I resigned myself to hospital food, but consoled myself with the fact that at least they had chicken soup. It wasn't the best I had ever had, and it possessed that tinge of 'wrong' to it like every other food here, but I managed to choke it down. The entire time I was examining my journal. Not my personal journal, that stays at home, in Spanish as a small way of keeping up the language skill. This was my 'plot journal'. It was also encoded extremely thoroughly. I made up my own language, using memories of images of old high Gallifreyan as a starting point, and ending with the perfect 'eternity code'. Thank you, Artemis Fowl.

Initially, I had been nervous about the likeness to transmutation circles but as I learned more about alchemy I realized they weren't very much alike at all. People might look at me funny but they only thought I was dabbling in science. In the end, it worked out better than I ever could have hoped. Any time I needed to sketch an actual transmutation circle but didn't want an alchemist to be able to look at it and tell what I was up to I would simply write it out in Russian letters that would correspond to the English stroke that would make a certain line in the Gallifreyan version, giving me a transmutation noted down in word form with everyone but me none the wiser. They would have to sift through at least two different layers of code.

I thought about encoding the Russian letters inside some kind of Russian poetry but figured I would save that idea for later, right now I didn't have that kind of time to bother translating and encoding like that. Not with MD-Day so close. I had taken to calling it that. Maes death day. It made me nervous to even think about but I used my newly found military backbone and shoved my worries elsewhere while I worked on a solution.

I was popping open my 3rd soda in the past hour when I sensed someone looking over my shoulder. I calmly continued with the simple circle for 'and' trying to tie up my paragraph so I could get back to Hughes. It's not like it'd mean anything to them. The deep voice that resonated from behind me startled me, nearly causing me to spill my soda. Instinct saved my precious drink and I barely caught it as Roy continued speaking.

"What are you working on? Those circles are just nonsense, they'd never actually accomplish anything."

I glanced up at him then away again. Those dark eyes are seriously unfair. "I don't expect them to accomplish anything. They're just pretty little doodles. The real stuff is hidden among them."

I flipped the pages over to a page that I had marked with a small doodle of an animal in the corner, this time a penguin. The animal doodles were signals that the page was useless and not actually a part of anything. Those pages had simple circles that I had come up with and that actually worked. A few didn't but came close and I had notes on them in Russian out to the side. It could be explained to allies that these were the real research hidden inside nonsense. And it was real research. Just not the kind I was focused on at the moment.

I handed him the journal, pointing to the animal. "Taylor here means that the page has actual stuff on it."

He looked it over with an Alchemist's critical eye.

"That's actually kind of genius. Hiding the useful ones inside nonsense and then coding the words all the way through to avoid suspicion." He blinked suddenly and then took a closer look at the letters. For a second I thought he was reading it and started having a mini-heart attack but he looked up and asked in astonishment, "Is this Drachman?!"

I looked at him cluelessly. "Drachman? Like the place you thought I was from? My Aunt Sam taught me this."

Which was true. She had done a bit of Russian ballet in her mid-teens, and had made sure that both Taylor and I spoke at least enough to not get hopelessly lost when she took us on trips to visit her friends there. Me being me I ended up learning quite a bit more than that.

"Shit, this probably isn't good for my 'not a spy' defense."

He gave me an appraising look, as if suddenly completely reevaluating my worth. I did my military best not to fidget uncomfortably under his gaze. He snapped the book closed, eyes never leaving my face.

"Are you fluent in the language that goes with those letters, or is it just letter-to-letter replacement?" I started for a second, on edge that he had accidentally guessed the way part of my journal was coded. It looked like I would have to look into that poem thing sooner than I thought.

"I'm fluent, reading, writing, speaking, the whole package. Sam liked to use it to leave notes around the house and to tell us things in public, to keep nosy people out of our business."

Also true. Sam was Queen Paranoid Worry-Wort if ever there was one.

He looked at me for a second longer before handing my journal back and abruptly changing the subject. "Hughes wanted to see you, I came to fetch you for him."

I raised my eyebrows at him while sticking the journal into one of my many inside coat pockets.

"A lofty Colonel fetching things for his subordinates? Oh, what would command say?" My mocking tone forced a surprised laugh out of him before he rolled his eyes and motioned for the door. I held up a single finger and grabbed two more bottles of pop, flashed my military ID so it could be added to my meal tab, and shoved them into my bag. I grabbed the one I had open and then headed for the door.

"Alright, now we can leave."

I didn't look over my shoulder at him, too busy thinking about why Hughes couldn't have come to get me himself. I worried for a second but mentally scolded myself. He had been fine when I last saw him and most likely still was.

My mental question was answered when Mustang cleared his throat awkwardly and I glanced up at him to see he was watching the ceiling as we walked.

"So...how are you adjusting to military life so far?"

It wasn't the oddest of questions, but the way he forced it out set off a red flag or two.

"Just fine, thanks. Did Hughes put you up to this?"
He deflated almost instantly,

"Yes. He seems to think that since it's my fault you're in this at all because of my 'conspiring with Bradley'..."

"...well to be fair, he has a point."

He groaned and I rolled my eyes, continuing,

"But I likely would have ended up here anyway if I could have managed it. What I really didn't understand were the tests, surely that's not how it's done here with every prospective recruit?"

There was only silence for a few moments and we turned down two hallways before he answered.

"Not exactly. He said he had a 'feeling' about you, Bradley I mean. Hughes insists it means you're destined for greatness or something."

I nearly fell on my face, scowling.

"So it's the eccentric whim of an old guy that got me a job despite possible severe past and future health issues, is that it?"

He snorted before looking around to make sure no one heard the undignified noise coming from him,

"I wouldn't phrase it like that, but essentially, yes."

I was still scowling when he was stopped by someone or another and sent me ahead, I headed back to the Elrics room by memory trying to ignore the implications of the conversation I'd just had. As I approached I heard the low murmur of voices from inside. I knocked on the door frame before I stepped inside, eyes locking on Hughes once they found him. I noted that all conversation stopped once I announced my presence and filed the fact away for later. "The Colonel said you needed me?"

He nodded, "We're leaving soon. We're handing jurisdiction back over the local department now that we have no live witnesses to return to central, nor an alchemist to put on trial." We carefully pretended to not notice how the Elrics had stiffened at the mention of the Tuckers. "Once I'm finished here we'll head back to the station and then head home."

I was sent back outside while they finished hashing out their plans for the Elrics, trying not to laugh at the fact that I already knew most of what was being said anyway. The two brothers would be heading back to Resembool to get Ed's automail fixed, and would run into Marco. I had already made sure that Scheska had read the notes by turning them into her station after trying to decode them myself. I did my best not to tremble at the thought of how close it was to the secret of the stone and the death of Hughes. It was getting close to showtime and I had yet to read all of the lines for every part.

Not dead, comments give me life
~TimeLordOfPie