I stumbled, nearly tripping over my own feet, resorting to a strange hop-skip that left me looking like a complete idiot. I sent a silent prayer of thanks for the fact that the hallways were empty and went back to attempting to walk when I couldn't see where I was going.

It had only been one day since everyone was reassigned but I was feeling the loss. Not so much emotionally, I could call them in the evenings or visit when I took a day off. It was the shortage of someone to help take up all of Mustangs' stuff that was really hurting me. Almost literally. My left hand was cracked and bleeding in places from all of the writing, and my right hand was quickly learning to pick up the slack. I still wasn't really in the know, and I had a feeling that if I had one of those 'why don't you trust me' anime outbursts I probably would be read into the program. But, I couldn't manage that. I wasn't good enough of an actress to pull it off in just the right way, and not enough of a 'native' anime character to manage it naturally. So it was back to spying and sneaking around for me.

I dropped the papers off file by file at the appropriate offices, receiving more than one pitying look. It was notorious how lazy Mustang was when it came to paperwork. They probably all assumed that I had been doing all of this on my own. He did work, when he put his mind to it he was superb at it. But lately he had more on his mind that this stupid paperwork. So, all the official work was done by me, some then signed by him, or rather, me in his handwriting. It was all the covert stuff that he handled. I was still a little clueless as to what he was planning. Taylor had only hit on some of the major points and left out others. He was of the opinion that if he didn't give out all the spoilers, then they didn't count as spoilers. Lately, I had entertained the idea of strangling him if I ever saw him again. I was almost out of things I knew about the future. Ed's fate was the one sitting most heavily on me.

Whether this followed the ending of the Brotherhood version, or the 2003 version was still a little bit up in the air. I didn't know enough about the 2008 version to differentiate anyway until people got sucked into Nazi Germany and killed by Zeppelins. I had thought about that movie a lot. If I managed to go through the gate like that, would I go home? Or would I end up in a world with no Alchemy, and Nazis running around? I could only hope if I ended up there it would be in the Nazi Germany that also had Captain America running around in it, kicking all kinds of ass. I would be cool with that.

I dropped off the last paper, automatically heading in the direction of the mess hall. I think most people stopped mid-stride when I got two coffees rather than Mustangs coffee and my ever-present soda. One looked out the window in a show of anime nerves, as if expecting the sky to start falling. I snorted, grabbing the entire cardboard box of sugar packets, waving at the familiar onlookers as I walked out. Well, that should get human resources to assign more men to Mustang rather quickly. Or run people away quicker. If they thought I couldn't handle it they might be too afraid to try. Hmmm, two types of people out there, I guess.

I felt a shadow looming over me, a friendly tickle in that Dragons Pulse, and barely dodged out of the way of the bear hug Armstrong had been sending my way. I raised an eyebrow, holding up the coffee in my hands.

"Sorry big guy, coffee run, no hugs available at the moment."

The sparkles started dancing and I examined them, wondering if this was an anime thing or if maybe my subconscious was putting them there because it knew they would be there if this was still a show. I was knocked out of my thoughts by the very forceful pat on the back Armstrong gave me.

"Of course Stephanie! The work ethic you possess is one to marvel at! Tell me, does it run through your family for generations like the many wonderful traditions of the Armstrongs?" his words echoed through the near-deserted halls, and I'm pretty sure I saw dust fall out of the ceiling tiles at the sheer volume of it.

I glanced up at where he was now walking beside me and then shrugged,

"I wouldn't really know, I guess. I was raised by my Aunt and older brother, and occasionally some grandparents. My aunt was retired, she used to be a professional ballet dancer. Sometimes she would teach at the local dance school, but she didn't really need the money. My brother was still training to be a doctor, he was doing his residency when I...left. They would both stay at home with me when I was younger because I was very...sick. They only recently felt okay with leaving me alone for a few hours."

I expected him to wax poetic about the bonds of family and how they cared for me but instead I got a serious look and a question.

"Then how is it you were allowed to leave, if you were so sick?"

I kept my eyes on my feet, not really wanting to see what emotions were splayed in his expressive eyes.

"I...didn't really go over it with them. I sort of...had to leave. I don't mean the itch to move, to get out. I mean I was kind of kidnapped? But only kind of. And now I can't ever go back."

He gave me a strange look, patting me on the back, gentler than the last time.

"But of course you can go back! They are your family, I am sure they would accept you back easily, even happily!"

I laughed dryly,

"That's not the problem, Major. My former...that country was very strict about who left and who returns. I was not authorized to leave, so I would not be allowed to return, no matter what the circumstances were. It's just not allowed. No exceptions, no favors, no second chances. I can never return home. So I made a new home here the best I could. I never had friends other than my brother, so here is already looking a bit better, plus Jean used to remind me of Taylor. That was nice."

We reached the office. I opened the door carefully turning the doorknob with my elbow, a trick I had picked up my first week working for these guys. I paused before entering, and looked up, finally meeting his eyes. He had a kind look, one that I hadn't really seen before. I looked away quickly,

"Um, anyway, it was nice seeing you, Major. Have a nice day."

I turned to go into the office but was stopped by a heavy hand on my shoulder. I didn't look up but he started speaking anyway.

"I meant to thank you, before, but I got carried away with our talk. The boys and I really enjoyed that Banana pudding that you made."

I grinned up at him, unable to help myself.

"That was nothing, you should see the Periwinkle Pound cake, that my friend, is Nirvana."

He looked lost,

"Nirvana?"

I resisted the urge to facepalm. Of course they wouldn't know about Nirvana.

I waved the coffee around, searching for words,

"It's, ah, a religious place, well not really a place, more like transcendence from reality and escape from the cycle of rebirth...um, never mind. Bottom line, the cake is good."

He chuckled,

"I shall take your word for it. On another note, the chef you had make us that pudding, he wanted to tell his darling about it but figured that wouldn't be the best idea. He was wondering if you could try to check on her, make sure she isn't too depressed at the loss of such a fine culinary experience?"

I froze up for a second. Hughes wanted me to check on his family. At least I think that's what he meant. Unless someone out there actually made them a pudding. Possible, but not likely.

I sighed, "Well, I suppose I could bring over that pound cake to make up for it. I'll see you later Major."

I pushed the door open all the way, only to be met by Mustang lounging at Fuery's old desk, looking at me intently, as if trying to pick me apart. I was at a loss for words. Damn man is hot and he knows it. What's truly dangerous about him is how he can use it like a weapon. In my opinion anyway. I yanked my eyes away, fixing them on my boots, setting his coffee down in front of him with a handful of sugar packets.

"Thought you could use some caffeine, I know I could."

I collapsed into the chair at my desk, taking a swig of the drink, wincing at the quality. I coughed slightly, "You'd think with the taxes I'm paying they could afford better coffee."

That earned me a snort of laughter, and with a roll of the eyes, everything went back to normal.

The door burst open, splinters falling everywhere as a blonde blur sped through the room to Mustang's inner office. I sighed, grabbing a piece of chalk to put it back together but Alphonse beat me to it. I smiled,

"Alphonse! I haven't seen you in a while, everything okay?"

He started, turning to finally see me behind the stacks of completed paperwork.

"Oh! Stephanie! I'm fine, are you alright? You weren't looking too good when I left you."

I shrugged, motioning to the work,

"I'm doing fine now. I was just worried about Edward at the time. How's he holding up after that incident?"

He was stopped from replying when Mustang's office door flew apart, the blonde terror in question walking calmly out this time. I sighed, letting my head hit the desk. Alphonse fixed the door while I was down and I decided that he was a saint for dealing with that brother of his every day. Saint Alphonse. Sounds legit. Oh wait, it was. Something about morality? I would have to dig through my brain to find the exact information about it, I hadn't exactly been raised Catholic, Grandfather won that argument.

I was jerked out of my thoughts when I felt a strangely heavy but normal-sized hand land on my shoulder. I sat up, seeing that Edward was now beside me, glaring at Mustang.

"We'll take this with us."

I felt my eyebrow twitch.

"I am not a 'this'."

I was ignored.

Mustang glared at Edward,

"No, that one's mine, get your own."

I ignored them as their argument escalated to pointing fingers and shouts, turning instead to Alphonse, raising an eyebrow, and jerking my head in their direction.

"What's he going on about?"

Edward actually replied, still a little red in the face from his argument.

"We're going to Briggs for...reasons, and we want you to go too."

I sighed, opening my desk drawer and pulling out a map, unrolling it, and searching until I found Fort Briggs, dragging a finger from Central to Briggs, just for the drama of it. Way up north.

"Oh, hell no, it's cold as fuck as up there. Not to mention the bears."

Edward opened his mouth but I cut him off before he could so much as breathe.

"Edward, I would love to go, really, but that type of climate really wouldn't work well with my health, fucked up as it is. I'm just too small. I don't have the body fat to be anything but miserable, and cold air is almost too much for my lungs to take. Not to mention the only use I would be is that I can speak Drachman, which won't endear me to General Armstrong at all. She's suspicious of everyone."

He shrugged it off, "I have a letter from Major Armstrong, it should be fine."

I snorted, "Yeah, you tell me how that works out for ya."

Alphonse spoke up, "But Stephanie, are you sure you can't come with us? I'm sure you'd be more of a help than you realize. What if we run into Drachmans?"

I deadpanned, "Kick their asses and run, preferably without speaking or otherwise hinting that you're Amestrian. The border there is a war waiting to happen. And with the internal shit we have going down, war from the outside is the last thing that we need."

Mustang focused on me, gaze razor-sharp and calculating.

"What do you mean, war?"

I ran my hand along one of the files, pulling a grey one expertly from the middle without upsetting the rest. I grinned.

"After all this paperwork experience I should be the undisputed master of Jenga"

At their confused looks, I just sighed, "Game with wooden block tower, take pieces out, don't let it fall. Honestly. You'd think we'd share some board games. Remind me to introduce Monopoly."

I flipped open the file ignoring whatever confused looks they still had, pulling out a few sheets of paper. I closed the file, setting it down and moving over to Fuerys' desk, which was clear. I set them down side by side, taking a highlighter out of my pocket, marking several sentences I had noticed earlier on all 5 forms.

I looked up at them, Edward had a blank look on his face but Mustang was going paler the more he looked at them together. He looked up at me,

"Is this-?"

I nodded, "I honestly shouldn't have access to any of this, no one person should, with how things are set up. That's probably why it's never been noticed before. But I am seemingly the only person within the Amestrian military who can understand Drachman to a native level. Everyone else can sound out a few words if you give them 3 hours and a shit ton of coffee. And maybe some antidepressants." Xenophobia, at its finest.

I pointed to the first two marked lines, glancing up at Edward, "These two are about what the Drachmans actually requested for the trade agreement."

I pointed to the line further down. "This is what we translators gave the Fuhrer and other relevant people, I should know because I handed each of them a copy in person. They read it in front of me, and one made a snarky comment, so I know it sunk in."

I pointed to the second sheet. "Here is what they used at the meeting."

Gold eyes widened, "This is nothing alike, there's nothing here they needed."

I nodded, pointing to the following pages. "To cut things short, someone is intentionally damaging relationships with Drachma in whatever manner they possibly can. This is only a small part of it. My theories right now range from keeping them hostile so the military is more needed and given publicly acceptable funding, to inciting attack so that we can whip out some surprise weapon and beat them out, gaining territory and resources. That last one is so unlikely it hurts, unless we're talking state alchemists."

Edward was still staring at the pages, not moving. Finally, I sighed and sat back into Fuery's chair, "Whatever it is you're in the military for, you better find it quick or end this corruption, before you get called to a war of Amestris' own making."

Mustang sat down in Hawkeye's old chair in the corner, crossing his legs and putting what I call his 'scheming face' on.

"What's our timeline, Arcaro?"

I winced, thinking of all the poor butterflies I had stomped on.

"Well, it would have been much, much longer had I not been here."

At his sharp look I continued quickly. "Well, you see, before me, there was really no one to translate efficiently, so negotiations were slow. Like, an old guy with arthritis, a broken hip, and no feet kind of slow. It would have been dragged out because of the language barrier and everyone being too stubborn to send an actual person to immerse themselves and learn the language or hire a native-speaking immigrant if they could find one. And there might be the whole, 'I don't want your people in my country' thing too. But with me here, translating everything we receive and send, it picked up ridiculously quickly. Where we might have had 15 to 20 years, now we have more like 1-2, give or take a few months depending on if whoever's planning this accelerates things."

I took a deep breath, "If...if I were to work more closely with things, dig a bit deeper into the ranks at the foreign relations office...I may be able to fudge what goes out, simply because I have to translate it. If I get it where I'm more solidly trusted I could get access to send things myself, and try to fix things or at the fucking least slow it down so we can get a new old guy in charge, cuz I'm pretty sure this one's broken."

Mustang snorted, which was my intention with the last bit, before going back to examining me. He nodded curtly, "Do it. Spend more time there, but be careful. You'll have to pop in here at least a few times a day so that it seems as if you're still working on this." He looked balefully at all the work piled around. I rolled my eyes,

"I'll call in a favor, Sheska can be temporarily transferred in to help you while I'm out."

Edward sighed, "Well Al, guess we're on our own for this."

I grabbed his sleeve before he could escape.

"Not so fast, buddy, you're heading right into the red zone. Tell Armstrong."

Mustang turned back to us, "Now wait a minute-"

I cut him off, "The General is not in on this. None of it. I've put feelers everywhere, tagged people who are of interest, and took note of those who may be of use. General Armstrong is marked as a potential asset."

Edward didn't look at Mustang for approval. It felt great when he just nodded, trusting my word. Maybe, just maybe…I'm getting somewhere.

/

(if you also like AO3 this story has more chapters there...)

(...pls leave comments, they give me life)

~TimeLordOfPie