AUTHOR'S RAMBLINGS

So... the next chappy... Enjoy...

Mustang's house was dark when he pulled into his driveway, just as it should be. He took his key out of the admission and just sat there for a moment, mind racing. Edward's code was something that no one had ever cracked, and the Flame didn't think that he'd be the first. On the surface, the page he'd scribbled out appeared to be a travel journey about a trip to the Xerxian ruins. It mentioned different plants and the how the clouds looked. While Mustang knew that it had a deeper meaning, he just couldn't get the paper to tell him the truth.

He stood up from his car and walked to his front door. The front room was spotless, with very few things in it. A low couch sat facing a fireplace stocked with wood, ready to light. He pulled out his glove, light the dark room, and hung his coat on the hook beside the door. Another sigh made its way out of his mouth involuntarily and he collapsed onto the afore mentioned couch. Footsteps outside had him tensing for a moment, but then he remembered. It was his security detail. Another thing he insisted he didn't need but that Hawkeye had overruled him on. Hawkeye... Riza... Yet another complicated mess.

Mustang eventually ended up sleeping on the couch and when he woke in the morning, he went about his usual routine. Make breakfast, eat half of it, throw away the leftovers, shower, and dress. Next, he went to his study. A quick glance at the clock assured him that he had more than enough time to spend an hour on the coded paper. He pulled it out of the drawer and went to work. Books were pulled and references referenced and hair pulled out of his head. None of it helped though. In lieu of yesterdays events, Mustang felt that maybe he just didn't know enough to decode the page.

Mustang then did the one thing he'd sworn to never do. He called together some help. After he got off of the phone he merely sighed and walked from the study to his car, grabbing his dark coat along the way. The drive to headquarters was short and after the hassle of the usual identification check, he went straight to his office. If he was to have his meeting later with his 'help' then he needed to get the paper-pushing work done or his colonel would shoot him. Literally. That was never fun. At all.

The morning flew by in a rush of papers requesting things from a bill to help reduce illiteracy rates in Xing, which was denied, to a request for a declaration of war on Auergo, which, although he was tempter, was also shot down. The incident in question, the accidental shooting of a woman, was eerily similar to the incident that had started the Ishvalan War of Extermination. And the Fuhrer would not allow that to happen again; he wouldn't make another young man without a choice slaughter an innocent child.

Meetings of the normal kind flew by in the afternoon and when four o'clock finally rolled around, Mustang was glad to leave the regular office behind. He'd requested his assistance to meet him at the hospital, in Fullmetal's room. The boy, no, he was a man now, might not be able to give them a key, but his reactions to their suggestions might give it away.

At four thirty pm, Mustang pulled into the hospital lot and walked into Edward's room. He took a deep breath. This could be the moment of truth. He walked in, and two people stood waiting.

The first man was relatively short and stout. His face was horribly misfigured and short black hair, starting to go in the center, crowned the top of his head.

"Marcoh," Mustang greeted him.

"Fuhrer," the old alchemist replied.

The next figure was completely different. They wore their dark hair in dreadlocks which were pulled back into a ponytail, leaving a few strands to frame their face. They were tall, but not nearly as tall as Armstrong. They were also a woman.

"Mrs. Curtis."

"Bastard." Mustang smiled briefly instead of being upset. Mrs. Curtis, Izumi, was of the opinion that Mustang hadn't done nearly enough at the end of the war and that was why Edward was now hospital bound. Instead of fighting for himself, Mustang allowed the verbal abuse to continue. After all, she'd come for the meeting they were currently conducting.

"I explained myself to you last night when I arranged this meeting, but I will say it again," Mustang said, trying his best to not sound desperate. His attempts must've failed though, because the looks that Armstrong and Marcoh gave him where ones of pity. Izumi's look remained cold though, but he expected nothing more from her. He continued. "When Edward was first hospitalized for his illness, he scribbled a message to me in code, his best code, about the truth. I'm unsure whether he meant simply as 'truth' or as in 'Truth' the figure… There…" Mustang and Izumi both shivered and Edward seemed uncomfortable as well, although he said nothing.

"I require your assistance in decoding this note. It has proven impossible for me to crack it on my own." Both nodded at Mustang and the three turned to Edward, who had turned to peer out of the window.

"Can you help us at all Edward?" Marcoh asked gently. Edward didn't respond and Marcoh assumed it to be a 'no' and the group sat.

"Here's the note. It starts out 'I came to Xerxes yesterday, or what's left of it anyways…'"

For the next hour, the group fruitlessly went over the note and the various meanings of each possible analogy. Izumi finally threw up her hands and turned to glare at her unresponsive student. Edward hadn't moved during the entire time, and all three of the older alchemists were exasperated. Mustang had been counting on some form of reaction from the golden-haired young man, but there had been nothing. If it wasn't for the blip of the monitors, Mustang might've assumed he was dead.

Edward was almost never this silent, and Mustang had never known Fullmetal to hold so still. The Fuhrer stood from his chair and walked over to Edward, a feeling of impending doom spreading over his being. Even as his hand was still reaching for his shoulder, Mustang knew that something was wrong. Edward's eyes were closed, and there was blood dripped silently from the corner of his mouth.

AUTHOR'S EXCUSES

Life sucks and then you die. Please review.