I know it's no excuse for posting such a crappy patch work chapter but the informations within the Monday are necessary to finally wrap up that whole murder case investigation stuff and go back to hurt/comfort. I really tried to find a better way but I couldn't come up with one so please don't hate me...

I promise the next chapter will be bigger and better and the way back to the parental RoyEd stuff :D

Chapter 20

Left, Right, Up

Wednesday

"Colonel?"

"Yes?"

"Are you all right?"

"Yes, why?"

"I just dropped my watch," Edward said, as if it would explain everything, and picked up said item to stuff it into his pocket as they hurried to get ready for the office because they had slept in.

"And?" Mustang inquired, a bit confused.

"Well, you didn't make a comment about my damaging state-funded things again."

Mustang just shrugged. "Don't see a reason to, you won't damage that thing by just dropping it. It's robust enough to catch a bullet."

"Huh, really?" Ed skeptically raised an eyebrow.

"I should know."

The younger alchemist decided to better not ask the older about this story. There was something in Mustang's eyes that told him to better not pry open that wound.

"And besides, the way from your hands to the floor is so short that everything would survive it because it would land before it even started to really fall."

Maybe he shouldn't rip open old wounds, but how about slashing the colonel a few new ones?

Thursday

"Fullmetal!"

Edward slowly peaked out of his room, sensing that he was in trouble.

"What did I tell you about things of yours that lie on the living room floor?"

Ed sheepishly smiled at a Roy Mustang who looked rather displeased because he had stumbled over one of Ed's boots, which the boy had kicked off next to the couch instead of by the front door. "Uhhh I don't remember..." He tried to play dumb.

"Well then look closely." Mustang smirked and pulled on one of his gloves.

"Ahh! No don't burn them!" Ed screeched.

"Why? 'Cause you don't have any other boots with a two inch sole to make up for your dwarfism?" Mustang smirked.

Ed forcefully held back a short rant. "Uh no, but because it's a first and you could be a bit lenient and give me a second chance...?" he said instead, trying for a puppy dog face.

"Life rarely gives second chances," Mustang lectured, completely unimpressed by Ed's puppy eyes attempt.

"I know that," Ed said and hung his head.

Mustang sighed. There was silence for a moment. "Well, life doesn't give second chances but people do. So I won't burn them...BUT, "and the smirk was back, "you'll be the one cleaning the bathroom for the next week!"

"Awww come on!" Ed whined.

Mustang just grinned and the boy knew there was no getting out of this.

Friday

"Colonel!"

"What is it?"

"You forgot to bring the laundry for cleaning and NOW I'M OUT OF UNDERWEAR!" Edward stomped out of his room, seething and still wearing nothing but the big towel he had wrapped around himself after his morning shower.

Mustang sheepishly scratched at his neck, though Ed could see that was an act. The colonel was close to bursting out laughing. "Oh, sorry. I'll just take the laundry now and bribe the people doing it, then it should be ready when we get off work."

"That doesn't help me now!"

"Just...uh wear what you wore until before you showered. It's just a bit more than half a day longer than what you usually wear it, it shouldn't be too bad."

"I just showered, so I don't want to wear dirty clothes now!"

"Then wear a pair of your shorts, they're basically the same as boxers, right?"

Ed opened his mouth to yell again, but then stopped and considered the idea.

"I'll try that," he then grumbled and stomped back towards his room. Standing in the doorway, he turned to Mustang again. "You're on bathroom cleaning duty now!" he exclaimed, then grinned and slammed the door.

Saturday

"Fullmetal!"

"Yeeees?" Ed cautiously walked over into the kitchen.

Mustang stood pointing at the open fridge. "Why is all the milk gone?"

"Maybe you finished it?"

"No, I just bought some."

"Yes, and that disgusting cow secretion was stealing all the room for my orange juice!"

"Cow secre- wait what?! So you did take it away!"

"...No?"

"Fullmetal..."

"Okay, okay, I won't do it again, put those gloves away!"

"You know what? That part of the fridge is yours and this is mine."

"Why is your part bigger than mine?!"

" 'cause I buy the healthy food like eggs for breakfast, while you only buy sweets and those don't need much space."

"But the orange juice-"

"Could fit perfectly fine if you don't insist on stuffing all five cartons in here!"

"Fine I'll take the ones that aren't open yet out. But if you put cow juice in there and it leaks out and touches my food then I'll drown you with that white liquid of hell!"

Mustang stared at him. "Fullmetal?"

"Yes?"

"You're crazy."

"Says you, pyromaniac."

Sunday

"COLONEL!"

Said man almost fell out of his bed. Being a soldier and having fought in a war allowed him to immediately gather his senses and rush out of his bedroom, glove on, to find out what that blood-freezing scream had been about. He expected some attacker when he burst into the room, but there was only Edward, flailing in his bed and kicking his blanket like it was his worst enemy, panic written all over the face with closed eyes.

For a moment the colonel didn't know what to do and simply stared. But then he decided to try and wake Ed up.

"Fullmetal, I'm here, wake up!" he said, awkwardly sitting down on the edge of the bed, and trying to catch Ed's flailing arms. Edward stilled a bit, his body turning into Mustang's direction. The colonel took the chance and placed a hand on each of Ed's arms. "Everything's alright," he told the boy.

Ed relaxed some more. Mustang thoughtfully chewed on his lip. Should he wake the boy now or should he try to calm him further while he remained asleep?

" 'm sorry," Ed mumbled. "Did'n' wan' to..." his flesh arm wriggled out from underneath Mustang's hand and grabbed the colonel's right arm. Then the small alchemist practically curled around the limb. The colonel blinked, confused, not really sure how to handle this.

"It's alright, you're alright...I'm alright...It's just a nightmare," he spoke in a soft voice he imagined was right for this kind of situation, all the while feeling a bit stupid and not equipped for this. Talking about nightmares to an Ed who was awake was all right, but when he was asleep and logical comments were of no use? When there was no brilliant mind to reach but only a stressed kid? Not Roy Mustang's field of action.

However, being the stubborn man he was, he still decided to let Ed sleep. So the colonel continued talking whatever soothing nonsense he could think of as he tried to move without waking the short alchemist. He needed to find a better position for himself, because with his arm trapped by Ed's curled up body he had to lean over said boy in a rather uncomfortable way that strained his muscles.

Funny enough, the moment he was finally comfortable Ed had calmed down enough to mumble, "Go do ya paperwork co'nel!" and roll over, letting go of him.

Monday

One week. One week they had waited and fiddled with their nervous ticks and nothing had happened. No corpse, no lead. By now they had all calmed down and normal office routine had set in again. Though Edward noticed that Mustang had a habit of vanishing from the office for extended time periods, saying he was out for some private investigation. At first he had thought the colonel meant their current case and had sighed and thought the man was a bit obsessed with it since his array had been dragged into the whole mess, but then Havoc had sighed, looked over at Mustang's once again empty desk and said: "He really needs to stop that. It's not healthy and he can't catch Hughes killer alone. What is he hoping to gain from looking through the stuff Hughes had been looking into before he was killed?"

"I think the colonel will catch himself again sooner or later, right now he just tries to make up for the investigation time he thinks he has lost while he was bombarded with paperwork and busy with the serial killer," Hawkeye tried to reassure.

"But he won't stop unless said paperwork and serial killer thwart him again. He needs to stop that himself and get over it, as cruel as it sounds." Breda sighed.

The office door opened and Mustang himself came in, carrying some coffee and some folders. "Met someone from Investigations on the way, they don't really have any news for us," he announced, leaning against his desk and sipping from his coffee.

"Do you think it's over?" Havoc asked, thoughtfully scratching his chin. "I mean, the amount of time between the killings has shortened ever since the first and now there's none for a week!"

Mustang looked like he couldn't decide between a sigh and a predator grin. In the end he settled for a neutral face. "No, I don't think it's over. I think we backed them in a corner and they can't decide if they should try to escape on the right or the left side of us. So they're waiting until they decide."

He opened the folder he had brought with him and looked over the new material. Raising an eyebrow, he decided for his predator grin after all. "Though it looks like they'll take neither way and instead cut off some weight to escape up," he then said, one finger subconsciously pointing to the ceiling.

"Uh, what?" his male subordinates asked in a chorus.

"Sir, I believe none of us can follow you train of thought here," Hawkeye pointed out, as usual a bit more stiff in her wording than the others.

Mustang thoughtfully looked at them all, obviously contemplating if he should explain or not.

"Oh, c'mon sir, don't tell me it's part of that thought you wouldn't tell us about!" Havoc whined.

"Actually, it is," Mustang smirked. The others groaned. "Ah, well I'll tell you. Though I do think you're safer not knowing." He paused, giving them the chance to back out. None of them did, so he continued.

"Remember when we talked about how the killer could know my array well enough to paint it on the map with his victims?" He pulled one of his ignition gloves out of his pocket. "I don't wear these all day and the array isn't printed in any book. So if people see it, they only do so when I fight. Now there was a time when I fought quite a lot, hours per day, and was practically always wearing the gloves. Plus, during the same time there was another alchemist around; he was in the same camp as me and had enough alchemy talent to study and remember my array there. He is also on the list of people Doctor Marcoh talked to about the book."

"Major Armstrong?" Fuery asked confused.

"No."

"But he was with you in Ishbal..."

"Yes, he was. But considering his personality and his break down there, I don't think he used up his free time with studying my array and now became a serial killer." He turned to Havoc and smirked. "Second Lieutenant Havoc..."

Said man gulped. That grin couldn't mean something good for him. "Yes, sir...?"

"You are managing the paperwork of our current murder case, aren't you?"

"Uh yes, sir." He definitely wanted a smoke, judging by the way he fiddled with his coat pocket.

"So you've got all the info on everyone we ever suspected?"

"Yes, sir.", Havoc said.

"No, sir.", Mustang correctet him.

"Huh?" Now Havoc was at a loss.

"Go have a look."

They all stared in confusion as Havoc looked through the papers. Then looked again and frowned. "The information on Zolf Kimbley you requested never made it to us."

Understanding dawned on their faces.

"Precisely. I asked for them again and again but they never made it to my desk, just some crappy excuses whenever I tried to get them. And then Investigations wasn't allowed in because it is just ridiculous that someone could escape from the military's prison without them noticing. Well it is ridiculous, and therefore someone had not only noticed but encouraged it. That's why I think there is not only a mad killer but also an employer who sent said killer out. And this employer is trying to cut off Kimbley now to save his ass." He turned the folder in his hands, showing them it was Kimbley's file.

"Because if they let Kimbley continue with the current plan then we would catch him and end the murder series. But if they let him kill someone in an arbitrary place then they would tell us that they're in a position where they can see our movements and know we watch certain spots in Central."

"But we didn't tell anyone why we are watching these spots, so how should they know we caught up to them using the flame array?" Havoc was confused.

"They don't need to. Just seeing that we are watching some spots more than others is enough to let them know that we are on to something, and maybe warn Kimbley not to walk into these heavily watched places."

"One question. Let's say they found out about our knowing about the array; I mean there must be some purpose in them using it, right? So why cut it off before you got the message?" Breda asked, being the group's best tactician apart from Mustang.

"I think the employer wanted those killings for some other reason than sending a special message for me. That's why they're halting. If the employer was the one who was trying to tell me something then they wouldn't stop the killer now but try to keep him killing until the full message is delivered. I mean, they're giving Kimbley to us now," he waved around the file, "so they obviously don't care about him. So if they were sending a message then it too wouldn't matter if Kimbley got caught, as long as the message got out as much as possible. But if Kimbley is the one sending a message, playing his own little game within the game, and the employer found out only now why we're acting funny..."

"Then he might regret hiring Kimbley and cut him off to search for someone else to continue the killing," Ed concluded.

"Exactly. He's throwing us a bone to chew on so we're distracted while he starts with a new plan. These files say that Kimbley was a quiet and easy to handle prisoner until a few weeks before the first killing. Then he started to have some kind of fit every once in a while, leaving him violent and utterly mad. They wanted to put him in the mental ward, but instead they received orders from above to put him into one of the old isolation cells in the basement to let him cool off. These orders were never really written down and spoken by an officer who I happen to know died in a car accident. The funny thing though is that during these hours Kimbley was not monitored. He could have done anything, and none of the guards would be none the wiser." Mustang explained, his eyes wandering over the papers.

"You mean he transmuted himself a way out of there and went for his killing sprees while everyone thought he was in that cell?" Fuery shivered and let a paranoid gaze wander to the windows. "Now I'm scared."

Breda smacked him over the head. "Pull yourself together, idiot! Alchemists in prison are restrained so they can't use their alchemy."

"Doesn't mean someone from the outside can't reach him, though." Ed scratched his head in thought.

"And I bet that someone has their base right here." Mustang pulled out their well used map, placing it in the middle of the pushed together desks of his subordinates. He pointed on a spot.

"You mean they're in prison, too?" Hawkeye asked, frowning in confusion.

"No, it's the building right next to it. Laboratory Five. It's an abandoned military building. They could have a base in there, a tunnel over to the prison, and who knows what else. No one cares about that building, so no one would notice."

"So you think someone from the military is involved?" Hawkeye made use of her voice again.

"Well, who has to approve of me sending the guards to the marked spots?" He flicked through Kimbley's file with his pointer finger. "Who has to approve of me receiving data and information? Who could have made that officer order the isolation cell for Kimbley? Someone up the ranks is up to something funny and big if you ask me."

"So what are we going to do? March in that prison and take the bone they threw us?" Edward stared at Kimbley's picture with a frown.

"No. We'll do nothing. This way we'll tell them that we know it won't end with catching Kimbley and are still alert. And that will force them to rethink. And what they'll do then will tell us more about them. And maybe it will even compel them to cower down and stop completely because they know that in the end they can't flee. Neither right, nor left, nor up. Or they'll just think we're dumb and make a mistake because they'll underestimate us."

"And how long do you think they'll take for their decision?" Hawkeye and Breda asked in union.

"I guess they'll give us one day to think of all this." He waved at the map and Kimbley's file. "Then one day to plan our steps. One day to organize what we planned. One day to try and pull through with our plan and one or two days extra waiting in case we're just slower than they thought we'd be. So five to six days. After that we should have our answer."

And what a horrible answer it was they received.

Oh, for those who don't know: The Wednesday referes to an OVA from the anime where Mustang's pocket watch catches a bullet fired on him by an ex soldier in Ishbal. The ex soldier used to be Mustang's friend in the academy but had ishbalan blood so he changed sides when the war began.