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batsutousaiTitle: Come What May
Series: Part one of Our Sinner's Redemption
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood
Author: Batsutousai
Rating: Mature
Pairings: Darius/Edward Elric/Heinkel, pre-Edward Elric/Roy Mustang
Warnings: Ed's potty mouth, spoilers for FMA:B ending, canon-typical violence, pile 'o OCs, survivor's guilt, angst, original character death, slow build (btwn Ed & Roy), referenced underage relationships, off-screen violence against women
Summary: After the Promised Day, with his alchemy still intact thanks to Hohenheim's sacrifice, Ed finds himself and his chimera team getting dragged into the shadowy world of military secrets in an attempt to keep Bradley's legacy from causing a civil war.
A/N: Disclaimer: Everything I know about officer training came from Wikipedia and the US Army's OCS website. And, while the Fort Benning's site is a fucking train wreck, it did cough up something like a syllabus, so kudos to them.
Just, you know. That's where all my ideas are coming from.
There are a few of side-stories attached to this series (scenes from another PoV than Ed's, some of the not-EdRoy smut, etc), none of which are necessary enough to be in the fic itself, but I wrote them, so I figured I'd post them. The first one is from this chapter, and it's something from Roy's PoV, a scene that sort of gets brushed over, otherwise, without losing anything (I think).
The side-stories can only be found on Archive Of Our Own and LiveJournal, because I didn't really want to muck about with it on tumblr, and some of them can't go on FFN, so... Yeah. If you're interested, go for it – I'll always tell you when there's a side-story, though I suggest reading the whole chapter each one's attached to before hunting that side-story down – but I don't think you really lose anything without them.
Chapter Four
-0-
Ed waved off Darius and Heinkel's offers to come with him the next morning, insisting, "You two have until the start of April for your leave. Might as well steer clear of Command until then."
"Unless we need to raid the carpool again," Darius pointed out.
Ed flapped a hand at him. "Shut up. Go amuse yourselves in the city. Take a week trip somewhere and get out of my hair. Something."
Darius snorted and shooed him out of their hotel room, so he stopped to tell Al he was off, then left for Command.
He knew, from Fuery, that in rebuilding Command, they'd moved the Führer's office – Major General Armstrong had apparently had some choice comments about the stupidity of an office that made an easy target for snipers – but he had no idea where to. So, once he'd verified at the east gate that, yes, he belonged there, he asked for directions and was handed over to a sergeant to lead him in.
He sighed, but didn't argue. And, much as he hated to admit it, this whole song and dance would go a lot smoother if he wore the fucking uniform while on base, like Grumman had said. Well, that or his old red coat, but he considered that retired, at this point, and was less interested in wearing it for quick access into Command than he was just fucking dealing with the uniform. (He could hear the jokes about him having grown up already.)
Anyway, Mustang would probably piss himself to see Ed in uniform, which would make the whole thing worth it. (Aaaaand...there went any jokes about him having grown up.)
The sergeant stayed with Ed in the front room of Grumman's office while they waited for him to finish a call. Once he was off the phone, his secretary went through to let them know who was waiting for him, and Grumman himself came out, wearing a really obnoxious smile. "Major Elric," he said while everyone out in the office, save Ed, came to attention.
"Führer," Ed replied drily as he started over to the man. "Mustang said I needed to let you know I'm gonna do the fucking officer training."
Grumman chuckled and motioned for Ed to follow him into the office, past the secretary, who was staring at Ed like she couldn't believe he'd so casually cursed in front of the Führer (or not show him the proper respect, or whatever bullshit). "Thank you, Second Lieutenant Days," Grumman called as he rounded his desk, and the secretary quickly closed the door behind her as she left. "Please have a seat, Major," he told Ed, motioning towards the chair seated directly in front of the large desk as he settled into his own chair.
Ed sighed and sat politely in the offered seat, rather than tossing himself into it sideways. While Grumman seemed to be amused by his usual insubordination, there was no reason to keep pushing the man, just to see how far he could. And, anyway, he wanted things from him – like the okay to attend Elicia's birthday party – and the easiest way to get what he wanted was to be polite. Which he knew, he just usually didn't care, and politeness had never really figured into his relationship with Mustang, who was usually the person he needed to ask for things. "Sorry about the no uniform thing," he offered with a careless shrug. "Figure I'll pick the damn thing up on my way out."
"You're still on leave, officially," Grumman replied, "so we can let it slide today." Then he smiled. "Perhaps I'll walk you down there after, stretch my legs a bit."
Ed snorted. "Pretty sure Al'll kill me if I come back without a uniform, but, sure, don't let me stop you from walking around your own damn building."
"Much obliged," Grumman said, his eyes fucking sparkling, before he leant over behind his desk and opened what Ed assumed was the bottom drawer. "I expect you'll be wanting into the January class?" he asked, clearly getting down to business.
Ed straightened in his seat. "Yeah. Though, I kinda promised Elicia Hughes I'd come to her birthday party on February eighteenth, if that's going to be a problem?"
Grumman hummed as he set a small pile of paper on his desk before straightening in his chair. "Normally, yes," he allowed, and Ed pressed his lips together tightly to keep himself quiet, "but I believe we can make an exception, given she's the daughter of the late Brigadier General Hughes." He flashed Ed a smile. "Also, Brigadier General Mustang has requested leave for the last two weeks of February, though he's been quite close-mouthed as to why; thank you for clarifying."
Ed very determinedly didn't groan; Mustang was going to fucking kill him.
Grumman picked up a pen and started marking on the top paper he'd pulled out. "You're aware that you'll need to earn phone privileges once the course starts?"
Ed stiffened. "No. I promised my mechanic I'd ring her every other week."
Grumman gave him a considering look. "Either learn to curb your attitude, or tell her you won't be able to call her," he said, his tone firm, and Ed winced. Grumman's tone eased slightly as he added, "You're physically fit, an acclaimed genius, and a capable leader; you may be able to win your phone privileges through excelling at those portions of the course, but if your group commander knows how much you want them, he may hold them over your head as punishment for your insubordination."
Ed sighed. "Fucking military and your fucking false faces. This shit is why half the country thinks you all suck."
Grumman shrugged. "I can't change the whole military in a year, Elric. And, need I remind you, you're part of the military."
"People's Alchemist," Ed reminded him, only a little smugly. "People like me."
Grumman snorted and set down his pen, then started flipping through the papers in front of him. "Training is held out at Fort Forsthaus, in the north-western corner of the central area. There will be a train leaving from Central City station at oh-eight hundred hours the Friday before, which will take you to Gamitz, where you will be divided into vehicles and driven out to the fort." He pulled out a couple pages, set them aside, then continued flipping through the stack. "The train carries both normal enlisted recruits and command candidates. You're welcome to mingle while on the train, but you'll be divided by seniority once at the vehicles. All physical classes, including the fitness tests, will involve both recruits and command candidates, but the classroom portions will only be with your fellow command candidates." He pulled out another page, then kept going through the pile.
"Command candidates receive private rooms, as opposed to the barracks of the enlisted recruits, but they'll still be inspected every morning. The fewer civilian articles you bring in with you, the easier it will be to keep your room clean." He glanced at Ed. "Speaking from experience."
Ed suppressed a smile. "I figured."
Grumman nodded and pulled out another page from his pile, which he then held out for Ed to take. "This is a list of all the items you'll need. You're welcome to get the writing and personal hygiene implements anywhere, and you'll be picking up your basic uniform today, which you'll need to wear on the train." He stared at Ed until he looked up from the list and nodded in understanding. "You can remove your rank and honours on the train, but you're expected to wear them at the fort while in uniform, same with your pocket watch. Once at the fort, they'll supply you with exercise clothing, as well as a slightly more comfortable uniform for classes. You're expected to wear your pocket watch with the classroom uniform, but not with your exercise wear."
Ed sighed. "Why do you people complicate this shit?" he couldn't resist complaining.
"It amuses us," Grumman replied with a hint of amusement, before efficiently stacking the papers he'd pulled out earlier and holding them out to Ed. "These are the train schedule, a mission statement, etc. Keep them or bin them as you see fit."
Ed glanced through the papers, frowning faintly. "Second lieutenant?" he asked, holding up the mission statement, which said the officer training was intended to give candidates the knowledge and skills necessary to be a second lieutenant.
Grumman nodded. "State Alchemists, as I'm sure you're aware, tend to be a bit outside the command structure. Normal enlisted are required to go through command training to be promoted to second lieutenant, but State Alchemists only need it to receive a proper certification and the duties of an officer, should that be their preference. Most don't bother or, like Brigadier General Mustang, originally entered the military as an enlisted soldier and attended command training shortly after receiving their pocket watch, simply using the State Alchemist program as an assist up the ladder."
Ed blinked back down at the paper, turning that over in his mind. From what Hawkeye had said, Mustang had already been an alchemist before joining the military and had only tried for the State Alchemist program to be of more use in Ishval. Though, knowing Mustang like he did, it wouldn't surprise him if the bastard had used his State Alchemist certification to make the jump to major without having to fuss about rubbing elbows with his superiors. "So," he said, "I'm unusual." Well, he already knew that.
"Extremely," Grumman agreed. "Do feel free to lead by example and drag Major Armstrong out of his current rut."
Ed snorted. "That a request from you, or the Major General?"
Grumman's moustache twitched. "I wonder," he murmured, and Ed snorted again as he straightened his handful of papers. Grumman sighed and sat back. "Elric, you're an unusual case for a number of reasons," he offered, his tone serious, and Ed frowned at him. "You will be graduating the program as a lieutenant colonel come the end of March, one way or the other, whereas your fellow candidates may be held back to fulfil any requirements."
Ed narrowed his eyes. "Why?" He would have been perfectly happy staying as a major, with or without the officer's certification, had Grumman not made a point of pushing the promotion on him; as much as the man seemed to like Mustang, he couldn't see him pushing Ed's graduation through just to help him.
"Bradley had a lot of supporters who managed to slip through our fingers, and I need them rounded up before something boils over," Grumman offered, tone a little flat. "You are the People's Alchemist, and it's my hope that seeing you working with myself will help soothe tempers and displace some of the murmurs."
Ed's jaw clenched; politics. "You want me to be your fucking show pony," he got out through gritted teeth.
Grumman's eyes were hard. "I want you to do your job, Major. You made a name for yourself while you were running around playing loose cannon, and you're going to use that name to keep a civil war from breaking out."
Ed's breath caught; a civil war? Was it really that fucking bad? Fuck, how much had he missed in Resembool?
"Do I make myself clear?" Grumman demanded.
Ed swallowed and whispered, "Yes, sir."
Grumman tilted his head to the side, motioning towards his ear. "I couldn't hear you, Major Elric."
Ed clenched his fists, papers crinkling, and said, at his normal volume, "Yes, sir."
Grumman nodded and stood. "Good." Then he put on a wide smile which, Ed couldn't help but notice, didn't reach his eyes. "Why don't we see about that uniform?"
Ed stood himself and followed Grumman from the room in silence, feeling rather out of sorts.
"When should I expect to see Second Lieutenants Wright and Potez?" Grumman asked once they were out in the hallways of Command.
It took Ed a second to figure out Grumman had aimed that question at him, and an embarrassingly long moment to realise he was asking after Darius and Heinkel. "Oh. Erm, I told them to hang tight until the beginning of April, since you gave them a year, right? Same as me?"
"I did," Grumman agreed, before casting a glance towards Ed. "Have you ever heard of Madame Christmas, Major?"
Ed frowned. "Madame Christmas? No, I don't believe so."
"It's a pub here in Central. You might consider paying it a visit sometime in the coming weeks, before you leave for training. Meet the proprietor."
A pub? Ed felt his frown deepen. Not his usual sort of haunt (though he suspected he was more familiar with them than most people who knew him would assume), but Grumman was clearly up to something. "Maybe I will," he allowed.
Grumman smiled at him. "Oh, and do please tell the madam that her boy is doing fine for me, would you?"
Definitely up to something, if Ed could only figure out what. "Sure."
Getting his uniform was probably the easiest part of Ed's whole trip, and he parted from the Führer shortly after, heading back out into the city and towards his hotel.
In the hotel lobby, he saw the stack of daily papers on the counter and, frowning, handed over the coin for one, then took it up to his and Al's shared room. There, he dropped his uniform and the papers from Grumman on his bed, then sat down next to them and spread the paper out over his sheets.
The front page was tedious drivel, with the next two pages following suit. Page four, however, had a large article about Ishval, with a number of people speaking out against the rebuilding. That had Ed's jaw clenching in time to find the story on page five, which was a politely worded commentary on how Grumman was destroying Amestris.
"Fuck," Ed breathed, before flipping back to the cover story and glancing at it, then the next two pages he'd passed. Each one had vague allusions to the 'good old days' under Bradley's rule, and Ed had to get up and pace, work off some of his angry energy. There he'd been, sitting pretty in Resembool, and the country was fucking falling apart around him.
Well, if he hadn't been serious about sticking with the military before, he was now.
Somehow, Ed had managed a smile for Elicia and Gracia when he made it over at lunchtime. It clearly didn't fool Al for a second, but he waited until they'd said goodbye after dinner and were heading back to the hotel before asking, "What happened?"
"You remember how Mustang had to make Bradley out to be a victim?" Ed asked, glancing around the evening streets with, he felt, eyes that saw a lot more than they had done.
"Yeah, sure, get the people on his side."
"Can you imagine how hard it would be to weed out all his and the Dwarf in the Flask's supporters when they're agreeing with the crowd?" Because Ed had a pretty good idea how those people had hidden from whatever clean-up Grumman had set into motion once the physical battles were done, how they were still keeping hidden.
Al stopped walking and Ed paused to look back at him, watched as he followed the pathways Ed had just laid out for him and came to the same conclusion that Grumman had spelled out for him that morning. 'War?' he mouthed.
Ed clenched his jaw and nodded.
Al's mouth thinned the exact same way Mum's always had when she was angry and trying not to show it. "Do I need to stay?" he asked.
Ed immediately shook his head. "Fuck no." His mind made an odd little sideways shuffle and he grimaced even as he said, "Talk to Ling. Might be nice to see Amestris and one of her neighbours playing friendly, don't you think?"
Al's eyes narrowed and he started walking again, Ed falling in next to him as he caught up. "Politics don't suit you, Brother," he warned.
Ed huffed. "If I'm going to be a pawn, I might as well pick up the rulebook."
"Pretty sure you're more of a knight," Al offered.
Ed considered that for a moment, then nodded; the knight got into the middle of things, got their hands dirty on the orders of their commander, and hadn't Grumman given him a rather cryptic order? "Good point." He shoved his hands into his pockets, the fingers of his right hand brushing the familiar curve of his pocket watch and the pitted side of the lighter, while his left found the jingle of coins mixed with diamonds. "Grumman said I should check out a pub. Wanted me to pass a message on to the owner."
Al glanced at him. "Do you want to go tonight?"
"Once we figure out where it is," Ed agreed.
They asked for directions at the hotel front desk and, after leaving a message for the chimeras if they came looking for them, set out for what turned out to be a fairly seedy part of town.
"Are we old enough to go in there?" Al asked a bit dubiously as they eyed the street board for Madame Christmas, which appeared to be more than just a simple pub.
"Only one way to find out," Ed offered before starting across the street. Not that Al knew it – not that Ed had any interest in explaining – but he was far more familiar with pickup bars than he was your average pub, after all the times Greed had dragged him along with him on his eternal quest for more sex and more alcohol, preferably at the same time.
"Brother!" Al hissed as he ran to catch up.
Ed glanced at him, taking in his vaguely panicked look, and slowed his pace a bit to knock their shoulders together. "Don't make eye contact unless you're interested," he suggested.
Al gave a tense nod and kept his eyes down as Ed pushed their way into the place.
It was a lot cleaner than he was used to, but clearly well-sponsored, by the number of bodies taking up tables, some of whom wore military uniforms, while the other men looked to be white collar – and fairly well-to-do, by Ed's judge. A faint haze of smoke lingered in the air, giving the room a dream-like quality, and the taste of alcohol made the back of Ed's throat burn and memories of his time on the run with Greed and the chimeras come to mind as he breathed it in.
"Well hello there, boys," a young woman, who couldn't have been much older than Ed, said as she stepped up to them. She smiled at him from under half-closed eyes and pushed her chest out a bit, displaying ample cleavage. Behind Ed, Al let out a quiet noise of distress and shifted a little closer to Ed. "You look a little out of place."
Ed gave a careless shrug. "Maybe. Got told to find the proprietor of Madame Christmas, though, so here I am." And then he flashed her his best 'all hell's about to break loose' smile. "Wouldn't happen to be you, would it?"
Her mouth curved with a dangerous little smile and she curled a finger at him before turning and walking towards the bar.
"Come on," Ed murmured, catching one of Al's hands with his own and pulling him after their guide.
"Got a couple lost boys for you, Madam," their guide said to the person tending the bar, a rather heavy-set woman who looked to be contributing at least half of the smoke in the room.
The bartender looked them over. Her eyes caught on the chain at Ed's hip, then came back to meet his eyes, her own narrowing in a very familiar, almost calculating manner. "So I see. Thank you, Peggy." As their guide walked away, she added, "Why don't you sit down, Mr Elric."
'Mister'? Ed raised an eyebrow at that – he'd clearly been spending too much time around military sort if he'd actually expected his rank – even as he pulled Al over to join him on the mostly empty barstools that the woman motioned them towards.
"What'll it be?" the woman asked, and there was a familiar turn to her lips, one that said she already knew the answer.
Ed narrowed his eyes and took a moment to debate the wisdom of his choice, before deciding, "I'll have whatever you've got on tap–"
"Brother!" Al hissed.
"–he'll have whatever non-alcoholic you've got."
The woman let out a deep chuckle and turned to get their drinks without comment. When she handed them over, she made no secret about watching Ed, and he barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he took a sip of what turned out to be fairly high-end beer.
"Huh," he said, setting his glass down and turning to the woman. "So, this old man I know with a really fucking obnoxious laugh told me to pass on that your boy is doing fine."
She smiled. "Of course he is. Though, I do have to wonder if you know who my boy is."
Ed snorted and took another sip of his beer. "I have a suspicion," he offered. "You have the same knowing smile I usually want to punch off my CO's face."
She laughed outright at that and picked up a glass to idly wipe clean. "Of course I do," she agreed, essentially confirming that she was related in some way to Mustang. "Now then, why might George have sent you to me?"
'George?' Ed mouthed, glancing towards Al, who shrugged, clearly already far out of his depth. Ed turned back to the madam and shook his head. "I have no fucking clue?"
She put on that punch-worthy knowing smile of Mustang's and asked, "What were you talking about before he sent you to me?"
Ed sipped at his beer as he turned his mind back to his conversation with Grumman – 'George', apparently. He hadn't mentioned Madame Christmas until they were out in the halls of Command, after Grumman had asked after Darius and Heinkel. "My team," he murmured into his drink, and Al glanced over. "Wanted to know when they were off leave."
The madam raised her eyebrows at him. "Grumman's giving State Alchemists teams, now? This country really is falling apart."
Ed stiffened and he shot her a sharp look, only to be met, again, by that knowing smile. He took another sip of his beer, giving himself a moment to swallow the urge to tell her to fuck off about Grumman, because that comment had clearly been meant as either a test to gauge his loyalties, or a way to ask a question without actually seeming to ask a question.
And, fuck it all, he was not cut out for these cloak and dagger games that Grumman was trying to involve him in.
He huffed. "You clearly haven't talked to your boy recently; I'm getting a promotion."
She blinked, a sign of surprise that could have been easily overlooked, if Ed hadn't seen the same from Mustang a dozen times over the years, learnt to read his most minuscule expressions because they were all he had to go on, and he had never been able to ignore a chance to hold even the most minor victory over the bastard's head. "It's been a little hard to set up lines of communication," she offered before turning away to switch out glasses.
Yeah, Ed didn't expect Mustang would be too comfortable ringing up a madam in Central from the Resembool station, especially not while Ed was hanging around. Doubly especially not after Ed's mocking comment about the lack of women in Ishval.
As the madam turned back around, the same woman who had met them at the door leant forward around Ed, pressing her ample chest against his shoulder, and he let out a resigned sigh, while Al let out an embarrassed cough into his glass, very obviously looking away, face tinged pink. The madam cast them a brief smile, which was only a little smirky, then said, "Peggy, would you take these boys up to my office? I'll be up to call their parents once I finish refilling some glasses."
"Sure thing, Madam!" she agreed, pulling back and tapping both Ed and Al's shoulders. "Up, boys. Come on."
Ed traded a glance with Al, who shrugged and obediently stood, bringing his drink with him. With a sigh, Ed followed his lead, and they both followed their continued guide up a set of stairs hidden away behind a bead curtain in a dark corner of the room. They came to a dim hallway lined with closed doors, moans and the rhythmic thumping of furniture against a wall emanating from a number of them. Past all the doors, they were led up another staircase to another hallway, this one better lit and near-silent.
Their guide looked back over her shoulder and grinned at them before turning enough to pinch one of Al's cheeks, which Ed could see, in the stronger light, had turned that particular shade of red that had once been reserved for praise from Mum or fighting over who would marry Winry. "You," their guide told Al, "are adorable. Oh, I wish I could keep you."
Al's eyes widened and Ed found his wrist being grabbed; a sure sign that his brother needed an intervention. "Back off," he ordered in his hardest voice, and their guide's gaze swung towards him. "Right now."
She obediently stepped back, her hand dropping from Al's cheek. "Protective, aren't you?" she murmured.
"I'm a big fan of consent," Ed said, and it was a struggle to keep his voice even. "Leave him alone."
She considered him for a moment, then gave a sharp nod and turned to lead them a little further down the hall, before opening one of the doors and motioning for them to enter. "The madam's office, gentlemen."
Once they'd both stepped inside the office – which was surprisingly large, Ed thought, and covered in papers – their guide closed them in, leaving them to snoop or not at their leisure.
Yeah, Ed was totally snooping, especially since he caught sight of a very familiar messy hairstyle in a picture on the desk. It turned out to be a picture of a young Mustang, in uniform, standing next to the madam, who was hugging him around the shoulders and looking proud, while he made a rather out-of-character face at someone outside the frame.
"Brother?" Al called.
Ed glanced towards him. "Al?" he replied, before his eyes were caught by one of the papers on the desk. It looked to be in some sort of code, but before he could set about cracking it, Al snapped, "Edward!"
Ed jumped and offered his brother a sheepish look. "Sorry."
Al pointed at the chair next to the one he'd settled into. "Sit. Now."
Ed knew better than to push that tone, so he moved over to sit in the chair he was being directed toward.
Once he'd sat, Al demanded, "Since when have you drank?"
Ed rolled his eyes, because he had a safe response to that and could afford to be obvious. "You're overstating," he insisted. "It's not like I go looking for drinks."
"Brother."
Ed sighed. "Greed didn't think it was right, having a henchman who'd never had alcohol before. I was 'instructed', then threw my first glass in his face because it was vile. This–" he raised his current glass, which was less than half full "–isn't bad."
The door opened and the madam said, "I'll take that as a compliment," as she stepped inside.
"Feel free."
The madam smirked at them as she settled behind the desk. "This room is clear of bugs and nothing said in here can be heard downstairs."
Ed had actually kind of assumed the latter from the lack of sex noises coming up through the floor, but it was always nice to have confirmation. Also nice to know that they could be heard by someone standing outside the door to the office, though he expected she had guards against that.
"I'm Chris Mustang," she offered, "though I go by Madame Christmas."
"Ed Elric," Ed offered, "and my brother, Al."
Chris' eyes gleamed. "Yes, my nephew speaks of you quite often."
"Bitches about me, you mean," Ed shot back, even as he marked the relation in his mind.
"I'm sure it's mutual," Chris said, and Ed spotted Al nodding out of the corner of his eye.
"Traitor," he muttered and Al muffled a snicker into his glass.
Chris sat back in her chair. "I run an intelligence group," she explained and Ed felt his eyes widen as some pieces fell into place. "George – Führer Grumman – would only have sent you to me if he thought you could either use my connections, or I could use you."
"Or both," Ed murmured, before setting his glass on the edge of her desk and straightening. "Grumman wants to use me to weed out Bradley's remaining supporters. I'll be in officer training until the end of March, but it would be nice to hit the ground running."
Chris' eyes narrowed. "You mentioned a team?"
Ed nodded. "Two second lieutenants, Darius Wright and Heinkel Potez. They fought with us against the Dwar–" No, most people didn't know him by that name. "Father." And calling him that would always rankle; Ed had enough issues with his father without adding in the monstrous creation birthed from his blood who had got everyone to refer to him as 'Father'.
"How much do you trust them?"
"With my life," Ed replied without hesitation, because he did trust them that much, even if he and Darius spent half their time together wanting to throttle each other.
"Do you trust them with his life?" Chris demanded, pointing at Al.
Ed met her stare. "Yes. And I'd trust them with the life of Elicia Hughes." Because Ed and Al could fucking take care of themselves, but Elicia couldn't, and if she was related to Mustang, she'd know plenty about the girl.
Chris raised an eyebrow at that, but nodded. "I can tell you right off where the problems are in the east or south, and Armstrong is keeping track of the north, but there's a large section of the west, along the border with Drachma, that no one can get a handle on, mostly because there's no train service."
Ed nodded. He knew the area she was speaking of – could see it on his mental map of Amestris – but had never been out there himself, having spent most of his military career stationed in East City. (Well, 'stationed' was really just a way of saying that his CO was stationed in East City and so all of his orders came from there, until Mustang had been moved to Central right before everything went to shit.)
Chris leant forward over her desk, so much of her bearing like Mustang's when he was intent on something, it was creepy, especially with the addition of cleavage. "Can you send your team west and get them to stir up some trouble?"
Considering that Darius seemed to view stirring up trouble the same way Ed did? "Probably," he allowed, and Al let out a groan. Ed snorted at his brother, then added, "I'll ask them."
Chris nodded. "Let me know. If they do decide to tackle it, have them send back weekly reports to Madame Christmas and I'll make sure it's properly disseminated."
Ed sighed. "I'm going to regret saying this, but I'd like copies of their reports." The last thing he'd need was more paperwork on top of classwork and whatever other shit he'd have to suffer through during training, but if he couldn't go with them and watch their backs, at least he could keep an eye on them through their reports.
Chris' smile was almost approving. "There's an older woman among the kitchen staff, Maggie Smith, who serves as my eyes and ears in Fort Forsthaus. Anything I get from your men, as well as any general updates and, come the end of March, everything I've got on the largest trouble spots, I'll send through her."
Ed felt his eyebrows raise at that. "Cool."
Al snorted. "How secure is the post-delivery at the fort?" he asked.
Chris frowned. "I wouldn't send anything sensitive unless it was in code, but that tends to hold true for most post that goes through military lines."
Ed and Al traded frowns; they had a couple codes they could use, familiar enough with how each other kept their alchemy research notes, as well as how Hohenheim had organised his notes, that they could communicate that way without too much trouble. But, if someone managed to break their personal codes in letters, that meant their research notes wouldn't be safe, and they'd spent too much time studying dangerous and illegal forms of alchemy.
Al flicked his eyes towards Chris, a question in his eyes: 'Do we trust her?'
Ed grimaced and shrugged: 'What choice do we really have?'
Al sighed nearly soundlessly, then turned back to Chris. "Once Brother leaves for his training, I'm heading out to Xing, to study their alkahestry. I promised I'd send back monthly letters, but, well." He put on a disarming smile, something that Ed had never mastered. "You know the brigadier general, so I expect you know how we alchemists are about sharing our research around."
"I do," Chris agreed. "If you send your letters to me, I can promise they'll get to your brother, unopened, even after he's finished with training, no matter where he is in Amestris."
Ed glanced at Al, who immediately nodded to him; that was a far better chance for keeping contact than they'd had any right to expect. Ed had honestly expected monthly letters to turn into, 'I'll pick them up when I'm at whichever Command I'm attached to when I go through'. He snorted and Al grinned.
"That would be greatly appreciated, thank you," Al told Chris as he turned back to her.
Chris offered them a smile that immediately put Ed on guard, and he heard Al shift next to him. "Equivalent exchange," she said. "I need to get a package to Roy-Boy–"
Ed blinked. 'Roy-Boy?' he mouthed, even as Al growled, "Brother, no," as though he thought it would actually stop Ed from hanging that over Mustang's head the first chance he got.
Chris snorted, and Ed suspected she knew she'd just handed over a potential weapon to him. "Elric," she called, and Ed refocussed on her. "I can't get fingers in Ishval, and I don't trust military post any more than you do. You two are from that area; do you have a way to get him a package without arousing too much suspicion?"
"We could send Zampano or Jerso," Al offered, and Ed glanced over at him. "They could walk it out to him, or wait until he comes into town for his weekly phone calls."
Ed shook his head. "They'll stand out," he insisted. "You know how Resembool is, new faces are always cause for gossip, and I expect the Ishval camp is going to be just as bad." Getting a package to Mustang? Havoc would be the obvious choice, but he'd be nearly as notable in Resembool, and would stand out even more in the military camp, unless he wanted to unbury a uniform.
"Granny?" Al suggested.
Granny could work, but a different face also popped into Ed's mind and he straightened. "Marie," he said, and Al frowned. "I've had her stop Mustang on his way out of town with doughnuts a few times." He looked at Chris, who had raised her eyebrows at him. "Shut up. How big's the package?"
"Bigger than a doughnut," Chris said, her tone dry, as she got up and went over to a shelf against one wall. She pulled a rectangular object off it, wrapped in what looked to be brown packing paper. "This."
"Bread loaf," Al immediately said. "It'd fit perfectly in one of her bread loaf bags."
Ed nodded. "We'll have to post it first thing in the morning if he's going to get it next time he comes up from Ishval, but, yeah, we can handle it. Unless you've got something against civilian post?" he added, looking at Chris.
She shook her head. "It's generally fairly trustworthy, more so if you're not posting to a recognisable name."
Like Mustang, or Ed himself. And how the hell had Ed got himself involved in this shadow-play? Ugh. Fucking Dwarf in the Flask, this shit was his fault.
Ed held out his hand for the package and she handed it over after a brief moment of hesitation. It wasn't particularly heavy, but it had a certain give to it, like stacked books, and he glanced at the edge to judge the width. "Two books?" he guessed.
"Journals," Chris agreed, settling back in her chair.
Ed nodded. "Do you mind if I change the wrapping a bit?"
"Alchemy," Al added, very likely guessing exactly what Ed was up to.
"Feel free," Chris said, and there was a very obvious note of curiosity in her voice.
Ed set the books in his lap and clapped his hands together, envisioning the array he'd need, then touched the top very lightly. The brown paper shifted under his direction, lightening slightly, to more closely match the shade of Marie's bread loafs, and gaining some rigidity, which should both keep anyone from guessing what it was, while also keeping it from slumping oddly in the bread bag. "Do you have a pen?" he asked as he ended the transmutation.
Something rattled on Chris' desk and Ed looked up to find her digging out a pen from a groove in the wood that was filled with writing implements, which she then held out to him with a raised eyebrow.
Ed took it with a grin and stood the package up, giving him access to the top of the books, which would be the first thing Mustang saw when he looked into the bread bag. "Just leaving him a note, and a deterrent against the curious," he offered before quickly sketching a circle and filling in a series of lines and symbols. A particularly complicated array, to those with none or limited alchemy knowledge; or, to someone who had studied beyond the most basic of arrays, very clearly a dud, a failure of an array that would do absolutely nothing if one tried activating it. But, to someone with a mastery of alchemy – or, more importantly, who had met Truth – it was a message that read, 'Brigadier General Bastard just doesn't roll off the tongue right'.
Al, who had been watching around his shoulder, started laughing as Ed finished the last few lines, most of which were purely decorative, meant to confuse the eye. "Brother, that's terrible."
"But accurate," Ed insisted. "He needs to get promoted already so I can start calling him Führer Bastard."
Chris practically cackled, and Ed turned to her, half disbelieving, half way too fucking amused. "I like your priorities, kid."
"What a coincidence, so do I," Ed said, holding the pen back out to her. As she took it, he let his expression shift into something more serious and offered, "I won't be able to send anything out to him like this while I'm stuck in training, for obvious reasons, but I can make a point to drop by Central once I'm out in the field, take anything down with me when I report in."
Chris nodded. "I'll keep that in mind." She glanced towards a clock on the wall, then stood. "If they agree, bring your team past once before they head out west, so I know what they look like."
"Sure," Ed agreed as both he and Al followed her lead and stood. "Next time, I'll leave Al at the hotel," he added teasingly.
"Be quiet, Brother," Al muttered, and Chris offered them her knowing smirk as she collected their glasses, then motioned for them to follow her out.
She took them down a different route from how they'd been brought up, avoiding the sex hallway – Al was visibly relieved – and letting them out the back door, which avoided the front room and, Ed assumed, any questions about how long they'd been holed up in her office.
Once they'd passed back out into the open streets they were more familiar with, Ed murmured, "Well, that was informative."
Al nodded. "And fruitful," he agreed before sighing. "Brother?"
"Hm?"
"Do you feel like we're getting in over our heads?"
Ed considered ranting about how he wasn't short, just for familiarity's sake, but settled for letting out his own sigh and glancing down at the package in his hand, the false array glaring up at him against the paper. "Almost wish we hadn't got our bodies back," he offered. "Things were simpler, back then."
"Were they?" Al asked quietly.
Ed considered that for a moment, then amended, "Clearer. More direct."
"True," Al agreed.
They were both quiet until the hotel came into view, then Al said, "I want to go through Xerxes. Spend a couple weeks looking around."
Ed glanced at him. "Key parts are missing, but consider destroying the remainder of the array," he suggested.
Al's mouth tightened; he clearly remembered what Ed had told him about the partial transmutation circle he'd seen at the ruins, as well as the parts that had been in Gluttony's stomach. "I will."
Ed nodded and they fell silent again as they entered the hotel.
Ed stopped by Darius and Heinkel's room before his own, laying out Chris' job for them. "Think about it," he suggested once he'd finished.
Darius and Heinkel traded looks, then Heinkel drily said, "We've thought about it."
"Of course we'll do it," Darius added, rolling his eyes. "What else are we supposed to do while you're getting respect beat into you."
"I think you underestimate the resiliency of my natural insubordination," Ed retorted and Darius laughed while Heinkel hid a smile. "But, yeah, I'd kind of expected you'd agree. The madam wants us to drop by before you leave, and Al and I wanted to introduce you four to the Hugheses, but you can leave whenever you want to after that."
"Let's get through all that, then we'll start looking at train schedules," Heinkel offered.
Ed grinned and turned to leave. "Cool. See you arseholes in the morning, then."
"Night, Ed," Heinkel replied, while Darius made a disgruntled noise that sounded suspiciously like 'insubordinate fuck', and Ed laughed as he returned to his and Al's room.
He stayed up long enough to write Marie a short note and set it, the books, and a banknote to cover an actual loaf of bread – giving an air of truth to the request – into a box that Al had found while Ed was talking with Darius and Heinkel. A brief transmutation and the use of the pen he kept with his journal got the box ready to post in the morning, and he set it aside before heading for bed.
The next day was, again, spent with the Hugheses. They went out to a park not far from their flat and the chimeras met them there. Jerso and Zampano both had children, according to Al, so they had very little trouble managing Elicia. Darius seemed a little uncertain, at first, afraid he'd misjudge his strength, but Ed just rolled his eyes and pointed out, "I held her with an automail arm when she was a baby, and Al did the same as armour; at least you can feel the amount of pressure you're exerting." Which, while it hadn't completely soothed Darius' concerns, he seemed far more willing to play with her, and he dragged Heinkel along after him, despite all protestations about being bad with kids.
"What am I going to do with those two?" Ed muttered, and Gracia, who was standing right next to him, laughed.
Darius and Heinkel left to go west two days later, after a night at Madame Christmas', which they looked rather like they were regretting as they got onto the train, much to Ed's endless amusement.
When Ed and Al got to the Hugheses' a couple days later, coming by after lunch because Ed knew it was the day Mustang usually called and he didn't want to cut the man's chat short again, Gracia was frowning slightly as she met them at the door.
"What's wrong?" Al asked as she let them in.
Gracia looked at Ed. "Roy told me to pass on that you could just call him Brigadier General Mustang?"
Al started laughing while Ed snorted. "That'll be the day," he declared.
Elicia interrupted them, then, already talking a mile a minute about the kid-friendly updates her 'Uncle Roy' had passed on, effectively ending any further discussion about Mustang's comment. Not that it mattered, the message had been passed on: Mustang had got his package.
The Thursday before Ed's train off to training, he and Al sat down with Elicia to explain they were both leaving for a while. She was, expectedly, upset, especially since neither of them could promise the same weekly phone calls that Mustang managed. Ed's promise that he would – absolutely, definitely, and without fail – be at her birthday had soothed her a little bit, but it was clear she wasn't happy that she'd have to go almost two months without hearing from him. (His and Al's daily visits may have spoiled her a little bit.)
Al's own inability to promise an appearance at her birthday party had resulted in tears, but he'd been quick to offer, "I'm going to bring a camera with me, right? I'll take pictures of everything I see and send them back, and then it'll be like you're seeing everything with me."
She'd sniffed and wiped roughly at her cheek. "You have to be in the pictures," she insisted. "It's the rule."
Given how few pictures existed of her father, Ed could make a pretty good guess what had spawned that 'rule', and he knew his brother was equally aware. "Absolutely," Al had agreed, reaching out and lightly blotting her tears with the handkerchief that Ed had teased him mercilessly about when he'd first got it, until it had proved invaluable in looking after a particularly active almost-five-year-old. "But you have to send me pictures of you back, right? Especially your birthday party."
Elicia took a moment to give that the necessary consideration while Al finished wiping her face, then gave a slow nod. "Okay," she agreed, before turning on Ed. "Pictures?"
Ed grimaced. "I don't think I'm allowed a camera," he offered, though he suspected he could sneak one in if he really had to, and it shouldn't be too hard to develop the film, if he couldn't find one of the instant-developing cameras. "How about we just plan to take lots and lots of pictures on your birthday?" he suggested instead. "We can drag your Uncle Roy into it, too." Which could prove a lot of fun, as he suspected that Elicia was one person Mustang wouldn't be able to say no to. (Not that Ed or Al had yet been able to deny her anything; if Elicia got it into her head to one day rule the world, Ed was fairly certain they were all doomed.)
Al just rolled his eyes at Ed's continued schemes to annoy his CO, while Elicia exclaimed gleefully about the idea and started planning all the events they'd have to take pictures of, including a tea party, which was about the point that Ed completely lost his shit and had to giggle stupidly on the floor for a while.
Seriously. This was going to be the best birthday party he'd ever attended, and it wasn't even his own.
Somehow, Gracia had got Ed to agree to come by before his train left. When he'd tried pointing out that it was leaving at eight in the morning, she'd drily replied, "Elicia usually wakes me up a little before six. Come by; I want a picture of you in uniform."
So, with much grumbling, most of which was for show, Ed dragged himself up to the Hugheses' flat at six thirty Friday morning, dressed to impress in his uniform – which he'd spent the night before adding carbon fibres to, as a just in case, and he'd packed plenty more to outfit the other clothing he'd be getting at Fort Forsthaus – with his much-abused suitcase at his side.
Elicia was the one who opened the door, and her eyes went wide when she saw him. "Big Brother Ed's all dressed up, Mama!" she called down the hall.
Gracia appeared behind her with a tired smile. "Coffee?" she offered, holding out a mug.
Ed accepted it with a grateful sound and stepped into the flat, closing the door behind himself. "You're the best," he promised around a sip, before crouching down in front of Elicia. "What do you think? Should I stick with the blue, or go back to my usual white and black?"
Elicia took a moment to consider that while Gracia vanished back into the flat. Finally, she reached out and touched his bangs. "Your hair looks really pretty with the blue," she told him, completely serious.
Ed touched the braided cord at his shoulder. "My hair matches this," he pointed out. "I guess even the military knows blue and gold look good together, huh?"
She nodded and announced, "I like the blue," before reaching out to touch the single medal and the row of pins designating his honours for his 'years of exemplary service'. "Uncle Roy has one like this," she told him of the medal.
Ed very carefully didn't grimace. "Yeah, I know. You remember all that upheaval not quite a year ago? On the same day as the eclipse?"
"Uh-huh."
"Your Uncle Roy and I got them for helping out with that." Ed had also received about half his honours for his part in the Promised Day, and he suspected Mustang had his own additional row of colours from those events.
Elicia gave him a very serious nod, then informed him, "You look better than Uncle Roy."
Gracia, who had returned with the camera while they'd been talking, burst out laughing, and Ed nearly joined her, because fuck alone knew how Mustang would react to hearing that. "You may have to tell your Uncle Roy that," he told Elicia, who clearly didn't understand why he and her mother found it so funny that she thought the uniform suited Ed better than Mustang.
Gracia shook her head. "But only if I've got the camera," she insisted, and Ed did laugh that time, because it would never not be the best thing ever that he had such a willing partner in his quest to annoy the ever-loving fuck out of his bastard of a CO. "Speaking of, let's take a picture of your big brother."
"Me too!" Elicia insisted, latching on to Ed's arm before he could stand.
"Of course," he promised. "I can't have my picture taken without my favourite little sister."
Elicia beamed and let Ed put his coffee aside before picking her up and posing for Gracia.
She took a handful of pictures – Ed had expected no less – and passed one over to Ed once he'd set Elicia down so she could watch them develop. "For your room," she offered.
Ed had started developing a collection of pictures – what with Gracia' determination to follow in her late husband's footsteps and get pictures of every minute of Elicia's childhood – a number of which he intended to find ways to display. "Thanks, Gracia," he said as he knelt to slip it into the journal at the top of his suitcase. Then he turned to Elicia. "Wanna help me take my rank and stuff off?"
Elicia blinked at him. "Why?"
"Because I don't wanna stand out on the train," Ed admitted, before blowing his distinctly-coloured bangs out of his eyes. "Well, any more than I already do." Ah, the dangers of belonging to a race that had been all but wiped out centuries ago.
"Okay!" Elicia chirped before hurrying forward to help Ed remove his shoulder pieces and stars, then the line of honours and his medal.
Everything was slipped carefully away into his left pocket, clinking brightly with coins and diamonds. On the other side, he unclipped the chain of his pocket watch, letting it slither into his pocket with the watch and lighter. "Do I look sufficiently enlisted?" he asked jokingly, before grabbing his coffee and drinking the last of it.
Gracia laughed. "You certainly have the bearing of an incoming cadet," she offered.
Ed grimaced. "Yeah, there is that. I have no idea what Grumman was thinking when he decided I needed to go through officer training."
Gracia shook her head and held out her hand for the mug. "Say goodbye to Ed, sweetie," she suggested as Ed handed over the mug.
Elicia held up her arms, bottom lip quivering, and Ed wasted no time in picking her up and hugging her tight. "I'll be back before you know it," he promised as she clung to him. "And Al's not leaving for a couple more days, okay?"
"Kay," she agreed, very obviously trying not to cry.
Ed pressed a kiss to her cheek, then set her down so he could hug Gracia, who kissed his cheek, then pick up his suitcase. "Be good for your mum," he told Elicia, who nodded and wiped at her eyes. Ed sighed and leant over to kiss the top of her head, then hurried to make his escape before his heart broke.
Fuck. He wasn't strong enough for goodbyes with Elicia; her birthday couldn't come soon enough.
Come What May Chapters:
01 || 02 || 03 ||
11 || 12 || 13 || 14 || 15 || 16 || 17 || 18 || 19 || 20
Extras:
Ch 04 (Roy) || Ch 07 (Roy) || Ch 10 (Roy)
Ch 10 (Darius - NSFW) || Ch 16 (Ed - NSFW) || Ch 17 (Roy)
We All Need Saving Chapters:
Unposted
Dancing With the Devil Chapters:
Unposted
.
