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Chapter 19

Of waiting and cards

Ask Edward Elric what he imagined hell to be like and right now he'd say a giant waiting room. Because that was what the office was like this Monday morning and it drove him crazy.

Pacing the room, he watched the others wait.

Hawkeye seemed calm and collected as ever, she was after all a sniper and she knew how to be unfazed by stress. How else could she manage to concentrate enough to hit her tiny targets from whatever tower she was hiding in?

Breda was devouring sandwich after doughnut after chocolate bar after whatever next food he managed to get his hands on. Even Ed, who could eat quite a lot, wondered how he managed that without feeling sick.

Falman sat more rigid than ever and scribbled furiously on his documents, putting all his thoughts into them so he couldn't think about anything else.

Havoc had been banned to sit next to the window and do his paperwork on a tablet on his knees because he was smoking even more than usual and while the others had given up on getting him to stop, they got rather cranky when he smoked this much next to them. Havoc didn't mind though, he could stare out of the window now when his papers got too boring.

Fuery had checked every phone in the office twice to make sure they would work and receive the call from the surveillance team they all were waiting for. After that he had done the same to every radio. Now he was checking the spare and broken equipment, fixing it all up, probably with the intention of setting them all up to work later. As if more phones would make the call come sooner. Ed didn't tell him that though, he was tempted to fix the phones with alchemy and then join Fuery in staring at the thing until it rang.

And Mustang had developed a twitching eyebrow as he watched Edward pace. He would ask the Fullmetal Alchemist to please stop that every once in an hour and Edward would resume it half an hour later. While the colonel had seemed just as unfazed as Hawkeye during the first few hours, now his patience was wearing thin. He chewed on his pen whenever he stopped writing and while writing he rubbed the middle finger and thump of his left hand together, creating the occasional spark until Hawkeye told him to stop wearing the ignition gloves because he might accidentally burn his papers and she might accidentally shoot him for that. After that he had taken to tapping his fingers on his desk in a rhythm that matched Edward's footsteps, creating a dull song.

It was highly unlikely for the serial killer to try and lure his next victim in today when he had already killed yesterday, but the time span between the killings had shortened ever since the first two victims, who had been murdered almost two weeks apart. So they were all tense in case the murderer had grown bold enough by now to kill every day.

According to the array on the map, there were five victims left to kill. All five places were guarded and watched, though the soldiers stationed there were ordered not to let themselves be seen, for they might scare the culprit away. Though no one believed that. If the guy was impudent enough to mock Mustang by using his array as the layout for his plan of killing, then he sure would be impudent enough to try and kill right in front of the stationed soldiers and therefore under the military's nose.

It was clearly eating at Mustang that his array had been dragged into the whole mess, when the colonel wasn't tapping on his desk or chewing his pen you could see him jot down the array and draw other things above it to try and find another array with matching points of meeting lines. Though so far there was no success. Ed had been doing the same when the colonel ordered him to stop pacing but the arrays only ever vaguely matched Mustang's. Screw flame alchemy for being so unique.

"Hey Chief?" Havoc asked some time before working hours ended.

"Hmm?" was the distracted answer as Mustang once again scratched his array with a random line to maybe find another matching transmutation circle by accident.

"Do you think your array is popular enough for anyone to just remember it? 'Cause I kept thinking and it isn't printed in any book and even though I know it when I see it, I can't think of all its lines just like that."

They all blinked at Havoc for he normally left thinking to the others, because while he knew he had some talents they didn't, he was also aware that he was not the smartest of them. One of the talents the others hadn't possessed though was the ability to just look at everything in the simplest way, and so he sometimes just saw things they didn't because they just kept thinking in terms that were more complicated than necessary. And so when he had an idea for once it usually was quite useful.

"Maybe 'cause you're no alchemist?" Breda doubted him though.

"Yo, Boss, could you draw the colonel's array just like that?"

"I believe this isn't a suitable test because Major Elric is deemed a child prodigy and genius," Falman interjected.

"Who says that murderer isn't a genius, too? People can be crazy and smart at once," Fuery said with a shudder.

"Anyway, so what'd ya say colonel?" Havoc asked.

They all looked at Mustang who thoughtfully stared at the air, considering how easily an average alchemist could remember his array. Then he frowned and grabbed the phone on his desk. He tapped his pen on a point on the map that still covered his desk underneath his paperwork, while he waited for the person on the other end to pick up. But then he slowly put the phone back down, resting his chin on his interlaced fingers with an expression that told them better not to stop him from thinking now or some very valuable conclusions might be lost. "I do have a feeling we're getting into something deep here," he finally offered, signaling his return to their world with his mind.

"And what would that be, sir?" Hawkeye inquired.

Mustang shook his head. "I will tell when my thoughts are confirmed, I don't want to waste brain capacity on a conspiracy that might only be there in my paranoid head."

"You sure you don't want us to know?" Breda asked, trying to get the information anyway.

"No, not right now. I'll know when we get our hands on that murderer and then either you'll know too, or I was wrong and there is no need to make a fuss then."

"All right, sir," the unit grumbled.

And so they resumed waiting.

It was the same on Tuesday. They came in and resumed their nervous tick while waiting. They didn't expect the killing attempt to happen in the middle of the day but maybe someone found a corpse from last night. Mustang for some reason believed the next corpse might turn up in a random place. They pushed it aside as wishful thinking because that would free the colonel's transmutation circle from the case, but Hawkeye, knowing Mustang best, asked him why he thought so and he said it had to do with the idea that came to him yesterday.

When they drove home after work and ate their take-out at Mustang's kitchen table, Ed couldn't help but curl up into himself a bit. The colonel had been quite distant yesterday evening, but so had Ed because they were both still too caught up in their thoughts on the case to try socialising. Today though, Ed had decided that his constant thinking about it wouldn't make the culprit walk into their traps at the marked points any faster, so he actively realised that the colonel was uncharacteristically quiet. Not that the man had ever talked all the time, but now it was like his mind had never trailed off the path it had taken in the office, always trying to conclude and predict what might happen next. It made Ed feel like he was something that wasn't supposed to be there, putting the colonel's thought progress in danger. It made him remember the days when he would peer through the door crack of his father's study where the man would sit and think, like Ed never existed and never needed any attention.

He knew Mustang wasn't supposed to give him the attention a father was supposed to give his kid. Maybe he wasn't even supposed to give Ed any more attention at all, considering that he already did so much with taking Edward in and allowing him to take what comfort he could give in his unpracticed ways, but Ed still wished that at least during some normal social occasion like dinner the colonel would still acknowledge his presence. The Flame had been more attentive than Edward had ever thought he would be during the last week and it had made Ed sure that he had placed his trust right, but now he couldn't help but think that maybe because he started to talk freely with the guys in the office again and resumed his banter with the colonel, Mustang might think he had done his job with helping Ed and now didn't need to pay any more attention until the blond stopped working properly again. And that made him feel dejected. Did he need to be broken for Mustang to care about him?

There was a shattering sound and he flinched.

"Ah, damn it!" Mustang sighed and bent down to collect the pieces of the plate he had dropped when getting up after finishing his dinner. To Ed's surprise, he grinned a bit then. "Must be Hughes telling me to stop spacing out," he told the boy. "I've got a habit of doing that while at home because I used to live alone. He hated it. Kicked me in the shin and said it was rude not to pay attention to your guest. Guess he's right." His grin saddened a bit, but stayed.

Ed watched him as he regarded the shards like he was contemplating taking the effort to draw a circle and transmute them back together or just live with one plate less in his cupboard, and smiled in relief. Yes, this explanation he could believe because he spaced out to a degree where he didn't register anyone himself while reading alchemy books.

And now that Mustang had emerged from the depths of his thoughts, the colonel really was paying attention to him again. He actually asked if Ed would like to play a game of chess. Ed didn't have a clue about chess, though he didn't want to admit it so he asked if they could play a game of cards instead. The colonel agreed and when he had done the dishes, or rather the lone plate from Edward, Ed was waiting for him in the living room with the set of cards ready.

Edward was a notorious cheater when it came to playing cards. Every person had their flaws and this was one of his. And it made him wish that the colonel would start spacing out again because right now the man was not only attentive but far too attentive. He just saw everything! There were pointed looks and raised eyebrows whenever Ed tried to get a card from his sleeve, underneath the table and various other places, and a "Really Fullmetal?" when he tried to transmute his cards, masking his clap by pressing them between his hands like he was just tired of holding them fanned. And of course now that Edward was forced to play fair, the bastard won with a Straight Flush.

Edward stared at him. "You must be the one who's cheating!" he accused, pouting.

"No, I don't. You know what happens to soldiers who cheat on other soldiers of the Amestrian military during a card game? They lose the other soldier's trust in them being an honest comrade. And I can't afford to lose my people's trust, so I don't cheat."

"So you're telling me you're just a lucky bastard?"

"Basically," Mustang smirked and reached for the cards, shuffling them in a rather flashy and well practiced way.

"You're a damn professional with that stuff! That's unfair, I'm a beginner!" Ed exclaimed.

The colonel raised an eyebrow. "You don't cheat like a beginner."

"I didn't cheat!"

"But you tried to."

"No!"

"Shall I have a look up your sleeves?"

Edward huffed and fell silent, crossing his arms in front of his chest, but only for a few seconds. "I still think you cheat, too. It takes one to know one," he grumbled then.

"So you admit you cheated?"

"No, I didn't ! And now tell me how you detected what wasn't there!" The colonel just laughed. Edward glared. "I'm waiting!"

Mustang sighed. "I grew up with the owner of a place that... well let's call it a bar until you're of age. Anyway, there were people playing cards there every now and then and I was supposed to deal said cards and make sure no one cheated. So I was taught all the tricks. The good ones, " he made the stack of cards in his left hand jump over to his right hand in a spectacular arc, "And the bad ones." He put the cards aside and as fast as lightning leaned over the table to pull the King of Hearts from Edward's sleeve. He grinned when Ed went red in the face and instinctively snatched the end of his sleeves in-between his fingers in case some more cards might try to fall out.

"So I guess I can't beat you with cards?" the boy asked.

"No, not unless you're a lucky bastard."

Just why did he want the colonel's attention again? "Arghhh, you! Drop that smug smirk and go space out again!"

"You just want a reason to kick my shin, huh?"

Ah, yes, because that bastard just knew him far too well. And even though it was annoying as hell right now, it was priceless when he needed someone to be there for him during bad times. And that's why he just smiled at the stunned Mustang and then asked him to teach him the good tricks with cards, for the colonel still wouldn't believe him when he said he didn't know the bad ones already.