The head detective greeted him with a yawn, but the large man made no response. Mustang turned to greet Havoc and Breda, only to find Havoc staring dreamily out the window. "What's with him?"

"Morning to you too, boss," Breda greeted stiffly, rubbing his temples. Mustang didn't need to be a detective to easily guess what he had been doing the previous night. "He met some girl at the club last night when we went drinking. They really hit it off, I guess."

"Bout time he got a girlfriend. Maybe he'll stop complaining for once and actually do some work."

"Yes to the first, doubt it to the second," Breda said, thwacking his partner on the side of the head. Havoc didn't react and Roy realized with a shake of his head that the young man was beyond hopeless.

"So, she must look good if it's got him all like this."

"Eh, just your average girl in my opinion: curvy, busty, and not afraid to flaunt it."

"So, in other words, Havoc's kind of girl."

"Yep." Roy sighed as he imagined how Havoc's work ethic (if there was any) would just plummet now. "And she's stopping by to visit today." A small yelp from next to him provoked Mustang's sight onto that of his new partner.

"Sorry…" he whispered sheepishly. "Thought I-thought I saw something on my desk." Roy raised his eyebrow at the man but decided to not leave a single comment. A sharp vibration shuddered through his coat pocket and he quickly pulled his phone out to see it was a text from Rebecca.

"Excuse men, I have to take this." Leaving his coffee at his desk, he quickly swept past a still waiting Riza until he noticed Rebecca at the entrance to the station. "I didn't realize you were still in town."

"Fokker's sticking around until he's done with the interviews and I'm stuck with him," Rebecca told him with a scowl that showed she was angry about more than being stuck in East for a weekend. "It's bad enough being stuck in a room with Sheska…"

"What did you find out, Catalina?" he interjected, hoping to head off her diatribe. Rebecca sighed and glowered at him.

"It's always work with you! I have my problems but you're all mister manly police officer."

"Rebecca…" he said warningly.

"This is your fault, anyway. Didn't you say you'd talk to Havoc about me, or did it escape your over-inflated ego?"

"Is that what this is about? You saw Havoc's new girlfriend?" His exasperation was at its height now. He could barely believe he was having this conversation. Rebecca flared up further.

"Oh, yeah, I saw them shoving each other's tongues in their throats…stupid skank…"

"Hey, I can't help it id Havoc's a dunderhead," Mustang butted in and Rebecca stopped talking, but certainly continued fuming. "Look, you texted me. What did you find out?"

"Nothing." His mouth dropped open. "And I mean that literally. Fokker's stuff is clear. No e-mails, letters or documents. The only thing I saw was a phone call the day we came here, but obviously there's nothing I can see past that. Sorry…"

"It-it's fine…thanks for the help." He turned back and started towards his desk, hearing mere snippets from his informant's mouth that involved the words "Havoc" and "darts". Chuckling to himself, he grabbed his coffee up off his desk and brought it to his lips.

"There you are, Jean," cried a husky voice and Roy stopped. Why on earth could he not just drink his tasteless coffee in peace? Turning around he saw a very curvaceous woman approach Havoc and blanched. When he had heard Rebecca call the woman a skank, he thought she had been exaggerating. The woman was dressed worse than his sisters when they were pumping men for information. Havoc was naturally slobbering all over her, but Roy turned away in distaste. "I thought you would have been waiting up front for me."

"Sorry, Solaris, perks of the job," Havoc said with an unnatural grin.

"It's fine. I brought you some walnuts." She dumped a bag on the desk and turned around, her eyes meeting Roy's. For a second, he thought he saw a flickering fire behind her eyes, but before he could ascertain what he had seen, she turned away and looked at Vorac, who was staring vapidly at her. "I jumped through a lot of hoops to get you those, you little glutton."

"You shouldn't have…" Havoc said with an overly sweet tone that certainly didn't suit him.

"Well, my friends Annie and Natalia suggested that I should," Solaris commented, whipping her illustrious black hair behind her. "So, I contacted my friends Mathilda, Amber, and Henrietta who spoke to Thomas and…"

"That's great. I'm glad you got 'em, but I don't need to know the whole story." Solaris didn't seem to like that and scowled quite vividly, but quickly replaced it with a seductive smile.

"It all worked out in the end, I guess…" Roy finally pulled himself away from their conversation and jumped when he found both Armstrong and Feury standing beside him.

"Gah! Armstrong, stop sneaking up on me like that!" Mustang chastised him and Feury raised an eyebrow at him.

"To be fair, it's kind of hard for Armstrong to sneak up on anyone," Feury answered and Mustang had no choice but to concur. "So, what's going on here?"

"Just a large spectacle of absolutely unneeded PDA." He had said the last part loudly, but it seemed to be drowned out by the opening of the chief's office.

"…quite the politician and diplomat. I'll make sure those tickets get passed along to my staff." Grumman's voice called out from his office, drawing every detective's eyes to the door. With his usual grimace, Edward stormed out of the door, followed by a Xingese man and several bodyguards.

"You're quite the raconteur yourself, good sir. I look forward to seeing you at the gala tomorrow," the man said and Roy quirked both his eyebrows up. The two men seemed to say goodbye before Edward grabbed him violently.

"Are you incapable of not inviting everyone to this ball?" he snarled out and the Xingese man shrugged.

"In my country I've thrown balls to feed the hungry. I'm sure your president won't mind a few extra guests."

"A few extra…Ling, you invited all the detectives in the department and their significant others." Edward threw his hands in the air before grabbing Ling again. "Just-come on, I'll show you the Forensics lab." Ling seemed to briskly skip after Edward while the other occupants in the room seemed to stare after in stunned silence.

"A ball? Oh, Jean, how wonderful!" Solaris exclaimed and Havoc laughed nervously. Roy just collapsed in his seat and finally grabbed his coffee again. No doubt Grumman would make the announcement soon (and make it mandatory). Finally sipping on his now lukewarm beverage, Mustang sighed. Why did his weekend have to be so complicated?

Author's Note: Perhaps one of my favorite chapters to write and introduces a whole slew of characters as well. Next chapter essentially finishes off introductions but I'm not giving you much more than that, I think you'll find it enjoyable and unexpected. Well, leave me a review please with lots of juicy info if you can! Oh, and Dare to Be Silly.