Archive of Our Own

It was raining out. Nothing good ever happened when it rained. The moisture in the air, the water dribbling from the roof, the drops condensing on the window panes, all were reminders of just how useless Mustang was.

In some sick, twisted version of Murphy’s Law, nothing good ever happened when it rained because Mustang was useless in the rain. It was like the universe was conspiring against him to make his life even harder.

He was on high alert for most of the day because of it. Today would be the day some terrorist organization decided to make their move. Today would be the day some foreign army would invade. Today would be the day where everyone needed him to do something, and he’d be completely useless because it was raining out. He didn’t take any chances. He didn’t let his guard down.

Nothing good ever happened when it rained.

As the day wore on, the rain lessened. The torrential downpour that had awoken him in the morning slowly let up. Now it was just drizzling. If someone were to walk outside, they might even assume the rain stopped altogether. Mustang knew better. He could sense the moisture in the air; feel it on his skin; smell the musty condensation collecting on clothes and hiding away in cracks.

Surprisingly, nothing bad did end up happening throughout the day. He finished all his reports. Ed was only slightly less combative than normal (Al once told him the rain made the ports on his automail act up, which made them ache). His team all got their work done. No one was shot or killed. Even Havoc wasn’t suffering through another breakup. The peaceful rainy day made him all the more suspicious that something was happening. The day dragged on.

Finally, streetlights flickered to life and the roads lit up with the water reflecting the soft orange glow. It was still raining. Drizzling.

Nothing good ever happened in the rain.

“I’m surprised,” Hawkeye said, packing up her things, “you’re still here.”

“It’s raining out,” he said. For the first time all day, he felt a little childish for even being so apprehensive. East City had an average of 119 rainy days per year. Statistically speaking, bad days had to happen on at least of few of those rainy days. Besides, the only reason he felt so apprehensive about rain was that his flame alchemy didn’t work.

What a joke. A man who terrorized Ishval could be rendered helpless with a bucket of water.

But he wasn’t helpless. He was a trained soldier. Sure he wasn’t as good of a shot as Hawkeye, but he could still wield a gun and throw a punch if he needed to.

God, what was he thinking? He was going home, not going out to war. He had walked this path hundreds of times before and nothing had happened. Besides, he hadn’t been outside all day. His gloves were dry and at the rate, it was raining, he could still use them in emergencies.

“Maybe you should transfer out west,” Hawkeye said. “They get fewer rainy days than we do.”

“Not a big fan of the weather.”

“Suit yourself, Colonel.” She pulled on her coat and walked to the door. “It wouldn’t be the first time I came into work the next morning and found you passed out at your desk. For someone who does as little work as possible, you tend to sleep here an awful lot.”

“Is there a point to this?” he asked.

“No. Have a good night, Colonel.”

“You too.”

She shut the door, leaving him completely alone for the first time all day. He could hear the cars driving through puddles and the soft tapping of rain on the glass.

“Goddammit,” he said, running a hand down his face.

He was being ridiculous, staying here because he was scared of a little bit of rain. He was a goddamn state alchemist. A soldier. He would not let a little bit of precipitation scare him into sleeping in his office. Besides, it was uncomfortable to sleep here. His back always ached whenever he slept at the office. It wasn’t because he was getting old. It was because the chairs weren’t meant to be slept on (It was because he was getting old. When he was fifteen, he could pass out on a rock pile and wake up refreshed).

He pulled on his coat, gathered his things, and marched out the door.

The outside was cold. He could feel the water gather on his hair and drip down his back. His gloves were stuffed into his pocket, still dry and ready to be used if he needed them.

It took him about fifteen minutes to get home. No one was following him. No one jumped him. No foreign armies decided to invade. No terrorists decided to strike. By the time he got to his apartment, he was thoroughly soaked. Damn weather didn’t seem this bad inside his nice warm office but fifteen minutes of it made him wish he hadn’t left in the first place.

He dumped his bag at the entryway. He briefly thought about shrugging off his coat but decided that could wait ten seconds while he poured himself a drink.

“Damn rain,” he muttered, briefly contemplating if he wanted whisky or scotch before deciding on both. Future him would hate the hangover. Present him just wanted to feel the alcohol burning a hole in his throat.

He swallowed down the first glass quick enough for it to burn his throat. “Is there any place in the world where it doesn’t rain but it’s also not a desert?”

He poured himself a second glass and chugged it again, barely tasting it. The warmth from the alcohol spread throughout his body, making his fingers feel delightfully tingly from the sensation.

He poured himself a third glass and decided to savor this one. Maybe he should take off his coat. And his wet clothes. Then he could take a very hot shower. He wanted that thing so hot his skin boiled off. Then when he was all done with that, he’d get himself one final glass and pass out in his nice, warm (not wet because it wasn’t in the rain) bed.

He stumbled to the door, his legs feeling a bit fuzzy like they were fading away. “That’s weird,” he said, putting a hand on the wall for support. Normally it took at least three glasses of this stuff for him to even begin to feel its effects. Now it was like he was a teenager who had never had a shot of vodka before.

Mustang snickered. “I wonder how much of a lightweight Fullmetal is. He’s tiny and missing two limbs. Probably couldn’t even handle half a glass of this stuff.”

How irresponsible would it be for him to give Ed some alcohol and see how quickly he passed out? The still somewhat sober part of his brain said it would be very irresponsible. That part of his brain was boring.

Wait. Why was he in the hallway again?

He shivered and some water dripped from his hair down his face.

Right, he was going to go take off his clothes. Hang them up to dry.

He polished off the third glass in his hand. Or was it his fourth? He felt very drunk for it being his third. He felt like he had had this conversation with himself before. He took some unsteady steps towards the entryway. The door looked like it was open. He hadn’t closed it when he came in? That seemed irresponsible. Almost as irresponsible as giving a teenager a bottle of liquor and telling him to have at it.

God, his head felt so fuzzy. He fell to his knees. His hands were tingling, like when they had fallen asleep and you couldn’t get them to work for several minutes. The glass fell out of his hands, rolling across the floor and leaving a trail of leftover… whiskey? Scotch? What had he been drinking?

The room was spinning. He was panting. He tried to get himself back to his feet. His arms seemed to be pushing their limits just keeping him from faceplanting into the floor. When was the last time he swept? He should do a better job of cleaning. But not now. Now he had to get up and get to the door. He had to close the door. It wasn’t safe to leave the door open.

He looked up again, squinting at the yellow light spilling into his apartment. Everything was fuzzy. Was that even his door he was looking at? Was this even his apartment?

He heard footsteps, muffled.

“Finally,” a voice muttered.

The cotton that Mustang had stuffed in his ears made the man’s voice soft, quiet, difficult to listen to.

“I was almost afraid you wouldn’t be coming back. Took you long enough, Colonel.”

He tried to look up at the man, to figure out who was in his apartment with him. He squinted and stared, panting, trying to figure out who was above him, silhouetted by the light.

“Now, now, it’s alright,” the voice said. “Just go to sleep, Colonel.”

Mustang made one more effort to stand up; to fight this imposter; to run away; to do something!

His arms finally gave out and he collapsed on the ground, vision fading to black.

He was right. Nothing good ever happened when it rained.

*****

Ed hated the rain. His stumps ached and the ports in his automail decided now would be a great time to hurt. He read about it once, partially afraid he had ruined them somehow. It was something about the change in pressure and the cold weather that came with the rain. The cold weather made the metal shrink ever so slightly, putting strain on where it was attached to the body. And the pressure caused the equilibrium of the complex mechanisms to be thrown off. In short, unless he could figure out how to become God and control the weather, Ed was forced to ride out the rainy days in pain.

“You didn’t drink your milk,” Al said, staring at the empty plates of food in front of them. The cafeteria was always nice enough to give Al some food. Which meant more for Ed.

He rolled his shoulder, trying to ease the pain. “You’re not going to make me drink it,” he grumbled. His back muscles seized. So much for trying to ease the pain.

“You’re the only one of us who can. Besides, the cooks are so nice to give me some food as well. You wouldn’t want it to go to waste.”

He flopped down on the bed and picked up a book. Maybe reading would take his mind off the constant dull aches that kept stabbing him in the leg and shoulder. On more than one occasion, he seriously considered cutting both pieces of automail off, convinced this drastic measure would be less painful than a full day of muscle cramps and seizing.

“Just put it outside for the cats. I know you’ve got a small army of them now.”

Another muscle cramp, this time in his leg. He let out an involuntary grunt of pain, squeezing his eyes shut and waiting for the pain to pass.

Al sighed. “If you’re not going to drink your milk, will you at least take some pain killers? It seems like it’s really bad tonight.”

He let out a sigh of relief as the pain in his leg eased. “Can’t. We don’t have anymore.”

He checked this morning. He assumed the storm would pass by the afternoon. He could handle the pain until then. The worst of the storm did ease up by about noon, but the rain decided to stick around. Now it was night out. He was tired. Everything hurt. His muscles were now sore from spasming all day. Hell, he couldn’t even bring himself to argue with Mustang like normal! The jerk. This wasn’t strictly his fault, but Ed was still going to blame him for this.

Al’s armor made a screeching sound as he stood up. “I’ll go to the pharmacy and pick you up some.”

A jolt of fear shot through him. Now, Al’s armor was fairly waterproof. He had gotten it wet on multiple occasions, normally on rainy days, but the fear still lingered. What if one drop of water managed to sneak its way inside and smudge the blood seal? That would be all it took for him to disappear fully. He could collapse in the street, laying there for hours and Ed would be none the wiser.

“No, you stay here.”

“Brother, you’re not going to get any sleep at this rate, and the rain isn’t supposed to let up for a few days.”

He didn’t get much sleep anyways. Thanks, nightmares!

“Plus, I’ll have to listen to you in pain all night,” Al continued, his voice shaking slightly.

Dammit, he was playing him, using Ed’s guilt to coerce him to do stuff.

He grabbed his coat. “Alright, alright. I’ll go get some stuff from the pharmacy. You stay here.”

“But—”

“I’m a little achy. I’m not an invalid.”

Al looked like he was going to say something, but thought better of it. “Alright, brother. But be careful.”

Ed scoffed. “It’s just a little rain, Al. I’m not like Colonel Bastard. Seriously, he should learn water alchemy or something so that when it rains, he’s not completely useless.”

“You shouldn’t talk about him like that,” Al scolded.

“He’s not here. I can talk about him however I like.”

“You talk about him however you like even when he is here.”

Ed grinned. “I know. It’s great.” He opened the door. “I’ll be back in a little bit. The closest pharmacy is like fifteen minutes away.”

“Okay,” Al said, still sounding unsure about the whole thing.

“Just trust me. I’ll be right back.” He gave him a thumbs up and shut the door. His back started spasming again, so he did his best to massage out the muscles. The rain sucked, but it didn’t make him completely useless. Besides, he had gone to that pharmacy multiple times at every hour of the day. It had never been a problem before. It wouldn’t be a problem now.

*****

Mustang’s head was pounding. Splitting open. Someone was taking a pickaxe to it. And a sledgehammer. He groaned and went to massage his temples, hoping it would provide sweet relief. His hands jerked, metal cutting into his wrists. His arms were pinned, chained above his head. He was sitting upright, but slumped forward, probably because he had been asleep for some time now.

He kept his eyes closed, his breaths slow and steady. If he had captors in the room, he didn’t want them to know he was awake. He was sitting on a concrete floor; his sit bones numb and his knees aching. Could he hear anything else in the room?

“Colonel Mustang?”

He recognized that voice.

“Our captors aren’t in here. You don’t have to pretend to be asleep.”

He slowly opened his eyes. Thank God whatever hellhole he had ended up in wasn’t bright. His headache was bad enough in the dark.

“Lieutenant Colonel Williams?” he asked, squinting at the other state alchemist chained across from him.

Her hands also seemed to be chained over her head. She waved to him.

“Good of you to finally wake up,” Colonel Otto, another state alchemist, said to the left of him. “You smell like a bar.”

“Thanks. I was hoping tonight would be uneventful, so I had some whiskey.”

“We all did,” Williams scoffed. He could see now she was barefoot and wearing her pajamas.

He shivered, still in his wet clothes from earlier. They still felt pretty damp, which meant he hadn’t been out of the rain for long. Whatever drug they had given him worked fast and was flushed out of the system fast.

“Are we the only ones?”

Otto shook his head. “No, I counted eighteen of us in total. It’s too dark to see and most are still unconscious, but Williams said Major Holt and Lieutenant Colonel Weaving are next to her. You’re to my right and Doctor Morgan is to my left.”

“All state alchemists,” Mustang said. That didn’t bode well. He took a glance around the room and was relieved to see that everyone chained to the wall looked to be adults. The last thing they needed was Ed making a fuss.

“Colonel Otto and I were both drugged. I’m assuming you were as well, sir?” Williams asked.

“Yes. I’m guessing they spiked my drink. How about you two?”

“Spiked my drink as well,” Otto said.

“Mine as well.”

“So, we’ve all had our drinks spiked.” He furrowed his brows, trying to think back to what had happened before he passed out. He remembered a shadowy figure standing over him, saying something, but he couldn’t make out any features.

“Do either of you have any ideas who our captors are? Did you see anything before you went unconscious?”

They both responded negatively. Well, this was just peachy. Not that knowing who their captor was would help them any. He closed his eyes and tried to think back to the moments before he passed out. The man who took him said something to him.

“He was worried I wouldn’t come,” Mustang muttered.

“What was that, sir?” Otto asked.

“Before I fell unconscious, he said he was worried I wouldn’t come back. I almost didn’t.” He shifted, the chains rattling. God, he wanted to put his arms down so badly.

“To take eighteen state alchemists, all in one night, that must have been one hell of an organized plan,” Williams said.

She was right. He had seen both Williams and Otto today. And the rest of the alchemists in the room were probably accounted for as well. They took them all tonight, probably at around the same time.

“There has to be more than one, then,” he said. “My clothes are still wet and I wasn’t home for very long before the drugs took effect. They couldn’t risk having someone pass out only to wake up before they could get to him. They had to have a person following each of us, or at least staking out our homes so they could grab us as soon as possible.”

Another groan echoed throughout the room. “Ow, my head.”

Mustang recognized that to be Colonel Owens, another state alchemist. “Owens,” he said, trying to keep his voice low so as not to alert the guards that they were awake if there were any guards.

“Mustang? Great, just who I wanted to be stuck with during a hostage negotiation.”

“I don’t think we’re hostages, sir,” Otto said, his chain clinking and his body shifting.

“Is anyone injured?” Mustang asked. It probably should have been the first question he asked, to be honest. He assumed all of them had been drugged, but that didn’t mean others weren’t taken out with more violent methods.

Once more everyone responded in the negative. Owens seemed to mark a turning point as slowly, everyone else came awake. Mustang’s suspicions were proven correct. They were all state alchemists. They had all been drugged through liquid means. They had all been taken tonight from their homes.

“Colonel Otto, you live alone, correct?” he asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“How about the rest of you?”

One by one, they all said yes.

“So, they managed to get eighteen state alchemists who all live alone. Definitely well organized.”

“That’s not all,” Otto said. “If I remember correctly, we all live in approximately the same area.”

He was right. This particular area was crawling with military personal. It wasn’t far from Eastern Command, only about fifteen minutes or so.

“Then we should be close by to where we live,” Dr. Morgan said. “They wouldn’t go through all the trouble to only pick those of us who live in the same area and then transport us miles away.”

“Why not?” Williams asked. “Us being in the same place makes it easier to take us, but once we’re out, we’re out.”

Mustang shook his head. “The drug loses its potency too quickly. They couldn’t risk having one of us wake up during transport, remember. Morgan is right, we’re probably close to our residences.”

“But they aren’t going to keep us here,” Hyde said. “Once everyone figures out we’re gone, there’s going to be a witch hunt. No way someone put this much work into a plan only to have it fall apart because we’re ten minutes from where we live.”

“We still haven’t figured out who took us and what they want with us,” Otto said. “My money is on Drachma spies.”

“Really?” Mustang asked. “I think it’s a domestic terrorist group.”

“In your dreams, Mustang,” Otto scoffed. “This is way too organized for a terrorist group. This reeks of money and military precision. It’s Drachma.”

“Whoever it is, we need to figure out a way to get out of here,” he continued. “We can’t risk being taken to a second location.”

Owens sighed. “All of our Alchemy is useless. We don’t have anything to draw with and even if we did, the way our hands are, we couldn’t use them.”

“Well, you’re a pessimist.” He was right, though. The way they were now, they were all practically useless. He twisted the shackles, trying to see if there was a weak point he could exploit so they’d break.

“Only one of us needs to get out,” he continued. “Then they can help the others escape. There are eighteen alchemists in this room. That’s a lot of firepower on our side.”

“Yeah, but breaking out is the problem,” Otto said.

Mustang resisted the urge to shout back at him. He knew that breaking the chains was the problem. He knew without any of their materials they were sitting ducks. He knew this was a shitty situation. But sitting around groaning about it wasn’t going to make it any easier.

The sound of a lock turning made them all perk up. The door swung open to reveal four armed men walking in, scowling. They marched up to Colonel Otto. Before Mustang could ask them what they were doing, one slammed the butt of his rifle into the side of Colonel Otto’s face.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Morgan shouted.

Otto slumped over to the side. Mustang could see he wasn’t unconscious, but he was dazed.

The men didn’t answer Morgan and unshackled him from the wall, dragging him out of the cell. Smart. They didn’t want to risk him lunging at them while his hands were down so they stunned him enough to keep him from doing anything.

The door didn’t stay closed long. It swung open and another set of men stepped through, this time dragging another soldier through the door and chaining him to the wall. Shit. There were nineteen of them now. Nineteen hostages. As the door swung closed, plunging them back into darkness, Mustang finally admitted they were way over their heads.

As much as he hated to admit it, he did kind of wish Ed was here. Granted, the kid was a trouble magnet and could make the entire situation much, much worse. However, just like he had a knack for getting into trouble, he also had a knack for getting out of trouble. He was crafty, clever, and cunning. He had been in situations with way worse odds, injured and alone, and somehow managed to get out alive. So, Roy Mustang decided he was going to do the one thing he told himself he would never do. He was going to think like Edward Elric.

God, this day couldn’t get any worse.

*****

“Could this get any worse,” Ed grumbled, taking a break to massage the muscles right above the port on his leg.

What was supposed to be a fifteen-minute walk to the nearest pharmacy was now closing in on twenty minutes. His muscles were pissed at him for daring to use them when he was already sore and in pain.

“Should have just stayed at the dorms. Got Al to make me a heating pad or something,” he sighed. Instead, he was out in the dark looking for some goddamn painkillers in the rain.

This was Mustang’s fault. He’d come into work late tomorrow just to show that Bastard. Wait. What time was he supposed to come to work? It didn’t matter. He’d figure out how to piss off Mustang tomorrow no problem.

He could see the pharmacy in the distance. The bright lights pouring onto the dark street, illuminating everything else around it.

“Finally,” he said. Just one more street to cross and he’d be there. He stopped with his leg massage and decided to just tough it out the last few steps.

As he crossed the street, the light from the pharmacy shifted, lighting up a single white glove on the sidewalk, in front of the building next to the pharmacy. Maybe it was because he was still thinking about all the ways to piss off Mustang, but that white glove made his body go cold and his heart stop.

He hobbled up to it, praying there were no red stitches on it. He had white gloves too, after all. They were a fashionable accessory. Lots of people probably had them. There was no way Mustang would be this stupid and leave his glove lying on the sidewalk. He was neurotic about keeping track of these things.

Red stitches were on the glove.

“That doesn’t mean anything. It could be a design choice,” Ed said, picking it up off the ground. It was soaked from lying on the wet pavement. He flattened it out in his hands. Everything stood still. He couldn’t breathe. On the glove, in neat, perfect stitches, was a familiar transmutation circle.

“Still doesn’t mean anything. He could have dropped it by accident.”

Mustang never treated these gloves so carelessly. It would be like Hawkeye leaving a gun just lying on the street. Or Fuery accidentally dropping his radio equipment. Mustang was in trouble.

Ed heard the sounds of a car approaching. He scrambled back into the alley, taking off his coat and pulling his black jacket over his head so he could blend in better with the darkness. He didn’t know why he did this. After all, this was a public street. The car was probably a perfectly innocent person coming home after a long day at work.

It stopped in front of the building. He didn’t let his eyes leave it, watching every move the people inside made. There were three men inside the car. No. Wait. There was someone else inside as well.

Ed’s eyes widened in horror as he watched two of the men drag out an unconscious person, looping their arms around their necks and dragging him up the stairs. To a passerby, it would simply look like some helpful friends getting their buddy home after they had too much to drink. But that person was wearing an army uniform. And Mustang’s glove was right outside this place.

Ed swallowed and watched them maneuver the person up the stairs and through the door. A fourth man poked his head outside. Someone had kidnapped Mustang and this other person. That had to be what was going on.

He put his jacket back on and stuffed the glove in his pocket. If Mustang didn’t have it, then he was defenseless. He stepped back to look at the building. It was a single-family home. Rather large but there was enough space you could conceivably hide two soldiers from the military. Also, if Ed wasn’t mistaken, Mustang lived somewhere around here. It’d be easy to transport him a few blocks.

“This is such a bad idea,” he groaned.

If Mustang were here, he’d start shouting about protocol and backup and doing things by the book. He had to admit, going up against at least four armed men was probably not the smartest thing in the world. He should go tell Al and call Hawkeye.

He bit his lip and looked back at the building. The dorms were fifteen minutes away, at least. By the time he got there, got a phone, got in contact with someone, and then got back to the building, it might be too late. These people could be torturing Mustang right now. He could be dying in there.

No, he had to go. He had to try and get Mustang out of this building. But, no one knew he was here. If he got captured, then they’d all be shit out of luck.

An idea sprang into his head. He snuck back out into the street and clapped his hands together as softly as he could, pressing them to the side of the building. The exterior paint shuddered and twisted, words forming over the house. He pulled his hands away to admire his handy work.

“A state alchemist is being held prisoner here. Please call for help.” It read, listing every phone number Ed could think of. There was Hughes, Hawkeye, Havoc, Fuery, Breda, Falman, Central Command, Eastern Command, the library, Mustang (not that that would be any help), Major Armstrong, and a few others thrown in for good measure. A picture of Mustang completed his mural, though it wasn’t a very flattering picture of him. Mustang’s ego was big enough. He didn’t need a flattering picture.

“There, that ought to do it,” he said, slipping back into the alley. Hopefully, someone would pass by, read the sign, and make the call so that someone would do something to help him out.

He crept up to a window and peeked inside. The room looked like some sort of study and it was dark. Perfect.

He clapped his hands together and put them on the wall next to the window, a small door appearing. He slipped inside and undid the alchemy.

“That was easy,” he said, hopping onto the floor and straightening up to look around. Now, he just had to slip out and sneak through the house to find Mustang and the other soldier, give Mustang his glove back and bust out of here like a badass.

“If I kidnapped a state alchemist, where would I put them?” he muttered, taking in the room around him.

The desk in front of him was a large wooden desk in front of him. The thick wood came almost to the floor and it was big enough that even Al would be able to lay on it. It was tacky as hell. Ostentation, if he were being kind. There were papers piled on the desk, complete with maps, letters, and what appeared to be some invoices. He fingered through them briefly but decided it was probably a waste of time. He should focus on finding Mustang first, and then on espionage. He heard footsteps coming down the hall.

“Shit!” He whirled around, trying to figure out someplace to hide. The curtains were too thin, they’d see him. There wasn’t a closet he could stuff himself into. The footsteps were getting closer. He couldn’t open up another door on the wall without them seeing the flash and hearing the clap. And he certainly couldn’t make a door and unmake the door. They would know he was here. He was going to be caught.

They stopped in front of the door. Ed’s body moved and he dove under the desk just in time for the door to open and the lights to flick on. He squeezed himself as far forward as he could, holding his breath so the men who walked into the room couldn’t hear him. He peaked under the gap in the front of the desk and saw four men. Three were standing and one was being held between them. This wasn’t the soldier they had taken in earlier since was still in uniform. This man was wearing street clothes. It looked like he was wearing pajamas. Did they have three hostages?

One of the men stomped around to the desk and pulled out the chair. Ed’s eyes widened and he smashed himself against the front. The man settled into the chair and moved it forward. He almost breathed a sigh of relief when he realized the desk was deep enough that the man’s legs did not come to the front. He didn’t have a lot of room, but as long as the man didn’t stretch out his legs, he should be fine.

The man at the desk said something and the man being held up by the guards was forced to his knees.

“Colonel Andrew Otto, State Alchemist with military for fifteen years,” Desk Man said.

Ed’s eyes widened. Colonel Otto? He was known for his skill in transmuting metal. It made him a very valuable asset when it came to weapons. He spent most of his time fixing broken ones. He and Mustang seemed to get along okay, occasionally meeting up after work. This confirmed it. At least three soldiers were being held captive, and two of those soldiers were state alchemists. This wasn’t looking good.

“What the hell do you want?”

“We check each of you. Make sure men got right person.” His accent was thick. So, he was from Drachma. Drachma spies? Of course, it made sense a bunch of spies would want to get a bunch of alchemists. Amestris was one of the few places that managed to utilize alchemists in a military capacity efficiently.

“And after you check each of us?” Colonel Otto asked.

“Then you go back with others.”

Others? Mustang? It had to be. On the upside, Colonel Otto didn’t seem to be injured. Or, at least the part of him that Ed saw didn’t appear to be injured. Hopefully, that meant Mustang was alright as well.

“But what do you want with us?” Colonel Otto continued. “Do you want information? Ransom? What?”

“Metal alchemist who does a lot of work with weapons,” Desk Man said, flicking through the papers on his desk. “We have good use for you, yes.” He said something in Drachman.

“Wait! You haven’t answered any of my questions!” Colonel Otto cried as he was forced to his feet and dragged out of the room.

Ed glanced back at Desk Man, who had yet to move. He was making notes. He could hear the pen scratching. Ed’s leg seized again and he struggled not to make a noise or move. Being in this awkward position, stuffed under a desk, almost made the pain worse.

The door opened again. A woman was pushed through and on her knees like Colonel Otto.

“Lieutenant Colonel Mary Williams. Water alchemist. With state for ten years.”

Ed’s eyes widened. She wasn’t who he saw as well. He often saw her in the library. She was friendly and quick to point out books that might be of interest to him and share her notes. That meant these people had somehow managed to incapacitate at least three alchemists. And here he was, stuffed under a desk thinking it would be a simple rescue mission.

Lieutenant Colonel Williams was taken out. Dr. Morgan was brought in. Dr. Morgan was taken out. Colonel Owens was brought in. Colonel Owens was taken out. Each time Ed thought this had to be the end. There had to be no more people. But they were at eighteen. Eighteen state alchemists, who had all been taken by these guys. Most of them were no longer in their uniforms. They had left the office. They had gotten changed. They had been taken from their homes.

It went on for what felt like hours. His back, neck, and legs were now fully locked, cramping and seizing almost constantly. It was getting harder and harder not to make a sound. His head hurt from the awkward angle and staring out of a slit in the desk. Each time Desk Man moved, Ed feared it would be the moment his foot finally touched him. The moment he finally figured out they had an unwelcomed guest underneath the desk.

The door opened and another man in uniform was brought in and forced to his knees.

Desk Man scribbled some notes. This was the longest he had gone without saying anything.

“Well, what do you want?” Mustang asked.

Thank God, he was still alive. He sounded relatively okay, though, from this angle, Ed couldn’t see much.

“Colonel Roy Mustang. Flame Alchemist—”

“I know who I am. You don’t need to remind me,” Mustang growled.

What was this idiot doing? Why was he antagonizing them?

“And you’re from Drachma, right?”

The man stopped writing. “Yes, correct.”

“Damn, now I owe Otto money.”

The writing stopped “Do you think this is game, Flame Alchemist?” Desk Man said. He sounded angry.

“I think you guys have no common decency. Seriously, you didn’t even give me a chance to get into some dry clothes. And you spiked my drink. You’re not very polite.”

What had gotten into him? Why was he acting so reckless?

Desk Man said something. Ed had to clap a hand over his mouth to keep from crying out as one of the guards hit Mustang, sending his body careening to the side. Mustang threw out his hands to catch himself before he hit the floor. The man simply hit him again and Mustang collapsed onto the ground. A trickle of blood starting to make its way down his cheek.

“You think you are in control here?” Desk Man said. He sounded calm and relaxed. “You are not. I am in control here. Now, be quiet before I cut out tongue.”

Mustang opened his eyes. And saw him through the crack. His eyes widened and he visibly paled. For a moment there, Ed hoped he didn’t see him under the desk. It was a small crack, after all. The chances of seeing him were very slim.

“Get out of here,” he growled. Okay, guess he saw him.

“What?” Desk Man asked.

Mustang pulled his gaze away from Ed and flicked it upwards. “I said get out of here. Get out of here and nothing bad will happen.”

How Mustang thought Ed, who was still stuck underneath a desk surrounded by guys with guns, was supposed to somehow get out of here was beyond him. Besides, he was here specifically to get Mustang out of this situation. He wasn’t going to abandon it just because Colonel Jackass didn’t want his help. He was going to save him and the other eighteen alchemists that had been trapped with him.

Desk Man let out a booming laugh. “You have spirit, Flame Alchemist. I look forward to crushing it out of you.”

He snapped his fingers and Mustang was pulled back to a sitting position.

“I have question for you.”

“I’m not going to answer it.”

“Where is Fullmetal Alchemist?” Desk Man asked.

This time, it was Ed’s turn to pale. Though, judging by the way Mustang’s body went rigid he also didn’t like the question.

“What do you want with him?”

“Same thing we want with all of you,” Desk Man said nonchalantly. “He is child. Easier to mold into perfect soldier. Isn’t that right?”

“I didn’t recruit him to mold him into a perfect soldier.” He didn’t know if Mustang was trying to convince Desk Man or him. It didn’t matter because he didn’t care.

Alright. He cared a little. He knew he was a dog of the military, but it was nice to hear the Mustang say it.

“I do not care. We drug his drink, but he does not go unconscious. He leaves home. We lose track of him. Where is he?”

Drugged his drink? The milk? That had to be it. There were no other drinks in his dorm.

“That makes no sense,” Mustang said. “The rest of us live alone. Ed doesn’t.”

“We drug drink of brother too. He does not go unconscious either. We care little for him.”

For once, Ed was glad Al was in his metal body. Had he been human, he might have been drugged and knocked unconscious.

“I don’t know where he is. Believe it or not, I don’t have trackers on my subordinates. When they’re off the clock. They’re free to do what they want and go where they want. Maybe you guys shouldn’t have lost the kid.”

The man at his side hit him again, sending him crashing back down to the floor. He locked eyes with Ed briefly before being pulled back up.

“We break your fingers until you tell us. You need them to—” he snapped.

Ed winced. That sound had ingrained in him the instinct of ducking for cover. Mustang was a great shot and had never gotten close to hitting him with the fire, but that didn’t mean he was unaffected by it.

“Break all the fingers you want. That still won’t change the fact that I do not know where he is.”

What? No! Don’t break the fingers. He had the glove! If his fingers were broken, he couldn’t use the fucking glove.

Desk Man was silent for several minutes.

“Our boss looked forward to having the child. We will come back for him.”

“Like hell you will,” Mustang snarled.

Desk Man laughed again. “What will you do about it, Flame Alchemist?”

“I’ll figure something out. You don’t need to worry about that.”

Was he talking to Desk Man or Ed? It didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to abandon him. He could figure this out. Especially now that Mustang knew he was here, they had a leg up on these guys. He wouldn’t let anything bad happen. He’d get them all out.

Desk Man barked some orders at the other two and he was pulled to his feet and shoved out the door. That had to be it. There couldn’t be another person down in that basement. The door opened and a man said something. Desk Man started shouting and the man shouted back.

Please, God, let them leave. If nothing else, he just wanted to sit up and stretch his body back into its normal shape.

The man at the door was shoved aside and another one came in.

“Lewis, what are you doing here?” Desk Man said. “I have everything under control.”

“I just got word that you’re missing Elric!”

Ed’s eyes widened. Lewis, as in Lieutenant Lewis. He worked in the Personnel Department. He was the one who took care of pensions; who knew where people lived; who would have access to all records on state alchemists.

“He is just a boy. We will come back for him later.”

Lewis groaned. “There won’t be a later. Look, we have to move now if we want to make it to the border by sunrise. What are you going to say when we show up to the rendezvous with nineteen alchemists instead of twenty? What’s going to happen to me?”

“Worried Drachma won’t give you protection?” Desk Man asked.

“Yes. I trusted you. I let you take the lead on this. I gave you everything you asked for. If your superiors don’t like that I delivered them nineteen high-quality weapons instead of twenty, it’s going to be your neck on the line, Ivanovich, not mine.”

Oh, so that was his name. Ed was still going to call him Desk Man.

“You knew what you were getting yourself into. Don’t take me for idiot.”

Lewis sighed and started pacing the room. “They want Elric, though. They specifically asked for him. We can’t show up without him.”

“We cannot stay here either! As soon as sun rises, people will notice they are missing and come looking.”

He stopped pacing. “Elric’s pretty loyal. We could have him come to us. We drop enough clues and he’ll come to save Mustang.”

The fact that that was exactly what happened kind of made him mad. He prided himself on hating Mustang, openly. How was it that Lewis of all people knew that he would come to save him?

“What about others? Mustang has entire team.”

Lewis was pacing again. “No, Elric is reckless and a loner. He’ll come alone, or with his brother. Give me an hour to figure out a way to get him to come to us.”

“One hour. Then we leave. We already waste too much time here. Should have left hours ago.”

“You know, it’s a little out of my control what time people go home. It’s not my fault that Mustang and Franco took forever to leave the fucking office.” He stomped out the door and slammed it shut before Ivanovich could respond.

The room was quiet once more. Ivanovich pushed back his chair, flicked off the lights, and closed the door.

*****

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

What the hell was Ed doing here?

That reckless, unpredictable little idiot was going to ruin everything. True, Mustang had told him to go. But this was Edward Fucking Elric they were talking about. Chances of him following an order was about as likely as Hughes not talking about his daughter. And he had been doing so well trying to channel the little punk.

Fuck.

Mustang could let Ed do what he did best, make a mess and somehow come out on top. That felt wrong, though. He was a leader, a Colonel. One day he was going to run this country. What kind of man would he be if he sat back and let his subordinate (a child) do all the work? True, he often shunted off more tedious projects (mine inspections, paperwork, official memos) to the other members of his staff. But when it counted, when they truly needed him, he showed up in force to kick ass and remind everyone that he was terrifying and capable.

They were looking for Ed. They wanted him here with them. They specifically broke their pattern of going after single alchemists who lived alone in the same general area to target him. He was already planning on getting everyone out of here (surely leading an internal rescue of eighteen state alchemists would help him reach a promotion sooner). Now, he was going to do everything in his power to make sure they didn’t lay a hand on Ed. Hopefully, that sneaky little brat would remain sneaky and not draw attention to himself. All Mustang had to do was stick to the plan.

They turned a corner. He glanced to his captors on either side before lunging to the side, jamming his shoulder into the man’s ribs. He let out a surprised cry and crumbled to the ground.

Mustang whirled around and kicked the other man in the head, sending him flying down the hallway. Someone tackled him from behind, smashing him into the floor. With his arms bound in front of him like this, it was difficult to fight. Perhaps that’s why the other man underestimated him enough for him to elbow him in the diaphragm and throw him off. A picture frame fell from the wall. He turned and gripped the lapels of the man in front of him, several pins popping off as he kneed him in the stomach.

Mustang turned and charged at the man he had kicked earlier, crashing him through a wooden table in the hall covered in knick-knacks, writing utensils, and a bowl filled with paperclips, sending them scattering across the room.

He was tackled again from behind. Just barely managing to turn his face before his face was jammed into a bunch of paperclips. A few of them stabbed into his skin, drawing blood. Perfect.

“Get up you dog!” The man roared, pulling him to his feet.

He barely managed to get his footing before he was punched in the face, sending him back onto the ground. The man kicked him a few times for good measure. Mustang could tell he was holding back. Made sense. They wanted to deliver them to Drachma, which meant they needed for them to be alive. That didn’t mean they couldn’t make him hurt.

Finally, the man stopped, panting.

Mustang was yanked to his feet once more and shoved down the stairs, rolling the last few steps before skidding to a halt on the floor. He heard a few gasps.

“How’d the escape attempt go?” Otto asked.

“Exactly as I planned,” he said.

The man yanked his arms back and chained them to the wall. He knelt, glaring at him. “You do that again, I start cutting off parts.” He cursed and left the room, slamming the door.

“Try not to get yourself killed, Mustang,” Otto continued. “Believe it or not, you are an asset to the military.”

“Oh, I know I’m an asset. And like I said. My escape attempt went exactly according to plan.” He uncurled his fingers to reveal a marker, a paperclip, and a long, thin flat pin clutched between them.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Owens chuckled. “We might just get out of this alive.”

Mustang let the marker fall to the floor. He didn’t need it at the moment. What he needed now was to pick the locks. Thankfully, Hughes was a paranoid son of a bitch and regularly tested him on various ways to get out of restraints. Including the tried-and-true method of breaking your thumbs. At the time, Mustang found the endless lock-picking drills extreme and pointless. He was only in it because Hughes bought him liquor after each of their sessions. He had become a master of picking all sorts of locks in all sorts of positions. Though, he did put a halt to it when Hughes wanted him to pick a lock upside down with only his left hand and the stem of a rose. Still, he couldn’t deny those skills were coming in handy right now as he worked the lock mechanism, waiting for the vibrations and the click that would signal that he was free.

It seemed like everyone was holding their breath as he worked. Good. He didn’t want any distractions now. Finally, after several agonizing minutes, the latch clicked open and his hands dropped to his lap.

Everyone let out a sigh of relief.

“Alright, let’s get going.” He turned to start drawing a transmutation circle around Otto’s wrists. He should probably tell them about Ed, so they didn’t do anything to put the kid’s life in danger.

“Fullmetal is also here,” he said, completing the circle and pausing for a moment, listening for a guard. It was quiet so he went ahead and broke the lock.

“Really? Where are they keeping him?” Morgan asked.

“They’re not keeping him anywhere. He broke in.”

“Seems convenient,” Otto said, rubbing his wrists. “Are we sure he’s not with the Drachmans?”

Mustang resisted the urge to deck the man. How dare he even suggest the kid was a spy. He was reckless and stubborn, but he was loyal. If not to his country, then at least to Mustang and his men.

“He’s not.” Another lock was broken. Just sixteen more people to go. Maybe he should have grabbed more markers.

“I don’t know,” Owens said. “We were talking about it and think it might be an inside job. They had a lot of details about our lives. Tracking and figuring out the routine of one person is hard enough, but to do nineteen—”

“Twenty,” Mustang interrupted him.

“But there’s—”

“Fullmetal was on their list too. They didn’t get him, though.”

“That doesn’t fit with the pattern,” Williams said. “He doesn’t live alone or in this area.”

“He was specifically requested by the Drachma Army. Something about it being easier to mold him into a perfect soldier since he’s still young.”

“It seems too convenient for me,” Otto said.

Mustang knew, logically, that this was a good assumption. The sheer number of coincidences that had to have happened to get Ed into this building had to be nearly impossible. Come to think of it, what was he doing in this part of town so late at night? It was suspicious. But Mustang knew this kid. He trusted this kid. This was the kid that would charge headlong into situations because someone he didn’t know needed help. This was the kid that tricked corrupt officials into giving up their power. This was the kid who shouldered responsibilities so heavy, they’d crush any other person. This was the kid who put everyone’s issues above his own, going to the point of endangering himself just to make sure no one else got hurt or made his mistakes. Mustang trusted him. He needed everyone else to trust him.

“Fullmetal has a habit of getting himself into trouble and stumbling across big conspiracies. I wouldn’t be surprised he was just out for a walk, saw someone,” probably him, “get taken into the house, and decided to rush in instead of calling for backup. It’s happened before.”

“If he’s free, then why are we worrying about getting out of here?” Otto asked.

Mustang shoved down the anger that was growing inside of him. These people were seriously asking why they weren’t sitting around waiting for some child to save them? How selfish of them! He took a deep breath.

“First off, Fullmetal doesn’t know where we’re at. I saw a set of stairs while they were taking me to the office which means there are at least three levels. The house itself seems rather old which means there may be a fourth level, maybe even an attic. Searching that much space by himself increases the chances that he’ll get caught and thrown down here with us. Secondly, there are nineteen of us in this room. We all got put down here at about the same time which means there had to be at least nineteen men watching us, twenty if you count the one who was supposed to take the kid. They probably traveled in pairs so one could act as a lookout which means there are at least forty people who are actively going to prevent us from leaving. Even for a very well-trained fighter, going up against forty people is a lot.”

Not to mention Ed did not like killing people and would go out of his way to not fatally harm anyone. While Mustang commended his optimism and idealism, he couldn’t pretend like that wasn’t a weakness. Not wanting to kill your opponent meant you were more likely to hold back. Of course, the only saving grace was that these men wanted them all alive, which meant they would be in the same position as the kid. They might even be at a disadvantage if they weren’t used to fighting without killing.

“Finally, they’re going to want to move us and they’re going to want to move us soon. They took nineteen of us in one night. That’s not going to go unnoticed and there will be a manhunt as soon as people realize. If they want to get us over the border, they’re going to need to move us sooner rather than later. That doesn’t give Fullmetal a lot of time to put forty armed and dangerous people out of commission, find us, and free us. Does that answer your questions?”

“Yeah, that pretty much covers it,” Owens said.

“Fantastic,” Mustang muttered. He had managed to break four more people out of the locks. Otto took the marker from him and continued working on the rest.

“What’s the plan then?” Otto asked.

Mustang grinned. So, they were going to follow his lead and his command. Maybe that promotion was closer than he thought.

*****

Ed stayed smashed underneath the desk for several minutes, straining to hear if Ivanovich was coming back. He only rushed from his hiding spot when he heard sounds of a struggle outside. He had to help Mustang. He had his gloves!

The sound of feet rushing by, thankfully, stopped him from slamming open the door and jumping headlong into the fight.

He stayed there, frozen for what felt like hours but in reality, was only a few seconds. He felt useless, worthless even. Mustang was getting the crap kicked out of him and Ed didn’t even lift a finger to help. His muscles seized and the cramp in his shoulder started back up.

An hour, he had an hour to figure out a way to get everyone out of the building. He bit his lip and looked back to the desk, papers still stacked high. Lewis was also a problem. He was a spy. He was the one who set this whole thing up. Even if Ed did manage to get everyone out (hopefully they were all being kept in the same place), Lewis would likely go free. He could continue selling information to the Drachma. It would only be Ed’s word to prove it. Even Mustang didn’t know about him.

He dashed over the desk and started looking through the papers, frantically. There had to be something here that proved Lewis was the one behind all of this. Ed wouldn’t allow that man to go free. His heart sank as he scammed over the papers. Even if the letters straight up said Lewis was a spy, he couldn’t tell. They were all written in Drachman. For all he knew, it could be letters from Ivanovich’s mother! Hughes once tried to convince him to learn a bunch of foreign languages, just in case. At the time he didn’t see a need. His head was stuffed full of alchemical equations and chemical compositions. Now he wished he had listened to the man.

You know what, the papers were all coming with him anyways. Something here had to be of use. He went over to a leather chair in the corner and transmuted it into a large bag. He scooped up as many of the papers as he could find and shoved them all in there. Someone in the military could figure out what the hell they said.

He looped the bag over his shoulders and stared at the door again. He was on the ground floor. From the outside, it looked like there were three main floors along with a basement and a potential attic. The attic was likely not to hold prisoners as the structure wouldn’t support that many. The other floors all had giant windows that looked into the room. While it was dark out and people weren’t technically looking for suspicious activity, it was a huge risk to put prisoners where they could easily be seen and easily escape.

Which left the basement. If Ed was looking to hold nineteen people prisoner in an old home, that’s where he’d hold them. He’d go down there, free everyone, and tell them about Lewis. Him alone wouldn’t be enough to prove the man was a spy if these papers were useless. But, if he convinced nineteen other alchemists that the HR rep was the traitor, then it’d be more difficult to deny.

He put Mustang’s glove on the ground and clapped his hands together. He transmuted the water off the glove, leaving it dry as a bone. Now Mustang had a weapon. They could do this. They could break out of here and stop Lewis from destroying Amestris with his knowledge.

He just hoped Mustang wasn’t going to do anything to mess with his plan.

*****

Riza hated the rain while she was at work. It meant the Colonel was useless. And, because he seemed allergic to carrying a gun, she had to be extra careful to keep track of him. However, as soon as she got home and took off her uniform for the night, she relaxed.

Rainy days were some of her favorites. There was nothing like curling up with some fuzzy slippers, a steaming cup of tea, and a good book. Now that she had Black Hayate, rainy days were even better. Something about a dog curled up on the rug snoozing peacefully made her forget about all the bad things going on in the world.

She had settled in for the evening. Her book was reaching the climax and she was hoping to finish it tonight. Scar hadn’t been seen in months and there was no chatter of any potential threat that could ruin her evening. God, when’s the last time she got to relax? She turned the page. The heroine was racing to defeat the murder before they got away for good. She was almost there…

The phone rang.

Riza glared at it. She was half-tempted to let it ring, as punishment for interrupting her quiet, peaceful night in. It continued to ring.

Well, she wouldn’t get anything done while it was ringing. Might as well see what it was about.

She put down her book, sighed, and picked up the phone. If it was Mustang, drunk calling her again, she was going to shoot him.

“Hello, this is Riza Hawkeye.”

“Hello, is this Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye?” a very weak, frail voice said. Whoever it was sounded very old.

“Yes, this is, ma’am. How can I help you?” She didn’t remember giving her phone number to any old women recently.

“It’s about the mural.”

“Mural?”

“Yes, the one on the house next to the pharmacy.”

That was strange. “What about this mural? Is it graffiti?” If it was graffiti, that was a bit outside of her jurisdiction. How did this woman get her phone number anyway? She asked for her by name, giving her rank and everything.

“Um… no… it’s not graffiti,” the woman continued. “It says… Oh, hold on a moment, let me get my glasses. It’s so dark outside with all this rain.”

Riza tapped her fingers on the table. Half of her wanted to chalk this up to a prank call and hang up. After all, old ladies could be pranksters too. The other half of her wanted to see where this was going.

“It says ‘A state alchemist is being held prisoner here. Please call for help.’”

Riza froze.

“Then it lists a bunch of phone numbers. The ones for Central and Eastern Command didn’t pick up. So, I called you. I hope you don’t mind. It is late out.”

She took a moment to breathe. “And do you think this is a prank, ma’am?”

“Oh, no… I don’t think so. I thought so at first… but there have been a lot of strange men hanging around that building lately. And tonight…so many cars parking in front at around the same time.”

“Okay. Where is this pharmacy at?”

“On the corner of Fifth and West. There haven’t been any cars parked out front for a while.”

Fifth and West was near where Mustang lived. It had to be a coincidence. Except, it stated clear as day a state alchemist was being held captive. Was it a trap?

“Is there anything else I can do for you, my dear?” the woman asked.

“No, thank you for letting me know. I’ll look into it immediately.”

“Okay. Be safe. Lots of strange people have been hanging around there.”

“I know. Thank you.” She said goodbye and hung up. It was suspicious that a mural with her phone number appeared on a pharmacy. As well as a few other military ones. She kicked off her fuzzy slippers and got dressed.

“Colonel, I swear to god if you’re the one behind this I will chain you to your desk,” she grumbled, clipping up her hair.

The phone rang again.

“This is Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye.”

“Yes, I own a pharmacy on Fifth and West.”

Fantastic, another person now had her phone number.

“Is this about the mural, sir?”

“Yeah. It showed up about thirty minutes ago. I thought it was kids playing a prank, but I just heard something that sounds like a fight. I thought you might like to look into it.”

“Thank you, sir. I am aware of the mural and heading to investigate.”

“Great. That’s good to hear. Do you need any help? I can call the other numbers on it.”

“No, that won’t be necessary. I’ll inform the proper channels.”

“Alright, miss. Good luck.”

“Thank you.” She barely hung up the phone before it rang again.

This time, she almost let it ring through. She knew about the mural. She was heading to check it out. She didn’t need any other little old ladies or shopkeepers to call her and tell her about it. But the last man had been helpful, telling her about the fight. This one might also have useful information.

She picked it up. This was the last one she was going to take. “Hello, this is Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye. Is this about the mural on the building at Fifth and West?”

“Yeah, how did you know?” Al’s voice came through the speaker.

“Alphonse? Where are you calling from? Do you know anything about the mural?” Okay, if she was worried before, now she was a bit scared. For Al to be calling, especially at this time of night, something was wrong. More than likely, something was wrong with Ed. Which meant there was a mysterious mural with her phone number on it near where the Colonel lived and Ed’s brother just happened to be calling about it.

“Brother didn’t have any pain medication, so he went to the pharmacy about an hour ago. When he didn’t come back, I went to look for him. We still haven’t caught Scar yet and especially with this weather he’s not at his best. I saw the mural, though. I asked the shopkeeper if he had seen brother. He didn’t and I got worried. I remembered Colonel Mustang lived nearby and went to ask for his help.”

Her heart was pounding now. Only by the grace of God and several years of military training did she not start to panic.

“Did you get ahold of him?”

“No. He’s not in his apartment.”

She took a deep breath. Panicking wouldn’t help anyone. “Are there signs of a struggle?”

“I don’t know. The door was opened when I got here, but it wasn’t broken in. And there’s a glass on the floor, but that’s about it. Nothing else is out of place, but there’s also no sign of Colonel Mustang. His coat isn’t even here, but his bag is, so I think he came home.”

“And do you think the mural is a trap?”

“No. Maybe? It’s definitely brother’s work. He’s not a very good artist and even using alchemy his writing isn’t that great.”

“Alright. Alphonse, I need you to go to the building and remove the mural. Try to do so without being spotted by the people inside. Once you’re done with that, come back to Colonel Mustang’s apartment and wait for the rest of the team.”

“But—”

“No, we don’t know what’s going on. If you charge into that house, you might risk getting captured yourself or put Ed and the Colonel’s life at risk. I’ll be there in a few minutes and we can plan this together. Can you do that for me?”

He didn’t answer immediately. “Yes, I can do that for you.”

She let out a sigh of relief. If she knew where Al was, that was one less thing for her to worry about. “Good. Make sure you don’t get caught. I’ll be there with the rest of the team soon.”

“Alright. Thank you.”

She hung up the phone and dialed Havok. It rang for a few minutes before he answered.

“Yes, I know about the fucking mural. I’m working on it!”

“Havoc,” she said, keeping her voice calm and authoritative.

“Oh, Hawkeye, I was just about to call you. There’s a—”

“I know. The colonel is not in his apartment and Ed’s missing as well. I’ll contact Falman. You get Fuery and Breda. Put in a call to the top and meet me at the Colonel’s apartment immediately. Bring your tactical gear.”

“Yes sir,” he said.

She hung up the phone and grabbed her weapons. So much for a relaxing rainy night in. God, she was going to murder those boys.

*****

Ed opened the door a crack and peeked out of it. The hallway was empty. He took a deep breath and slipped out the door. He just had to find the stairs to the basement, break out Mustang, give him his glove back, and then they’d be all good.

His ears strained to hear the sound of footsteps or talking, anything that might clue him in to where enemies were. He didn’t know how many people were hiding out here. He didn’t know where there were look-outs or guards stationed. He’d just have to pray for luck.

“Hmm, I thought you might eventually show up.”

He froze as Lewis’s voice echoed throughout the room.

“And here I was thinking I’d have to trek back to the dorms to convince you to come out.”

He turned to see Lewis in front of him, holding a gun. “Give it up, Elric. Even with all your alchemy, you can’t outrun a bullet.”

He was right. He also didn’t know Ed well enough. Ed darted to the side, clapping his hands together just as a gunshot rang out. He could feel the bullet whiz by him, barely missing his back by mere centimeters. He slammed his hands against the wall, warping the wallpaper and drywall, fashioning it into a fist, and slamming it against Lewis before he had the chance to fire again.

This little stunt alerted the rest of the house that they were under attack and what seemed to be a hundred men came pouring out into the hallways and down the stairs. Shit. Well, the only way out of this was up. Ed clapped his hands together again and put them to the ground, a pillar shooting him upwards and straight through the floor on the other side. More gunshots followed him up. Didn’t these guys want him alive?

He popped out the floor and hopped off. He was going the wrong way. He needed to go down, not up. Some more men appeared in the doorway, shouting. He clapped his hands together again and put them on the wall. The men all cried out as the wood burst out, whacking them and keeping them from getting into the room.

He created a door and slammed out of it, running towards the stairs.

Men scrambled up them. He skidded to a halt and turned around, sprinting to the other end of the house. His leg seized.

“No, not again!” He cried out, stumbling slightly. This slowed him down enough for one of the men to catch up with him.

He grabbed Ed by the shoulder and yanked him back. He was not going to get captured now and give Colonel Smug-Ass a reason to lecture him. He swung his left leg up and connected it with the man’s face. The man let out a scream and dropped him. Ed took the opportunity to sweep the man’s legs out from underneath him and smash him to the floor.

More shouting. More men appearing in the hallways. Just how many were there?

“Mustang’s right. I probably should have left.” He panted, trying to figure out a way to defeat them all without bringing the entire house down. If Mustang and the others were still in the basement, they could get killed by the rubble.

The backpack was jerking back and forth, throwing off his balance and slowing him down. He was not going to give up these notes. They were the only things that might prove Lewis’s guilt.

A fist slammed into the side of his face, seemingly out of nowhere, sending him flying towards the end of the room. The house was already creaking and groaning from having the various support beams and walls twisted for alchemic purposes. He couldn’t risk using his environment to his advantage. Good thing Teacher didn’t just teach him how to use alchemy.

“Give up, boy. We don’t kill you. Surrender,” the man said, looming over him.

“In your dreams, bastard.” He lunged forward and caught the man on the chin.

Teacher’s words and lessons, drilled into him through months and months of training rang out in his head. Use their momentum against them.

The man threw another punch. This time, Ed was ready and took his arm, throwing him over his shoulder easily. Another one came up from behind him, wrapping him up in a bear hug and lifting him off the ground. Ed threw his head back, slamming it into the man’s nose and causing him to drop him. Despite this victory, he could tell this wasn’t a fight he was going to win. There were too many of them. He wasn’t at his best. He couldn’t use his alchemy. He had to get Mustang and the others out.

*****

The sound of a shot being fired was all of Mustang’s worst nightmares come to life. The only thing that stopped him from flying into a rage was the sound of a clap followed by absolute chaos.

“I’m guessing that’s your major?” Otto asked.

“Yes.” Damn kid. He knew he wasn’t going to leave, that didn’t stop him from being pissed that he didn’t.

“It sounds like he’s trying to bring down the whole house,” Otto said.

They all were out of the shackles now, passing the marker around to draw whatever transmutation circles they needed for their alchemy. Mustang was the only one who didn’t. Without his gloves, he was pretty useless. It was conceivable that at least one man, out of forty, would have a lighter but he couldn’t take that chance. No, he was going to have to kick some ass the old-fashioned way.

“Spread out, help Fullmetal take out as many people as possible, and do everything in your power to keep them alive. I’m sure our Fuhrer wants as much information as possible.”

“Yes, sir!” Everyone replied.

They burst through the door. It was absolute chaos in the building. Mustang could see evidence of Ed’s alchemy scattered about, including a large fist and a tall pillar extending through the floor. He saw Otto take the stairs, using his alchemy to break the guns of the men on them. Ed was probably up there so he should head up there as well.

He didn’t get the chance to, as more men surrounded him, and started shooting. He barely managed to duck behind a pillar before bullets rained down. He grabbed a discarded gun beside him and picked it up to fire it, only to realize it was destroyed.

“Dammit, Otto. Can you at least leave something for me to use?”

Williams was on it, though, water bursting from the pipes and smashing into the men.

The house continued to creak and groan. He could hear the sounds of alchemy being performed all around him. He had to get up to the next level and help Ed and Otto out. The guards seemed to be doing a pretty good job at keeping them trapped down here, though.

“I don’t know if we have enough firepower to take out this man,” Owens said from beside him.

“We will if Otto and the kid get them from behind.”

“Otto?”

“Yeah, he managed to make it up the stairs.”

“How?”

Mustang shrugged and decided to just start chucking any broken guns at their assailants. He got lucky and hit a man in the head, knocking him out.

“Broke their guns.”

“They why are they still able to shoot at us?”

“Maybe they have more?” That sounded like a stupid excuse to him, but it was the only one he had. He saw Otto break the guns. Or, he saw Otto touch the guns as he went up the stairs. How else could he get up there without someone shooting him?

Maybe he just got lucky. Luck was something they could all use right now. Mustang finally found a gun that worked and started firing. Ed could take care of himself, and with all the men focusing on the escaping alchemists, that meant fewer people were after him. Hopefully, the kid could get out of this alive.

*****

There was a lot of commotion downstairs. The men who had been doing their best to get Ed decided dealing with Mustang’s gang below was a much bigger priority. Ed couldn’t help but smirk. Looks like that good-for-nothing Colonel wasn’t good-for-nothing after all.

Still, there were about ten men up here, surrounding him. He couldn’t take them all. He could barely take the few from earlier. He might have to use his alchemy and just hope that the entire house didn’t collapse on them.

Then, he saw Colonel Otto in the doorway. He broke into a smile. He couldn’t take all of these people on his own, but with Colonel Otto here, they stood a better chance.

One of the men lunged at him, swinging a fist towards his face. Ed ducked under it and used the man’s momentum to chuck him over his shoulder. The man flew through the window and out onto the street. He didn’t have time to celebrate this victory as two other men surged towards him.

Why wasn’t Colonel Otto helping? He looked up, worried that he might have been overpowered by another group of people.

No, he was just standing in the doorway, watching them with a contemplative expression on his face.

“Colonel Otto, help me!” He hated that he had to ask for help. Normally, he could take care of himself. He prided himself on being able to take care of himself. But he couldn’t keep this up. Already, his moves were getting sloppier. His hits were getting weaker. How was he supposed to keep fighting at this pace if Colonel Otto didn’t try to help him?

He managed to duck away from a punch, the man smashing his fist into his buddy’s face. Good, he just had to take down eight more. He was going to have to use his alchemy. He was going to have to shift the house’s supports again and hope it didn’t collapse down on him. Why wasn’t Colonel Otto helping?

He clapped his hands together and put them to the wall, the exterior brick hurtling inwards and pelting the remaining eight men until they fell to the ground. He slumped back, exhausted and achy.

Colonel Otto stepped through the rubble.

“Why didn’t you help me, you asshole?” he shouted.

Colonel Otto’s face darkened. Right. Ed could call Mustang pretty much anything he wanted and it wouldn’t rattle the man. Other people, however, he needed to have more respect for.

“You would do well to watch your tone, boy. I am a superior officer. Mustang might not bat an eye at insubordination, but I will.”

Ed shrank back, truly afraid of the man’s underlying threats. “Why didn’t you help me?” He asked again. There weren’t any other people on this floor. It was just him and Colonel Otto. The man could have easily jumped in and helped him.

“I’ve never seen you fight before. It was fascinating to watch how resourceful you are. I understand now why Mustang puts such faith in you.”

Ed scooted back, just a bit. He could hear the sounds of fighting down below. Otto didn’t seem interested in it in the slightest.

“What’s in the bag, Major Elric?”

Ed fingered the straps of the backpack. “Papers and stuff from the office. Lieutenant Lewis sold information to these guys, which is how they knew where to find you. There’s probably lots of evidence in here.”

Otto held out his hand. “Why don’t you give the bag to me? You seem worn down.”

Ed gripped the straps of the bag tighter. “Why aren’t any of the goons up here anymore?”

“You knocked them all out.”

“No, I knocked out ten of them. There were at least thirty running around.”

“They’re all downstairs fighting. Now, come on. Let’s get you out of here.”

His hand slipped into his pocket, gripping Mustang’s glove. “No. I came here to help save Mustang. I’m not leaving without him.” Something was wrong. He didn’t trust Otto and knew the man was up to something.

Otto’s face twisted into that of pure rage. “I am your commanding officer. I order you to come with me.”

Ed laughed. “Hasn’t Mustang ever told you? I don’t follow orders. And you’re not my commanding officer. Mustang is. So, unless you want to drag him up here so he can tell me to leave himself, which I still won’t, I’m not leaving.”

“This isn’t up for discussion!” Otto roared, lunging at him.

Thankfully, the conversation got him a chance to catch his breath, so he could dodge his attack easily.

“Why are you coming after me? We’re all on the same side!”

“You are getting out of here now. We need to get to the border before sunrise.”

There it was. Ed figured Otto might not be as straight-laced as he appeared, but he needed confirmation.

“I thought it was just Lewis—”

“Lewis was a half-brained idiot easy to trick. I was the one behind this operation. You had to go and ruin everything.”

He dodged another attack. “Funny. That does seem to be what I do best. I saw you get taken into the room. I saw them hit you!”

“It was just in case someone like you managed to sneak in and see what was going on. All part of the plan.”

Shit. He needed to let the others know. Mustang probably thought Otto was up here helping him and therefore was focusing most of his force on clearing the lower level. And if Otto did such a good job at covering his tracks, who's to say the papers contained any information about his involvement at all?

Ed barely managed to dodge a chunk of metal that embedded itself into the floor, right where he was standing.

He clapped his hands together, hoping his plan would work, and put them against the wall. The transmutation barely finished before another chunk of metal landed in front of him, causing him to hop back.

“Slowing down, Major Elric?”

He ignored him and rushed back to the site. It was almost finished. Shit, this was complicated. He needed proof. He needed other people to corroborate his story. He wouldn’t let Otto or Lewis get away with this.

Finally, his work was finished. His leg seized once more and he fell to the floor. Otto grabbed his metal arm and lifted him off the ground.

“No!” Ed shouted before the automail shattered into pieces, causing him to collapse onto the ground. Winry was going to kill him.

He panicked and pulled Mustang’s glove out of his pocket. He didn’t know exactly how flame alchemy worked. Mustang refused to tell him, often getting extremely angry whenever he asked. He could probably figure it out if he spent some time thinking through the theory. But something about the way Mustang argued with him whenever he asked made him agree to not look into it. Still, it was his only hope. Except, apparently not as Otto ripped it out of his hand and tossed it into the hallway.

“You’re coming with me,” Otto growled, reaching out to grab him.

*****

It wasn’t the bullet itself that made him smile. It was where it had come from and what it had hit. One of the Drachma Spies let out a cry and fell to the ground. He felt a presence beside him and smiled.

“Lieutenant Hawkeye, nice of you to join us,” he said.

“Colonel,” she briefly popped her head above their makeshift barricade and fired off several rounds. “I almost didn’t come.”

“I’m sure.”

“You ruined my evening off.”

“I’m so sorry.” He fired several more shots.

“I could have finished my book tonight.”

“My condolences, lieutenant.”

“Where are your gloves?”

“I don’t know. They were in my coat pocket but they’re not there anymore. How’d you find us?”

“Luckily, it seems like Ed had the foresight to let someone know what was going on.”

“Really?” Maybe the kid wasn’t so reckless after all. Mustang might need to compliment him on his work.

“Sort of. His version of asking for help was putting up a giant mural saying you had been kidnapped along with a bunch of phone numbers people could call.”

Never mind. He was going to shout at the kid after all.

He heard the sounds of Al’s armor smashing his way through the men. He could hear Breda giving commands over the ruckus.

“Where’s Ed?” Hawkeye asked.

“Upstairs. Otto went up to help him before we got swarmed down here. I haven’t heard anything from them.” That did worry him. By his estimations, most of the enemy spies were down here, trying to subdue the escaped alchemists. What few were left up there should have easily been taken care of by Ed and Otto working together. Unless… No, they wouldn’t have killed Ed. The Drachmans specifically asked for him. They couldn’t risk losing him.

The whole building shuddered and Mustang and Hawkeye exchanged worried glances.

“We have to get everyone out. The building isn’t going to stand for much longer,” she said.

“We have to get Fullmetal out.”

Then, a sound that he hoped never to hear rang out through the halls.

“No!” Ed shouted before the sickening shatter of metal echoed. It sounded like his voice was being projected over a PA system.

“You’re coming with me,” Otto growled.

“Otto?” Mustang asked, now thoroughly confused.

“So, what you’re saying,” Ed was panting and sounded like he was in pain, “What you’re saying is that you, Colonel Andrew Otto, sold a bunch of information to Drachma? Why?”

“Go, I’ll cover you,” Hawkeye said, not missing a beat. She rolled out from behind the barricade and returning fire. The others seemed to follow her lead and focused all of their attention on the people on the stairs.

“As soon as I’m up the stairs, get everyone out. The house is going to collapse,” he ordered.

Hawkeye nodded.

Mustang darted out and sprinted up the stairs, the bullets whizzing by him. They were close enough for him to feel their heat, but Hawkeye was an expert shot. If anyone could aim this close to him and not hit him, it was her.

“Because the military has grown weak!” Otto shouted, seemingly unaware that his voice was being broadcasted for everyone to hear. Smart kid. If several people all heard his confession, it would be harder for him to deny it.

“When they first started drafting alchemists to serve, I thought this was our chance to increase our power and crush our enemies!” Otto shouted, sounding deranged. “Instead of replacing our weak forces with god-like alchemists, the military pulled back on their campaign.”

“Yeah, but Drachma? Isn’t it super cold there? Couldn’t you pick like, one of the southern countries? You know, somewhere with a beach?”

Mustang made it to the top of the stairs and rounded the corner. Ed seemed like he wasn’t too badly hurt, but he also seemed to only be focused on getting Otto to keep talking instead of fighting him. He was cornered and needed help. There was only so long he could keep talking before Otto figured out he was up to something and flew off the handle.

“Drachma is strong! They’re going to realize my vision of creating an army of monsters. Amestris almost had it down. I saw what Mustang did in Ishval.”

The blood roared in Mustang’s ears. He had tried so hard to leave that in the past, to use his fire only to protect. He would not allow this man to twist his actions in a way that suited his narrative. Mustang had done everything in his power to make sure no one, especially Ed and Al, ever used alchemy the way he used it in Ishval. That was something that made him and Ed very similar. Ed’s own experiences with human transmutation and the dangers of pushing alchemy too far made him hypersensitive to people who abused it. Maybe that’s why Mustang did his best to keep the kid in the dark as much as possible. If Ed knew the true extent of what he had done in Ishval, it might destroy their relationship forever. Mustang couldn’t let that happen. In many ways, he was all these boys had left. Or perhaps it was his selfishness thinking that protecting two children would be enough to absolve him of his past crimes. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter.

He could see the destroyed room at the end of the hall. He could see the shadows of two people in the room. He could see a white glove sitting innocently on the floor in front of the door.

He almost didn’t pick it up. The way Otto spoke of his past made him relive the guilt, the fear, the self-hate that he had finally been working on not feeling. But that was Ed in there. The kid was putting his own life in danger to let them all know about the traitor. The kid refused to leave Mustang after he ordered him to. The kid had fought his way through hell to be here, with a mission to get his and his brother’s body back to normal.

Mustang was already going to hell. A little more fire wouldn’t hurt.

He grabbed the glove, relieved to find it dry as a bone, and pulled it onto his hand. He stepped fully in the door, took a millisecond to figure out where everyone was, and then snapped.

Ed did a full-body dive to the floor, almost as if it was an instinct to get out of the way of the flames. Otto didn’t have such an instinct and the fire smashed into him at full force, sending him out the wall and crashing onto the street below.

“Fullmetal, are you okay? Are you hurt?” Mustang said, falling to his knees in front of the kid. He was missing his arm, the bits and pieces of metal still dangling from the port looked almost gory in a way.

“Just some bruises. You look like shit.”

“Come on, we got to get out of here,” Mustang said, not rising to the bait. Instead, pulling Ed to his feet as the house continued to shake and twist.

“But, the others—”

“Hawkeye got them all out. It’s just us, kid.”

“Did you hear?”

Mustang looped an arm around his shoulder, knowing the kid’s balance was always a bit off whenever he was missing an arm. It didn’t help that the entire house was rocking in a way that was honestly kind of alarming.

“Of course, I heard,” he scoffed. “Why else would I launch a Colonel out the fucking window.”

“Actually, you threw him out the wall.”

They made it to the door, only for Mustang to watch in horror as the floor in front of him started to cave in.

Alright, the stairs were out. Time for plan B, which he was kind of making up as he went along.

He spun around and sprinted to the shattered wall, making sure to never let go of Ed as the entire house started to cave in around them. He could feel the floor disappearing behind him, getting closer and closer with each step. They were still a few feet away. They wouldn’t make it. He half thought about throwing Ed out the window and letting the rest of the house collapse in on him.

“Jump!” he shouted, using all his force to launch themselves out of the broken window. The glass that still hung in the wooden frame sliced his skin as they flew out of it. He gripped Ed tight as they plummeted to the ground.

Normally, a jump out a two-story window was easy enough to do. If you landed properly, you wouldn’t even twist an ankle. Of course, landing properly required jumping off properly, which Mustang hadn’t done. You know. On account of dragging a kid out with him while an entire house collapsed. So, it wasn’t a surprise when he landed on his foot and the damn thing decided it would prefer if it were pointing in the wrong direction.

He let out a cry but used the momentum to roll them away from the house as bits of debris continued to fall, shielding Ed as best as he could.

Finally, the shaking stopped. The debris stopped. The sound stopped. Mustang looked up to see the entire house had collapsed in on itself, leaving a pile of rubble.

“Asshole, you’re crushing me,” Ed said, using his left hand to shove at Mustang’s shoulder.

“Sorry for trying to keep you from getting a concussion, Fullmetal. Next time, I’ll let a house collapse on your head.” He rolled his eyes, but pushed himself off the kid and leaned against the wall.

Ed let out a whistle. “Wow, that’s a lot of—”

“Paperwork.”

“I was going to say property damage.”

“I have a theory you physically cannot go on a mission without destroying something.”

“This isn’t my fault.” Ed snapped back.

Mustang looked down at him, the kid still clutching a leather bag he had never seen before. “What’s that?”

“Hmm?” Ed looked down at the bag. “Oh, I found a bunch of papers in the office and took them, just in case they had more information.”

“Good call.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“In your dreams, half-pint.”

“I should have left you to figure this all out by yourself, bastard.”

Before Mustang could fire back his insult, the rubble shifted. Right, he had blasted a traitorous madman out the same wall.

He threw an arm out to press Ed against the wall and held out his gloved hand, ready to blast Otto again. The man had gotten off easy with burns, mostly because Mustang didn’t want Ed to see a human burn alive. However, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill the man if he tried something. The only problem was the rain. It was still raining out. He hoped it wasn’t enough to soak his glove through, but nothing good ever happened when it rained. Maybe he could trick Otto into thinking he could still cast a spark. Or distract him long enough for Ed to get away. No, that would never work. The kid would probably chew off his other arm before abandoning him. As much as he pretended not to care, he was almost just as protective of Mustang as Mustang was of him.

“You ruined everything,” a man said, staggering out from the shadows.

“Lieutenant Lewis, from Personnel?” Mustang asked. Just how many Amestris soldiers were stuffed in this house?

“Colonel, that’s—”

Lewis held up a gun, his hands shaking. “You ruined everything for me.”

He didn’t get a chance to pull the trigger as a black shadow lunged at him, knocking him to the ground and out cold.

“Hey, chief. Colonel.”

“Havoc! He could have shot us!” Mustang let both of his arms drop.

“No, safety was on,” Havoc said, nudging the unconscious man with his toe. “Let me guess, another traitor.”

“He’s the one I knew about,” Ed admitted. “Otto was a surprise.”

“Fantastic. More paperwork.” Mustang groaned.

“Colonel!”

“Brother!”

Hawkeye and Al came bounding into the alley.

“Are you two alright?” Al asked, helping Ed up.

“I’m fine, Al. I won’t be once I tell Winry what happened to my arm. I swear all of my paychecks go back into fixing this thing.”

Havoc and Hawkeye helped Mustang on his feet so he could hop out of the alley.

“Maybe if you weren’t so reckless it wouldn’t break every other week,” he said.

“Hey, I didn’t know Otto was a fucking psychopath. He caught me off guard!” Ed shrieked.

It seemed like Hawkeye had managed to get all of the other alchemists out, as well as several of the Drachma spies. There were sirens in the distance and a crowd of people had gathered on the sidewalk to see what all the commotion was about.

“Any civilians hurt?” Mustang asked.

“No, sir,” Hawkeye said.

“Great. Someone start doing crowd control. Someone else start pulling any trapped people from the rubble. Lewis and Otto are both in the side alley so if someone could restrain them until the military gets here, that'd be great.”

Hawkeye deposited him on a bench and Dr. Morgan started binding his ankle. Breda and Falman were working on crowd control while Franco and Williams went to the alley to retrieve the two traitors.

This evening was awful, but the fact that no one had died and the most serious injury from their side appeared to be a broken ankle and a messed up automail arm was good enough for him.

*****

Three days later, Mustang was back at the office. It was still raining out, which made the whole thing worse. There was also a mountain of paperwork that he had to get through. The little incident had got the attention of the Fuhrer and he was heading out to Eastern Command to personally recognize Mustang’s accomplishments in the event. That was one hell of a career booster if he ever heard of it. Despite this, he couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy about the whole thing. Maybe it was just the rain.

Ed opened the door and slipped in.

“Fullmetal, are you dying?”

Ed glared at him. “No, why would I be dying?”

“Because you didn’t kick open the door. How am I supposed to know which office is mine if there are no bootprints on the door?” He smirked at him.

Ed rolled his eyes and plopped down in one of the chairs. “Asshole. If you really must know—”

“I must.”

He glared at him but continued. “Everything still hurts because of the rain. Plus, without my arm, I’m super off-balanced. If I tried to kick open your door, I’d probably miss and fall on my ass. Happy?”

Mustang had no idea the ports hurt this much in the rain. He wondered if there was anything that could be done about that. Probably not. Winry was an automail prodigy in the same way Ed was an alchemy prodigy. If there was a way to get them to stop hurting, she’d probably figure it out.

“My train’s leaving in a few hours. Winry thinks it’ll take about a week to get it right so I should be back by next Wednesday.”

Mustang narrowed his eyes. Ed never told him where he was going or how long he was going to be gone. He had to rely on Al to get any information from these two at all. And even Al wasn’t that good at keeping in contact. Hell, half the time Mustang only found out where the boys were because some town mayor or military person called him to let him know they had solved some unheard-of issue.

“Thank you for letting me know. Is that all?” The doctors had checked the kid over the day of the kidnapping. Other than a few bruises and scrapes, he was fine. His attitude worried Mustang more than he cared to admit.

“Are you mad at me?” Ed asked, looking up at him with fire in his eyes.

Mustang blinked, staring back at the boy. Out of all the questions he had expected to get, this was never an option.

“About?”

“Not listening to you, when we were in the office.”

Something clicked in his head. The fire in Ed’s eyes wasn’t a look of defiance, it was one of fear. He was trying to protect himself from Mustang, of all people. But it wasn’t Mustang’s ability to light people on fire with the snap of his fingers. No, he wanted to protect himself from Mustang’s opinion of him.

“I am mad at you. I give orders because I am trying to keep as many people alive and uninjured as possible. With you running around, it was hard for me to figure out how to plan without risking your life. If I could focus simply on the people who were with me, that was fewer variables I had to consider.”

“I couldn’t just leave you!” Ed said. He seemed desperate to get this off his chest. “Besides, you didn’t know about Lewis.”

“And you didn’t know about Otto. Neither of us did. What’s your point?”

“I wasn’t going to leave you. I saw your glove on the street and saw the men taking Franco inside. I wasn’t going to leave you in there. What if they were torturing you? What if I couldn’t get ahold of someone before they moved you?”

Mustang put his pen down and let Ed talk. Sometimes, it was better to let him run out of steam than to shout back his arguments.

“And despite me disobeying a direct order, and you saying that you’re mad, you don’t seem that mad. What gives?”

“Ed, I’ve known you for years now. I’ve seen how you work. I know how you think. I knew you weren’t going to obey any order I gave.”

“Then why—”

He held a hand up. “Honestly, if you did obey my orders, I think that’d worry me even more.”

“Then why do you still give them?”

“Force of habit,” Mustang said.

“Colonel, tell me the truth.”

He sighed and sat back. “You’re a smart kid.”

Ed bristled at being called a kid but didn’t start shouting.

“You make some really solid plans and you know how to improvise. That stunt you pulled with Otto was great. Had I not heard that I probably wouldn’t have come up to help you. I thought you two could handle yourselves. But, I am still your commanding officer. I have more experience than you; more knowledge that you can only get through trial and error. I’m serious, Fullmetal, it is my job to keep as many of my subordinates alive as possible. That’s why I give orders.”

“But why do you give them to me if you know I’m just going to disobey them?” The kid seemed exasperated and confused. It was kind of amusing to see him try and work through this problem only to realize he didn’t have the answer. Roy Mustang had managed to stump Edward Elric. Now that was something worth a medal.

“Because you do follow my orders, more than you think. As I said, you’re smart. You know when to listen to me and when to disobey me. My life would be a lot easier if you did what you were told, but I can’t deny that you aren’t stupid enough to ignore me when it counted.”

Ed shrank back in the chair. It surprised Mustang. He thought Ed understood this. These were his actions after all. But looking at him now, it seemed like the kid didn’t fully understand why he did what he did. Oh well. That was youthful ignorance for you.

“Ed,” he continued, “I trust that if it ever gets to a point where you have to obey my orders, you’ll do it without hesitation. So, for now, I let you get away with a lot because I know you’ll come out on top. Maybe it’s irresponsible, but I don’t want to hinder your growth.”

“So, then maybe you should give me fewer orders. You know, just so that when you do give me an order, I know I’m supposed to be following it,” Ed said, smirking.

The tone had shifted, back towards a more relaxed one. Mustang rolled his eyes and picked up his pen, getting back to his reports.

“Nice try, Fullmetal, but I’m not going to let you run around without any sort of supervision.”

“Hey, I’m not a kid.”

“Really? With your size, I made some assumptions.”

“Bastard! Who are you calling short?”

“Don’t you have a train to catch?”

Ed made a choking sound before jumping off the chair and stomping to the door. He spun around. “This isn’t over, asshole.”

“You’re going to be late, shrimp.”

“You’re only saying this cause I have one arm and can’t do alchemy!”

“Train, Fullmetal.”

He slammed the door open and stomped out into the hallway.

Mustang looked up, smiling ever so slightly. Nothing good ever happened when it rained. However, he was confident that no matter what the disaster was, they’d always come out on top.