Like a Heartbeat

Chapter Four

2006-12-09T06:03:16Z

full chapter listing

Chapter Four

Step by step,
Heart to heart,
Left, right, left,
We all fall down
Like toy soldiers.
Bit by bit,
Torn apart,
We never win,
But the battle wages on
For toy soldiers.

Location: Hughes Household
Date: January 14, 1916
Time: 1935 hours

"Mommy, you know when you blow out the candles on a birthday cake you make a wish?"

Gracia Hughes smoothed Elysia's hair out of her eyes as she tucked her daughter into bed. "Yes, dear."

"How long before the wishes come true?"

"Sometimes it takes a little while. A few years even. It all depends on the wish," she replied.

"But what if you wished for something for a special day and the day's over?"

"Well..." Gracia frowned. "That still depends on the wish. What did you wish for, Elysia?"

"I'm not supposed to tell. It won't come true if I tell," she pointed out.

"Ah, that's very good, and very true." Gracia tapped her fingertip on her daughter's nose. "But there's a special provision for mommies."

"What's provision mean?"

"Allowance. Exception. It means that mommies can be told wishes and that doesn't affect the wish, because sometimes, the wishes need a mommy's help."

"Oh." The five-year-old nodded thoughtfully. "I wished for Daddy to come to my birthday party yesterday and he didn't."

Gracia's heart stopped and tightened. "That... that's because your..." She faltered. Elysia knew he was dead. She didn't think her daughter fully understood what dead meant, but she did understand that they buried Maes almost year ago.

"Why are they putting Daddy in the ground? He can't do his work if he's in the ground!"

No, that wasn't the answer. Gracia sat down on the edge of Elysia's bed. "Your daddy was here for your party," she told her. "He's here right now too, in this room with us."

Elysia's eyes widened and she pushed herself up on her elbows and looked around. "Daddy? Daddy, where are you? I miss you, where are you, Daddy?"

How she kept from dissolving under the weight of the sobs which caught in her throat, Gracia didn't know. "Elysia? Elysia, honey, it's not quite that simple. You can't see Daddy with your eyes anymore. I can't either. We can't hear him the way we used to." She reached out and tapped her daughter's chest gently. "You have to listen for him in there. If you're very quiet, you can still feel him here. He'd never be able to stay away from you, Elysia. He loves you too much. He's here right now, keeping watch over you and making sure you're safe."

The girl's eyes were wide in wonder as she listened, absorbing every word with rapt attention. As Gracia spoke, her gaze wandered around the room as if looking for Maes. Then she shut her eyes, her face first scrunched up and then smoothing out with intense concentration.

Then her eyes flew open, wide and stunned. "Oh, Mommy. You're right, Mommy. He's here." A huge grin lit up her face and she looked off to the side. "He's right there, Mommy. I can see him."

Don't cry, don't cry, don't you dare cry, Gracia ordered herself, pouring all her focus into keeping her smile firmly in place. "I told you, sweetie."

"I got my birthday wish!" She grinned happily and snuggled down in her bed. "Goodnight, Mommy. Goodnight, Daddy."

"Goodnight, Elysia." Gracia leaned over and kissed her forehead. Elysia looked off beyond her and waved and blew a kiss before closing her eyes, curled up under her blankets with a big smile.

She refused to look toward where her daughter had blown the kiss as she got up and turned off the beside light and walked to the door. Practical thought echoed over and over, ordering her not to look, not to think, not to fall apart, but a hope that was more than just a little crazy sneaked up on her like a summer storm, and she was unable to resist the temptation of peeking.

Maybe...

Of course, there was nothing there. It was a child's wild imagination, nothing more.

There would never be anything more.

Gracia shut the door and walked down the stairs. One, two. Left, right. One, two. Left, right. Her breathing was her sole focus. In, out. In, out. In, out. Keep it together. Don't fall to pieces.

Her heart stopped at the knock at the door.

"Missus Hughes?"

"Yes? What... what is it?"

"Ma'am, I'm sorry. You might want to sit down."

"What is it? Is it about Maes? Has he been hurt? Tell me! Don't look away! Tell me!"

"It seems there was an intruder at the office. We're still not certain what happened. I'm sorry, ma'am."

"That's not an answer, damnit!"

"Mommy, why are you yelling at the man?"

Gracia opened the door, the sound of the latch echoing the sound of something falling and breaking. It felt like her sanity.

"I hope I'm not intruding on-- Gracia?" Maria cut herself off and frowned, her eyes wide as she stepped inside the house, hands going to Gracia's shoulders. "What is it? What happened?"

How do I explain it? How do I... how... Her thoughts crumbled into static before they even reached her lips, which moved, trying to form words. She didn't even realize she was crying until Maria's hand brushed away tears, leaving her cheeks feeling cold in the aftermath.

"He wasn't supposed to die." The strained, cracking voice that tapered off to a keening sound was hers. Maria's face, the entire room blurred in her vision before she shut her eyes, and there was a click of the door latch closing before she was pulled into a tight hug.

"Oh, Gracia. Shh. It's okay, shh."

"It's not okay!" The words, the sobs choked her. "It'll never be okay again! He wasn't supposed to die! Why... why did... why him? He never hurt anybody, why did it have to be him? I want him back! Damn you, Maes, how could you die and leave us? How could you?"

Location: Gebhard Delicatessen, Crabbard Street
Date: June 8, 1922
Time: 1020 hours

Elysia wished she'd thought to change out of the shorts and t-shirt she slept in, but at least she wouldn't be too hot if they were out there all day. She wasn't sure what made her remember that night she'd heard her mother crying and crept down the stairs, and looking back, she thought it might have been then that she started to understand her father wasn't coming back.

Maybe it was the way her mother's voice sounded, the look on her face as she paced in front of the small restaurant. Whatever it was, Elysia wanted to cover her ears, to go home, to wake up again and have it so nothing happened. She felt sick now, a lower form of fear that wouldn't go away.

"I'm telling you, I don't know where her duty station is today, she wasn't even supposed to be at work!" Gracia insisted, her arms crossed tight as she spoke with Captain Havoc. "Where's Roy? I told you I wanted to see him!"

"He'll be here as soon as he can, Gracia," Havoc said and put his hands on her shoulders. Elysia watched her mother shrug him off and step away.

"What's taking so long?"

"I told you, the explosions went off where most of the command staff is. Last I heard, we've only located one other general. Someone has to take command of the situation."

"Why can't we wait in there? I can help find her! Why- I just want to see him."

"It's too crazy there right now, that's why, and with everybody running around, he thought you'd be more comfortable out here, and look, there's tea and coffee and--"

"I don't give a damn about tea! He thought wrong! Take me out there right now or I'll go find him myself!"

"Gracia."

Elysia bit her lip as she watched them and huddled lower on the wire-back chair.

Havoc caught her mother's arm and stopped her from leaving. "There's other families out there too. There's not going to be anything you can help with at the command tent, but there's a lot you can help us with here. We're going to be sending families here for information. We need somebody to help set things up to keep it under some semblance of order. If we don't have to worry about things here, we can put more attention into finding Maria and getting her back to you."

Elysia knew that look her mother was giving Havoc. It was the same look she got whenever she tried to lie to her mother and Gracia wasn't buying it. She tried to figure out what her mother wasn't believing; what Havoc said made sense, but she didn't think it was a very good idea to say anything just then.

"Always wrap a lie up with the truth," she retorted. "Jean, I was married to Maes. I know the little games and tricks. What aren't you telling me?"

"Gracia, we don't know anything either," he started to say.

"You know more than I do!"

"And it's information that's useless unless and until we know what it means." Gracia turned away from the captain, her hands on her hips, and he kept talking. "I know it's asking a lot, and it's hard--"

She whirled to face him then. "Don't patronize me, Jean. Don't you dare patronize me! You have no idea how much you're asking! How many people will I have to bury thanks to the army? One was too many!"

Elysia shut her eyes and tried to will herself invisible from the scene her mother was making. That wasn't her normally calm and soft-spoken mother and she had no idea how to deal with it, or how to deal with the stares from the crowd of rubberneckers hanging near anyone in a uniform like vultures, hoping for information and gossip instead of carrion.

Havoc, fortunately, seemed less put off by her mother's hysterics. "Gracia, stop it. Listen to me. We will find her and we will get you answers."

"I don't want answers! I want Maria, can't you understand that? I'm tired of answers! None of them brought Maes back!" She gripped Havoc's arm, her expression desperate and seeking. "She wasn't supposed to be there today!"

"I know, Gracia. I know."

It didn't escape Elysia's notice that he never said it would be okay, that Maria was going to be fine. She didn't know what to think. It was all too much, too fast. It was supposed to be better now. Her mother and Maria said that Uncle Roy, Captain Hawkeye, Ed, and Al had fixed the broken things in the government and there weren't any more people like the ones who killed her father. No wonder her mother was so upset. That wasn't supposed to happen anymore, and not to them. Elysia scooted off the chair and walked over to her mother and gripped the pocket of her skirt. Gracia dropped an arm to put it around Elysia's shoulders tight as Jean started talking again.

"Now, listen to me, please, Gracia," Havoc said. "We will keep you in the know when we have anything to give. We have no information at this point either. Roy's trying to get that. Nobody knows what's going on. There's a lot of other families out there in the same boat you're in. Help us help you, and work with the Gebhards to turn this place into somewhere families can come for information when we have it, and turn to for support when we don't. Okay? Can you do this for us?"

Gracia nodded, and reached up to wipe her cheeks. "I can do that. I... yes. All right. I can do that for you."

"Good." He placed his hands on her shoulders and rubbed her arms for a moment as he looked behind them, then back to Gracia. "Missus Gebhard is starting to set things up. Why don't you go have some tea and relax, and get back into things when you're up to it?"

She nodded again and Jean looked at Elysia. "There's going to be a lot for a big girl like you to do too," he said, and she couldn't keep from rolling her eyes a bit as he continued. "Your mommy needs you to be on your best behavior and help out here as much as you can."

"Havoc." Elysia canted her head and looked at him as she put a hand on her hip. "I'm eleven. Y'know, the same age Ed was when he kicked ass on that--"

"Elysia! Mind your language."

"Sorry, Mom. When he kicked butt on that train on his first trip here. Point is, I'm not a little kid." She closed her eyes with a dismayed sigh. Jeez. Grown-ups. Who could figure them out? She extracted herself from Gracia's grip. "Mom, I'm gonna see if Missus Gebhard needs me to get anything. See ya, Havoc."

Location: Central Headquarters Grounds, Temporary Command Post
Date: June 8, 1922
Time: 1030 hours

"All right, we've lost an hour running around like a flock of headless chickens. General Mustang, my gratitude for transmutating this tent and establishing the site," Major General Henry Walsh said. Roy nodded in acknowledgement, his fingers laced over his stomach as he sat back in the director's chair around the flimsy table.

"We're still looking for command staff, as well as any State Alchemists who had military expertise under their belt," Walsh continued and cast a glance at Roy.

"What about the Alchemists who resigned? Are any of them still living in Central?" Brigadier General Anacletus asked.

"I believe the Strong Arm Alchemist still is, the last I heard. If he's in the area, we'll undoubtedly know it as soon as he arrives," Roy said.

"Someone needs to locate him, but we can do that in a little while, let's get what we know established first," Walsh said. "Lieutenant General Chadrick wasn't there today, but that's because he's at home recovering from last week's surgery after his heart attack. His wife will speak with his doctor, but we might be without his input. Until anyone else shows up, I'm the ranking officer on scene. Murphy, tell us about the triage tent and medical services. What's the status on that?"

"I instructed Captain Bogard to deploy the 2nd and 3rd platoons from Oscar Company on a supply run to stockpile as many blankets as possible from the quartermasters and donations," Colonel Murphy said. "We've got a reasonable amount stacked up but we'd be better off with more. The hospital's setting up a minor injury treatment center, and we're clearing a route between here and the hospital for the more serious wounds. Right now, most people we're seeing are sporting minor injuries. There's some more severe ones, but nothing like what we're trying to brace and ready ourselves for. We haven't been able to get closer to the actual sites to do evacuations."

Walsh nodded. "What do we know about that?"

"The dust is making it hard to get a visual on anything, and I highly suspect that the gunfire's at random just to keep us at bay," Anacletus said.

"What about going through the sublevels and coming up into the buildings to get to the sites?" Walsh asked.

"We were looking into that, General," Colonel Madison said and shook his head a bit. "There's some concerns over the stability of the sublevels if they haven't collapsed, and we've been unable to get too close yet without proper equipment. Visibility is very poor all throughout that immediate region, and I'm reluctant to send men down there when they can't determine if it would be safe to pass through and bring back wounded. That would be our only way in or out."

"I see." Walsh looked at Roy. "Could the Strong Arm Alchemist transmutate the corridors for greater stability?"

"It's possible. His alchemy does do a great deal of work with stone," Roy said. "The full extent of what would be required though, I couldn't say. But we do have the Fullmetal Alchemist on hand, although I deployed him out in search of a functioning switchboard."

General Anacletus glared at him. "You have the Fullmetal Alchemist making phone calls like some gossipy housewife? Do you always work by wasting resources like this?"

Roy kept his smile firmly in place, his tone smooth and neutral. "Of course not," he replied. "But if you'll recall, the Fullmetal Alchemist was once under my direct command. I know how to handle him, and I know what it takes to keep his attention focused where we need it to be. Right now, things are still in a state of chaos, and we are all better off if he's given a distraction that would keep him away from the heart of things until we get it sorted out."

And we'd be better for it if he can get hold of his brother before we ask him to focus his attention elsewhere, Roy added in thought, but did not say aloud. "Besides, he's very good at getting his way and if anyone can get the switchboard operators at the various locations to cooperate, the only one who'd be able to do it faster is myself. And I, unfortunately, need to focus my attention on more grim matters, and cannot spare the time to chat up the young ladies at the boards."

"A time like this with everything falling down around our ears, and all you can think about is women?" Anacletus snapped.

The smile never faltered. "I'm here because there are matters more important than the ladies, for a change."

"Reasons aside, what matters is we are here, and right now, we're the only three generals available," Walsh said, interrupting. Roy turned that smile toward the older man, while Anacletus huffed in irritation and settled his bulk back in his chair, crossing his arms.

The colonels and lower ranking officers exchanged uneasy looks.

"Now, do we have any idea who might behind this? Any theories, anything?" Walsh said.

"I do know that there have been threats from the Belatos Cadri faction ever since Emma Kendrick, Gerard Clark, and Carl Perry were arrested last August," Roy said.

"I'm no demolitions expert by a long shot, but I've learned a thing or two about them over the years. Something like what we're seeing here, the scale of destruction to the building, that would take a hell of a lot of explosives to pull off," Madison pointed out. "I would think that we'd have known if that much was brought in."

"Unless they're working with an alchemist who was able to get to, at the very least, a few key supports. Weaken those, redistribute the explosives, and bam," Murphy said. "And we don't even know if this is what they intended to happen."

"True," Madison agreed.

"Here's another question to consider. Have all the explosives been detonated?" Walsh asked.

Everyone was silent as they exchanged looks.

"Colonel Murphy, go out and start recalling the search and rescue teams and anyone poking around the buildings. We're not risking any more men until we know just what the hell happened out there," Walsh said, and gave the colonel a quick salute as he departed, turning his attention onto one of the lower-ranking personnel standing back from the table. "Captain Arren?"

"Yessir."

"Go talk to the K-9ers and see if any of the bomb dogs can be used to sweep the buildings we can get to."

"Right away, sir," Arren said as he saluted and turned, and almost collided with a young private holding an envelope.

"Sir! I'm sorry, sir! Somebody came by me on a motorbike and shoved this at me and told me to give it to you, sir!" the frantic, pasty-faced private all but shouted as he staggered in, out of breath and panting. Walsh quickly grabbed it from his hands as he held it out and opened it.

The tent was silent for several moments, and Arren lingered by the tent flap.

"Well." Walsh's voice was flat and heavy and he didn't look up from the papers. "We know who they are now, at least. It would seem that the Belatos Cadri faction is definitely behind today's events."

"What do those bastards want?" Anacletus asked.

"Several things. First and foremost, they want their leaders released from prison, naturally. Second of all, they've made it very clear that we are not to attempt rescue, and they will be giving us a demonstration at eleven hundred hours for a small taste of what will come if we continue to try. Their words."

"What kind of demonstration?" Roy asked.

"They didn't say, I'm afraid. Now, it would seem some of their own men are currently inside the main building, and that our parliament and command staff is being held hostage, and they've taken additional measures to persuade us not to attempt entry, namely by some token deposits of liquid nitroglycerin in key locations, from what this letter states."

"Liquid nitro? Are they insane?" Madison demanded.

"You have to ask?" Roy kept his tone dry, and looked to Walsh. "Are they just going to hold them until we comply?"

"Something like that." Walsh looked up from the papers, his expression grim. "We have until seventeen hundred hours to comply. Then they will bring down the rest of the building, with the hostages still inside."

"Seventeen hundred hours when?" Anacletus asked.

"Today."

"What? That's only--" Madison cut himself off as he dug out a watch from his pocket and clicked it open. "Six hours from--" He stopped again and looked up. "It's almost eleven hundred hours."

From somewhere far outside, Roy could just make out a scream, and a warning cry.

"Incoming!"

---

Chapter Three

2006-12-09T05:51:59Z

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Chapter Three

Leave, but don't leave me.
Look around and choose your own ground.
Long you live, and high you fly,
And smiles you'll give, and tears you'll cry,
And all you touch, and all you see
Is all your life will ever be.

Location: Central Headquarters Grounds
Date: June 8, 1922
Time: 0945 hours

He would worry about Fullmetal's whereabouts later. First and foremost, some kind of command station needed to be located, or barring that, established. He wasn't in the immediate loop with most of the command staff, and he tried to remember who was or wasn't supposed to be in their office, and whose offices were possibly not in the area that was hit.

There weren't many. The central building was for generals and lieutenant generals, and of course, the Parliament officials. His own office back the day as a mere colonel had been right near the East and North wing junction. The promise of potential, the twisted irony of the situation -- neither escaped his notice. By being in poor graces with the government, he could very well have just become one of the senior officers on site capable of taking command of the situation.

Roy Mustang rose through the ranks by staying alert to the quiet sound of opportunity at the door. And although it hadn't paid a visit for nearly a decade, he had not forgotten it. A chance for proof, redemption, and above all, to be in a better position to care for his staff. Regardless of current posts, he still thought of them as his. His to protect, his to lead. Even though he thought they were a bit mad for it, he also knew the feeling was mutual.

Even if there were other ranking officers on the scene, it was the early bird who had the better odds for the choice worms. "Captain? Commandeer those vehicles immediately," Roy ordered, pointing Havoc toward a car and a couple of trucks. "I want those two trucks forming a barricade, with one other, and find another car to flank off the other end. I want all of them with lights running!"

He looked around and pointed to a nearby lieutenant. "You there! What's your name?"

The young man did a doubletake and glanced over his shoulder before gesturing to himself. "Me, sir?" At Roy's nod, he managed to pull his clearly frazzled nerves together enough to give him a snappy, precise salute. "Second Lieutenant Bassilo, sir."

If he wasn't in his final year of academy, he was a fresh graduate, Roy guessed. "We need to set up a command post as quickly as possible for the officers to gravitate to so we can get control of this situation. In order to do that, I need your help."

"Sir, you can count on me, sir!"

Roy smiled. Build the soldiers up instead of tearing them down with fear and a heavy hand. "Good. You looked like a dependable man. Take command of some enlisted personnel and get me the following things: plenty of fabric and metal, I don't care what it is, or what color, I just need plenty. Curtains from nearby stores, anything. I also need some men to raid the quartermaster's office, and acquire some tables and chairs, paper and pens, and someone needs to find the blueprints for the entire headquarters building. Can you manage that?"

"Yessir! I'll get right on it, sir!"

"If anyone gives you trouble, just tell them you're acting under orders from Brigadier General Mustang." Roy smiled. "Bring it all here as you get it. Now go!"

He watched the young lieutenant run off, then turned to look for Havoc. There. The vehicles were starting to form a barricade between the buildings and where he would set up the command tent. "Havoc! We need some radios out here, keep an eye out for that!"

"I'm on it!"

The calm eye of the storm. He clenched his fists, his hands clad in gloves, the gritty feel of the fabric comforting in its old familiarity. Something else. He needed to find something else to focus on until the first wave arrived; of personnel, of equipment, of information, of anything to keep his attention anchored on what he could do.

Roy flagged down a grunt in passing. "Corporal? Have you noticed any other ranking officers?"

"Sir? Colonel Harrington's back thataways, and so's Colonel Madison. You're the first general I've seen since."

"You busy with an errand?"

"No, sir. In fact, I say I've completed it. Colonel Harrington wanted me to find anyone who might outrank him."

Roy nodded. "Go report back and tell them to get over here. After you do that, I'm ordering you to go find anyone who might outrank me."

"Yessir! Right away!"

A military truck pulled up and several privates jumped out, drawing Roy's attention as they started unloading tables. Another one climbed out with several burlap bags slung over his back. Good. The beginnings of the command station were arriving. Roy turned away, refusing to look back at the building, barely visible through the thick dust, and pulled a piece of chalk from a case in his pocket.

A tent could be transmutated far more quickly than one could be located and erected, and the sooner it was all brought together, the sooner he could have something fixable within in his reach, and the sooner the overwhelming threat of worry and panic would lessen.

In the meantime, it took a conscious effort to not think of his former adjutant, or the harsh potential reality of the situation. He wouldn't think of the fact that if she had been assigned to him, she would have been nowhere near that mess. He wasn't about to think of how she was where she was because he asked her to be there, because he thought it would be safer.

For the time being, he would focus on what was within his reach, what he could do. There would be time enough for the rest later.

Location: Hawkeye Household
Date: June 8, 1922
Time: 1000 hours

The back door swung inward with enough force that the doorknob dented and cracked against the wall. When it slammed shut courtesy of a frustrated kick, the remaining glass pane that hadn't already broke from the earlier explosion shattered.

Ed paid no attention to either the wall or the glass. He stalked back to the phone table and grabbed the earpiece off the hook, rattling it impatiently as he tried to will there to be a sound other than a high frequency static of severed, broken lines.

He'd even tried several of the neighbors up to five blocks away, and there was still nothing. It took supreme effort to keep from throwing the candlestick phone against the opposite wall, and he settled for carelessly tossing the useless earpiece onto the table.

Think. He had to get hold of Al. That wasn't a question. Train? Nearly two days, too long, wouldn't work, think. He considered trying to figure out where the line was disrupted to fix it himself, but that would still leave the matter of whether or not there would be an operator at the switchboard to put his call through in the first place.

Switchboard. He stopped in his tracks and turned around sharply, almost tripping over Black Hayate in the process. If he got to the switchboard center, provided the lines going out of the city were still intact, he could probably figure out how to place a call himself.

That, of course, relied on the lines not being damaged, and being able to figure out what he was doing. He knew what a switchboard looked like - a machine with a lot of holes and a bunch of cords with plugs that went into different holes at different times.

Right.

"Shit." Hands on hips, he looked around the room and tried to think of who he knew in Central who was trained in telecommunications or would be at least more useful on a switchboard than he would. The only thing that came to mind was Mustang. If anyone would know anyone, he could not believe that even now, his former superior wouldn't.

Ed barely remembered to close up the house the best he could before running back to Headquarters.

Location: Hawkeye Household
Date: March 14, 1916
Time: 1800 hours

Even the night he had gone to Fuhrer Bradley's mansion with the intention of committing high treason and no expectation of actually surviving had not left Roy Mustang feeling as much dread as he did then. And with that night barely six months behind him, followed by a trial that he was sure would see him and at least Hawkeye in front of a firing squad, the memories of those fears were still fresh.

Nothing quite matched the way his stomach knotted then, the way the steering wheel of the car felt slick beneath his sweaty palms. He looked out the window, across the street, at the house in the early spring evening, and wiped his hands on his uniform pant leg before picking up an envelope and getting out of the car.

It was official, signed and sealed. The only thing left was to deliver the notification. Procrastination only delayed the inevitable. He tugged his jacket straight and reminded himself it was for the best for all involved, and forced a decisive stride as he approached the single-story house.

Her smile was genuine, if somewhat hesitant and worried and curious as she opened the door. She could read him well, and she knew by his demeanor he was hiding something. But the gleam of adoration she couldn't quite fully conceal killed him, and he faltered. He wanted to see her smile, to hear her laugh again just one more time before he clipped her wings to save her life.

How selfish can you get, Mustang? Get on with it already.

"Lieutenant." He looked down at the wiggling, excited dog at his feet and pulled a small biscuit out of his pocket before glancing to her. "May I?"

"Go ahead, General. Is everything all right?"

Roy crouched and fed the treat to Black Hayate, not able to meet her eyes. "I don't know. I-- sit down, Hawkeye." When he didn't see her moving, he glanced up and swallowed hard at the worried fear there. "Please."

A step to the side and she sank down, perched on the edge of her chair, her hands clasped tight on her lap. "What is it?"

You've been transferred. He stood and tried to find his voice, only to hold out the envelope wordlessly. Watch her, you bastard. She deserves that much.

It didn't escape his attention how her hand shook, and how she tried to hide it, when she opened the envelope and pulled out the forms. He watched as her worried expression faded to one of blank incomprehension, which gave way to a numb, pale understanding.

"I see." Her voice was too level, too toneless, too dead as she tidied the documents and slipped them back inside the envelope. "I suppose it was foolish of me to believe that Parliament would allow me to remain under your command."

The temptation to leave it at that was overwhelming. Let Parliament shoulder the blame. It was their doing, to a degree, with the pressure from higher up and the new assignment he was given. And he heard talk of transferring his adjutant. But no, the truth had a funny way of coming to light. They weren't the sole bearers of that responsibility.

"The Parliament," he confirmed, and squared his shoulders a bit more. "And myself."

All motion left her, even breathing. Then he saw her, heard her draw in a deep breath, her eyes flat and fixed to a distant place, and her voice was thick when she spoke. "I see." She wouldn't look at him, and after another few heartbeats passed as he tried to think of something to say to make it better, the thickness left, replaced by a brisk professionalism he only ever heard in the office when outsiders were near. "Thank you for delivering these papers, General. It was an honor serving with--"

"Hawkeye, knock it off." The words seemed to close off his throat, and she looked at him, her face blank and the bewildered hurt raw and naked in her eyes. "I want you out from under my command because you've wasted too many of your years following a pipe dream that wasn't even yours to begin with, and one that damn near got you killed. I buried Maes, I refuse to bury anyone else. From here on out, whatever the government has planned for me, I go it alone. No more. I'm not risking you or anyone else again."

"You don't even know what all my dreams were." Her voice was barely audible and at that moment, he remembered a hot August morning when he was eight, and the way the wren quivered with a bone-deep trembling when he carefully scooped up the frightened, wounded bird to take it back to the house. Elana would know what to do, the oldest of the siblings, and she was every bit as smart as their mother when it came to knowing how to fix things in the eyes of an eight year old.

They'd tried to fashion a splint, but whether or not the wing had been the only injury, or if shock had taken hold, they didn't know. Either way, despite the combined efforts, the bird was buried the next day.

She didn't remind him of her namesake. Instead, she seemed like that wren, favoring a broken wing and trembling in a way that could only be felt, not seen. One of the most dangerous marksmen in the entire army, and the transfer orders were enough to make him wonder if he'd clipped her wings too close to bone.

"I still need you, Hawkeye. I still need your help. You've told me in the past, you've asked me, where do I need you the most. Remember? Well, now, I need you here more than with me. I don't doubt that I'm going to be at a loss for real information when I'm out there, and you, I can trust. I need you to keep me in the loop."

"And who's going to watch your back?"

"I'll watch my own back. I won't have much paperwork to do, so I need something to keep me busy." He tried to grin, but it felt hollow on his lips.

"I can resign, you know." Her eyes looked almost silver with the light reflecting the wetness there.

"I know. If that's your choice, I can't stop you. But Hawkeye, I'm not lying when I say I do need you here."

"I'll follow you. Private citizen, you can't order me to stay behind then. I'll watch your back."

He didn't like her voice. Too thick and too steady to be part of the feverish desperation he thought he saw in her eyes. Roy stepped closer and crouched in front of her, grabbing her hand.

He hated the tremor he felt under the skin.

"Hawkeye, be quiet. Listen to me. I need you here. Here. In Central. At work in Headquarters where you can get me the information no one else will tell me. I need you here, off the front lines, away from danger, out of the line of fire. I need you safe. You protected me all these years. You're the reason I'm still alive today. I almost lost you, and I can't bury anyone else. Let me protect you now."

"That's why you want me here?" Her voice was low and artificially level. He could barely see the color of her eyes anymore.

"That's why I need you here." He gripped her hand tighter. "Please, Hawkeye."

"If you want me to do this for you, you're going to do something for me."

"Name it, and it's done."

"Take on Havoc as your adjutant."

That wasn't what he expected her to say. "What? No, no. What part of me not risking anyone else, of me watching my own back now did you miss?"

"None of it. But you're useless in the rain, and next month's due to be full of it, as the saying goes. April showers and all."

"Damnit, Hawkeye--"

"You said all I had to do is name it. If you don't do this, then I'm resigning and following you anyway." She glared at him as hot tears escaped, her eyes briefly losing the silver sheen. "You want me to stay here, you're not going it alone, you got me?" The frown deepened, and her voice thickened and cracked.

Roy sighed and hung his head. "I'll see what I can do. I can't promise anything; Parliament might have other ideas. But... what's within my control? All right. Consider it done."

"Good." Her breath was shaky and he couldn't bring himself to look at her. But the silence was heavy with the feel of more questions, more things unsaid pressing against it, trying to break free.

He didn't know if he could handle hearing any of what he thought he saw written on her face. Instead, he gave her hand a quick squeeze to cut off anything she might have planned to say. "I couldn't have asked for a better adjutant or bodyguard. I had the best Amestris could offer." With that, he stood and released her hand. "It was one of the greatest honors of my career to have you under my command, Lieutenant."

For a long moment, her expression was strained as if it might crack and dissolve under the weight of that awful rawness in her eyes. Then she blinked, twin wet tracks formed on her cheeks, and a professional, emotionless mask took over as she stood. "The honor was mine, General," Hawkeye said, and raised her hand in a salute.

He returned it and pivoted on his heel to see himself out. The only two things in his entire career he could think of that were harder than shutting the door behind him had been following Grand's orders on the execution of the Rockbell doctors, and burying Maes.

As he got into his car and drove away, he tried not to think about the questions and doubts gnawing at him. Why did it seem like something had died, when he was taking measures to ensure no one did?

Location: Central Headquarters Grounds
Date: June 8, 1922
Time: 1015 hours

It was a bit easier to locate Mustang second time around. Impromptu tents erected behind a barricade of military trucks sporting the governmental flags at full mast gave Ed a reasonable starting point for a search. As it was, he didn't need to look far; naturally, the General was in the middle of the mess, shouting orders to people as they set up tables and equipment.

He wasn't the only one who seemed to be in some degree of command there, but he was the only one Ed cared to bother, the only one who'd understand that Ed had to get hold of Al right now.

"Mustang!"

"Ah, Fullmetal. There you are. I was wondering when you'd decide to join us," he said.

Ed crossed his arms. "I can't raise the switchboard from Riza's house and I tried a bunch of the neighbors too, same problem. So I can't place a call to East City."

Mustang held a hand up, forestalling anything else Ed was planning to say. "Say no more. We're having similar issues, and we need to establish contact with the other headquarters. Not to mention all these potential injuries, some of the top doctors and automail mechanics in the country should be alerted to the possible business rush." He arched an eyebrow.

Ed never had been all that skilled at reading the older man's double talk between the lines, but that one, he had no difficulty in picking up. Mustang was trying to supply him with a valid reason for using military resources on a personal call. At least, that was what he hoped. "So what're you gonna do?"

"I'm going to locate someone in communications to accompany you to a more remote switchboard station that might still be operational, and acquire some radio equipment that can be set up to transmit here, and I'm ordering you to establish contact with the four other headquarters, as well as--"

"Boss!"

Ed looked around for Havoc hearing him interrupting Mustang.

"What is it, Jean?"

Havoc lowered his voice as he approached. "It's Gracia. She's outside with Elysia. Ross was at work today, filling in for someone else."

Ed uncrossed his arms as he looked between the two men, and saw Mustang's eyes narrow.

"Corporal Arkson!" he abruptly shouted and turned around.

"Sir?"

"Get out there and find out what duty post Captain Maria Ross was filling in at today as soon as possible!" He turned back to Havoc before he even finished speaking. "Go see about getting the delicatessen on Crabbard open if it's been closed, and start setting up a place for families to go to for news. I don't want them near the command tent."

"I'm on it."

"General Walsh, I believe I have a viable solution to our communications and diminished personnel problem both," Mustang announced, and Ed bit back a startled yelp as he was suddenly grabbed and dragged along behind him. "The Fullmetal Alchemist has volunteered to go with someone from the communications department to locate an operational switchboard and obtain the current status of the other headquarters and alert them to the situation."

At the shock of white hair contrasting with the other man's somewhat darker skin, Ed expected Walsh to be getting on in years. But when he turned around, he saw the general was perhaps only in his fifties. Either way, he wasn't someone Ed recalled offhand ever meeting before.

"I'd like to get on this as soon as possible," Ed announced, cutting off any pleasantries. The longer they were stalling on administrative bullshit, the longer it was taking him to get hold of his brother.

"Fullmetal," the older general said, giving him a curt nod before looking to Mustang. "Then see to it. I'll be over at the triage station to see how that's coming along."

"Yessir," Mustang replied and turned, still holding onto Ed's arm. "Come on, let's find someone to operate that switchboard for you. And I expect a full report from all headquarters."

"Do we even know what's happening yet?"

"No. From how it appears, the main building looks intact according to reports. It's the west and east wings adjoining that were collapsed down through the middle. But we can't get to them. Every time we try, someone's opening fire on the men."

"What?" Ed recalled the chaos outside. "How can they even see to know?"

"We think they're listening for us. Unfortunately, diminished visibility for them means diminished visibility for us, and we need to be able to talk to keep track of the different groups, to say nothing of the noise associated with moving rubble."

"Isn't the main building where most of Parliament has offices, along with most of the generals?" Ed asked.

"It is. Whoever's behind this has their hands on some pretty important hostages for whatever the reason. We'll undoubtedly hear from them if that's the case, sometime in the next few hours, but first, I want to know what's going on elsewhere."

---

Chapter Two

2006-12-09T05:44:29Z

full chapter listing

Chapter Two

Fatalistic fortune,
Ever near the end.
Love goes on,
But time does not return again.

Location: Central City, Central Headquarters, South Wing
Date: June 8, 1922
Time: 0915 hours

"Boss, where's the file documenting the evidence on Clark's involvement in the train bombing in New Optain?"

Roy Mustang glanced up at Jean Havoc, looking at the captain over the rim of his glasses. "In Clark's box, with all the other files."

"No, it's not." Havoc pointed to the open box propped on a stack of others. "That's where I'm looking now. It's not in here."

"You're the one working Clark's case," Roy said, trying to contain his irritation. This was the worst part of the job, the infrequent but inevitable mountains of paperwork. "I'm handling Kendrick, you're doing Clark. Don't ask me, I haven't touched that mess."

"I know tha--" The younger man's retort was cut off as he took a step backward and tripped over another box, saved from a fall only by the wall behind him. The remainder of what he said disappeared in a burst of colorful words. "Twenty-seven damned boxes of evidence in one of the state's most important cases, and they can't give us a bigger damn office?"

"I think they're expecting me to be grateful we even have an office," Roy said, his tone dry as he sat back in the chair. "It could have been a firing squad, so of course we should thankfully accept any morsel of convenience they see fit to give us. Have you seen the file at all?"

"I... no. Come to think of it, I don't remember seeing that report," Havoc said as he looked around at the other boxes.

Roy sighed and dropped his pencil to pull his reading glasses off and pinch the bridge of his nose. "All right. Here's what we'll do. Change of plans. Let's compile lists of the documentation we need for each individual case, and start cross-referencing what we have in which box and where. If one file's missing, there might be others."

"Are they trying to sabotage this case?" Havoc complained as he dropped the open file box on his desk.

"How dare you accuse our esteemed and honorably fair government of unethical practices?" Roy asked as he stood and wandered over to the stack of boxes to grab the next one. "It's not as though the terrorists are being summarily executed without a just trial."

Havoc snorted and pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his desk drawer. "Ask a stupid question..."

"Get a perfectly reasonable answer," Roy finished in the same bland tone. "Really though, why should the government expend so much time and money on a case that the defendants are making for them? I pity whoever gets assigned to defending them. I wouldn't put Kendrick on the stand if my life depended on it. She's proud of what she's done, of what the Belatos Cadri faction's done under her leadership."

"Maybe, but it wouldn't look good if prosecution went to trial with a half-assed case at the ready." Havoc paused to light a cigarette.

"Perhaps. One might think they would have learned that lesson seven years ago."

"Their case fell apart 'cause they were dead wrong, not 'cause it was half-assed. Fullmetal had the proof of that."

"Fullmetal blackmailed them," Roy corrected. A decade ago, he would have thought it was impossible to be any more jaded regarding government powers than he'd been. A decade ago, he'd thought a lot of things.

The office was suddenly feeling claustrophobic, like a prison cell. As tiring as a life constantly on the road was, his occasional, necessary stays at the various headquarter buildings made him appreciate how he usually spent his time. No desks, no paperwork, no four walls from eight till five. No reminders of how things used to be.

No reminders of what was missed.

Roy was silent while he worked, pulling folders out of a box and checking the contents, starting an inventory list. There was work to be done, and where once upon a time he would have made a game of procrastinating as much as he could, the work gave him sufficient distraction from all of the could-have-beens.

The quiet rustling of papers was drowned out by Havoc clearing his throat. "Hey. Think you could maybe tug a few strings to get Hawkeye assigned in he--"

"No." He didn't wait for his subordinate to finish that sentence, and pretended to ignore the way Havoc was staring at him, no longer working.

"We both miss working with her, and I know she wouldn't mind the chance to--"

"I said no, and I mean it," Roy snapped, harsher than he'd intended as he cut him off again. He drew a deep breath, forcing a calmer tone. "For one, that's assuming I've any strings left to pull, which I don't. Second of all, she lives here. She's got a set residence, a set routine. This isn't making us popular with Liore, and I don't want her involved in this. Hawkeye would make too easy a target for them."

"Aw, c'mon, boss." Havoc clearly wasn't about to drop the issue. "We're talking about Hawkeye here. What's a little danger once in a while?"

Roy glared at him. "I'm telling you, It is not worth the risk it would put her in. She's already been shot once, thanks to me. I've buried one of my best friends, again no thanks to me, and I'm not burying anyone else."

"And I suppose you're going to make me transfer out and stay home if I ever get wounded in the line of duty?" Havoc retorted, crossing his arms.

"You're goddamn right I am, and don't give me that look." Frustrated, he knocked the empty box off the desk with the back of his hand and sat down, the old chair groaning at the sudden weight. "My choices got me into this mess, and all of you are paying the price for it."

"I'll give you whatever look I want, especially when you're being an idiot." Havoc hitched a leg up on the corner of the desk.

"And I still outrank you." Roy tossed his pencil on the desk with enough force that it bounced off and skidded across the floor, disappearing from view.

"You made your choices, that's all well and good. But guess what? Nobody made a single damn one of us follow you. We were where we were because we chose to be there. And we'd all still be here if you and Parliament would allow it."

"And you're all idiots!" Roy snapped. "What good did it do? What was the point? You wasted your careers for nothing!"

"I sure as hell don't think I did, and I know Hawkeye doesn't either. Every time you're stuck in an office for more than a few days, you--"

This time, it wasn't Mustang who cut him off. They both froze at the deep, loud, yet far-off rumbling series of booms, and he wasn't sure if he heard it before he felt it, or vice versa. It started low, and the lights flickered, and in the span of barely a second or two, it became a roar so loud that it hurt his bones to feel it, drowning out everything else.

Adrenaline skyrocketed as the lights went out, plunging the windowless office into a pitch black that only seemed to amplify everything else. The noise was too distinctive, and although he'd never felt or heard it on the same scale that rattled his bones and made everything ache, there wasn't any doubt what it was. Ceiling plaster cracked and crumbled, hitting Roy's forehead and stinging his eyes with dust as he grabbed for Havoc's arm, fingertips brushing blue wool, intent on getting out, getting to safety, getting his subordinate to safety amid a single thought of absolute certainty.

The building is collapsing.

Location: Central City, Hawkeye Household
Date: June 8, 1922
Time: 0927 hours

Before he opened his eyes, his first dim thought was that of a passing train, and had it tapered down then, Ed might not have paid it any further notice. But it grew. A rolling rumble that vibrated through the floor, the bed, along the walls, and windows cracked and shattered as it turned into a deafening roar.

Black Hayate barked, a high, frantic sound, and leapt off the bed to bolt for the open doorway as a framed picture of Ed and his brother dropped from the wall, the glass shattering. A stack of books on his desk toppled, and another framed photograph fell off the dresser.

What the hell? An earthquake? No... He remembered Xenotime, the way the mountain cracked and crumbled. The underground city? If the continuous, unceasing rumble vibrating through him wasn't enough to make him feel sick, the chilled feeling in his nerves at the possibility of Central collapsing underground was more than sufficient to do the trick.

He got off the bed and staggered for a moment before his training took over enough to let him keep his balance. Ed made his way to the front of the single-level house, and out to the porch, looking around in a panic for any sign of disaster.

In the direction of Central Headquarters, columns of smoke or dust stretched upward, thick and blurred in the light currents.

The noise was beginning to die down, rolling away, but the trembling feeling wasn't leaving his nerves. His hand shook as he reached back to the doorknob and hesitated another moment longer before shutting the door and forcing his legs to cooperate into navigating the steps. First thing to do would be to find out what happened.

The steps turned into a run as something else occurred to him.

Riza worked in the Central HQ building.

Location: Central City, Hughes Household
Date: June 8, 1922
Time: 0927 hours

Her grandparents lived less than a quarter mile from train tracks, and Elysia still woke up whenever she visited them at the low rumble as they would thunder past the house. She had never felt any trains in her own home, but the feel and sound was so familiar in the first few heartbeats that she wondered if tracks had been laid in without her realizing it.

"Mom?" The rumbling wasn't going away. It was, in fact, getting louder, and a picture slid off the wall. The crash made her nerves tangle and spark under an explosion of panicked adrenaline and Elysia scrambled up from her vanity bench and for her bedroom door. "Mom!"

She balanced against the wall and clung to the bannister, staggering and stumbling as the chandelier in the foyer swung wildly. Gracia appeared in the living room doorway, and held her hand out. "Elysia, come here!"

"What's happening? Is it an earthquake?" A thought occurred to her as her mother pulled her close, and it was both scary and fascinating. "Are we going to die?"

"Hush! Of course we're not! Don't say such things."

Elysia bit her lip. "Then what is it?" The idea of dying didn't seem quite as scary as she thought it would. The photographs on the mantle and table toppled, and she glanced over at them. Her dad would've known what was going on.

"Call Maria? Maybe she'd know?"

She didn't like the way her mother went still and held her even tighter for a moment. "Stay there," Gracia instructed, and moved out of the doorway down the hall to the telephone alcove. Elysia held onto the doorframe and looked around. The rumbling roar was already starting to pass.

It wasn't that scary anymore. Her mom was there, and whatever happened seemed to be over now.

"Can you tell me what happened?"

Elysia looked back at Gracia and frowned. Her mother sounded panicked, frustrated. That wasn't good.

"It... what? What are you..." She went quiet again and raked a hand through her hair and her breathing hitched as she listened to whoever it was on the other end. "All right, thank you. Elysia, go put your shoes on," she said as she dropped the receiver.

"What's happening?"

"Just do it! Hurry, and come out to the garage." Gracia's tone was a snap, but not an angry one as she grabbed her purse.

"Should I pack anything?"

"Just get your shoes on!" Now she sounded angry. Elysia raised an eyebrow and shrugged, stumbling a bit as she ran back up the stairs, and her knees still felt like jelly.

Location: Central Headquarters Grounds
Date: June 8, 1922
Time: 0935 hours

It was pandemonium. The huge courtyard was surreal, the building wrapped in a thick white fog of dust and smoke that crept outward, obscuring blue uniforms that came and went like ghosts, hiding the sources of the shouted orders as people evacuated. Ed jogged closer, but the air became too thick to breathe. Coughing, he held his coat sleeve over his nose and mouth for an impromptu mask, and squinted through the dust, his eyes watering.

As he got closer, he could hear screaming. Hundreds of voices, seeming to come from all over, and he couldn't see them. He couldn't see where they could be. The sound was agonizing, weeping, hysterical and pleading and he thought of the stories of Ishbal, of Liore, of the forgotten city sacrificed long ago for a Philosopher's Stone, of his brother screaming as the Gate broke down his body, his hand fading away even as Ed struggled to reach him, his own ruined leg be damned.

A sea of blue and gray chaos surged around him, and someone bumped into him in passing. Ed looked around, feeling lost, trapped, claustrophobic in the fog, surrounded by voices. Terrified shouts. Frantic orders. Hysterical screaming.

"East wing, west wing, they're both down!"

"Where's the damn medics?"

"Get the masks, we need to get them out of there!"

"How the hell could they collapse?"

"A bomb! I'm telling you it sounded like a bomb!"

"Who's firing, goddamnit? Are you insane? Hold your fire!"

"I'm hit! We're under attack!"

"Patterson, report in! Patterson!"

Over the shouts, the screaming, he could hear the distinctive rhythmic report of automatic gunfire, of the bullets impacting on the stone walkway. He strained his ears, and thought the sound of the rifle seemed to come from higher up, but above the chaos, he couldn't be sure.

"Major Jergun, get your men out of there! Order them to fall back!"

That voice. Ed froze and looked around wildly, trying to pin the source.

"We have to get those people out of there!"

"Major, we are under attack! We're working blind, and you're just going to get a battalion of good men killed!"

Ed started to shout 'Colonel', but his voice died off in a coughing fit, giving him time to remember that no, it was Brigadier General now. Seven years, and he still couldn't think of the jackass as anything but 'Colonel'.

"Mustang!" There. That would do. He looked around, trying to find him in the gray-coated mess of blue uniforms. "Where the hell are you, jackass?"

"Havoc, did you remember my magnifying glass? I couldn't possibly find anyone as small as Fullmetal without it in this mess."

Oh, figured. Central Headquarters was collapsing and all that jackass was good for was insulting him.

"Who are you calling so small he could hide behind a speck of dust?" Ed snapped, choking as he inhaled more dust than he'd intended. "I'm not short anymore!" Now his voice was just an embarrassing squeak.

"Is that a mouse in Fullmetal's clothes?" A firm hand clasped his left shoulder.

Ed was too busy coughing to do more than give Mustang a one-fingered salute.

"It's good to know that even when everything's going to straight to hell, you're still you."

"Fuck you too, Colonel Jackass."

"It's General Jackass now, remember."

"What the hell's going on?"

He felt Mustang's hand tighten on his shoulder momentarily, but not painfully, and the older man's expression was grim. "We're not entirely certain yet. But from what little we've been able to piece together from various reports, someone may have rigged the east and west wings to collapse."

Ed looked at him, at his dust-covered uniform, the missing shoulder braid, the white-caked blood on his forehead smeared down the side of his face, and looked at Havoc, who was just as filthy but did not seem to be sporting any visible injuries. "Where were you?"

Roy nodded his head to indicate the direction. "Toward the end of the south wing. The impact went through the whole building."

"It doesn't look like bombs went off anywhere else, but we're not sure if there are any more still in the buildings," Havoc supplied. The three men looked toward the main building at another burst of gunfire over the screaming.

"I don't suppose you know of any way to transmutate the debris out of the air to improve visibility?" Mustang's voice was terse, clipped, and he did not look at Ed.

In the back of his mind, before he even consciously considered the problem at hand, he already knew the answer. It wouldn't be feasible. There was too much, too scattered, and in too many places that he couldn't see. Line of sight wasn't necessary, but he needed to know what he was controlling. They were breathing that dust, getting coated with it. The last thing they needed was for someone to be encased in a concrete block, or have a kilogram of solidified powder drop from the sky on their head.

"There's too much," he replied, and Mustang nodded, not disappointed. He'd suspected as much but had to ask.

"We need to find where the command center's being set up. Once we regroup and get our bearings, we'll have a better chance at getting hold of the situation," Mustang said. "Come on, fall back. We need to get out of this dust and get some proper masks. Havoc, keep an eye out for General Walsh. I think he was supposed to inspect the motor pool this morning, so he might not have been in the central offices."

The central offices. Ed stopped in his tracks and looked back in the direction of the building. "Mustang? Riza's office is there."

He didn't hear a response, not over the other shouts and the distant screams he tried not to think about. He looked back to them, to see Havoc rubbing the back of his neck, looking away, and Mustang watching him with a hated expression that was all too familiar.

"There will be even greater suffering and anguish than this waiting for you further down the road you have chosen. As such, you must keep moving forward, even if you have to force yourselves to accept this."

"Come along, Fullmetal."

He glared at Mustang, his hands clenched in fists, and the older man's gaze remained steady. Ed swallowed hard and choked back a cough, knowing that the general was right; he had to fall back, he had to come up with a plan, and this wasn't it.

"This isn't over," he snapped as he turned on his heel and stalked past them. He pointed up at Mustang, glaring at him. "We're not giving up on her." He didn't wait for an answer. "So, talk to me. What do you know? This attack, it's just in Central, right?"

"We don't know. There hasn't been time to find out if there's been attacks on any other headquarters or outposts," Mustang said. "We don't even have an idea yet who's behind this or why, or how coordinated they are."

Ed looked back at the thick dust as the bottom seemed to drop away from his stomach to ice over his veins. "I gotta go," he said even as he took a step back. "Gotta go call Al." He turned, already breaking into a run, and ignored Mustang's shout. He had to make sure Al was okay. He had to warn them, he had to keep Al safe.

Nothing else mattered. What mattered was Al. As long as he knew Al was okay, he could deal with everything else.

---

Chapter One

2006-12-09T05:34:31Z

full chapter listing

Chapter One

Because fate causes fortune, and fortune takes it away,
And then fortune causes nightmares, nightmares that make you crazy.
It's all right, baby, I'm doing the best that I can.

Location: East City, Rockbell Household
Date: June 8, 1922
Time: 0500 hours

"All right, Brother. I'll see you next week. I love you." Al smiled as he listened to Ed's reply. "Bye." He hung up the phone and yawned.

"Everything okay?" Winry asked, and Al closed his eyes as he felt her arms slip around his waist.

"Yeah, Brother just called to let me know he arrived." He turned a bit to drape an arm across her shoulders, and kissed her forehead. "Why don't you go back to bed? It's early yet. I'll see if Grandma needs anything, then I'll come join you?"

"Bit early, but too late," Winry said. "I should probably stay up to make sure Sheska doesn't oversleep. I think she was up late reading. Again."

Al chuckled. "She's like Brother sometimes when it comes to books. Come on. You can keep me company then while I get the coffee started."

"Mmm. Coffee. Have I mentioned yet that I love you?"

"Not in the last six hours."

She paused. "I was asleep the last six hours."

"Ah, that would certainly explain it then. In that case, I forgive you." He gave her an impish grin and hurried ahead to turn on the kitchen light, pausing only after he got there to look back down the hall at Winry.

"You're a bigger brat than Ed ever was."

"You mean you didn't know?" Al feigned shock.

"It's always the quiet ones," Winry muttered as she followed after him.

Location: East City, Tringham Household
Date: June 8, 1922
Time: 0530 hours

The nightmares were no longer a regular part of her sleeping hours. In fact, in the last couple of years, it would be safe for her to say that the nights without them were outnumbering the nights with. But sometimes, there were triggers.

The warm scent of the desert earth seeping up through the chilled air in the hours before dawn, mingled in a breeze of juniper and sage, with a distant hint of incense and ripening fruits that made up the spring weather of East City sometimes evened out in just the right balance.

And when the breeze would carry that balance through her open window, Liore came back, larger than life. Death, burial, shattered hope, chaos. Sometimes it wasn't the desert smells but the muffled orders of soldiers and tramp of feet with the occasional training excursion either getting underway or coming back in the late hours.

But it wasn't like before, the nights when she'd wake up drenched in sweat, too frightened to properly breathe, and running through dark halls looking for an escape. It wasn't like the nights in the past when she'd slip past the shadows and into their bedrooms to curl up in the corners on the floor to sleep.

The nightmares still left her soaked, breathless, trembling, but the house was safe. The room was safe. And Rose understood that if something made it not feel safe, all she had to do was call for them, and one or the other, but usually both brothers, would be there in moments.

They formed a haphazard little family, the three of them. Rose had fallen into a role of an elder sister or cousin, someone to provide a necessary woman's touch as she took care of the housework and they in turn took care of her.

It hadn't ever come about with a formal, official agreement. In a world on the brink of going mad, they gravitated toward one another for stability, along the single binding thread of mutual knowledge of the Elric brothers, and an assumption that the other was someone to trust, to protect.

It was Russell and Fletcher Rose had found when she finally made her way to the surface, drugged, dazed, panicked. They were the ones who came back with her, who shared in her fears and bewilderment as the three of them took a gravely wounded Ed to the hospital, along with someone they could only assume was Al. The younger boy had no visible injuries, but he was unconscious, barely more than skin and bones, and reacted to all stimuli as if it were extraordinarily painful.

It was Russell and Fletcher who kept her steady as soldiers filled the halls, who saw to it that she was tested, treated, lest Dante's drugs had any lingering ill effects. It was them she clung to when she realized her child was gone. And it was her they turned to for assurance that they hadn't left the Elrics to a narrowly-missed death, that there likely was nothing they could have done to change to the outcome.

She knew Ed, obviously, and that alone made her someone Russell felt he should watch after with the clear absence of anyone else who would or could do the job. Protect her for Ed, to do something for the older teen he'd secretly admired. Rose knew that; in their own ways, they both looked up to Ed, seeing so many good qualities they wished they had.

Rose paused outside Russell's bedroom door; he was still asleep yet. So was Fletcher. The seventeen-year-old had finished his schooling for the year. She waited there in the shadows between the two doorways, letting it sink in that this was home. This was safe.

The clock on the mantle in the parlor chimed once, marking the half-hour. That pulled her from her the quiet daze to prompt her to go start the coffee and breakfast, and she tried to recall if Russell was working out of the State Alchemist offices that day, or if he was needed on site further north for hands-on work with the irrigation project.

Location: Central City, Hawkeye Household
Date: June 8, 1922
Time: 0530 hours

By the time Ed had disembarked and called Al, and made his way from the station to Riza's house, it was only another half-hour before he knew her alarm would go off. Still, that was a half-hour she didn't need to be deprived of for her sleep, so he was quick to unlock the door and shush Black Hayate's excited yips before they could disturb her.

"Settle down, boy," he whispered as he crouched and skritched the small dog around the ears. Hayate whined in his efforts to stay quiet, and wagged his tail so hard his entire body wiggled. Ed jerked his head back just in time to narrowly avoid getting a slobbery tongue up the side of his face, and took that as a sign to move on.

"Come on, let's get you outside." He left his suitcase in the hall and led the dog to the back door. The percolator was already out on the counter, and a quick check proved that Riza had prepared the coffee grounds before turning in the night before. He plugged it in and turned on the gas stove to heat the water for her tea.

Ed crept down the hallway to the spare bedroom and set his suitcase just inside the door before going to the other end and looking in the dark bedroom. It was silent, and he could just make out her shape under the covers by the light from the streetlamp outside filtered in through a small gap in the drapes.

Everything was just as it should be, and that was what mattered.

Ed didn't try to prepare breakfast; most of his attempts at cooking had proved to be colossal failures, such as one evening when he thought he would surprise her with dinner. Needless to say, they wound up going out instead, and his contribution to cooking remained solidly along the lines of purchasing meals and bringing them back.

He did know how to feed Black Hayate though, and opened the can of food before letting him back inside. Living with the captain for a week or so out of every month for the last four years, Ed was familiar with her training routine for him. But before he could make the dog go through the process, he perked his ears and looked behind Ed to bark, his tail wagging.

"Good morning, Edward," Riza said, her tone drowsy.

"Morning." He cast a guilty look over his shoulder at her. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

She waved it off and walked to the stove. "I don't think you did. I don't always sleep until the alarm goes off."

"Sit down," he told her. "I'll get that." He put Hayate's food dish down and reached around her to pick up the steaming teakettle. "I can't cook breakfast, so I'll see to your tea."

"I'm just having toast and jam this morning, I think."

"Toast I can do," Ed told her, and frowned a bit as he watched her sit down at the table without argument. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Hmm?" She looked up at him and brushed her hair out of her eyes, only to close them as her lips curled into a small smile. "Yes, just still a bit tired. I'll be fine after tea. Yesterday was a long one, is all."

Ed brought the teapot over to her and poured a cup. "Where do you want to go for lunch today?"

That confirmed it, the way the hint of tension around her eyes evaporated, lightening her expression into something more peaceful. "I'm not sure yet. We'll talk about it when you get to the office?"

Escape, the company, a break from the isolated monotony. He knew her reasons for staying there, for staying in the military, and he supposed he understood them. It didn't mean he liked it. Mustang's old command were little more than pariahs, but especially those who were directly involved in the conspiracy around Fuhrer Bradley's assassination.

Being the one still in Central, Riza bore the brunt of it, and Ed had seen the cool, distant politeness of others in Headquarters in their interactions with her. Her career was dead, poisoned by the unofficial scandal, and few wanted to risk that taint getting on their own. She'd tried to argue with him more than once that Mustang and Havoc had it worse, constantly on the road, rarely staying in one location for longer than a fortnight, following up on reports the military assigned them to investigate.

Ed wasn't so sure about that. Maybe things were different with them than they had been for Al and himself, but it had been easier to stay detached in their own world back then.

"Sounds like a plan to me," Ed told her, and buried the too-familiar wistful pang. He wouldn't wish for the way things were back then. He would never admit to it. Al didn't deserve that, and Ed was relieved, thrilled, that he'd been able to undo at least some of the damage he'd inflicted on his little brother.

But Al rarely had time for him anymore, not like he used to anyway. He had Winry, a new facet to an old relationship, and as the years went on, he stayed fewer nights in the house he shared with Ed, sitting up with Winry, with Pinako, helping care for the old woman as her years caught up with her health.

It wasn't fair to Al to wish that it was just them again, back on the road as they used to be.

It wasn't fair to Riza either.

At first, he had wanted to track down the brigadier general and deck him for tricking him into having to accept Riza's spare bedroom for a place to stay. Then he began to figure out why. He was there to take care of her, to pull her out of the isolation of the circumstance for at least a little while, to watch after her in the absence of the others the way Mustang had once watched after two headstrong teenagers who'd bitten off more than they could chew.

It was hard to admit to himself, let alone anyone else, that somewhere along the line, her house had become more his home than the one he shared with Al out east. Al was rarely there anymore, as was right. He had a family to take care of. Ed's family, but he was no longer sure where he fit into the scheme of things. They didn't need him.

But the captain, that was someone who needed him, someone he was entrusted to take care of, and those suspicions had been confirmed after his first stay there when Mustang called him after he'd returned to the east.

With the toast made and buttered, and a fresh cup of coffee in hand, Ed settled in at the table next to her, and promised himself, as he always did, that he'd get up at least a few times during his stay to see her off to work. He liked those moments before she turned into Captain Hawkeye, when her expression was drowsy while she nibbled at her toast, her hair down and around her shoulders, still clad in pajamas.

She looked over the rim of her teacup and gave him a curious little smile as their eyes met. "What?"

"Hmm?" Ed shook his head as he looked down, feeling as if he'd just been caught doing something he oughtn't. "Sorry, just woolgathering."

"Did your trip go all right?"

He shrugged. "It was a train ride. Long, vaguely uncomfortable, and a bit boring." Not like when I was traveling with Al. He pushed the thought away and smiled at her. "I suppose I was spoiled by the first train ride into Central. All that excitement, and it was just downhill from there."

Riza chuckled quietly. "Is there any way you could get your work moved to East HQ?" she asked. "That would save you from the monthly trips, and you'd have more time with your brother."

His smile froze as something knotted and chilled low in his stomach. She was tired of him staying there. He'd just found another place that felt like home and he was losing that too, wasn't he? "I don't mind the trips. All those years of traveling, I think I'd get restless if I stayed in one place too long. And Al can use a break from me to spend more time with Winry once in a while." He hesitated. "As much as I'm out here, I probably could start looking into an apartment. I can't keep imposing on your hospitality like this. It's been what, four years now?"

"You're not imposing." Her forehead had creased, and her voice was smaller than he'd expected. She looked down at her tea. "If that's what you want to do, I'll help you find a place this weekend, but I was just--"

"Riza." He cut her off, feeling the warmth creep back along his nerves as he relaxed. "I'm fine here. I like this arrangement. I was just worried that you were wanting your own space back."

She smiled, and he didn't like it. It was too hollow to be real. "I have more space than I know what to do with."

"Which is exactly why I'm staying," he told her, his voice softer than before.

The smile faded, but turned real before it disappeared. "How is everyone back East?"

"Your grandfather said he's sending a package to you later, but he didn't tell me what." Ed sipped his coffee. "Al's doing good, so's Winry and Sheska. Well, good enough in the circumstance. Grandma Pinako, not so much." He grimaced. "Last week, she didn't recognize Winry, and thought I was my father."

Riza winced. "How is Winry taking it?"

"Hard, which is expected. But she's dealing. She's got Al and Sheska, and it helps. Russell's still a jackass. Fletcher's done with school though, and he's still planning to go for a State Alchemist certification in a couple years, last I heard." He saw an odd change to her expression and arched and eyebrow. "What is it?"

"Hmm? Oh, nothing. It's just... I still have trouble remembering it's a civil appointment now," Riza said. "I was wondering why no one was trying to talk that little boy out of becoming a soldier."

"Heh." Ed got up to refill his mug. "I have my moments there too, especially when reports of skirmishes come in and I'm wondering for a moment if the State Alchemists will get sent in to deal with it. It doesn't pay anywhere near as much as it did, but it's a better job. Alchemy should be for the people. That's one thing the Parliament managed to get right, at least. Separating alchemy from the military."

"No arguments here."

Silence fell over the kitchen as conversation slipped to a pause.

"You still wanting to stay?" he asked.

"I'm still needed." Her smile was wry. "He doesn't need me at his back anymore, but he does need me here, and that's what matters." Riza sighed and sat back in her chair, looking at her empty plate. "Speaking of which, I should start getting ready for work." She set her cup down and smiled before looking up at him. "It's good to see you again, Edward."

"You too, Riza."

While she readied herself for work, he unpacked his suitcase. Even if he was only staying a week, even if he'd only brought a few changes of clothes, it made the place feel even more like home to not live out of a suitcase.

The spare bedroom was still called that, but it was more his room than anything else. The bookcase was filled beyond capacity, and the desk sported stacks of notebooks and alchemical text, although admittedly in a much neater state than he ever left it. Personal effects were still arranged on the top of the dresser as he'd left them, photographs of his family back east, a few elastic bands for his hair, combs and a toothbrush, little things that made the room his.

It was home.

He stretched out on the bed and rubbed the bridge of his nose as he fought back a yawn. He never slept as well on the trains as he used to, not without Al.

"Get some rest, Edward."

Riza's voice pulled him out of the daze he'd slipped into and he blinked, feeling groggy. More time had passed than he thought, if she was ready to walk out the door, her hair clipped up, clad in a perfectly pressed uniform.

"Maybe a bit." He gave her a rueful grin. "I'll still be there for lunch though."

"I look forward to it."

He waved as she left, and closed his eyes again, briefly roused as Black Hayate jumped up on the bed beside him.

"Yeah, yeah, missed ya too, mutt," he muttered and pushed him away before Hayate could lick his face. The dog settled for his hand instead, then stretched out beside him. He could spare a bit longer for a nap. After all, he could always extend his trip by a day or two if he had to make up for lost time.

Location: Central City, Hughes Household
Date: June 8, 1922
Time: 0810 hours

Gracia Hughes knew what a call from Headquarters on one's day off meant. Even before Maria Ross hung up, she was studying her morning tea, her mind far off and restructuring her plans for the day as she half-listened to her lover's end of the conversation.

"Give me a half-hour then," Maria said. Another pause. "I know. Bye."

Gracia looked over at the distinctive click of the receiver being returned to its cradle and gave the younger woman a small smile. "We'll have to reschedule our plans."

"I'm sorry," Maria told her, and Gracia closed her eyes at the feel of hands slipping over her shoulders, and a kiss planted to the crown of her head. "They're understaffed and lacking command with Major Harkins's promotion and transfer, and Captain Coldwell hasn't arrived yet, and Captain Larner is out sick..."

"Maria? It's okay, I understand," Gracia said as she tilted her head back to look at her, and rubbed her hand up Maria's arm. "I know how the military is. Go get dressed."

"It might only be a half-day, depending on the trains. Coldwell's connection was delayed," Maria said, giving her a quick kiss.

"We'll see what happens. Either way, it's no big deal." Gracia reached out and squeezed her hand. "It's part of being a military wife. I dealt with it with Maes, and I can deal with it now."

"I know." Maria closed her eyes as she kissed Gracia's fingertips.

"Now go get ready. They're waiting on you." Gracia looked at the clock on the wall and glanced up to the ceiling. "And I should probably see about getting Elysia out of bed."

"Let her sleep in. School's out for the summer now, let her have a bit of a vacation. She made high marks, she's earned it," Maria said.

"I still don't believe that you're not somehow conspiring with Maes to spoil that girl," Gracia teased as she stood from the table.

"Somebody had to do it, and since you're the one who figured out how to work that old camera of his..." Maria trailed off and shrugged with an easy grin. "I'll make this up to you tonight, promise." A hug and another quick kiss, then she was gone, retreating to their bedroom to ready herself for work.

Once she was gone, Gracia sighed, and allowed herself to indulge in a brief moment of disappointment she'd never admit to Maria. Against all her better judgment, she'd fallen for a career soldier. Again.

It wasn't anything she'd set out to do, what either of them had set out to find, but there it was and that was that. And there was a bitter little twist which every now and then reminded her that even though Maria wasn't assigned to any battlefield, neither was Maes, back then. An office job held only the illusion of promise, and nothing quite removed that quiet, deep fear of someday being told someone was never coming home again.

He'd not even been buried a year when she first met Maria, a chance crossing in the market, a long and harried day with an overtired daughter and feeling at the end of her wits. She had almost cried from relief when the woman introduced herself and offered a hand with the basket, offered to help distract Elysia and settle her down while Gracia settled her nerves.

A friendship born over tea; it had been a chilled day, with winter reminding everyone that it wasn't going down to spring without a fight. Overcast with a threat of rain, and a fog that seeped down to the bones and made even her bright kitchen feel dreary. But while tea warmed the blood and bones, the company warmed the room, and soon outings were no longer done with just her daughter, and she was even afforded moments and hours to herself while Maria stepped in to give her a breather.

In so many ways, in so many places, from her warm and open heart, from her strong and comforting presence, to the way she was quick with a smile and a laugh and easily conversed on Elysia's level of understanding, she'd filled in and soothed the raw, gaping places of emptiness that Maes had left behind in Gracia's life.

The first kiss, some years later, should have been a surprise to them both. But instead, it had felt natural, a logical progression and the way things should be.

She'd never planned to fall for career military again. She also knew life very rarely went according to one's wishes. Gracia could deal with interrupted days off, with the worries and doubts and overtime. The heart under the blue had been worth it once, and so it was again.

---

Prologue

2006-12-09T05:26:14Z

full chapter listing

Like a Heartbeat

Prologue

You feel as if someone was following you,
But you know you are wrong.
It's just the ghost of what you want to be,
And the ghost of the past that you live in.

"So that's your grand plan? Summon the Gate again?" The pain was blinding, but he pushed it back, away, aside. It wasn't over yet. Who cared about the blood? The end was almost within reach, the resolution to years of broken promises and false roads.

"It seems I sent you through it too quickly before," Dante said. "I shall have to take greater care when I separate your soul from your body."

"Like you did to my father?" Ed grinned, feeling just to the left of sane. His words formed a blade sharper than his automail, and he twisted it. "He made it through, you know. To the other side. Rejoined his soul and body, and he's staying there. Out of your reach. To live and die in the body that my mother loved. That Trisha loved. His own words, Dante. You lost him forever."

The woman's borrowed face blanched as her eyes and lips narrowed. "You're an impudent--"

"He's there?"

Ed spared a fraction his attention from Dante toward the homunculus of his half-brother.

"Hohenheim's alive?" He seemed to have forgotten the Elric brothers with that discovery, and approached the Gate. "That bastard's still alive on the other side of this?"

"Envy! Stop that foolishness this instant and get back here and deal with his sons!"

If Envy heard her, he gave no reaction.

"Take me to Hohenheim!" he shouted, clawing at the Gate, working to get it open.

"Envy! Get back here! Stop that right now!" Ed couldn't quite tell if Dante sounded furious or scared. Perhaps a little of both. When the doors started to crack open, she stamped her foot and hissed. "Gluttony! Stop him! Get over there and stop him!"

"Take me to where my father is!"

"Brother!"

Ed looked at Al, and followed to where he pointed. Dante. A slow grin formed. His brother's armor was the Philosopher's Stone now. The Gate was there. Two birds, one stone. Unspoken words, and the two circled her, separating her from Rose.

"Get off me, freak!" Envy shouted, trying to pull his arm away from Gluttony, and neither saw the doors swing fully open, the black tendrils escaping--

(my leg, my arm, Al! Give me my brother back!)

--and pulling them both in.

This time wouldn't be like before.

"Al! Now!" Ed leaped toward her, automail blade extended, and staggered as he fell, his flesh knee hitting marble with a painful impact. White heat radiated from his ruined left shoulder, and spots swam in his vision. No!

Al wasted no time, pressing the advantage, and backed Dante up toward the open Gate.

"There's your exchange! There's the Stone! Now give me my brother's body back, you son of a bitch!" Ed shouted.

Al reached for Dante, for Rose's baby.

The Gate's black arms enveloped all three.

Wait, wait, no. NO!

The doors slammed shut and vibrated along Ed's bones.

"Al?"

The Gate disappeared.

"Al! Give me my brother back!"

"Fifteen minutes!"

Heart pounding, Ed sat bolt upright on the uncomfortable seat in the now-illuminated train car.

"Grand Central Station, ETA fifteen minutes!" the conductor repeated as he walked the car's length.

Ed focused on getting his breathing back to normal, on not shivering despite the back of his jacket being soaked in sweat. He pulled his watch out.

Four forty-eight.

On schedule.

He'd have to stop at the pay phones and give Al a call before he went to Riza's. Just to let his little brother know he got to Central without incident. Nothing more, nothing less.

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