Kaleidoscope of Hours, Part Three
Title: Kaleidoscope of Hours
Author: mfelizandy
Rating: PG-13
Type: Post-anime AU plotfic, featuring alchemical time travel and a ten-year-old Roy Mustang.
Warnings: Language and hints of one of Roy Mustang's past love affairs.
Author's Notes: This story starts in an AU in which Edward Elric was not catapulted into another world at the end of the series, and Al did not lose four years of growth and memory in regaining his body. Other AUs will make an appearance through the story. When the kaleidoscope turns, we're in a different timeline.
Summary: The State Alchemists were disbanded years ago. The homunculi have been destroyed. Amestris is finally enjoying some peace--until one of Brigadier General Roy Mustang's old flames brings him evidence that someone is tampering with powers that could tear him and his world apart.
In another version of history, Maes Hughes is a Central City police detective, with a very strange case on his hands.
“First Mirror, Clockwise”
Rush Valley, Amestris
October 23, 1923 4:15 PM
The phone was ringing. Al rose from the depths of concentration and blinked. He got up and went to the noisy instrument, half his mind still on lung function and nerve impulses. His stomach growled as he picked up, and he wondered what time it was. “Hello?”
“Alphonse?” It sounded like Colonel-no, it was General now, Al reminded himself-but if that tremor in the usually steady baritone was real, then something was very, very wrong.
“Sir?” Al cradled the phone between his shoulder and ear and rummaged in the desk for a pencil and paper. “General Mustang, what's wrong?”
“I need to talk to your brother. Is he still there?”
“Yes-but Winry is adjusting his automail.” Al didn't bother to ask how Mustang knew Edward was back from Mundo. Doubtless he'd had a report from one of his sources within ten minutes of the FullMetal Alchemist crossing the Amestrian border. “I can give him a message.”
“Tell him I need his help, and the faster he can get here the better.”
“General, tell me what's wrong.”
“It's not something I want to talk about over the phone. Give your wife and daughter my regards.” Mustang hung up before Al could press him further.
Not that he needed to.
“Second Mirror, Clockwise”
Central City, Amestris
November 12, 1916 4:26 AM
The child sat on the examining table struggling to keep his eyes open. Hughes took off his glasses and rubbed his own stinging eyes. The two of them had been sitting in this stark, too-brightly-lit exam room for a little more than twenty minutes. Hughes was beginning to wonder if the clinic staff had forgotten them entirely when the door finally opened. The boy jumped to alertness, his red-rimmed eyes widening to near-saucers.
Not that the man who'd entered the room was all that intimidating. He was of average height and medium build, with receding brown hair and an expression that said he'd worked a long and difficult shift. He blinked at the frightened boy on the table, then looked to Hughes for an explanation.
“He doesn't speak Amestrian. He's a witness in a police investigation.” Hughes dug his badge out of his pocket and offered it to the man whose name pin read "Dr. Meyer". “He's had a very long and frightening night. I'd like you to take a look at him and make sure he doesn't have any injuries or illnesses we should have treated.”
Dr. Meyer took Hughes' badge and squinted carefully at it. “Special Cases? That's alchemy, isn't it?” He shot the child a more assessing look. The boy hugged his knees tighter but met the doctor's gaze.
“Among other things. I'd like a professional estimate of his age, for starters.” Hughes got to his feet and held out his hand until the doctor returned his badge.
Dr. Meyer turned to the boy. “All right. What's your name, son?” Instead of waiting for the boy to answer, he glanced at the chart a nurse had filled out almost half an hour ago. “Roy? Well, Roy, let's have a look at you, shall we?” He took a tongue depressor from a canister and a small flashlight from his shirt pocket, and approached the child, who didn't move.
“As I said, he's doesn't speak Amestrian, and we haven't found anyone who recognizes the language he speaks yet.” Hughes put a hand on the boy's back and patted him a little.
“We'll take it slow, then. Open up, Roy.” Meyer demonstrated, opening his mouth wide.
The child Hughes had decided to call Roy, since it was as good a name as any for the time being, slid his dark eyes toward Hughes. His expression was a mixture of is this guy for real? and will it hurt?
“Go on, kiddo. Open up.” Hughes opened his mouth and gargled a rough “Ahhhh.”
Roy's face said he was wondering about Hughes' sanity, but he obediently opened his mouth and trilled a treble “aaahhh”. He flinched when Dr. Meyer put the tongue depressor to its intended use, but held still and repeated the sound while the doctor shone his flashlight into his mouth. Meyer, to his credit, did not try to hurry the medical ritual or scold the child for being slow to cooperate. He moved from Roy's throat to shining a penlight into his eyes, then his ears and nose. He checked the boy's throat glands, then reached for the coat Hughes had draped over the thin shoulders to try and make up the difference between his summer-weight clothes and the November cold. Roy, who had been patiently enduring the exam, stiffened and made a soft whimpering sound.
“Nothing to be afraid of, Roy, I'm just going to listen to your heart.” Meyer quickly loosened the ties that held the boy's thin shirt closed, reaching for the stethoscope tucked inside his own shirt. Roy flinched and looked away as the doctor pressed the stethoscope to his skin. Meyer listened, moved the stethoscope, then pushed Roy's shirt up his back and stopped with a soft intake of breath. “Detective-look at this.”
Hughes got to his feet, and hissed softly as Meyer pushed Roy's shirt still higher, revealing another three inches of the long red welts that angled from the boy's right shoulder blade to his lower left ribs. Older scars, some shiny burn marks and others old cuts, dotted the bony back. “Any idea what caused that?”
Meyer slipped the shirt off the now-trembling boy, making soothing noises and carefully not touching the damaged skin. “It looks like someone whipped him with a belt. See, here's where the buckle hit.” He pointed to a thin scab. “From the looks of it, this wasn't the first time, either.”
“Are there any broken bones?” Hughes forced himself to look back at the evidence. Evidence. He would have to take pictures, document the victim's condition. He could think about committing police brutality on whoever would beat a child after he'd gathered every scrap of evidence he could and found someone to translate the boy's witness statement.
Meyer probed gently, eliciting a few hisses and whimpers from his patient, then unhurriedly tested the child's limbs, and slipped his pants off just long enough to find a bruise on his left hip and the scar of a serious burn on his thigh. Roy's face turned bright scarlet-he wore no underwear--and he threw Hughes a beseeching look along with a soft, pleading, "Koontraysh, koontraysh".
“All right, son, all right. No one's going to hurt you. I'm all done.” Meyer lifted Roy's pants back up and let him swiftly tie them closed again. The boy bit his lip and didn't look at either adult as he dressed.
Meyer watched his patient with sad, tired eyes. “You need to find someone who can talk to him. Then arrest whoever should have been taking care of him.”
“I'd like you to write a medical report for the file, but for now-what's the short version?”
Meyer took a deep breath and visibly collected his thoughts. “He's small for his age, which I would guess to be nine or ten. He's about ten pounds underweight, and from the muscle development in his shoulders and arms he's been working long hours for at least the past two years. Combine that with the bruises, and I'd bet he's some kind of child servant who escaped from a master with a heavy fist.” Meyer's eyes were hard as he delivered his opinion. “I'd ask some questions in the Xingese quarter. They all know each other down there.”
“I'll handle the police work, Doctor. Do you recommend any treatment beyond rest and good food?”
“Not for now-but bring him back in a few days, just to make sure.”
“I will.”
“First Mirror, Clockwise”
Central City, Amestris
October 24, 1923 10:18 AM
Roy Mustang sat on his back porch, watching the rain soak the remains of his summer herb garden. There was nothing he could do but wait. He'd talked Anna into staying in his guest room for a few days-not that that had been too hard, considering that she clearly remembered their long-past love affair with fondness. He'd called Sheska, and asked her to find some files he'd rather have forgotten existed. He'd been in touch with the parts of his network that could keep his inquiries quiet. The rest had to wait until FullMetal arrived, and there was nothing Mustang could do to speed that up. The days of train schedules adjusting to suit the convenience of a military officer were gone. Roy scowled at the soggy garden and rubbed his bad leg, which always ached when it rained.
“I made tea.” Anna's voice jolted him out of his brooding. She set a heavy mug on the arm of his chair, and sat down in the other weatherproof garden chair on the porch with another mug. “Tell me what it is, Roy.”
Mustang took a sip of his tea, let the heat of it warm him from the inside out. “As I said yesterday, someone tried to break the laws of nature.”
“That's a teaser for a book jacket, not an explanation.”
Move and countermove. “Do you remember the FullMetal Alchemist?”
“The child prodigy? I heard some wild stories about him, years ago.”
“In FullMetal's case, the wilder the story, the more likely it is to be true.” Mustang took another swallow of his tea.
“What does he have to do with what happened on my third floor?”
“He's the expert I called.”
“What's he likely to tell me? Something very wrong happened in my house. The look on your face yesterday was enough to prove that.” Anna reached and put a hand on Roy's arm. “Just tell me, so I can stop wondering and start coping.”
Roy lowered his chin and set his tea on the arm of his chair. “That array...” He lifted his head and stared at the gray-brown remains of the tomato plants. “Whoever designed it is a genius on par with FullMetal and his brother, or possibly even their father.”
“What is it supposed to do?” Anna asked softly.
“I'm not sure.” Roy closed his eye and saw the sharp, almost angry lines glaring at him from the pages Anna had brought. “That's why I called FullMetal. I know most of those runes, but I've never seen them together in the same array, and I'm not sure what would happen if someone activated that circle, or even if it could be activated.”
“What does that mean? If you can draw a circle, you can activate it, can't you?”
Roy opened his eye and turned it to meet Anna's clear green gaze. “Not by a long shot. It takes energy to transmute one material into another, but it also takes energy just to activate the array and control it long enough to complete the transmutation. Usually, an alchemist has to draw that energy from his own body, which puts a limit on how complex and powerful an array can be.”
“And the array in my house goes beyond that limit?”
“I wouldn't risk testing it to find out.” Roy took another swallow of his rapidly-cooling tea.
"Someone did, though."
"No, he didn't. If he had, most of the Western district would have felt it. I hope to whatever gods that might actually exist that he never does get brave, stupid, or desperate enough to try it."
"What if he does?" Anna wrapped her hands around her mug.
Roy lowered his chin almost to his chest. "Then I hope the transmutation fails and only leaves one dead body to clean up."
“Second Mirror, Clockwise”
Central City, Amestris
November 12, 5:22 AM
Maes Hughes unlocked the door to his home, and encouraged his stumbling young charge to enter with a hand to the back of his head. Roy obeyed the touch, then turned to watch Hughes lock the door behind them. The boy looked even dirtier and more tired than he had at the clinic, standing in his thin faded clothes and makeshift shoes in the middle of a well-kept home.
“Okay, son, let's get you washed up and into bed.” Hughes started to put a hand to the child's back, then changed course and guided the boy by the shoulder instead. He led Roy up the stairs and into the bathroom, where he turned on the water in the bathtub and took some clean towels from the linen closet.
Bathing Roy was far different from bathing Elysia. Bathtime with Hughes' daughter generally involved a great deal of splashing and several sinkings of Elysia's fleet of toy boats by Frog Monster, a green rubber amphibian who looked sleepy even when capsizing three boats at once. Roy didn't spare the toys more than a glance, endured the shampooing of his hair with his head bowed, and rubbed the soapy washcloth over himself with fastidious care, paying particular attention to his hands and feet.
“Maes?” Gracia opened the door a few inches.
“Good morning, lovely lady. We have a guest.” Hughes pulled the bathtub plug and held out a towel for his sleepy charge.
“We do?” Gracia opened the door a little further, met Roy's eyes, and sucked in a small breath. “Maes-what's going on?”
“This is Roy. At least, that's what we're calling him for now. He's a witness in an investigation, and he doesn't speak Amestrian. I thought we could keep him here for the time being?”
Gracia blinked. “Where did he come from?”
“We're not sure. We don't know who his parents are, or where they are for that matter.”
Roy, meanwhile, wrapped the towel tightly around his shoulders, then struggled to hold it while pressing his palms together and bowing low, his wet hair dripping onto the bathmat.
Gracia's expression softened a little, but she said, “Maes-is that a good idea? There are orphanages who would know how to find his parents, or a good home for him.”
“If he was just a stray child, Chief Greenward wouldn't have called me.” Hughes rubbed the boy's dark hair with another towel. “I don't think the normal system would work for this kid.” He looked up at his wife. “He's a scared and exhausted little boy, and he needs a few hours in a warm bed.”
Gracia took a step into the bathroom, and lifted Roy's chin until he met her eyes. Whatever she saw there calmed her doubts, and she nodded. “All right. Just until you find his parents.” She let go of the child and turned. “I'll get him something he can sleep in.”
Dressed in one of Hughes' old sweatshirts, which hung almost to his knees, and a pair of elastic waist boxer shorts that nearly stayed on without support, young Roy Mustang firmly hung on to his kaleidoscope as he was led to the guest room. Gracia had put fresh sheets on the bed and turned on the radiator, but the room was still chilly. Roy stopped before touching the bed, and turned questioning eyes with dark circles beneath them to Hughes. “Ulayniya ketrin te mya?”
“That's right, kiddo. Bedtime.” Hughes answered, though he hadn't the faintest idea what the boy had said.
Roy's brows furrowed, then he looked around the room. His eyes lit on the braided rug in front of the bureau, and he went, tested it with his bare feet, then settled down onto it on his side with a soft sigh, pillowing his head on his arm.
“What the...? Hey, kiddo, don't you want to try the bed first? It's not that lumpy, I promise.” Hughes crouched, picked the boy up by the arm, and pushed him gently toward the bed.
Roy looked alarmed for a moment, then blinked and lowered himself to the hardwood floor beside the bed, staring up at Hughes with childish wariness. “Kevar enoteesh mya deksitu?”
“On the bed, son.” Hughes got his hands under the skinny limbs, and seated Roy on the bed. Roy looked up into Hughes' face with questioning confusion and a little dread.
“It's all right, Roy. Get some rest.” Hughes patted the child's head, then pulled his legs out and pushed him back into the pillows before pulling the blankets up and tucking them around his shoulders. “We'll get you some clothes and find someone you can talk to when you wake up.”
Roy retreated under the blankets until just his nose and his wide frightened eyes were visible beneath his damp hair. His body was rigid and all but trembling.
Hughes sighed. “I wish I knew how to tell you you're safe now, kiddo.” He got to his feet, then an idea struck. “I'll be right back.” He left the boy huddled in the bed and tiptoed into his daughter's room. Taking extreme care not to wake Elysia, he opened the door of her closet and surveyed the collection of toys stacked haphazardly on the shelves. Perhaps it was a trick of the early-morning light filtering through the curtains and into the room, but a glint caught Hughes' eye, and he smiled. “Roy Mustang. Perfect,” he whispered as he took the stuffed plush horse from one of the higher shelves. He carried the soft-furred toy back to the guest room.
The long night had caught up with Roy. He was already asleep, his breathing soft and even. Hughes smiled, laid the stuffed horse on the pillow, and slipped out to go to his own bed.
“First Mirror, Clockwise”
Central City, Amestris
October 25, 1923 3:43 PM
Ed got out of the taxi and slung his duffel over his left shoulder. He took a moment-just an instant-to collect himself. He's not your commanding officer anymore, you're not thirteen years old, you're doing him a favor even showing up. The internal pep talk didn't help. Ed marched up the walk to the door of General Mustang's house half-expecting to be greeted with a snotty comment about his latest report and some slight about his stature.
Mustang opened the door, and Ed was struck by how, well, small the man seemed. Without his impressive medal-studded uniform and with the cane he leaned on with every step, he could almost be mistaken for an ordinary civilian. Almost.
“It's good to see you, FullMetal.”
“Right.” Ed met his former commanding officer's gaze quizzically. “So what's got you calling my brother looking for me?”
“Still haven't learned common courtesy, I see.”
“Wouldn't want you to keel over and die of shock.”
“I'm touched by your concern for my health.” Mustang opened the door wider and took a half-step back, repositioning his cane. “Come in, Edward. There's someone you need to meet and some pictures you need to see.”
“Roy?” A woman came up behind Mustang, her face questioning.
“He's here, Anna.” The General closed the door behind Ed, and indicated the woman with his free hand. “Edward Elric, this is Anna Flynn, an old friend of mine. Anna, meet Edward Elric, the FullMetal Alchemist.”
Ed lifted an eyebrow at Mustang, but kept the caustic comment that leapt to mind to himself. “Nice to meet you.”
Anna looked uncertain, but then offered her right hand. “Thank you for coming all this way.”
Ed shook Anna's hand carefully, then grimaced. “Sorry. I just...” he sighed. “I just had my automail adjusted, and it's still sore.”
Anna let go as though Ed's hand was red-hot. “I'm so sorry.”
“Don't worry about it, I'm used to it.” Ed turned to Mustang. “OK, I've met the person you wanted me to meet. Where are the pictures you want me to see?”
“In here.” Mustang led the way to his living room, where Anna's satchel lay on the coffee table. “Sheska brought over some reference books and files, and I have a pretty good collection of the standard texts, if you want them.”
“If this is more than an hour or two's work, you're paying me my daily rate, Mustang.” Ed plopped onto the sofa and stretched his throbbing left leg out across the cushions, rubbing at the seam between automail and flesh for a moment before reaching for the satchel.
“I expected to. I'll reimburse you for your train ticket, as well.” Mustang eased down into the easy chair by the fireplace, and put his own bad leg up on the ottoman. “Anna's staying in the guest room, but you can have my bed if you want it.”
Ed looked up from the closed folder he'd taken from the satchel, his brows drawing down. “You want me to sleep in your bed?”
“Not really, but if sleeping on the couch is what it takes to get you to figure this one out for me, I'll do it.”
“Forget it. I've slept on park benches and in piles of leaves, I'll be fine on a couch.” Ed opened the folder of photos and notes. His bright golden eyes went wide, then narrowed. “What the hell?”
“Anna runs a boardinghouse outside West City,” Mustang said quietly. “One of her boarders has gone missing, and when she looked in his room, she found that.”
“He called himself Daniel Rockbell, but I don't think that was his real name,” Anna put in as Ed flipped through the papers and photographs. “He didn't react to it the way a person answers to his name.”
Ed stopped cold, and looked up at the woman. “He said he was Daniel Rockbell?”
“That's what he said, and what he wrote on the rental papers. Do you want to see them?” Anna reached for the satchel.
“Maybe later.” Ed shot Mustang a look. “You know anything about this guy?”
“Not yet,” the General replied. “He's probably using a different cover name now. I've made some calls. If he shows up somewhere else drawing that kind of circle, I'll hear about it.”
“If he's still alive.” Ed held one of the pictures up and angled it toward the light.
“How good would he have to be, to survive developing that array?”
“World-class,” Ed answered immediately. “Almost as good as Al or me, and that's just to last long enough to test the flow patterns and close it again, not to make it do...whatever it's supposed to do.”
“You can't tell what it's for?” Anna asked, her tone disappointed.
Ed looked up and shot her a scowl. “Do you know anything about alchemical design?”
“No, but--”
“Then shut up and let me think.”
“Ah, yes, I wondered how long it would be before you demonstrated why you're not married,” Mustang drawled. He leaned forward and reached out with his cane, poking at the satchel in Ed's lap with the steel-shod ferrule. “Scientific discipline would encourage you to have a look at the rest of the evidence, FullMetal.”
“I've done more scientific work in the past year than you've done in your whole life, Mustang,” Ed growled. Still, he took the wooden box from the satchel and popped it open. He cast his eyes over the contents, and his frown deepened. “Have you checked this stuff for fingerprints?”
“Yes. There were none.” Mustang leaned back in his chair again. “The stuff in the hypodermics and the big empty jar was some kind of plant extract. Not one I'm familiar with, but I've got a pharmacologist friend looking into it.”
Ed hissed through his teeth. “Some idiot's doing alchemy with his brains screwed up?”
“It could be just a painkiller. But I thought you'd like to keep it in mind.”
Ed shook his head. “Nobody sane would design something like this.”
“Coming from you, that's a frightening statement.”
“Fuck you, asshole,” Ed shot back without looking up from the papers and instruments in his lap.
“No thanks, you're not my type.”
“Then do something useful. I need a copy of Quemelin's Judgements. Pull some of those puppet strings you tie people up in and get me one.” Ed spoke without rancor, clearly already absorbed in solving the interesting mystery.
Roy smiled, got to his feet, and offered the open-mouthed Anna a hand up. She took it, and waited until the two of them were safely in Roy's library. She closed the door and turned to Roy, her face tight and angry. “Is he always that arrogant and rude?”
“Believe it or not, that was actually fairly tame, for FullMetal.” Roy went to the desk, which was stacked with the books Sheska had brought from the library. “You'll notice he didn't make any comments about my ancestry or hygiene.”
“He implied you weren't as good an alchemist as he is, and he's treating you like an errand boy! You were a State Alchemist, too.”
“I specialized in one very narrow and esoteric alchemical discipline, and in that field, I have considerably more skill than FullMetal. He's better than I am at theoretical alchemy and experimental design, and he can handle more power than I can. That's just the truth, and Ed's never learned the art of social lying. As for treating me like an errand boy--” Roy took one heavy volume from the stack, “--I expected that much. He needed a little verbal sparring to settle his nerves.”
“His nerves? Roy--”
“Daniel Rockbell was the name of his sister-in-law's father,” Roy cut Anna off. “He and Winry's mother were doctors. They were murdered while doing mercy work in Ishbal.” He set the book down on his desk.
“So if it's really Doctor Rockbell-”
“It's not,” Roy stated flatly, putting both hands flat to the desk and closing his eye for a long moment. “I know for a certainty that Daniel Rockbell has been dead for almost twenty years.”
Wisely, Anna didn't ask how Roy could be so sure. Instead, she put her arms around him from behind, and held him until he let out a breath and relaxed.
Roy set one hand over the smaller feminine ones clasped over his ribs, and patted them gently. “We'll figure it out, Anna. Let me deal with FullMetal-he and I have been hurling insults at each other for years. I'll take him this book, then you and I can go see a matinee and have a nice dinner.”
“You're going to leave him alone in your house?”
“He probably won't even notice we're gone.” Roy carried the book into the living room, with Anna following, and set it down on the coffee table, in easy reach. Ed glanced at the new arrival, and scooped it into his lap, flipping through the pages with an intense expression on his face.
“I thought so--” the FullMetal Alchemist said to no one in particular. “Fuck, Mustang.”
“I already told you you're not my type,” Mustang answered, settling down onto the coffee table. “What did you find?”
Ed shot Roy a hard glare, then angled the book for the Flame's single eye to see. “These runes aren't just badly-drawn caduceus snakes. They're dragons.”
“What does that mean?” Anna spoke from the safety of the doorway.
Ed flicked his eyes to the woman, then explained in low, clipped phrases. “A caduceus snake would mean someone was trying to heal a damaged living body-probably a human one.” He glanced to Mustang, then went on. “It's a Water rune. Dragons are Earth-which means they're both a lot more powerful and a lot more dangerous. Amestrian alchemists don't use it much because it's fucking hard to control, and if the power breaks loose, the backlash will turn the alchemist into a vegetable, if it doesn't kill him.” Ed traced the edges of the array in the photograph with one finger. “This thing's got four of them, all twined around each other and crossing the warding circles.” Ed scowled at the array. “It doesn't make sense. That kind of power--” he looked up into Mustang's eye.
“It would go beyond just opening the Gate or creating a Philosopher's Stone,” Roy finished softly. “It could bring down a mountain range.”
“No.” Ed shook his head. “I don't think that's what it's meant to do.” He looked at the papers in his lap again.
“Any ideas what it is designed to transmute?” Roy watched Ed closely, looking for hints on the younger man's face.
“Nothing as simple as tearing up mountains,” Ed answered with a distracted air. “I need a notebook.” His eyes flicked from photo to book and back.
Aware that he had ceased to exist in any meaningful way to Ed's mind, Roy got to his feet, and went to find something FullMetal could scribble his brainstorms on.
“Second Mirror, Clockwise”
Central City, Amestris
November 12, 1916, 2:56 PM
“I'm sorry, Detective, there just isn't any record.” The librarian set the dog tags back on the reference counter. “I looked in all the registration books for 1904 through 1908, just to make sure, and no one named Roy Mustang ever signed enlistment papers.”
“What about the Flame Alchemist?” Maes Hughes pocketed the steel tags and glanced toward the boy in his charge, who was carefully examining a detailed world map hung on the lobby wall.
“I looked, and there was a Flame Master, but he died in early 1907. And his name was Gregor Hawkeye.” The bespectacled librarian's face was earnest. “To be honest, sir, I read a lot, and I remember most of what I read, and I can't think of a single time I've read anything about a Flame Alchemist, or someone named Roy Mustang. I'm sorry, sir.”
“No, don't be sorry. You've just confirmed that my memory isn't starting to go.” Hughes smiled at the mousy young woman. “It's part of my job to know all of the State Alchemists by name and title, and this one was new to me.”
“Maybe the tags are some sort of joke,” the librarian offered. “Not a very funny one, but some people don't have very good senses of humor.”
“I'll look into that.” Hughes sketched a salute-despite the fact that she had probably never held a weapon or even raised her voice, the girl was a military records librarian, wearing the uniform and collar tabs of a sergeant. “Thank you for your help. If you come across anything later, please call the department and ask for me.” He strode across the lobby, where Roy was studying the coastline of southern Aerugo with intense interest.
The child looked up as Hughes approached, and pointed to the map, not quite touching the glass protecting the wall-sized canvas. “Kelniiyin dobovruka kaybree sesshu tik moyan clebring xenosan polyeetynan.”
“Are you saying you're from Aerugo?” Hughes bent and put his hands on his knees, squinting a little to make out the neat scripted names of the towns.
“Tobrimi reg feduyu clari jinmyini.” The boy pointed again at the map, this time indicating a sizable island off the coast of Arican-nearly two thousand miles to the south of his original point of interest.
Hughes cocked his head and frowned. Then he stood to his full height and pointed to the bright green star that represented Central City. “We're right here, son. Central. Can you say that? Central?”
“Ssental.” The boy looked dubiously up at Hughes. He pointed to the map again, putting his finger almost on top of an elaborate image of a ship with all sails set. “Feriya sebyna quinoosh?”
“Ship. A sailing ship.” Hughes named the thing, watching the boy's face.
“Sip.” Roy frowned. “Bar neen sebyna sip. Quinoosh mya tenop.”
Hughes sighed, then offered his hand to the boy. “Come on, son. Let's go get something to eat in the Xingese quarter. Maybe someone there can help us talk to each other.”
Roy echoed the sigh, but put his hand in Hughes'.
Click here to start from the beginning.
**Note: There are only two mirrors for now, but more will turn up, and the kaleidoscope will turn counterclockwise eventually.
Thank you to the people who commented on the first two parts! I thrive on feedback.
Author: mfelizandy
Rating: PG-13
Type: Post-anime AU plotfic, featuring alchemical time travel and a ten-year-old Roy Mustang.
Warnings: Language and hints of one of Roy Mustang's past love affairs.
Author's Notes: This story starts in an AU in which Edward Elric was not catapulted into another world at the end of the series, and Al did not lose four years of growth and memory in regaining his body. Other AUs will make an appearance through the story. When the kaleidoscope turns, we're in a different timeline.
Summary: The State Alchemists were disbanded years ago. The homunculi have been destroyed. Amestris is finally enjoying some peace--until one of Brigadier General Roy Mustang's old flames brings him evidence that someone is tampering with powers that could tear him and his world apart.
In another version of history, Maes Hughes is a Central City police detective, with a very strange case on his hands.
“First Mirror, Clockwise”
Rush Valley, Amestris
October 23, 1923 4:15 PM
The phone was ringing. Al rose from the depths of concentration and blinked. He got up and went to the noisy instrument, half his mind still on lung function and nerve impulses. His stomach growled as he picked up, and he wondered what time it was. “Hello?”
“Alphonse?” It sounded like Colonel-no, it was General now, Al reminded himself-but if that tremor in the usually steady baritone was real, then something was very, very wrong.
“Sir?” Al cradled the phone between his shoulder and ear and rummaged in the desk for a pencil and paper. “General Mustang, what's wrong?”
“I need to talk to your brother. Is he still there?”
“Yes-but Winry is adjusting his automail.” Al didn't bother to ask how Mustang knew Edward was back from Mundo. Doubtless he'd had a report from one of his sources within ten minutes of the FullMetal Alchemist crossing the Amestrian border. “I can give him a message.”
“Tell him I need his help, and the faster he can get here the better.”
“General, tell me what's wrong.”
“It's not something I want to talk about over the phone. Give your wife and daughter my regards.” Mustang hung up before Al could press him further.
Not that he needed to.
“Second Mirror, Clockwise”
Central City, Amestris
November 12, 1916 4:26 AM
The child sat on the examining table struggling to keep his eyes open. Hughes took off his glasses and rubbed his own stinging eyes. The two of them had been sitting in this stark, too-brightly-lit exam room for a little more than twenty minutes. Hughes was beginning to wonder if the clinic staff had forgotten them entirely when the door finally opened. The boy jumped to alertness, his red-rimmed eyes widening to near-saucers.
Not that the man who'd entered the room was all that intimidating. He was of average height and medium build, with receding brown hair and an expression that said he'd worked a long and difficult shift. He blinked at the frightened boy on the table, then looked to Hughes for an explanation.
“He doesn't speak Amestrian. He's a witness in a police investigation.” Hughes dug his badge out of his pocket and offered it to the man whose name pin read "Dr. Meyer". “He's had a very long and frightening night. I'd like you to take a look at him and make sure he doesn't have any injuries or illnesses we should have treated.”
Dr. Meyer took Hughes' badge and squinted carefully at it. “Special Cases? That's alchemy, isn't it?” He shot the child a more assessing look. The boy hugged his knees tighter but met the doctor's gaze.
“Among other things. I'd like a professional estimate of his age, for starters.” Hughes got to his feet and held out his hand until the doctor returned his badge.
Dr. Meyer turned to the boy. “All right. What's your name, son?” Instead of waiting for the boy to answer, he glanced at the chart a nurse had filled out almost half an hour ago. “Roy? Well, Roy, let's have a look at you, shall we?” He took a tongue depressor from a canister and a small flashlight from his shirt pocket, and approached the child, who didn't move.
“As I said, he's doesn't speak Amestrian, and we haven't found anyone who recognizes the language he speaks yet.” Hughes put a hand on the boy's back and patted him a little.
“We'll take it slow, then. Open up, Roy.” Meyer demonstrated, opening his mouth wide.
The child Hughes had decided to call Roy, since it was as good a name as any for the time being, slid his dark eyes toward Hughes. His expression was a mixture of is this guy for real? and will it hurt?
“Go on, kiddo. Open up.” Hughes opened his mouth and gargled a rough “Ahhhh.”
Roy's face said he was wondering about Hughes' sanity, but he obediently opened his mouth and trilled a treble “aaahhh”. He flinched when Dr. Meyer put the tongue depressor to its intended use, but held still and repeated the sound while the doctor shone his flashlight into his mouth. Meyer, to his credit, did not try to hurry the medical ritual or scold the child for being slow to cooperate. He moved from Roy's throat to shining a penlight into his eyes, then his ears and nose. He checked the boy's throat glands, then reached for the coat Hughes had draped over the thin shoulders to try and make up the difference between his summer-weight clothes and the November cold. Roy, who had been patiently enduring the exam, stiffened and made a soft whimpering sound.
“Nothing to be afraid of, Roy, I'm just going to listen to your heart.” Meyer quickly loosened the ties that held the boy's thin shirt closed, reaching for the stethoscope tucked inside his own shirt. Roy flinched and looked away as the doctor pressed the stethoscope to his skin. Meyer listened, moved the stethoscope, then pushed Roy's shirt up his back and stopped with a soft intake of breath. “Detective-look at this.”
Hughes got to his feet, and hissed softly as Meyer pushed Roy's shirt still higher, revealing another three inches of the long red welts that angled from the boy's right shoulder blade to his lower left ribs. Older scars, some shiny burn marks and others old cuts, dotted the bony back. “Any idea what caused that?”
Meyer slipped the shirt off the now-trembling boy, making soothing noises and carefully not touching the damaged skin. “It looks like someone whipped him with a belt. See, here's where the buckle hit.” He pointed to a thin scab. “From the looks of it, this wasn't the first time, either.”
“Are there any broken bones?” Hughes forced himself to look back at the evidence. Evidence. He would have to take pictures, document the victim's condition. He could think about committing police brutality on whoever would beat a child after he'd gathered every scrap of evidence he could and found someone to translate the boy's witness statement.
Meyer probed gently, eliciting a few hisses and whimpers from his patient, then unhurriedly tested the child's limbs, and slipped his pants off just long enough to find a bruise on his left hip and the scar of a serious burn on his thigh. Roy's face turned bright scarlet-he wore no underwear--and he threw Hughes a beseeching look along with a soft, pleading, "Koontraysh, koontraysh".
“All right, son, all right. No one's going to hurt you. I'm all done.” Meyer lifted Roy's pants back up and let him swiftly tie them closed again. The boy bit his lip and didn't look at either adult as he dressed.
Meyer watched his patient with sad, tired eyes. “You need to find someone who can talk to him. Then arrest whoever should have been taking care of him.”
“I'd like you to write a medical report for the file, but for now-what's the short version?”
Meyer took a deep breath and visibly collected his thoughts. “He's small for his age, which I would guess to be nine or ten. He's about ten pounds underweight, and from the muscle development in his shoulders and arms he's been working long hours for at least the past two years. Combine that with the bruises, and I'd bet he's some kind of child servant who escaped from a master with a heavy fist.” Meyer's eyes were hard as he delivered his opinion. “I'd ask some questions in the Xingese quarter. They all know each other down there.”
“I'll handle the police work, Doctor. Do you recommend any treatment beyond rest and good food?”
“Not for now-but bring him back in a few days, just to make sure.”
“I will.”
“First Mirror, Clockwise”
Central City, Amestris
October 24, 1923 10:18 AM
Roy Mustang sat on his back porch, watching the rain soak the remains of his summer herb garden. There was nothing he could do but wait. He'd talked Anna into staying in his guest room for a few days-not that that had been too hard, considering that she clearly remembered their long-past love affair with fondness. He'd called Sheska, and asked her to find some files he'd rather have forgotten existed. He'd been in touch with the parts of his network that could keep his inquiries quiet. The rest had to wait until FullMetal arrived, and there was nothing Mustang could do to speed that up. The days of train schedules adjusting to suit the convenience of a military officer were gone. Roy scowled at the soggy garden and rubbed his bad leg, which always ached when it rained.
“I made tea.” Anna's voice jolted him out of his brooding. She set a heavy mug on the arm of his chair, and sat down in the other weatherproof garden chair on the porch with another mug. “Tell me what it is, Roy.”
Mustang took a sip of his tea, let the heat of it warm him from the inside out. “As I said yesterday, someone tried to break the laws of nature.”
“That's a teaser for a book jacket, not an explanation.”
Move and countermove. “Do you remember the FullMetal Alchemist?”
“The child prodigy? I heard some wild stories about him, years ago.”
“In FullMetal's case, the wilder the story, the more likely it is to be true.” Mustang took another swallow of his tea.
“What does he have to do with what happened on my third floor?”
“He's the expert I called.”
“What's he likely to tell me? Something very wrong happened in my house. The look on your face yesterday was enough to prove that.” Anna reached and put a hand on Roy's arm. “Just tell me, so I can stop wondering and start coping.”
Roy lowered his chin and set his tea on the arm of his chair. “That array...” He lifted his head and stared at the gray-brown remains of the tomato plants. “Whoever designed it is a genius on par with FullMetal and his brother, or possibly even their father.”
“What is it supposed to do?” Anna asked softly.
“I'm not sure.” Roy closed his eye and saw the sharp, almost angry lines glaring at him from the pages Anna had brought. “That's why I called FullMetal. I know most of those runes, but I've never seen them together in the same array, and I'm not sure what would happen if someone activated that circle, or even if it could be activated.”
“What does that mean? If you can draw a circle, you can activate it, can't you?”
Roy opened his eye and turned it to meet Anna's clear green gaze. “Not by a long shot. It takes energy to transmute one material into another, but it also takes energy just to activate the array and control it long enough to complete the transmutation. Usually, an alchemist has to draw that energy from his own body, which puts a limit on how complex and powerful an array can be.”
“And the array in my house goes beyond that limit?”
“I wouldn't risk testing it to find out.” Roy took another swallow of his rapidly-cooling tea.
"Someone did, though."
"No, he didn't. If he had, most of the Western district would have felt it. I hope to whatever gods that might actually exist that he never does get brave, stupid, or desperate enough to try it."
"What if he does?" Anna wrapped her hands around her mug.
Roy lowered his chin almost to his chest. "Then I hope the transmutation fails and only leaves one dead body to clean up."
“Second Mirror, Clockwise”
Central City, Amestris
November 12, 5:22 AM
Maes Hughes unlocked the door to his home, and encouraged his stumbling young charge to enter with a hand to the back of his head. Roy obeyed the touch, then turned to watch Hughes lock the door behind them. The boy looked even dirtier and more tired than he had at the clinic, standing in his thin faded clothes and makeshift shoes in the middle of a well-kept home.
“Okay, son, let's get you washed up and into bed.” Hughes started to put a hand to the child's back, then changed course and guided the boy by the shoulder instead. He led Roy up the stairs and into the bathroom, where he turned on the water in the bathtub and took some clean towels from the linen closet.
Bathing Roy was far different from bathing Elysia. Bathtime with Hughes' daughter generally involved a great deal of splashing and several sinkings of Elysia's fleet of toy boats by Frog Monster, a green rubber amphibian who looked sleepy even when capsizing three boats at once. Roy didn't spare the toys more than a glance, endured the shampooing of his hair with his head bowed, and rubbed the soapy washcloth over himself with fastidious care, paying particular attention to his hands and feet.
“Maes?” Gracia opened the door a few inches.
“Good morning, lovely lady. We have a guest.” Hughes pulled the bathtub plug and held out a towel for his sleepy charge.
“We do?” Gracia opened the door a little further, met Roy's eyes, and sucked in a small breath. “Maes-what's going on?”
“This is Roy. At least, that's what we're calling him for now. He's a witness in an investigation, and he doesn't speak Amestrian. I thought we could keep him here for the time being?”
Gracia blinked. “Where did he come from?”
“We're not sure. We don't know who his parents are, or where they are for that matter.”
Roy, meanwhile, wrapped the towel tightly around his shoulders, then struggled to hold it while pressing his palms together and bowing low, his wet hair dripping onto the bathmat.
Gracia's expression softened a little, but she said, “Maes-is that a good idea? There are orphanages who would know how to find his parents, or a good home for him.”
“If he was just a stray child, Chief Greenward wouldn't have called me.” Hughes rubbed the boy's dark hair with another towel. “I don't think the normal system would work for this kid.” He looked up at his wife. “He's a scared and exhausted little boy, and he needs a few hours in a warm bed.”
Gracia took a step into the bathroom, and lifted Roy's chin until he met her eyes. Whatever she saw there calmed her doubts, and she nodded. “All right. Just until you find his parents.” She let go of the child and turned. “I'll get him something he can sleep in.”
Dressed in one of Hughes' old sweatshirts, which hung almost to his knees, and a pair of elastic waist boxer shorts that nearly stayed on without support, young Roy Mustang firmly hung on to his kaleidoscope as he was led to the guest room. Gracia had put fresh sheets on the bed and turned on the radiator, but the room was still chilly. Roy stopped before touching the bed, and turned questioning eyes with dark circles beneath them to Hughes. “Ulayniya ketrin te mya?”
“That's right, kiddo. Bedtime.” Hughes answered, though he hadn't the faintest idea what the boy had said.
Roy's brows furrowed, then he looked around the room. His eyes lit on the braided rug in front of the bureau, and he went, tested it with his bare feet, then settled down onto it on his side with a soft sigh, pillowing his head on his arm.
“What the...? Hey, kiddo, don't you want to try the bed first? It's not that lumpy, I promise.” Hughes crouched, picked the boy up by the arm, and pushed him gently toward the bed.
Roy looked alarmed for a moment, then blinked and lowered himself to the hardwood floor beside the bed, staring up at Hughes with childish wariness. “Kevar enoteesh mya deksitu?”
“On the bed, son.” Hughes got his hands under the skinny limbs, and seated Roy on the bed. Roy looked up into Hughes' face with questioning confusion and a little dread.
“It's all right, Roy. Get some rest.” Hughes patted the child's head, then pulled his legs out and pushed him back into the pillows before pulling the blankets up and tucking them around his shoulders. “We'll get you some clothes and find someone you can talk to when you wake up.”
Roy retreated under the blankets until just his nose and his wide frightened eyes were visible beneath his damp hair. His body was rigid and all but trembling.
Hughes sighed. “I wish I knew how to tell you you're safe now, kiddo.” He got to his feet, then an idea struck. “I'll be right back.” He left the boy huddled in the bed and tiptoed into his daughter's room. Taking extreme care not to wake Elysia, he opened the door of her closet and surveyed the collection of toys stacked haphazardly on the shelves. Perhaps it was a trick of the early-morning light filtering through the curtains and into the room, but a glint caught Hughes' eye, and he smiled. “Roy Mustang. Perfect,” he whispered as he took the stuffed plush horse from one of the higher shelves. He carried the soft-furred toy back to the guest room.
The long night had caught up with Roy. He was already asleep, his breathing soft and even. Hughes smiled, laid the stuffed horse on the pillow, and slipped out to go to his own bed.
“First Mirror, Clockwise”
Central City, Amestris
October 25, 1923 3:43 PM
Ed got out of the taxi and slung his duffel over his left shoulder. He took a moment-just an instant-to collect himself. He's not your commanding officer anymore, you're not thirteen years old, you're doing him a favor even showing up. The internal pep talk didn't help. Ed marched up the walk to the door of General Mustang's house half-expecting to be greeted with a snotty comment about his latest report and some slight about his stature.
Mustang opened the door, and Ed was struck by how, well, small the man seemed. Without his impressive medal-studded uniform and with the cane he leaned on with every step, he could almost be mistaken for an ordinary civilian. Almost.
“It's good to see you, FullMetal.”
“Right.” Ed met his former commanding officer's gaze quizzically. “So what's got you calling my brother looking for me?”
“Still haven't learned common courtesy, I see.”
“Wouldn't want you to keel over and die of shock.”
“I'm touched by your concern for my health.” Mustang opened the door wider and took a half-step back, repositioning his cane. “Come in, Edward. There's someone you need to meet and some pictures you need to see.”
“Roy?” A woman came up behind Mustang, her face questioning.
“He's here, Anna.” The General closed the door behind Ed, and indicated the woman with his free hand. “Edward Elric, this is Anna Flynn, an old friend of mine. Anna, meet Edward Elric, the FullMetal Alchemist.”
Ed lifted an eyebrow at Mustang, but kept the caustic comment that leapt to mind to himself. “Nice to meet you.”
Anna looked uncertain, but then offered her right hand. “Thank you for coming all this way.”
Ed shook Anna's hand carefully, then grimaced. “Sorry. I just...” he sighed. “I just had my automail adjusted, and it's still sore.”
Anna let go as though Ed's hand was red-hot. “I'm so sorry.”
“Don't worry about it, I'm used to it.” Ed turned to Mustang. “OK, I've met the person you wanted me to meet. Where are the pictures you want me to see?”
“In here.” Mustang led the way to his living room, where Anna's satchel lay on the coffee table. “Sheska brought over some reference books and files, and I have a pretty good collection of the standard texts, if you want them.”
“If this is more than an hour or two's work, you're paying me my daily rate, Mustang.” Ed plopped onto the sofa and stretched his throbbing left leg out across the cushions, rubbing at the seam between automail and flesh for a moment before reaching for the satchel.
“I expected to. I'll reimburse you for your train ticket, as well.” Mustang eased down into the easy chair by the fireplace, and put his own bad leg up on the ottoman. “Anna's staying in the guest room, but you can have my bed if you want it.”
Ed looked up from the closed folder he'd taken from the satchel, his brows drawing down. “You want me to sleep in your bed?”
“Not really, but if sleeping on the couch is what it takes to get you to figure this one out for me, I'll do it.”
“Forget it. I've slept on park benches and in piles of leaves, I'll be fine on a couch.” Ed opened the folder of photos and notes. His bright golden eyes went wide, then narrowed. “What the hell?”
“Anna runs a boardinghouse outside West City,” Mustang said quietly. “One of her boarders has gone missing, and when she looked in his room, she found that.”
“He called himself Daniel Rockbell, but I don't think that was his real name,” Anna put in as Ed flipped through the papers and photographs. “He didn't react to it the way a person answers to his name.”
Ed stopped cold, and looked up at the woman. “He said he was Daniel Rockbell?”
“That's what he said, and what he wrote on the rental papers. Do you want to see them?” Anna reached for the satchel.
“Maybe later.” Ed shot Mustang a look. “You know anything about this guy?”
“Not yet,” the General replied. “He's probably using a different cover name now. I've made some calls. If he shows up somewhere else drawing that kind of circle, I'll hear about it.”
“If he's still alive.” Ed held one of the pictures up and angled it toward the light.
“How good would he have to be, to survive developing that array?”
“World-class,” Ed answered immediately. “Almost as good as Al or me, and that's just to last long enough to test the flow patterns and close it again, not to make it do...whatever it's supposed to do.”
“You can't tell what it's for?” Anna asked, her tone disappointed.
Ed looked up and shot her a scowl. “Do you know anything about alchemical design?”
“No, but--”
“Then shut up and let me think.”
“Ah, yes, I wondered how long it would be before you demonstrated why you're not married,” Mustang drawled. He leaned forward and reached out with his cane, poking at the satchel in Ed's lap with the steel-shod ferrule. “Scientific discipline would encourage you to have a look at the rest of the evidence, FullMetal.”
“I've done more scientific work in the past year than you've done in your whole life, Mustang,” Ed growled. Still, he took the wooden box from the satchel and popped it open. He cast his eyes over the contents, and his frown deepened. “Have you checked this stuff for fingerprints?”
“Yes. There were none.” Mustang leaned back in his chair again. “The stuff in the hypodermics and the big empty jar was some kind of plant extract. Not one I'm familiar with, but I've got a pharmacologist friend looking into it.”
Ed hissed through his teeth. “Some idiot's doing alchemy with his brains screwed up?”
“It could be just a painkiller. But I thought you'd like to keep it in mind.”
Ed shook his head. “Nobody sane would design something like this.”
“Coming from you, that's a frightening statement.”
“Fuck you, asshole,” Ed shot back without looking up from the papers and instruments in his lap.
“No thanks, you're not my type.”
“Then do something useful. I need a copy of Quemelin's Judgements. Pull some of those puppet strings you tie people up in and get me one.” Ed spoke without rancor, clearly already absorbed in solving the interesting mystery.
Roy smiled, got to his feet, and offered the open-mouthed Anna a hand up. She took it, and waited until the two of them were safely in Roy's library. She closed the door and turned to Roy, her face tight and angry. “Is he always that arrogant and rude?”
“Believe it or not, that was actually fairly tame, for FullMetal.” Roy went to the desk, which was stacked with the books Sheska had brought from the library. “You'll notice he didn't make any comments about my ancestry or hygiene.”
“He implied you weren't as good an alchemist as he is, and he's treating you like an errand boy! You were a State Alchemist, too.”
“I specialized in one very narrow and esoteric alchemical discipline, and in that field, I have considerably more skill than FullMetal. He's better than I am at theoretical alchemy and experimental design, and he can handle more power than I can. That's just the truth, and Ed's never learned the art of social lying. As for treating me like an errand boy--” Roy took one heavy volume from the stack, “--I expected that much. He needed a little verbal sparring to settle his nerves.”
“His nerves? Roy--”
“Daniel Rockbell was the name of his sister-in-law's father,” Roy cut Anna off. “He and Winry's mother were doctors. They were murdered while doing mercy work in Ishbal.” He set the book down on his desk.
“So if it's really Doctor Rockbell-”
“It's not,” Roy stated flatly, putting both hands flat to the desk and closing his eye for a long moment. “I know for a certainty that Daniel Rockbell has been dead for almost twenty years.”
Wisely, Anna didn't ask how Roy could be so sure. Instead, she put her arms around him from behind, and held him until he let out a breath and relaxed.
Roy set one hand over the smaller feminine ones clasped over his ribs, and patted them gently. “We'll figure it out, Anna. Let me deal with FullMetal-he and I have been hurling insults at each other for years. I'll take him this book, then you and I can go see a matinee and have a nice dinner.”
“You're going to leave him alone in your house?”
“He probably won't even notice we're gone.” Roy carried the book into the living room, with Anna following, and set it down on the coffee table, in easy reach. Ed glanced at the new arrival, and scooped it into his lap, flipping through the pages with an intense expression on his face.
“I thought so--” the FullMetal Alchemist said to no one in particular. “Fuck, Mustang.”
“I already told you you're not my type,” Mustang answered, settling down onto the coffee table. “What did you find?”
Ed shot Roy a hard glare, then angled the book for the Flame's single eye to see. “These runes aren't just badly-drawn caduceus snakes. They're dragons.”
“What does that mean?” Anna spoke from the safety of the doorway.
Ed flicked his eyes to the woman, then explained in low, clipped phrases. “A caduceus snake would mean someone was trying to heal a damaged living body-probably a human one.” He glanced to Mustang, then went on. “It's a Water rune. Dragons are Earth-which means they're both a lot more powerful and a lot more dangerous. Amestrian alchemists don't use it much because it's fucking hard to control, and if the power breaks loose, the backlash will turn the alchemist into a vegetable, if it doesn't kill him.” Ed traced the edges of the array in the photograph with one finger. “This thing's got four of them, all twined around each other and crossing the warding circles.” Ed scowled at the array. “It doesn't make sense. That kind of power--” he looked up into Mustang's eye.
“It would go beyond just opening the Gate or creating a Philosopher's Stone,” Roy finished softly. “It could bring down a mountain range.”
“No.” Ed shook his head. “I don't think that's what it's meant to do.” He looked at the papers in his lap again.
“Any ideas what it is designed to transmute?” Roy watched Ed closely, looking for hints on the younger man's face.
“Nothing as simple as tearing up mountains,” Ed answered with a distracted air. “I need a notebook.” His eyes flicked from photo to book and back.
Aware that he had ceased to exist in any meaningful way to Ed's mind, Roy got to his feet, and went to find something FullMetal could scribble his brainstorms on.
“Second Mirror, Clockwise”
Central City, Amestris
November 12, 1916, 2:56 PM
“I'm sorry, Detective, there just isn't any record.” The librarian set the dog tags back on the reference counter. “I looked in all the registration books for 1904 through 1908, just to make sure, and no one named Roy Mustang ever signed enlistment papers.”
“What about the Flame Alchemist?” Maes Hughes pocketed the steel tags and glanced toward the boy in his charge, who was carefully examining a detailed world map hung on the lobby wall.
“I looked, and there was a Flame Master, but he died in early 1907. And his name was Gregor Hawkeye.” The bespectacled librarian's face was earnest. “To be honest, sir, I read a lot, and I remember most of what I read, and I can't think of a single time I've read anything about a Flame Alchemist, or someone named Roy Mustang. I'm sorry, sir.”
“No, don't be sorry. You've just confirmed that my memory isn't starting to go.” Hughes smiled at the mousy young woman. “It's part of my job to know all of the State Alchemists by name and title, and this one was new to me.”
“Maybe the tags are some sort of joke,” the librarian offered. “Not a very funny one, but some people don't have very good senses of humor.”
“I'll look into that.” Hughes sketched a salute-despite the fact that she had probably never held a weapon or even raised her voice, the girl was a military records librarian, wearing the uniform and collar tabs of a sergeant. “Thank you for your help. If you come across anything later, please call the department and ask for me.” He strode across the lobby, where Roy was studying the coastline of southern Aerugo with intense interest.
The child looked up as Hughes approached, and pointed to the map, not quite touching the glass protecting the wall-sized canvas. “Kelniiyin dobovruka kaybree sesshu tik moyan clebring xenosan polyeetynan.”
“Are you saying you're from Aerugo?” Hughes bent and put his hands on his knees, squinting a little to make out the neat scripted names of the towns.
“Tobrimi reg feduyu clari jinmyini.” The boy pointed again at the map, this time indicating a sizable island off the coast of Arican-nearly two thousand miles to the south of his original point of interest.
Hughes cocked his head and frowned. Then he stood to his full height and pointed to the bright green star that represented Central City. “We're right here, son. Central. Can you say that? Central?”
“Ssental.” The boy looked dubiously up at Hughes. He pointed to the map again, putting his finger almost on top of an elaborate image of a ship with all sails set. “Feriya sebyna quinoosh?”
“Ship. A sailing ship.” Hughes named the thing, watching the boy's face.
“Sip.” Roy frowned. “Bar neen sebyna sip. Quinoosh mya tenop.”
Hughes sighed, then offered his hand to the boy. “Come on, son. Let's go get something to eat in the Xingese quarter. Maybe someone there can help us talk to each other.”
Roy echoed the sigh, but put his hand in Hughes'.
Click here to start from the beginning.
**Note: There are only two mirrors for now, but more will turn up, and the kaleidoscope will turn counterclockwise eventually.
Thank you to the people who commented on the first two parts! I thrive on feedback.