A/N: 'Morning, so-so-so long time, no see! What should have been a super-fast update turned out to be a super-delayed one, and for that I'm sorry. Life goes on even if you want to write. However, I hope you will like this new chapter, which will be continued with more explaining. Enjoy and thank you for reading! As usual, don't forget to follow, favourite and review.
On with the show...
Chapter 18 - Words of peace and retaliation
"Good morning, my fellow brothers in arms! What a day, what a day!" Roy saluted his subordinates with an eerily wide grin, that kind of face one has after too many drinks and a considerably long day. He made a small reverence in front of Hawkeye, took a sit on the office chair and gathered his hands under the chin, all the time looking like a crime lord planning to kill someone with a mere look. "What a wonderful morning, is it not? Wonderful, I say!"
"Yeah, brilliant...?" Breda made, looking at Hawkeye with a raised eyebrow. "What is wrong with the chief?" he whispered.
"No idea. The Lieutenant didn't get to pick him up this morning, so I can't really tell" Fuery retorted instead and elbowed him in the stomach. "But keep it down, I think it's something to do with the visit today"
"What visit?" Falman asked a little too loud, catching Roy's attention.
"What visit indeed, my good soldier!" Roy pointed his index finger to the older man like he had won an auction. Like he was going to give the lucky buyer his product of choice, he picked up a random paper, searching it as if it was something of most importance. After just a glance, he put it down. He couldn't pretend being an auction seller or anything in general with an advertisement on how to open canned food. Why did they even get those things in a military base? Weren't they supposed to already know how to do that? It was basic training, in a strange way of saying. One needed to know how to open a can if they didn't want to starve on the battlefront.
He cleared his throat, clearly down to greater goods. "Now, first things first" He took a very serious stance.
Breda elbowed Hawkeye. "Is he having a personality crisis now? Man, how did he pass the medical evaluation this time?" he muttered. She shrugged and turned her attention to Roy, who looked like he meant business at last.
"This is how you will mainly see me. You see, this visit is important. Why? Simple. It means my head. Kind of"
"Told ya, bipolar" Breda told Hawkeye, who just rolled her eyes. He asked more amused than concerned "Okay, chief, why is that?"
"Because it also means one of my best pal's, and please do mark my sarcasm, head. So, gentlemen" he turned to look at Riza "and lady, I will need your full cooperation on making me look like a fucking saint"
"Okay?" Breda asked and leaned back on one of the coffee tables. "Chief, what's the game?"
"The 'game' is that one of our visitors wants to decimate our image, especially mine. This will kill all my plans, and we don't want this, now, do we? So, as I was saying, I'm a saint this week. Only this week, of course"
"I thought you were the bad guy who didn't approve of anyone's paid vacation" the red haired officer commented.
"That was last week. And I'm still not approving your vacation, Second Lieutenant"
"Oh, come on, chief!" Breda pouted. He received a glare from Hawkeye and ducked his head under some paperwork, dutifully returning to his job.
"Good morning, long faces!" Edward boomed from the door and closed it behind him with a loud thump that sounded a lot louder than usual, if that was possible. He turned and opened the door to look at what provoked the noise. On the floor, Grumman's secretary was sprawled on her back with an angry red bump on her forehead. "Shit!" he exclaimed and crouched next to her, helping the woman up. "I'm so sorry, excuse me! I didn't mean to! Sorry! Pardon me, shit, I'm very sorry!" She waved her hand like it was nothing, rubbing the other on the graze that was starting to sport new darker colours.
"Hah, no longer long faces" Roy said laughing, mimicking faux-applauses.
"Argh, die already" Ed gritted his teeth and turned his attention back to the secretary, who excused herself for her clumsiness on opening the door. He helped her seat on the couch and gave her a paper-cutter to put over the forehead, the coldness of the metal attenuating the slight swelling.
Breda peeked from behind his pile of work. "That was a really explosive entrance, boss"
"Don't poke him too much, he might blow up" Roy said as he curved another signature on a report and looked at it like it was some work of art. Edward narrowed his eyes at him.
"I thought you wanted to look like a saint, General" Falman commented with a blank expression.
"Mere details" Mustang replied and focused on the dizzy secretary. "So, Lieutenant, how can help you?"
"Oh, yes" she nodded and straightened her skirt. "The Fuhrer has sent me to announce you on the matter of the attendance at the exercise of troops. Here is the list" she said and handled him a paper that said the very same things he had heard about from Riza just the other day. "Ah, thank you, but how is this relevant?" he asked as he noticed some names were circled, and a few of the names he had already seen the previous night weren't there.
She looked around her and then leaned on the desk to whisper in Roy's ear "The Fuhrer wonders how long it takes for the human flesh to burn" and then drummed her fingers on the table top. She saluted and then left the office.
Roy snorted and rubbed his temples. With a great grimace, Ed asked "What was that?"
He smirked. "What, Fullmetal, are you suddenly jealous? Should I bring you a glass of water, some calming pills? Something stronger to go with the mood?"
"Fuck off-" Roy narrowed his eyes, signalling Ed he had crossed the line "-Sir" the blond hissed on the second though. "Lieutenant, do you have anything for me?" Hawkeye nodded and handled him a yellow file, and then he left. Roy sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
"I still don't think you understand the principle of being a saint, chief" Breda added over Roy's sigh, earning himself an amused grin.
"I said that I want to look like a saint, but nobody said I was one to begin with"
XXXXX
Ten years ago, after the cease of fire, on the Eastern battlefront
"Stretcher! Two more here unconscious, take them!"
"We need to amputate his leg, the infection is going to extend!"
"Morphine! Bring me two bottles, now!"
"Stay with me, private, look at me! Hey, look at me, keep your eye open!"
"Hold her still so I can extract the shrapnel! I don't have any belts left, dammit! Nurse! NURSE!"
"Where the hell is my morphine? He's gonna bite his tongue, fucking bring it to me, even a syringe would suffice!"
"Sterilize me a scalpel! I'm putting her into surgery, and prepare me the next one"
"Doctor! We're losing him!"
"Prepare me a table, fast!"
"Forceps!"
"We did it! Put him to ventilation, he should wake up soon"
"Take him away. He's already dead"
Roy blinked, looking at his hands as he walked through the countless makeshift beds and stretchers. Doctors and nurses ran past him, pushing him like dead weight to make their way through the tent. People were screaming, people were crying, but he couldn't hear it. He couldn't feel it. He felt completely numb.
An officer of sorts, more like a bloody mess of meat and bones, was spitting his lungs out in heavy coughs. A nurse was pressing her hands to his neck, trying to stop the haemorrhage. The man, with the once straight and fair lines of the cheek bones painted crimson in the entanglement of cuts and filth, turned his mutilated face to Roy, watching him with lost blood-shot eyes. Those orbs seemed to suddenly focus on him, piercing his soul with a cold stare. Roy blinked at him like he wanted to understand the man, what he was trying to say with those looks, and only too late he realised that the officer wasn't trying to tell him anything. He was only glaring at his uniform and hands. His bloody gloved hands.
The convulsions came to an end. With his eyes unfocused and red, the man died.
In a swift move, Roy left the medical tent and collapsed on top of a remote mound, with his back turned to the world. His breath was coming ragged, too fast, like he had been running for hours. He tried to catch it, to even it, but the blood whispering in his ears was overwhelming his senses, turning him deaf. He pressed his palms on his auricles and closed his eyes, feeling them burn under the heavy eyelids. Maybe if he couldn't see and hear the outer world, it wouldn't see and hear him either. Like a child hiding from the harsh reality. Just like he did when he saw his parent's early graves being dug under their burning house.
A hand touched his shoulder, reminding him of the actual reality, cruelly cold on his thick jacket. "Sir, you are expected in the boardroom" a nameless character told him. Roy's composure suddenly returned to its parameters, like his aunt taught him. 'Roy, no one must see you weak, unless you have to be seen so. Even then, you must show a glimpse of strength. At least for appearances' That's what she said, right? It was just that easy. It had to be.
Only it shouldn't have been that easy.
"I shall be there in a moment, thank you" he replied without looking at the man who informed him. He couldn't look at him. People looked at him with hope, thankfulness for their lives, but what he should see was what he saw in that dying soldier. Hate. Repulse. Anger. Disgust.
He was disgusting.
At least the dying were honest with him.
He went to the main tent, where the strategic meetings were usually held. He couldn't feel his feet moving, he couldn't feel them at all, but he could see how the scenery was quickly changing. Soldiers were saluting him, congratulating him, thanking him for helping them return to their lives in one piece, but he only had eyes for the far distances. He deserved none of that. He deserved nothing after all the death he had caused in the past few years, even in the past week. He didn't deserve to live. He didn't even deserve to die. He wondered if he deserved the lethargy of being in a coma, but that wasn't a very pleasurable thought. It was not for him. He had greater plans than that.
He stepped inside the tent. It was now filled with soldiers going back and forth with mugs of coffee or tea in their hands. They were chatting merrily, talking about hope and plans of a better future. They were saying that the civil war came to an end, that they were finally going home, or most of them at least. They were talking about their great superiors. They were talking about heroes.
They were talking about him.
He was welcomed with many pats on the back, greeted like a precious being, all shining and great. Someone, bring him a white horse to march like the king they thought of him! He wondered why everyone was looking at him like he was some sort of fine specimen meant to end up in a gallery behind thick glass. They were watching him hungrily, like they wanted to eat him alive. Eat him whole.
He shivered when, once again, an officer touched his shoulder. "I thought my ears were deceiving me, but my eyes never do. If it isn't for Major Mustang!" the man said.
Roy turned to look at the one who was so excited to see him. That man held fine features and a pale complex, so similar to his, yet sharper. The face of someone who lived in luxury and took all the arrogance that came with it. A dark brown strand of hair fell into his sharp dark-green eyes, eating at his very soul, searching for something from the core within. The man was smiling so smugly, but there was no mirth in his cold orbs that could scream tales about life and death, contrasting with his outer aspect. Not even his eyebrows lowered, they remained unmoved, perfect in their stillness. There was a deceiving emptiness that could hardly be seen and was even harder to be equalled.
It was so much like his face, really. So young, so pained.
So alive.
So very dead.
"Colonel Crendell, what a pleasure to see you again, Sir" Roy heard himself say. It was the officer from the military police who approved his evaluation for taking part in the national alchemist programme.
How he wished he listened to his teacher and never entered the military. That would have been wiser. But again, he wasn't the wisest of them all.
If only...
"But please, let me offer you a seat, my young hero"
Roy crooked a brow at the Colonel. He barely realised that the rank on his epaulet was one of a Brigadier General. And that man, that soul he had no idea why he hated so much, didn't even had the decency to say anything when he mistaken his rank. Or he didn't give a damn. And that was so much more serious.
"A hero?" Roy asked incredulously, accepting a seat in front of the MP. He heard so many things about this Crendell fellow besides what he managed to find out on his own, he didn't know what to make of him. It seemed like everybody knew something about him, though never enough to actually characterize him. He was an iconic image in the army, more by the name, however, he was rarely seen anywhere. And he had already gotten to see him more than once. A lot more than once, at that.
Perhaps he took a liking to Roy. Who knew, he might get lucky, the guy wasn't that bad to look at, after all. 'That's not funny, idiot' he scolded himself. War does wonders to the mind, that was for sure.
"Yes, Major. A hero" he once again patted his shoulder, his deep green eyes sparkling like they belonged to a dead fish left in the sun. What was with him and all this touching? It was unnerving. He leaned forward, watching Roy's glare with great satisfaction, the glint in his eyes turning dangerous. "Or should I call you Lieutenant Colonel?" he leaned back with a little smirk.
What was this man's problem?!
Roy chuckled, sound coming out like from a broken engine. "You are speaking very highly of me, Sir. And, congratulate you on your promotion"
"Hah, I could have sworn you would notice! Always the observer! Really, it is nothing. I'm merely doing my job. As you are doing yours, and quite remarkably, at that! The Amestrian military is proud of having you on its lines of duty, your contribution in this war has earned you a great name, etcetera, so on with the praise. The Hero of Ishbal, as I've heard! I should be the one to congratulate you, but I don't have any words big enough for your great value"
Roy felt how anger seeped through him. With great effort, he maintained his composure, all the while smiling humbly, like he was supposed to. "I'm not a hero, I did my duty, as you said, Sir" he replied, trying to hide the bile in his mouth.
"No, no. The people said it. Yours did. Your team said you protected them and that's why they are able to go back to their families. Without you, so many more lives would have been lost"
'Or saved' Roy wanted to say, but didn't.
"You are going to be decorated, that is. And promoted, of course. However, now, I have to see to the proceedings in the medical tent. But I would like to have a drink with you later, to discuss about the future, you know? Bright plans, the likes. Now, I will let you rest. You deserve it. You are a great man, Major Mustang, and I'm proud to be the one who allowed you this chance less than three years ago. How the time flies, doesn't it? Flies us everywhere" Crendell ended with another smirk on his face. That man was smiling too much for his own good. He rose to his feet and saluted Roy with a slight bow, then left him alone in the cheery, so damn broken crowd.
People, soldiers he had no idea who they were, some familiar faces, some not, congratulated him, told him things he didn't listen to and didn't care about. He pretended to listen, and did a very good job about it, but in truth, he didn't want to hear anything. Not even three years passed since he signed the papers for his promotion, when he finally became an alchemist of the state, and not even two years passed since he first set foot in Ishbal's decaying territory. A place where its people were dead from the moment Amestris decided to strike.
And now, he was being called a hero. He was no hero, and he didn't like that Brigadier General. When the hell was he actually promoted, how old was he, anyway? He couldn't be that much older than him. He had never heard of anyone so young with such a high rank.
He had a bad feeling about him, in the wide sea of bad feelings. It was that bad.
His head hurt.
...
"Ah, Major! Thank you for honouring my invitation to a drink, even though it is not in the most pleasurable environment, as you can see. Pardon me for that" Albert Crendell made with a wide gesture. Roy looked around the small bar, dimly lit and filled with drunkards. It smelled of cheap booze, nothing like his aunt's club.
He bumped into Crendell the second time that day. The man proved to be more persuasive than he had previously thought, so he accepted a drink only for the principle of drinking on someone else's money. He was so tired of this pretending shit, he wanted to have a talk with Maes and form a plan to gather some intelligence on some higher-ups that could put some more good light on his career, to change this corrupted state, but he was intrigued by this character. He remembered very clearly how they met some good years before, he could still hear some of their conversation. They've talked over a drink or two, but it always felt like they were hunting each other, not conversing. Waiting for the inevitable slip.
"Thank you for the invitation, Sir"
"Don't mention it. What are you having?"
"Whiskey, dry" he replied and seated on the tall barstool. He gathered his hands under his chin and waited for his partner to take a seat as well.
"So, Mustang, mind if I call you that? I'm positively tired of all this formalities, no matter how much I respect them. So, Mustang, how does it feel to be one of us? And please, don't use a 'Sir' on me outside working hours, I'm not a lot older than you are, you know"
How much older? He needed to check on his background. That's one thing he didn't do properly, he noted. Roy took his newly-arrived drink and sipped on it, thinking of an answer. "It feels real. How does it feel to you?"
Crendell put his hands on the bar and leaned back, looking very considerate about the question. "I've never put too much thinking into this... as you say, it's real. And it's as messy as it can get, with all the blood spilling and mud and filth. They never told us that's what we were preparing for. You see, I entered the military for the sole reason of annoying my father, and I advanced the ranks just because I could. I didn't sign up for anything but the thrill of doing something stupid. I guess the joke's on me"
For a second, Crendell looked like he meant what he had just said. Then he laughed. "Who am I toying with, I'm doing it because I like it! Though I'm not as bad as that alchemist with the ponytail... Kimblee, I think that's the name? I'm no sadist, that's the one thing I'm sure of"
"Sadism is interpretable. In a way, we all are" Roy responded, not sure why.
Crendell tilted his head to the side. "Interesting thought. Indeed, there's certain morbidity in calling mass murderers heroes, wouldn't you say?"
"I've never pretended to be a hero, quite the opposite"
"Ah, but you are. You, state alchemists, oh, the grandeur of Amestris! A whole nation is seeing you as such, my friend"
Roy sneered. "We seem to disagree on matters of perception. I believe there is no praise for those who mindlessly follow orders" he said, feeling insulted.
Crendell smirked and leaned forward, his emerald orbs penetrating the absolute darkness in Roy's eyes. "Following orders? I wouldn't call you that, the obeying man, and less to say about mindless... Dear Mister Mustang, that's a dangerous path you are choosing to walk. We both know about how you covered for Major Armstrong's mistakes, and maybe about those really intense stares you were giving to the Fuhrer... ah, that's something one so ambitious should be careful with, but who am I to talk?"
Roy frowned. "Should I take it as a threat?"
"Take it however you want. But I wouldn't take it too lightly. You are crossing deep waters, and you don't know what you are messing with. I, for myself, don't know much about the finality of my work and the purpose of it, and I've been scratching the dirt off classified files and pushing around money and favours for years now... hah, how relative indeed, what we do"
"You are making no sense" Roy said and put down his tumbler.
Again, their eyes met, this time all the amusement gone. "Nonsense, it might be, but it would be sad to see you in an early grave left to rot down there"
"You don't need to watch over me, Crendell" Roy retorted. "I've been watching over myself for long enough to realise good intentions from malicious ones"
"Pf, you talk big! Well, what can I say? Even if you don't want to see me, I have this feeling we will get into each other's feet quite a lot in the future. Wouldn't that be ironic?"
Roy felt dizzy from the bubbling anger he was struggling to suppress. That man, that thing, he had so much nerve, but he was too far away to be harmed in any way by him. He needed to work hard to strike such parasites.
He needed to work hard not to be struck by such parasites.
The said makeshift bar was close to the military camp, and words were carried there easily. A messenger patted Crendell on the shoulder and leaned to whisper in his ear. The man nodded and waved his hand in dismissal. "Ah, damn it, duty seems to call at all times. Well, I'll get going. I will see you around, Mustang" he put some money on the bar and lightly touched Roy's shoulder as he left. He turned swiftly on his heels and said before disappearing in the decor "And, oh, I have to offer my most sincere condolences... for your parents, that is"
Roy could hear the small tumbler cracking in his hand.
XXXXX
Edward entered the mess hall, or 'The Lunching Room' as it was ceremoniously scribbled on the door. He searched the huge chamber for familiar faces, and found a well too familiar black haired one. He allowed a small smile to light up his face, seeing how Roy listened to his advice and remembered eating lunch. When Roy's dark eyes found his, his smile fell.
Damn him.
He took whatever food he found and went to Roy's table with a sour face.
Roy was, obviously, smirking with that superior air of his. "My, my, Fullmetal, finished your assignment already? It must have been easy, so not for your high aptitudes" he said, mimicking for the seat in front of himself. Hawkeye, quietly eating next to him, looked at Ed with pleading eyes, almost asking him not to make a scene. At least for her, he would try not to respond to his lover's persistent bullshit.
"Nope, just took a break. Why, you finished yours? How surprising" Ah, he was supposed not to reply sarcastically. Well...
"Never. But I think we're getting there, who knows?" Roy replied and stirred his probably overly-sweetened coffee. Ed wanted to ask how many coffees he's already had that day, but it didn't do to ask your superior such things. He would yell at him later, when they were in private.
"Hmph, you never finish anything. I heard we will be holding the annual exercise of troops here, in Central. It really surprises me, I thought they would choose another place, somewhere larger? Wider? Whatever"
Roy lowered his eyes, looking at the teaspoon with great interest. "We won't be exactly holding it here, it is in the vicinity of the city, but yes, it will be held here this year. It's not that surprising, really, it was Central's time, there is an order for these things"
"Yeah, I guess" Ed shrugged and started chewing viciously. He didn't enjoy talking great things during his meals, at home they were mainly talking nonsense over food. Sometimes not even that. But they couldn't have their mindless conversations at work, so silence was a better alternative. It was actually refreshing, that much intimacy in the middle of a crowd.
Some random soldier came to their table, a greatly humbled, almost resigned look on his face. "Lieutenant Colonel Sir, it's such an honour meeting you! I heard about what you did, and I wanted to thank you on the behalf of my regiment... I was previously a trainee, I mean..." he nervously scratched his head, his face one big blush. "I mean I was still a trainee when the last regime fell... it didn't fall, but, yeah, that's what I wanted to say. Sir. Thank you" he said and left abruptly, leaving Ed stunned.
"What was that?" he asked and looked at Roy, who had a great smirk plastered on his face.
"Seems you have admires, Fullmetal. If only did they know what an angry runt you are, poor kids" he commented, playing with his fork. "They'd be disappointed" he added, but the pride in his eyes wasn't hidden by anything. He was happy Ed was getting this kind of praises, not those refined and substance-less words one was getting at a promotion, but the nervous and sweaty ones. He deserved the recognition, even if it came while he was eating a muffin and secretly pouring salt in Roy's coffee.
"Damn you, Mustang" Ed mumbled in his cup of tea, barely hiding his smile.
XXXXX
Seven years before, at the East City Command
"MAJO- LIEUTENANT COLONEL MUST-AAAAANG! YOU'VE GOT A CALL FROM AN OUTER LINE!"
"Thank you, Miss Carol, I'm coming!" Roy replied to the strawberry-blonde phone operator. She drummed her red painted nails on her neatly arranged desk. She flashed her overly-red lipped smile, showing the pronounced midline that made her look rather dumb, and gestured for him to enter one of the private booths.
"Lieutenant Colonel Mustang speaking. What can I help you with?" Roy replied, a little confused about who might call him at that late hour of the day.
"Nice recommending, where did you learn to say that? Teach me" the caller replied, voice flat and bored.
"Mirabella, how wonderful to-"
"Shut up, I'm on a secured line. I'll be short about that, dear. There will be some restructuring through the ranks in Central. It's been quite a ruckus up here, but they're getting someone we didn't expect. You should go talk to Maylene, she will know about what"
Maylene, that meaning Hughes. He wondered why he had to talk to him, and that face-to-face. Maybe it was something important going on, from the urgency in the woman's voice. "Okay, then, I'll see to that" he covered both his mouth and the phone receiver so he could make himself audible only to the microphone. That created also a hard breathing, rather sensual effect to what he said. "How did you get a secured line in a place where there are no such things, by the way?"
"Wow, Mustang, I could swear you are in heat or something, take the phone out of your mouth! And it's Miles"
"Ah, he's a keeper, then"
"Fuck you"
"Missed your chance. Maybe I should give you another?"
She snorted. "Okay, lover boy, enough sweet talk over the phone"
"Want to do it face to face?" Roy asked, interrupting her.
"Shut up, or better stick something in your mouth. Long and thick, we know you like it"
"What happened to 'not over the phone'?"
"Nonsense. Okay, I'll talk to you another time. Till then, try not to wet the bed, idiot" she said and made a noise that sounded like she had disconnected the line, without actually hanging up. Knowing well that she didn't, he said before placing the receiver back in its place "Yes, Momma, won't even fantasise about you with your oh-so sensual voice, promise!"
The older of the Armstrong sisters snorted and finally hang up, allowing herself to smile over the other line. Even though they have never been involved anywhere near romantically and their rivalry was a common, ever standing truth, they had their crude jokes. And, with the line that Miss Carol was so nice to secure for Roy's calls, they could say anything they wanted. Almost anything, their vital contacts would still be addressed by their nicknames.
Roy left the booth and smiled to the phone operator, who greeted him. "Did it go well, Majo- sorry, I keep forgetting you were promoted, Mistah Must-wang. Sowwy, I'll twy to keewwp in mwind" she said, skilfully applying red lipstick on her lips while talking.
"At least for the appearances, it would be great to call me that, Miss Carol. And thank you, it went well"
"The old man asked me to tell you to 'Not be too vocal over phone and not dirty the phone booth', by the way"
"Are you sure those were the exact words?"
"Mhm" She promptly nodded at that. Why wouldn't their commanding officer imply that one of his most trusted subordinates wanted to use their private line to jerk off in the middle of the day to someone talking to him, anyway? That was just the old man showing appreciation. He should go buy him some flowers, to let him see what he will lie on his grave when he kicks the bucket, courtesy returned. He saluted her and started to leave when he remembered one thing he needed to tell her.
"Oh, Miss Carol? Please don't scream the next time I get a phone call"
XXXXX
Edward returned to the files room after lunch with a troubled mind. The meal was delightful, he didn't remember what he had eaten, but the sole presence of Roy calmed him to the point he was no longer seeing anything around them. He ghostly heard Hawkeye talking, the rest of the team joining their table and the other soldiers and some administrative clerks chatting to pass the time, but he only had ears and eyes for the man in front of him. He had turned into quite a sap, drooling over feelings and not concrete reality.
But he could see the shaken surface underneath Roy's smiles. And there he came back to what got him so bothered. He wondered what could possibly make Roy so antsy about a routine evaluation of troops, and how he was so set on making a good impression. He had to wonder if it had to do with what they have spoken the previous night, about that man who seemed to be in many of his important memories, and made an appearance in every life changing decision.
A frail idea came to his mind, and he quickly finished sorting what research he was asked to do. It was mainly something boring about some trainees and examining their competences, but it had to be done. After he stashed his work in one of the many drawers in the files room, he opened the door to make sure no one was coming to bother him. He locked the door from the inside and then pressed his hands to one of the walls, creating a fake door.
He opened the door and sealed it back with alchemy. For such information that he wanted, he couldn't possibly look into the low ranking officers files. He had to go check the ones which were classified, the ones in the next room. It was rather hard to obtain a key and even harder to break into the many safes, but he was an alchemist. It seemed that the military knew nothing of basic transmutation.
In the second files room, the more strategic figures of the military had their lives and personal features strictly organised in lockers. It was a huge room with many doors taking to more papers. It was said that there were compromising things about everyone in the military, and that made Ed wonder if anything was written about him. That could wait, though.
After two hours of cracking codes and closing cupboards, he finally found the files for the military police. That's one of the few things he actually remembered from the previous night conversation with Roy. He looked through what he had found, speed searched the papers, but he couldn't find anything on the name 'Crendell'. He had thought that everyone working under this branch had their bios in there, but apparently not everyone.
Well, at least he tried.
He rearranged the mess he made in his haste and then leaved the room to report back to Hawkeye and finish what he had to do for the day. It was a mostly pointless day at work, and he didn't get to find anything about Crendell, so he just gave up at the thought of a steamy bath and some reading in the living room. That could be entertaining.
He made his return to the office only to be stopped midway by a smiling man, a lot taller than him and with predatory eyes. "My, my! Good evening, you must be the legend of the office! If this isn't the famous Fullmetal Alchemist!" the man said extending his hand. Edward raised his brow and shook the offered hand with caution. "Don't worry, I don't bite. My name is Albert Crendell, MP. I was just heading back to your commanding officer, he is with my colleagues, discussing the events following up. Are you perhaps headed the same way?"
Edward looked incredulously at him. He looked positively cheerful and harmless, like the kind of friend that was getting under your skin and you couldn't get him out of there. He actually seemed to be a good person, only if those eyes weren't so empty and cold. Maybe it was their colour making them like that. They weren't of the liveliest green. They looked like dead leaves covered in grime.
"Yes, I actually am?" he asked more than said, all the time not casting even the slightest of glances to Crendell. If he did, he would have noticed the all-knowing look he had plastered on his face.
"Ah, good" he replied. "I haven't been around here in ages, I was afraid I might get lost, how silly of me. I almost did, how fortunate of me to find you to guide me"
"How so?" Ed made, turning his head to him, trying his best to be polite, something he realised a long time ago that he couldn't normally be with those he found unpleasant.
"I've been traveling a lot recently, but it seems I have to be in Central from time to time. Not that I really mind that, but I don't like staying put for too long. I think you can relate to that, can't you, Edward? May I call you that?"
"Yeah, I guess. Everyone calls me that. I mean, that's my name"
"Mhm, that's what I thought too. But how come you remained in the military? I supposed you would go with your brother, learning more about alchemy. Roy really must have done wonders to keep you here" Albert commented, looking at his nails with mild interest.
Edward shivered. Okay, that man knew Roy for a long time, and apparently his lover didn't like him too much, but how were they so familiar? And how did he know of his brother's plans?
"Well... err..."
"Don't worry, I'm not some sort of stalker. I just happen to read tons of reports daily, so I heard about some of your plans. I was just being curious, but there's no need to tell me if it doesn't make you feel comfortable" Again, that big smile.
"No, it just never occurred to me why I stayed. I guess I didn't know what else to do"
"Hah, it sometimes happens to the best of us"
They walked another two corridors in complete silence, until Crendell suddenly commented "The Central sure feels refreshing. I heard there are actually women that didn't get involved with Roy in here, and it's surprising, you know? Rumours say that he might have found someone, he doesn't get out as much as he used to. That, if at all"
Edward stumbled a little at that. "I haven't heard anything like that... he's just buried in work, that's all"
"How noble of him" Crendell said and opened the door to the office, entering with an amused face. Edward stood in the door, and only moved when Hawkeye noticed him and waved her hand to bring her the files he had been researching. He left abruptly after that.
XXXXX
Seven years ago, at Roy's house in Central City
"Roy, you are totally blind. Blind, I'm telling you. Blind, so blind! BLIND!"
"Huh? Why?!"
"Did you even look at her? That woman, my friend, is quite the sight" Maes asked, emphasising with the tumbler in his hand. "If I didn't have Gracia and little Elicia, I'd be damned if I didn't go for her! But of course, no one is better than my dearest Gracia and loveliest Elicia! Have you seen-"
"And I won't see, no" Roy cut his friend short. "Also, I'm not dating your secretary, what the hell? Who do you think I am?"
"It was just a suggestion, pretty boy. You know, you should find someone. I mean, okay, you're young, you've got half the country drooling all over you, but you should settle down. It looks better in the record, if you must"
"You are killing me, Maes. And there's no one drooling over me!"
"Are you so sure? You are walking in a pool of it. All the ladies in my office are talking about the 'Eastern stallion'"
"Stallion, really? Your girls have so little imagination"
"Don't blame me, Roy. But, I will be blaming you if you're not-"
"Maes Hughes, for the last time, I'm not going to ask your secretary out, I don't even know her! I've only asked her if I can use a pen from her desk and that was it!"
"That never stopped you before, Roy. Hah, never stopped any of us"
Roy smirked, his vision lost in the sudden reminder of what was before the war started. "I was young and stupid. And you also"
"You are still young and stupid"
"Argh!" Roy gritted his teeth and leaned back on the couch. "Don't you have a family to bother?"
"Nope, not tonight, the girls are at my in-laws"
"So you decided to bother me instead?"
"Are you starting to lose your memory or something? You were the one knocking at my door and pleading for company, so shut it. You should buy a dog or a golden fish, to have someone else to bother besides me. If you take the fish, pick a bigger one, when you get tired of it, we deep-fry it"
"No! Anything but the fish"
"Why, wanna eat the dog?"
"Neah, that's you" Roy made uninterested, getting a snort. He looked at his best friend and remembered all the good times they had spent together, all the sorrow and tears. He missed him and wanted to see him around a lot more often, but the distance wasn't their ally.
Truth be told, Roy wasn't bothered in the slightest that he had company, he felt rather lonely in the big house that he had bought the previous year in case he ever needed to stay in Central. There were rumours he might be transferred to the Central command sometime in the future, but he didn't really care of them, as there were not certain. In the eventuality, he had a house, and, as he was in Central with duty, he could very well stay there.
"By the way, what are doing in Central? You didn't even call to say you were coming, just crashed to my place and dragged me out. It could be considered an act of kidnapping, you know" Maes asked, looking suddenly very serious. "I hope you aren't doing something completely idiotic without first consulting with me or Hawk"
"No, not at all. I didn't get to tell you, but I'm here to discuss the situation of that boy I was telling you about. The one I've seen with Hawkeye. Or, more likely, check some regulations and reports"
"Boy, err... you mean Elric, that kid? Aha! For what? I haven't heard of anyone being arrested or anything"
"No, no, nothing like that! Though, you might find it funny. He actually accepted my proposal, to become a state dog. Seemed desperate enough after I've hit the sensible cord. Well, he didn't really accept it, in the common sense of the word, but he'll come around it, his eyes were practically daring me to try to stop him. Words say that he is recovering from surgery, so I guess he'll be one of us rather soon"
"Surgery... don't tell me the kid was mad enough to replace his limbs that fast?"
"I guess so. I think my speech hit him hard"
Maes looked at him in disbelief. "Are you now corrupting kids? Dammit, Roy, you are morbid, you should find yourself a better hobby. Does he even know what he is signing up for?"
"He had already seen too much for his age, being a puppet of the state is nothing. Aren't we all in a way? And it might be beneficial for both of us. I didn't force him in any way, though. It was his choice entirely. Only a little guiding from me, that's all I did"
"If you say so... but you can't know for sure"
"Call it instinct, a damn good one"
"Aha, okay, I believe you. When will he be taking the examination, if your rumours are right? Or you haven't heard anything on that matter?"
"I can't say... As much as I've heard, the replacement of a single limb can sum up to two years of recovery, sometimes more. So I don't know"
"Huh..." Maes made, scratching his chin. "Well, we will see then, what you have in stash, I mean. I will wait for your briefing when time comes, who knows? Maybe we will get ourselves the grand prize"
"Wouldn't that be great"
Roy refilled their glasses and put the bottle back on the slightly dusty coffee table. He never got to really clean the house, he spent too little time in there anyway. He supposed it was his fourth time coming there. He didn't particularly look forward to his move in that place, but he understood the impending need of advancing. He wanted to take over the country and change it from scratch, start its history anew. Idealistic or not, he had to start from somewhere.
"By the way, Roy, if you were so kind to abduct me here, let me tell you about my new boss. Olivier Armstrong must have told you a little about it"
"Not exactly, she only told me to talk to you. You said something about your boss last time we've spoken, but didn't have a name yet. Who's the lucky guy that will lead your hearts full of justice?"
"Royce-y boy, take a grip on your seat"
Roy frowned. "Cut the chase and just say it. I'll find it anyways, if I look a little into it"
Hughes raised his arms in defence. "Okay, okay, don't shoot me, mister! It's Crendell, he came back in the country"
Roy froze in his place. "When... when the hell did he come back? Why? I thought he was declared persona non-grata, what is he doing back in Amestris?"
"He? The great hero that liberated the country of foreign spies and brought back great intel from the enemy? Neah, it can't be him, sweet toots"
"He what? Why haven't I heard of that? I thought he sold military top secrets like they were fresh bread, now he is the martyr returning home?"
"No martyr if he doesn't die, ya know. Isn't that how it goes?" Hughes suggested.
"That would be a happy outcome"
"Roy, don't try to murder my superiors in your mind! Nor physically, as a matter of fact. Doesn't look good in the records"
"Yeah, sure, that's the problem"
"Always the records, remember that" Maes replied and lifted his glasses higher up the nose. "Anyways, he seems to be deeply related to the incident in the North, the one after Armstrong got her small dictatorship up there"
Roy put the tumbler between his thumbs, recreating in his head the image of the past events. Some time ago, when the Ishbalan War was in course, Olivier Armstrong, a blondie he swore could very well be passed up as a crazed Drachmann that lived all his life in the coldest of the mountain forests and hunted for food with his bare hands, was assigned as the commander of Fort Briggs and promoted to Major General. They met many times before, especially back in the academy years, when she was sent by her training officer back and forth from Central Trainee Camp to the Eastern Base, where he was stationed with Hughes. They've never gotten along since moment one, his witty spirit clashing with her competitive nature whenever they met. She was older than him, not considerably, but back then, when they were young and ignorant, she was something of a crooked crone, a terminal year to a fresh trainee.
Shortly after she was promoted to her actual rank, the Civil War in the East escalated. Sensing the opportunity, Drachma attacked Briggs, presuming it would be an easy catch considering it was commanded by a woman born and raised in a warmer climate and with no experience, and failed miserably at the hand of a mere few, but very well trained soldiers, led by the snow queen. It seemed her nature made her a very good leader, and her subordinates, already used to the harshness of the cold, took her standards well and complied with her orders. In all the mess, despite the great care it was handled with, many vital secrets were sold to all sorts of interested parties. It was a hit to the secret services, and few knew of it, because it was further covered up discreetly. However, in the haste of hiding the informational leaks, one of the persons that were shown to the light was, amongst others, Albert Crendell.
About this certain man, a very fast rank-changing character, could be said precious little. The discovery that he was a spy for the enemy was one thing, but the discovery that he was a spy for the state in its own premises, selling information for information on its accord, and more than that, working for the branch that secured everything that came with the word 'classified' on it, was another. The former second wasn't entirely a problem, but the combination and the fact that he was doing this underhanded work with the addition of giving wrong information to both his state other interested parties, was concerning. Other crimes could be easily said behind closed doors, but they were just another chapter in his file.
Confusing as his situation may sound, Crendell ultimately fled the country and, apparently, after a few years of disappearance, he came back like he was the great hero on the wall for fishing information for Amestris from several states he stole from while he went into hiding. In the end, he proved that he sold intelligence to be caught, to be able to clean his reputation of a good Amestrian officer and be welcomed by other countries and then learn all he could and give the knowledge back to his state. The process, in itself, was pointlessly long and, without a doubt, running in circles to nowhere. And now he took over the commanding position in the secret archive of the military police branch.
Roy rubbed his head absently. "You know, I'm killing Mira if she's got anything to do with that man"
Hughes smacked him over the head. "What the hell are you saying? She has nothing to do with that, she was the first to tell me he came back, summoned by Bradley, apparently"
"I didn't mean it that way! Never mind, tell me what she said about him"
"This and that, pretty much what I've told you already. As far as she could gather, Crendell was brought back in this specific position for a certain reason, but she can't tell which exactly. It has to do with the archives, though. Has to. Probably, he wants to wipe some data and change it to sound how they want it to sound. Who they are, I don't know"
"Seems I will have to make contact with him again... he was positively obsessed with me, I might get him to show me more. It would make a good ally, he knows things he isn't supposed to"
"Yeah, why not. I will see how we get along at the office, it shouldn't be a problem... we know each other since the inspection. Do you remember it, right?" Hughes asked.
"Yeah, of course. I hope he won't smile as much as he used to. Well, let's see what happens. Up until then, bottom up!" Roy said gleefully, downing the entire content of his tumbler after toasting.
He could only hope the price of the alliance he was seeking to make wasn't as great as their other encounters were. He should be careful.
He should call Olivier and talk about all this. It wasn't safe and it wasn't that accurate through his usual ways of talking via official phone lines, but it would have to do.
Why did he even come to Central for? Get this kind of news? At least he might kill some birds with one stone, if he played his cards right.
Or maybe he should get realistic and make plans only after he actually saw the man in front of him, alive and breathing.
Or dead, as a matter of speaking. Only by sight, he could gather some good information, if he stood close enough.
Just not too close, it might sting.
XXXXX
It was such a nice day outside, the weather just a tad warmer than the previous days, but not hot enough to make you sweat during a leisure walk. Edward looked at the many people in the park, cheerfully talking about their lives and commenting the latest gossip. A group of old ladies was discussing about their grandchildren while their husbands were playing chess under the refuge of the tall trees. Children were running around, some were yelled at by their mothers for going too far away from them, lovers were holding hands and looking at each other with shy glances and doe eyes.
It was pathetic really, he thought, he had never seen himself following that line of living. So common, so uninteresting. So little to expect from it. But maybe it was easier and more satisfying, walking hand to hand with some girl you've met in school, then marry, have children, grow old with the great love of your life. He was still too young to have such thoughts, he had all his future in front of him, but he never ceased wondering how it would be to follow that course.
How it would have been to actually go out with his person of choice in the middle of a crowd, on a date or a chance encounter on his way home, kissing them without the fear of being seen and compromised.
He smiled, looking at his feet dangling under the bench he was sitting on. His thoughts were unrealistic. That wasn't for him. He ran around all his adolescence, staying true to his goals, and now he was left with pretty much nothing to look up to.
No, that wasn't true either. He looked up to the day he would cheer on Roy becoming the Fuhrer, like he had always dreamed of. That was then, he was now left only with the side-admiring.
He looked up at the sun, feeling his eyes being burnt by the powerful light. He wanted to believe that he could be happy with Roy, but it was getting dangerous. That man he had just encountered, the one he had first heard about only a few hours ago, was now acting like he knew all about him. Maybe he was only getting paranoid, most likely his lover's obsession of looking behind his back at every corner rubbed off on him, but if they were exposed... he didn't want to think about that. It would be scandalous. He would probably lose his job and rank, not that he really minded that, but Roy would lose his credibility. It would be a pity after everything he has done.
He sighed and started walking by the lake. A few ducks were diving for fish, some others were swimming aimlessly. They were so lucky, with no worries of tomorrow.
He walked around for hours, he couldn't say how many, but what he knew for sure was that the sky was dark.
He should probably head home. Maybe later. He could swear Roy was still at the office, fighting his stupid wars with the shadows. He could do whatever he liked, for all he cared. He wouldn't miss him that much if he didn't show up that night. He saw him daily, anyway.
XXXXX
Roy was, obviously, not at home. But may his soul be damned forever if he didn't wish he was there, even if it would have meant to be questioned and poked all over in Edward's attempts to find news and scandalous information, definitely curious about this ordeal.
That being said, he wasn't home for that, so it had to wait until later. For the moment though, to put it simply, he was staring at his partners across the table, slowly drinking his glass of wine. As slowly as he could. No matter how much he wanted to have his head on the table, snoring in a drunken state, most likely with his mouth half-open, a small pound of drool forming under his cheek. That was positively disgusting, he cringed.
He absolutely hated himself for accepting Crendell's invitation to have a 'business meeting' at a nearby pub with his associates or whatever the people that accompanied him were. As if that could be called a business meeting. Who does even call his colleagues to have a meeting discussing the future of a big event in front of any sort of alcoholic beverage? He wouldn't do that, Roy agreed with the voice in his head.
But to Hell with it, they were so loud and making no sense in what they were saying! He should have drunk more, maybe he would stop hearing those idiots talking about how nice it would be to have a war with whoever they were saying or what a pity it was that Amestris was losing every day great opportunities of showing off its army.
He suddenly realised what they were talking at the table, in plain sight nonetheless. "Pardon me, Major General, but wouldn't it be in greatest good of the nation, as I believe we are all under a solemn duty to the people of Amestris, to not start any conflicts that might affect the population?" Roy interrupted the chatty officer who was implying that idiotic line.
The Major General snorted, amused. His dusty moustache straightened in a bushy line over his lips, clearly hiding a crude smile. "General, but it is in the greatest good of the nation! Think of it this way, if you want. Attacking our enemies shows them we are powerful, and they will be afraid to do anything to the population! Simple, right?"
"Simple?"
"Just as that!" the officer replied, showing a toothy smile. The man was obviously tipsy.
Roy wanted to reply, and most of all, find out whether that's the real voice off the higher uniforms, for if that was so, things were getting bad. The Fuhrer wouldn't allow another war of proportions, but if any of those spineless commanders started acting on their own with such intents, it would be hard to clean up the mess and restore the country's reputation without making it look weak and without masses control.
As if on cue, Crendell leaned forward with one of his warm baseless smiles, encouraging the initiative. "That is a very efficient strategy, Major General Druses! Definitely, it needs some polishing, like any other good idea, but you understand to what I'm getting. You are a smart man, surely" he smirked and nodded, looking like he won a small prise as the other man in question fluttered his ego.
The discussion went on, absolutely impossible and reckless plans being made and the good of the population being swept in and out conversation like it was the stock market, all drowned in alcohol, Crendell's pay, of course. He was feeling rather generous, and such urges were deemed to be set into action, or they would just go by without becoming anything honourable. Honourably drunk, it appeared.
Those being said, the meeting went on for a few hours with no conclusion. Some of the officers made sense in their speeches, promoting reasonable things and sensible solutions for certain problems that occurred or might occur in the future, but the general line of thoughts was fuzzy and impractical as a whole. After all, Crendell was right about calling their outing a business meeting. They usually worked that way, minus the drinks.
With most of them positively drunk, the group retired for the night with the promise of a grandiose exercise of troops to show how mighty they were. For the good of the nation, of course, because it seemed to be the highlight of the day. The great good of a nation that hadn't got a clue that its leaders were a bunch of men so grand on heroism acts when they were drunk. Roy couldn't help wondering if he should add the capital punishment especially for that kind of people when he became Fuhrer, but how would it look to the nation? It might not be for its good, it would lessen its numbers dramatically and who would rule, after that?
That particular conclusion made the raven head snort disapprovingly. What was he getting himself into, leading idiots to gallows?
"You seem amused. I wonder why" a voice said, making him shudder in remembrance. He forgot he left with Crendell in toe, something about discussing matters of importance.
"You seemed rather pleased by the officers. Isn't your job as a military police officer to persecute what they were implying, the mass-destruction and crime?"
"Crimes of war never matter when you are the winner" the other replied glumly. Roy turned his head at him with his eyebrow raised. Crendell turned to look him in the eye, without stopping walking, back straight as a cardboard. "Never took you as a censurer of sorts. Trying to reinstate dictatorship already?" he said, the joking tone returning with little finesse.
Only if it wasn't so damn forward. It was obvious Roy was a prime candidate for the next leader, but the way Crendell said it, it sounded more like a threat. "Perhaps it is better not to take me in any way whatsoever"
"You're being obtuse, Mustang. This isn't a talk about books, it is reality. The world is filled with idiots, just as our honourable ranks. They were from the finance department, from the strategic, security and so many others military domains. And in high positions. But a fool is easy to be pleased, and we can do it by simply saying what they like to hear. Do you not agree with me, Mustang?"
"This kind of people sometimes prove to be fools, yes, but masses of them are dangerous"
"That's where you get in, my lad. Because the one who is dangerous is you. It's your problem to get rid of them, because you see what happens when they think, as little as they do"
Roy looked at his feet pacing forward like they weren't his. He knew what he was suggesting. He knew very well. But how could he...
"Ah, seems we went rather far, I should get going to the hotel I'm staying at. I would have asked you to stay and drink something in a better environment, but I think you have other duties to attend to. Please, don't let me interrupt your routine. I look forward to our meeting tomorrow, this time for real talking, not chatting" He offered his hand and Roy shook it clinically.
"Indeed, see you tomorrow at the office. Have a good night" Roy said mechanically, attempting to break his arm free from the firm grip the MP had on his hand.
"You as well. Oh, and rest assured, they will never guess what hit them" Crendell smiled and released his hand like it was a piece of something filthy that one drops when he realises the foul texture.
Still a little shaken, he realises he almost got home. He let himself be led, and he was led back home. Where only a selected few were supposed to know that he lived. Seemed like Crendell was self-selected to be one of them.
He looked behind his back for a few moments before he finally opened the door to his house, letting himself in with a soft thump. He stepped on a garbage bag, left in the middle of the hallway. "ED! DID YOU LEAVE THE TRASH HERE? I'M TAKING IT OUT!" he shouted in case he wasn't heard.
That would have been something if there was someone to actually hear him. He found the house surprisingly devoid of any human presence. Probably, it was for the best, he could get some good rest before he again had to pretend like he was some sort of angel sent to enlighten the path. That's what you call a bad day, really.
He settled on the couch with some brandy in his hand, reading to make time pass easier in an attempt to grow himself tired. Despite feeling like he could slip right through the bed if he laid on it, his mind was reeling. He read an entire theory on the substance of existing, turning the pages without even looking at the words written on them. All too fast, he realised he had finished the book without knowing. At least if he knew what that story was about, or was it a science study? What did he read?!
What downed on him was that he was still alone. It was already very late, it was well past four in the morning, but Ed still didn't show up. Maybe he slept at his old place, it could be a possibility, and not one to pass down. But that could be the indication that he did something wrong or was about to do it, for his lover had that particular habit of leaving him alone for the night when he messed something up.
Well, that was too bad. He had other problems that mattered more, if this had any meaning at all to him. That's how he was supposed to be, wasn't he? Cold and ruthless, without any care but for himself. That was him.
But that could wait for after Edward came back. He started to miss him, if only for a little bit. After that, he could conquer the world whenever he wanted.
It would still be there tomorrow for him to take over. It always was.
A/N: That's it for now. I hope you liked it a little bit, and thank you very much for reading! Don't forget to follow, favourite and review, and see you next time with a new chapter, in which things will actually happen.
Till then, bye-bye!