This chapter was supposed to be up one week ago, but I was touring through towns, trying to find a university I like, so the only connection to Fanfiction I had until now was via my mobile phone, a really stubborn little device that refuses to cooperate with the Doc Manager. I'm sorry for being late, but I don't regret my tour :D

At the end of the chapter there is a surprise added to todays update that might make you happy, so read on even if there's a long annoying author's note at the beginning. I promise I tried not to talk too much :D

Thanks for the reviews and your patience, now let's go and cook pasta! :D

Chapter 24

The Cooking Colonel

Ed tugged at Mustangs sleeve. "Cook pasta!"

He could feel them all stare at him, baffled and not sure they could believe their ears.

"Did Ed just ask him to cook?" Winry inquired, puzzled.

"I think he did." Hawkeye provided an answer.

Finally Mustang found his voice again as well. "I beg your pardon?" He tried to confirm that he had just heard Ed seemingly randomly ask him to cook. If Ed was his normal self he would be rolling on the floor laughing at the dumbfounded expression on the older alchemist's face. As it was Ed simply demanded again: "Cook Pasta!"

He knew they probably thought he'd finally lost it completely, but it was important that the Flame caught on to this on his own. Ed just couldn't flat out ask him for help, not when he just discovered that he had forgotten about Mustang being injured and kept the man busy with his own selfish demands instead of looking out for him and returning the favour of all the care he had received, for once. He did understand that Mustang didn't hold it against him, but Ed still felt really stupid and guilty. And so, even though he really wanted, needed, the colonel to be the one he told about his crime, he was determined to only accept the help if Mustang offered it out of his own free will and without being asked. Because if Mustang offered it like this, like it was kind of natural and important to him, then Ed knew it was okay. Okay because Mustang saw it fitting and didn't push other important matters to the side because he felt obliged to help. Ed would give him a nudge in the right direction but it would be the colonel's choice to take the hint and act on it. So Mustang could refuse to help without feeling too bad about it or having to explain himself, and if he chose to listen to Ed's confession of his sin then only because he really wanted to.

At the moment the Flame Alchemist was scrutinising Ed, trying to gauge if the boy had gone into another, really weird, phase of his coping mechanism or if he was still with them. "Edward, we're not in our Central apartment. If you want food then you have to ask the Rockbell ladies," he tentatively tried at last.

While Pinako snorted a bit at the 'ladies' part, Ed shook his head. "No. You cook pasta."

Mustang still looked slightly confused, though it was honest and not because he had caught on and decided not to help. But at least he seemed to slowly understand that Ed had a reason for his request. Though that didn't change the fact that he was uncomfortable with just starting to cook in the house of people he met so often, his fingers were enough to count it off. "Fullmetal, I really don't think I should-"

"Go use the kitchen, Colonel." Granny Pinako interrupted and Ed was thankful that she too understood he was trying to accomplish something. "Cook for five and we'll have an early dinner. The ingredients for simple pasta should all be there somewhere."

Mustang sheepishly scratched at his neck for a moment, looking from Pinako, who calmly lit and smoked her pipe, to Hawkeye, who gave a tiny nod, and back before his gaze stopped on Edward.

He sighed. "Fine, I'll do it," and nodded his head in a way that indicated Ed should show him to the kitchen. "I've really spoiled you too much. Don't think I'll become your chef on request now," the colonel grumbled as he followed the smaller alchemist. Ed just grinned. He knew Mustang only complained because he didn't want to admit he was relieved that Edward was willing to interact with people again and hoped he could maybe coax the boy into some friendly bantering to keep him speaking and reacting to them.

Though Edward's grin faded when they made it to the kitchen and he sat at the table there. The boy was nervous now, not knowing how things would work out but hoping for the best even though he felt he didn't deserve it.

In his kitchen at home Mustang always seemed confident and nonchalant, pulling things from the shelves without really looking because he just knew where everything was. A significant difference to now, where the colonel stood clueless in an unfamiliar kitchen. He looked at the door for a moment, searching for the Rockbells and Hawkeye, but the three women seemed to have decided that he and Ed needed some kind of men time and had gone somewhere else. Ed just knew they were still somewhere close enough to listen in though. Mustang looked at him for a second, but the Fullmetal Alchemist remained seated and waiting, so the colonel finally sighed, shrugged, and settled to just going through the cupboards until he found all the stuff he needed. Once that was done his movements became more confident again. He even took off the blue uniform jacket, draped it over the back of the chair Edward wasn't sitting on, and rolled up his sleeves. Ed watched as he put ingredients together, once again not pleased with the amount of salt the recipe asked for and adding some more. Finally everything was on the stove and the colonel stirred the sauce every now and then while it heated up. He turned slightly towards the still waiting Ed, looking for what the boy was doing and suddenly stopped in the motion.

And Ed knew the colonel had finally realised that something about this situation was familiar. He watched as it obviously clicked in Mustang's brain and bit his lip. The Flame had received the nudge. Now what would he make of it?

The colonel nonchalantly turned back towards the stove, stirring the sauce once more and Edward felt his heart drop. So the colonel decided to ignore-

"Last time I cooked pasta we had a rather deep conversation... I assume you want one again?" Mustang looked over his shoulder, smirking, though it was friendly.God, was Ed relieved. His dropped heart climbed back to its usual place and started beating again. He licked his lips and nodded. The colonel raised an eyebrow. "You could have just asked."

Ed shook his head, no. Mustang just looked at him for a moment longer, then shook his head as well. Edward felt like the colonel knew exactly what had been going on in his head when he decided not to ask but hope for Mustang to offer the support.

"Next time you make me cook just because you're on an unnecessary guilt trip I'll cook you along with the pasta." The colonel finally threatened, but he wasn't serious. Though that changed with the next sentence. "I might bite, but never enough to kill. And what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger. So if you want me to listen to you just speak up, understood?"

Ed nodded. Mustang seemed content. "Well, I'm listening," he said, turning to stirring the sauce again.

Edward took a deep breath. This was it. Either he was damn lucky and even after this revelation the colonel would still put up with him, or he'd lose someone who wouldn't even fully fit in any category of people you consider close, but was still very important. He wasn't really family, he wasn't really a friend, he was something very unique in between. But Ed couldn't bother any less with defining their relationship as long as it stayed the way it was because, as short as he had been living it, he was really content and pleased with their crazy little life in the Central apartment.

Of course he would go out on missions again some day and finally find his own way again, but it was really good to know that there was always an open door he could return to when he wanted to. A place to recover and collect new energy and receive help to go on. A place to just relax. Something Resembool couldn't be because his small hometown was the place where the journey would end, where he would stay when he finally accomplished one of the goals he set himself. And until then he couldn't rest in Resembool, it just stressed him to no end when he was there and still, even after so much time, hadn't accomplished anything. So, until he could stay at Resembool with his soul and mind at ease he wanted to relax to Mustang, complaining about the milk in the fridge being gone again. Finally, he started speaking, putting it all on the line.

"Kimbley told me something before he died. You didn't hear, did you?" he asked quietly.

Mustang shook his head. "No, I only had a screaming homunculus assaulting my hearing."

Ed swallowed. "When Kimbley talks about a lot of humans, how many humans does he mean, what do you think?"

Black eyes narrowed in thought as their owner tried to estimate where this was going. "We once met on the battlefield and he told me I didn't need to follow this street, he already killed the few over there. I asked what he meant with a few and he said 132. So I guess if he speaks about a lot he means at least a thousand. Why are you asking?"

Ed's stomach dropped. Oh he hated himself, he really hated himself. And Mustang would hate him too. But he needed to get it out now that he had come so far without shutting down, or he'd be lost. He felt like throwing up, but he forced the contents of his stomach to stay there and only choked out words. "Because he told me that... that to create a philosopher's stone you need a lot... a lot of..." No, he couldn't do this, he couldn't say this! But then the words already spilled over his tongue like a surge of vomit that can't be held back any more."A lot of human souls."

Mustang was quiet for a while, digesting the information, while stirring the sauce like he didn't even realise he was still doing so. Ed swallowed, waiting for the colonel's reaction. And how he hated this waiting. It strained his nerves to a point where he was sure they would snap, leaving him a complete wreck, soon.

"Did you consider that maybe Kimbley was lying, just for the hell of it?" Mustang finally asked, like a last try to deny the horrible truth.

Ed sadly shook his head, speaking quietly what he didn't want to hear from himself. "I'm quite sure he didn't. I-...I mean this..." he swallowed again, "horrible price is a perfect reason why this stone is such a myth and why it is so hard to find. And also... I met Doctor Marcoh once..." Mustang stared at him, mouth opening to ask a flabbergasted "You know Marcoh?!" but Ed continued before the colonel could get out a single word.

"It was luck, we met him in this village while passing through. Armstrong recognised him. And-... and he had this stone. A real one. He was using it to heal the people in his village, so we didn't take it away from him. But he told us where his research was hidden. Though he claimed it was the devil's research, despicable and never to get in the wrong hands. Yet by the time we arrived at the library where it was supposed to be hidden everything was burned. But we met Sheska and she knew it all by heart and copied it down for us. It's written in code. A really good code," he laughed a mirthless little laugh, "it drives you crazy to try and decipher it. We were so frustrated, and then we heard of the other stone and decided to take a break and pursue it; the research papers wouldn't run away after all. I was so stupid, just because I was frustrated!" He slammed his fists on the table and buried his head in his arms, still continuing though. "We found this stone and we tested it a bit and then we just... we just..." His shoulders started shaking, "I should have insisted on finishing decoding Marcoh's research before we used that stone, I shouldn't have rushed Al into this...I should have thought for once, should have remembered what Marcoh said. Then maybe Al would still be here... and I... I would have never become a murderer!"

For a moment there was only silence.

"A murderer," Mustang finally snorted, like Ed said something ridiculous. The boy's head shot up and he stared at the colonel who was leaning against the counter, arms crossed in front of his chest and one eyebrow sceptically raised. "You are no murderer, Fullmetal," he assured him calmly.

"DIDN'T YOU LISTEN?!" Ed suddenly yelled, the stress making him pant. And here he trusted the colonel to really listen. "I killed those souls, I am a murderer!"

"No you are not," Mustang said, his voice sounding final as he turned back to the stove, dismissing the topic as if they had discussed it to the end and Mustang's opinion was the right one.

"You don't get it, you didn't listen, YOU DON'T GET IT!" Ed pulled at his hair. If Mustang didn't get it then who was there to help him?

The colonel turned around again, looking pissed in a way he normally did when Ed insulted his intelligence. "Yes, I did listen, and yes I did get that you probably used all those souls. But you still aren't a murderer."

"Yes I am!"

"No you are not!" The noodles still on the stove started to boil over and Mustang spun and turned the heat down, roughly stirring the pot's contents to try and prevent them from reaching the rim of the pot and spilling over.

Ed just wanted to scream. "Why don't you understand, I killed them! I-"

"I do understand," Mustang interrupted and Ed didn't protest, flinching from the harsh tone. "I understand you used, killed, them but never with the intention to do so! If you had known what that stone was made of, you would have never used it, right?" Ed nodded, no he would have never done that! "Well there you are. You may have used those souls but you didn't know, you had no intention to, it was an accident. No murder. You can be forgiven, if you'd just understand that!"

"But-."

"Once again: There are no buts!"

"But I killed them!" Ed helplessly cried. He felt so confused.

"And there's still a difference between you and a murderer!" Mustang insisted.

"No there isn't." He hung his head, believing to speak the truth.

Suddenly Ed was grabbed by the collar and yanked up, back against the wall behind the chair he sat on only a second ago. He was forced to look into those piercing dark eyes, close enough to see the tiny tinge of blue that separated the black of the irises from the pupils. There was something very cold and very ugly lurking in those eyes now, small and hidden beneath anger, but still there. And it scared the hell out of him.

"Now listen to me." There was an edge in the colonel's voice that made him want to hide. "When we played cards, you said 'it takes one to know one'. Well it really does. And I am one. I am a murderer. That crazy creature, Lust, it dissolved when it died and its core was a damn philosoper's stone! And I had intentionally killed it. Just like I killed in that fucked up war. Districts worth of Ishbalans, Edward, districts. I can see the eyes of a killer in every soldier that had been there with me and I can see the eyes of a killer every time I look into a damned mirror! But I still don't see those eyes on you. There is a difference between you and a murderer, Edward Elric, because you are not one." The grip on his collar tightened to emphasise the words. "You. Are. No. Murderer. All you are is someone with very bad luck!" And with that he was dropped back on his chair and Mustang stomped out of the kitchen, carelessly rushing past the three women who had been listening in at the door.

The second thing Edward needed to get better was someone who told him that everything would be all right again sometime, and that he could find a way to atone for his sin. Maybe even someone who'd hug him and tell him he was still loved.

But as he watched in shock as Mustang left, he concluded that this frightening explosion did the job just as well.

And Ed found himself wondering if it was really him who needed a hug right now.

Yes, if the stone Ed used for Al's transmutation was the real thing and really made of human souls then the transmutation would have probably worked out. So yes, the colonel and Ed will consider that maybe Ed didn't use souls after all, once they calmed down from the initial shock of the news. Blame them being slow on me being sadistic. I just couldn't resist having them freak out a bit, you may hate me for that.

Now let's go to the so called special, I hope it will placate you a bit ;D

Special

For my dear reviewers who by now left me even more than 200 encouraging opinions. Thank you all very much for all the support!

...So this one should have been the beginning of chapter 22 Starting and Finding, though for some reason I only came up with it now, when trying to think of some nice Roy and Ed moments. Just imagine that it was there :D

Ed was not sure why Warm Rock wanted to leave the confines of this safe place. There only was the dull ringing of a memory in his head that told him that Warm Rock and Professional Presence spoke about getting on a train some time before. Though it didn't serve to appease his confusion, no, it made him even more insecure.

For one thing he didn't even know if they would be separated once they reached that train. The thought was quite horrible and made him squeeze Warm Rock's hand, trying to anchor the warm presence to himself and to this place. So Warm Rock had been trying to coax him out of the door for quite some time now, but to no avail. Usually Ed didn't mind to just follow whoever grabbed his hand to lead him somewhere, but that was before he found this presence that held the keys to him getting better again. Now that he had it he refused to let it go until he found out just what exactly he needed from it. So he didn't mind taking the effort of being a bit stubborn and not moving out of the door.

"Okay, Fullmetal, that's it! We can't take the nice and slow way when there's a train that won't wait for us," Warm Rock huffed.

A train that won't wait for us. Did that mean they wouldn't be separated? Why didn't Warm Rock say that from the beginning? He just considered following Warm Rock out of the apartment after all, when said presence just bend down to throw Ed over its shoulder and simply carry him like a sack of flour. Or at least it attempted to do so.

Smack.

"Ouch! Lieutenant what was that for?!" it yelped and sat Ed down again, rubbing its head.

"I'm sorry sir, but this is the fourth time you lost patience and attempted to carry him even though you are still not supposed to carry heavy things! I just thought that maybe I could get it through to you this way, it's for your own good. We can't have you high on pain killers, they seem to cloud your judgement already as it is if you ignore the doctor's orders for the fourth time. So I apologise, but I will not let you carry Edward."

"Yeah, yeah, all right!" Warm Rock grumbled after a while. "But you didn't have to smack me! What if you startled me so much that I dropped him?!"

Professional Presence sounded confident. "You wouldn't even drop him if I shot you in the leg."

And then it proceeded to usher the two alchemists to the train station.

This was inspired by the scene where Hawkeye yells at Mustang for coming to rescue them from Gluttony in that tower even though he was supposed to stay at his office. "Yeah, yeah, I'm an idiot!" Haha I love it how he says that :D

Now, what else can I give to you... ah yes! Remember, there was a gap of seven days I didn't write anything about in between Chapter 20 Left, Right, Up and Chapter 21 Two Can Keep A Secret If One Of Them Is Dead, where the Mustang Team basically just sat around and waited for the killer to make their move with the knowledge that Mustang knew about the array layout on the map. And since you people responded so well to the part of Chapter 20 where there was one scene of Ed and Roy banter per week day, I decided to do that again and try to let those two have a good time since I've been so mean to them lately. So here are my crappy attempts at humour and other stuff, have fun!

Monday has already been in the chapter, so let's start with Tuesday...

Tuesday

Since Mustang calculated that the killer and/or his employer would need at least seven days to realise that the colonel and his team were leaving him to make the first step in their game with now changed rules, there was no need to be on edge and wait for a murder to occur every day. That's why after work Ed lay stretched out on Mustang's couch, reading one of the colonel's books, completely comfortable and relaxed. Of course it was still stupid to let down your guard completely so there was still the small standard alert part of him, but for the most part he left the worrying to Mustang. The colonel was good at keeping track of everything around them and sometimes Ed even thought his commanding officer was a bit too paranoid, mostly because of that thought he felt safe enough in Mustang's apartment to lose himself to the contents of the book for a while.

Turns out that while Ed didn't have to fear about a threat from outside he should have thought about those from inside. Because even though he could be the most mature guy in the world when they were in the office, when very bored and/or at home Mustang sometimes showed some almost childish streaks which resulted in him indulging in practical jokes to his amusement. It was very rare for the colonel to give in to such things, but sometimes it just happened.

So when Ed jumped in alert at the sudden flash that lit up the room, a paper cup filled with water fell down on him. Sitting there suddenly wet it took Ed a moment to realise that Mustang had actually managed to balance that thing on Ed's head in an attempt to find out just how absorbed the teen was with his book. And once done with that the colonel had actually taken a picture.

Ed very carefully put the book aside, making sure the thankfully not very expensive or scarce tome was dry and then turned to the smirking Mustang for revenge.

"I should be angry, but then getting wet isn't a big deal for me. After all it's you who's rendered useless by water."

Mustang was quite grumpy for the rest of the evening.

Okay maybe a bit out of character, not really bantering and not as funny as it seemed when it was still in my head, but still. Anyway, let's go on:

Wednesday

Ed looked over to Mustang, who watched the world outside of the car through the window as they drove back to the apartment after work.

"Colonel?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you know how to cook stew?"

"Yes, it's what I eat when I get ill."

"You mind making some without getting ill first?"

"No, I guess I don't mind. Why, do you like stew?" The colonel finally turned towards him, curious.

Ed nodded. "Don't know why but it tastes awesome."

"Then I guess I can cook it sometime," Mustang offered with a hint of a smile.

Ed couldn't help but grin happily. "Can you cook it today?"

"Impossible." That smirk meant trouble.

"What? Aw come ooon! Why's it impossible?"

"Remember the milk I bought yesterday?"

"...uh...yeah...?"

"Remember where it was this morning?"

"..."

"Exactly: Not. In. The. Fridge."

"Damn."

"...So will you stop doing whatever you do to the poor milk if I promise to make stew every once in a while?"

"...I guess."

"Good."

"So can we buy some new milk now?"

"I never expected to hear these words from you. You really like stew, huh?"

"Yes I do... Stop grinning like that!"

Mustang only grinned wider but then turned back to the window.

"...So can we buy milk now?" Ed finally inquired again.

"You'll have to wait until tomorrow."

"Okay, so it will be stew tomorrow. I can wait until then. Don't you dare forget about it though!"

Mustang merely chuckled."If it keeps the milk in the fridge then I think I can remember."

Thursday

"Fullmetal?"

"Hmhm?"

"Why don't you go read a book?"

Ed critically watched Mustang cooking stew. He scrutinised every movement the older alchemist made and every ingredient that was used. For one because he wanted to make sure the stew was made right and two because Mustang's eyebrow started to twitch after a while. Ed grinned.

" 'Cause it's fun to stare until you start feeling uncomfortable."

"Did you ever consider that I might ruin the stew if you keep getting on my nerves?"

"Naw, if you couldn't work under some pressure then you'd be dead already."

"I'll take that as a compliment. Could you still stop staring, though? My stew's not going to be as good as the one cooked by whoever made you like it so much, anyway, no matter how much you make sure I put the right stuff in it."

Ed blinked and thoughtfully cocked his head to the side. "What makes you think so?"

"People tend to idolise their favourite food so in the end their expectations can only be met if it is cooked by the same person who cooked it when they started to like it. Said person who cooked also has to be someone the person who eats likes very much. It's the my-granny's-cookies-are-the-best effect."

"Has this ever been proved in a study or something?"

"Don't know, it's just an observation I made."

"You study people's thoughts about food?"

"I study people in general. I like to be able to predict their behaviour."

"Manipulative jerk."

"Grumpy midget who probably only grew taller than a baby because of the bits of milk he consumes with stew."

Now Ed's eyebrow was twitching and Mustang was smirking.

The good ol' Ed-likes-stew-theme, I couldn't resist it. Hm, I just realised Numb doesn't contain a single proper short-rant. I guess Ed's still not himself enough for those. Poor boy, I really am mean for letting him suffer so much.

Friday

It was past midnight when Ed woke up because he needed to go use the bathroom. How he hated this, why did his bladder have to interrupt a good night's sleep? He sleepily left his room and made his way across the living room, but froze when he heard the faint sound of someone breathing. Was there someone in the apartment who wasn't supposed to be here?

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and berated himself for not realising sooner that the small lamp on Mustang's desk was still on. It cast a soft orange light on a person who was indeed supposed to be in the apartment, only not in the living room. But it seemed the colonel did fall asleep at his desk instead of being tucked away in his bed.

Now, what was Ed supposed to do about that? Should he wake the man or let him sleep, maybe even drape a blanket over him? He went over and peered at Mustang's face. It didn't look like the Flame was dreaming about something nice, actually he looked rather stressed and the fingers of his right hand were twitching. Even though the thumb didn't touch the fingers, Ed was grateful that Mustang wasn't wearing his gloves.

He took a look at the files Mustang was sleeping upon and sadness filled him. Those papers were all part of the investigation of Hughes' murder. The colonel's subordinates sometimes quietly voiced their concern about Mustang's obsession-bordering tries to find out who killed his best friend to one another, but whenever they attempted to bring it up to Mustang the colonel brushed it aside, stayed low for a while and then started investigating again anyway. In the end all they could do was trust Mustang not to lose himself in this and the colonel appreciated their trust with one of his rare true smiles.

Finally Ed decided to carefully pull the files free from underneath Mustang's sleeping form and stack them neatly in the corner of the desk so they wouldn't be the first thing the colonel saw when waking up and immediately pull him down again. And since Ed was sure Mustang wouldn't appreciate him seeing his commanding officer in the vulnerable state of someone who just woke up from what appeared to be a silent nightmare, he then proceed to go use the bathroom and on his way back into his room slammed the door loud enough to wake Mustang but not the neighbours.

After all he couldn't risk the colonel getting a stiff neck from sleeping on his desk all night. He'd be grumpy all morning and a grumpy colonel burned breakfast.

And also he knew the feeling of being trapped in a nightmare, wishing for someone to wake him up.

Where was the humour here, you ask? Don't know, I just read a sad poem (from allisonwonderland1496, really good!) and so sadness chased humour away. Got to go and find it again now... Ah, there it is! It hid underneath my bed.

Saturday

"Colonel?"

"What is it?"

Ed was snickering. "Why's there a pink bookmark with hearts on it in this book?"

"Huh?" Mustang came over and stared at the pink piece of paper in Ed's hand. "Oh. Must be from the lady who sold it to me."

"Didn't you read the book after buying it?"

"I did."

"Then why didn't you put that thing away? Do you like pink things with lots of hearts on them?" Ed grinned even wider.

Mustang huffed. "No."He snatched the bookmark away and turned it over. "I'm sure there was some reason I kept it- Oh."

"What is it?"

"It's got her phone number on it and I was supposed to call her."

"Supposed to?"

"I forgot. I planned to do so after reading through it, but it seems I was too busy thinking about the book to remember that hideous bookmark."

"And here you laugh at me for getting too absorbed in a book!"

"I, at least, realise it when someone balances things on my head."

"I take that as a challenge Mustang!"

"Bring it on Elric!"

Since that evening Colonel Mustang didn't read expensive or rare books in the living room anymore because he feared them getting wet from Ed's futile attempts to balance a paper cup filled with water on his head.

Inspired by a random bookmark I found in a library book. Still debating if I should call the number on it, just to find out who else would read that book :D

Sunday

Edward had been alone in the apartment for a while now because Mustang was out "dating", meaning information gathering. Over time the young alchemist had gotten used to emerging from the book he was reading once every hour or so and talk to the colonel about its contents, sharing opinions and sometimes even asking for an explanation. Ed was an alchemy genius, but sometimes there were things you just couldn't think of yourself, things you had to know from other books. Such as references from other alchemists' work. So every once in a while Ed asked what the book meant by, for example, 'Roller's Theory of Disintegrating' and Mustang would recite said theory or tell Ed which book contained it so he could read it up himself. It depended on how busy the colonel was.

Ed was still a bit surprised about Mustang's vast knowledge, but the older alchemist told him that he did actually have basic and neutral training in alchemy before he specialised in Flame Alchemy. And even though he didn't do much beyond using fire at the moment, he still remembered everything his teacher had once drilled into his head and occasionally enjoyed reading about it. Hence his wonderful book collection.

Anyway, getting used to talking to Mustang about alchemy now resulted in Ed being bored because the colonel had been gone for a few hours already. Therefore Ed now decided to go for a walk. Though when he opened the door he was faced with Mustang, one hand outstretched from attempting to open the door as well, and his date clinging to his arm.

For a second they all stared in slight surprise, then the woman squealed. "Awww Roy, is he yours? He's so cute!"

Both alchemists spluttered.

"No, he's not mine. Maraike, this is Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist. Ed, this is Maraike," the colonel smoothly introduced, regaining his composure fast.

"Uh, hi." Ed was still shocked because that woman assumed he was related to Roy - he was nowhere near similar to Mustang.

"Hello, nice to meet you!" she happily greeted.

"I hope you didn't make a mess in the living room and the kitchen while I was gone, I offered Maraike some coffee," Mustang said, perfectly concealing his uncertainty of wanting Maraike in the apartment after that assumption.

"Uh, no it's all tidy, I can go start the coffee..." Ed hurried to half hide in the kitchen, completely forgetting about going for a walk.

Luckily, Maraike dropped her giggling stupid girl demeanour once the door was closed behind her and calmly exchanged information with the colonel.

Okayyy I should stop for today, this one was really weak. If this is still here when I post this stuff then only because my brain refused to come up with something better.

Monday

"Colonel?"

"Yes?"

"I'm bored."

"Wanna help me with paperwork?"

"That's even more boring!"

Mustang sighed and turned away from the extra paperwork he'd been forced to take home to complete because he didn't finish it at the office. Hawkeye had brought Black Hayate in today and when she left the room for a while the dog had moved from its place next to her desk and scared the hell out of Breda, who apparently wasn't very fond of dogs. Mustang had taken quite some time to try and free his subordinate of that fear by playing with the dog to show what a nice animal it was. Needless to say that no paperwork had been done then and Breda still didn't like the dog, who revelled in all the attention of the procrastinating soldiers.

"So what am I supposed to do now?"

"Come up with something interesting for me to do!" Ed explained like it was obvious.

"Go for a walk, if you're bored moving usually helps."

"Hmpf." Ed wasn't convinced.

There was a thoughtful silence for a while and Mustang turned back to his papers.

Then Ed grinned. "Hey colonel, are you any good for a sparing match?"

"It's far too late in the evening and I'm currently trying to do my work."

"You're just trying to avoid getting beaten, old man."

Mustang's brow twitched, but the colonel tried to ignore him and scribbled on his paper.

"Come ooon, just a bit training of throwing punches, you can still do that much, can you?" Ed coaxed.

"I can, but I won't right now."

"Ah, but I know you want to get away from these papers... just half an hour?"

"And you call me manipulating."

"I'm not manipulating you! Manipulating is silently and secretly, I'm just flat out trying to convince you!"

"You spied out a weakness, namely me not liking paperwork, and you try to use it against me. That's manipulating."

"Argh now you're trying to throw me off course and make me forget I wanted to spar!"

"And you actually realised that? I'm impressed."

"Ugh you... you're unbelievable!"

"Well thank you."

Ed threw a couch pillow at him.

Five minutes later Roy Mustang, Flame Alchemist and respected colonel of the Amestrian Military was engaged in a pillow fight with one Edward Elric who always claimed he wasn't a child.

Soooo this was my so called 'special' for you. Hope you liked it :)

Special thanks to xIcyChanx for being an awesome beta!

I'll go back to writing the next actual chapter now, I hope this one won't kill my muse, it somehow refuses to be like I want it to be. I always end up typing something totally different from what I first thought about. Ah well, I'll get it right somehow. Hopefully see you then :D