I think the thing that I hate most about the iPad is the font and lack of key-boards… The style of fonts that I prefer to use do not italicize on the iPad and you cannot hit 'ctrl' and 'I' to make the script slant! It is so annoying! However, it is also the piece of technology I have on me most frequently as it is for school use and, being in my last year of high school, my phone must remain off and in my locker or it gets taken for two weeks… *shrug* Oh well, and finally, for the words you've all been waiting for Here's the Chappy! XD
As Mustang's team made their way into work the next day, each carried a somber tone. Hawkeye managed to call them before dinner the day prior to inform them of the situation and every soldier shelved their paranoia in their own way.
Kain Fuery immediately plunged into work, tinkering with every rado he could get his hands on, keeping so busy that there wasn't room for the topic in his head. Unfortunately, that was all his head seemed to be able to get around. Every few minutes, he would stop and wipe at his eyes, hoping that the others wouldn't see. His hands were constantly shaking, making him clumsier than normal. Tools dropped often, the wrench with somewhat of a higher frequency than the rest.
Jean Havoc was smoking at his desk as the Hawk's eye wasn't in to reprimand him as ash dropped onto his papers every few minutes. Luckily, the only thing that happened each time was a few swears as flesh made contact with burning embers.
Heymans Breda was filing through reports from the week, looking for the smallest of details. After all, any missed item could be the breakthrough they'd been working towards.
"Fuery!" Breda barked, getting the mechanic's attention, "If you drop that wrench one more time I will forbid the use of it!"
"Yes, Maj. Breda…" he murmured morosely, eyes pointed at the floor. Breda let out a sigh and set down the papers currently in his hands.
"Sorry," he said after a moment, "We're all a little tense."
"No kidding," Havoc muttered, failing to notice the ash drooping once more from the end of the cigarette, "Kuso!" He hastily swept the ashes into the metal bin at the end of his desk.
"If any of those papers get so much as a mark, the Colonel's gonna shoot you through," Breda observed dryly, "And that's not even telling what Mustang'd do. Can't go around stealing his primary method of getting out of paperwork." While the joke was meant to be amusing, all it did was remind them of the grim situation at hand.
"What do you think will happen?" Fuery asked anxiously.
"Anything could." Havoc started slowly, "But the Boss'll be in tip top shape in a couple of days. We'll be fine."
"I meant… With Miss Rockbell…"
"Well," they found one of the sleeves from what they assume is her jumpsuit," answered Breda, "Blood stain on the upper right side of her chest, right under the port from what I understand."
"Well, that's not good news," Havoc sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"Isn't there anything more we can do?" Fuery asked, setting his tools down and standing to look at the other two, "I mean, she's always so kind. And she's done so much for Edward!"
"Short of going out and joining the manhunt?" Breda asked sarcastically, "Not much. Look over reports to try and find clues as to where the witnesses went? Oh wait, we're doing that already." The tactician shook his head, sighing in frustration.
"Chief'll be livid when he finds out," Havoc put in, "We can't keep it from him forever."
"He's gonna be livid anyways, remember?" Breda replied doubtfully.
"I meant the type where he busts out of the hospital again, not the type where he beats up the Boss."
"I guess that's true."
"What do you mean?" Fuery asked, confused.
"He's gonna be furious when he finds out about Mustang," Havoc explained, "But he's not gonna bust out of the hospital to find and beat him up. 'Sides, he's already there. All he has to do is go on an adventure down the hall."
"Oh," Fuery said quietly. He looked back to his equipment for a moment, biting his lip anxiously. "I just feel like there was something more we should've done to prevent the whole situation…"
"What more could we do?"
Waking up in the hospital once again, Roy Mustang was in a sour mood. A week had passed since Edward's automail reattachment, three days since his own admittance, and neither man was very far in their respective recoveries. Edward was out of the ICU, but his coughs were worse than they had been before his cardiac arrest. The doctors coming in and out of the Fuhrer's room assured him that the blood loss was letting up, but Mustang could hear no difference in the violent attacks. The hospital wall separating them was surprisingly thin.
Mustang glared at the tray table in front of him, which just so happened to contain a report about the war with Creta. Two years… Two years of bloodshed in border skirmishes. The one from Fullmetal's foray into the field was nowhere close to the worst of them, but the intensity was ramping up and Mustang found himself fearing a full blown attack soon.
With a final concerned glance and a signature to increase shipments of ammo out West, he turned to the next report. Great. Alchemic suicides… The univers just seems to be against him. This phenomena had been occurring for two years. Two years! While the MP weren't the best soldiers in the world, they usually managed more than this.
Mustang sighed and laid his head on his arms across the table. They knew the supposed 'suicides' weren't truly that as many psychological profiles had been completed on the deceased soldiers, but the description was the easiest to use. There had been no leads past the original witness, but she had been cleared of any involvement.
The only link the alchemists shared beyond the signs of the actual crime was… He shifted through a few more reports, reading and rereading. He came up with the same thing he did every other time he skimmed through the papers. Ishval. Every victim had fought in Ishval.
His head fell from forearms to hands. That damned hell. Everything came back to that battle field, those months of terror and flames.
The monitors measuring his heart rate grew louder, the beeping got faster and faster as he fought off images and sounds with people burning, screaming, dying around him. He took a deep breath and leaned against the headboard behind him. If he couldn't fight through the past, then he certainly couldn't fight off the present. Another deep breath later, he moved on, pouring over papers as best he could to keep the nation from grinding to a halt without its Fuhrer.
The Cardinal finally managed to get away from the maniac that held her captive. Four months. Terrible, terrible things had happened over the course of thos four months. And what was worse? He told her. He told her what was in those stones and then he used them. Oh her body! To 'give back' the leg that he blew off, to cure her every time that he wanted to hear 'music' from her.
As if screams of terror and horror could be described as a symphony. She bit back a curse as she stepped onto a jagged piece of rock. She didn't have time or space to scream. If she did… Well, a Cardinal's song isn't always subtle and he was well versed in the sound of her pain. Explosion after explosion… She shuddered again and kept going into the desert.
He'd been holding her underground in a cavern near the military camp. While her experiments weren't exactly approves, no one knew of them. If she could just make it to the base, tell them about that… That monster… They might protect her long enough for her to collect her wits and leave the country.
AUTHOR'S RAMBLING PLEAS FOR FORGIVENESS
Updates mean you put away the weapons, yes? I kept my promise to update before Thanksgiving? Protect the children? I am a children! Legally anyways! Abuse! *shrill cries of terror*
QueenCari1129: I'm actually a high school student, but I'm at a private school, so exams are still grueling. Thanks for the sympathy!
199: Look! A chappy! Now you can't be mad at me! And unfortunately, as I love your suggestion, I already know who the Cardinal is and Winry was a child at the time of the Ishvallan War of Extetmination...
Cutiepie120048: Yes, Kimblee and the woman are part of it. Just think... What colour is a Cardinal's feathers? What colour is the witness's hair?
JazmineElric: I always try my best to answer questions! Let me know if you have any more!
Dragonfire Alchemist: School is also my bane.
Cutiepie120048: I have other plans for Alphonse, but thanks so much for your suggestions!
Thanks so much for people who reviewed, favorited, or followed this story! I hope to see more from you in the future and I apologize for the long wait!