The Unpublished Memoirs of Roy Mustang Ch. 3
Title: The Unpublished Memoirs of Roy Mustang
Rating: R eventually
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairings: Canon pairings, yes *those* ones, along with Roy/Ed later. This means both het and yaoi with the main characters. You have been warned.
Spoilers: The whole manga/Brotherhood.
Who will lead Amestris?
Over a month has passed and no fuhrer named
CENTRAL -- Though both have been cooperating, by all reports, amicably, the question remains who of Brig. Gen. Roy Mustang and Maj. Gen. Olivier Armstrong will step down from the leadership role to let the other lead as fuhrer of Amestris. It has been suggested that others may step up to take the helm if this decision is not soon made.
Finally, a woman in power
Personally, I think it's great that a woman with this sort of strength can show her ability to lead and command. It is the kind of empowerment that I show my daughters and say, "See this? This is what you could do one day if you wanted to. There are no restrictions on you. You can be whatever you want."
I think Brig. Gen. Mustang would do the country and women as a whole a favor if he allowed Maj. Gen. Armstrong to lead the country. Considering his health concerns, it makes the most sense that a strong, healthy FEMALE finally lead this country.
Seriously? A woman?
I read these long diatribes about how women are better, that they would prevent war and bring peace and blah blah blah. Honestly. This woman is a hell fiend if there ever was one. She hardly stands for womankind. She has no attachment to family, no children, no husband. There is nothing feminine about Olivier Armstrong. If she didn't scare me so damned much, I'd publicly insist she prove herself a female.
Dear other countries, attack us
Look, I don't really care if it is a woman or a man at the helm. I have seen Olivier Armstrong do a fine job leading this country and the military. If she is the one who is chosen to lead the country, so be it, but given the fact that Roy Mustang was blinded in the attack and we have yet to see any signs that the man has regained his sight, I think it is an invitation to war with our neighbors.
We cannot afford to show that kind of weakness, and though I appreciate what Mustang has sacrificed in service to the country, I feel he should be the bigger man, so to speak. He may be a hero, but that doesn't make him a fit leader for the country, not if he cannot even see a battlefield.
Olivier and I knew we were going to have to make a decision soon. The public had begun their own debate and had made what was a fairly amicable team effort between her camp and my own appear like some great battle. Depending upon who you talked to, it was a matter of male vs. female, disabled rights vs. keeping the handicapped in their places, youth vs. experience (not that Olivier was that much older than me), so on and so forth. It was really growing to be very annoying. Despite our differences going into this fight against Father, Olivier and I were almost amicable. While she'd had next to no respect for either me or my brother -- and still likes to get under my skin, by doing things like releasing Scar to work on rebuilding Ishbal when he should have been sentenced properly through the court system -- she seems to have gained at least a modicum of it for both of us. My struggles with my blindness and my continued work ethic despite it had apparently won her favor, though she pointedly continued to reject even the smallest of flirtations.
All of which, I will add for the record were not serious. Olivier Armstrong is a beautiful woman, frightening as hell, but beautiful. Riza was far more in my eyes than Olivier Armstrong, but I was grateful that the older woman's rejections no longer involved bodily harm. Slowly but surely, I was winning the Ice Queen over, and the first time I got a chuckle out of her, I wanted to dance a jig. I didn't because: a. She'd have killed me and b. I was in a room full of scattered folders and boxes at the time; I'd have likely killed myself in the process.
For having been in the military as long as I had and surrounding myself with men all this time, I was finding myself spending a good deal more time with the women in my life than I ever had, save for my ever-constant Riza, and even she was around far more often. At the moment, she was running an errand for me, once again making the trek to the Central office to get the official documents that I would need. I hated that I needed her to do that for me still, but my eyesight was not improving so noticeably just yet that I could be as independent as I would have liked.
In the meantime, Gracia and Elysia were over the house, visiting. Elysia was sitting on my lap, playing a game with my slowly regaining eyesight. "Can you see me now?"
"I see brown hair and a ... pink bow?" I asked, as the blow was small enough that the blur of my vision was smoothing it right into the color of her hair.
She let out a happy giggle before wrapping her arms around my neck, squeezing tightly. After she released me, she moved again in front of me this time. "What about now?"
"Nope," I told her. We proceeded with this game a few more times, receiving a hug each time I told her I could see her. Elysia never seemed to tire of it, perhaps because she was happy for me, perhaps because I had never allowed myself to get so close to her and Gracia before my blindness. It had taken a long time for me to stop associating them with the friend I had lost, and according to Gracia, it had taken her as long not to do the same with me.
I returned Elysia's hugs until she finally bored of it and settled back against my chest. It was strange how easily she adjusted to her "Uncle Roy" when I had such a small presence in her life over the last year, and really even before then. I owed it to Maes to step up and help her as much as I could. There would be times when she would need a male influence in her life.
I loosely wrapped my arms around her and rested my cheek against the girl's soft hair between the two pigtails. I had never been an overly tactile person -- growing up the way I had, it wasn't really an option I'd had afforded to me as a child -- but with the loss of my vision, I found myself more willing to touch and make contact with others. really, because I had to do it. Elysia seemed to appreciate the contact as she snuggled closer to me.
I closed my eyes for only a moment when I heard the distinctive sound of a camera clicking. My eyes opened, a bit startled by the sound I'd come to associate with Maes. It was a moment of deja vu, knowing Elysia and Gracia were here. "It was too sweet of a picture to pass up," Gracia explained. "There are some traditions that I intend to maintain."
I smiled, despite the fact that the woman had taken a photo without my knowledge. "Make sure that I get a copy."
I know Gracia was about to say something else when the doorbell began to ring. Rather than the repeated ringing that I came to associate with Ed's now-routine visits, this had a short staccato rhythm to the rings that was freakishly precise. Gracia assured me that she would get it, if for no other reason than to make that buzzing stop. I sat, still holding Elysia like it came second nature to me. I think the last time I attempted to hold her, she was a little over one year old and I was so tense that she immediately picked up on it and began to wail.
"Hello, Mrs. Hughes," a female voice said from the doorway of my apartment. Due to some small miracle, Olivier Armstrong liked Gracia and treated her with more respect than she did most others. "I need to talk to Mustang."
Yes, she was and nearly always would refer to me by only my last name. Amicable though we may have gotten, or at least no longer trying constantly to one-up one another, she didn't consider me -- or much of anyone, really -- worthy of my first name, or even my title. It was like dealing with an older, female Ed sometimes. I snickered at the thought.
"What's so funny?" Elysia asked from my lap.
"I was imagining if Ed had been a girl instead of a boy how funny that would be," I whispered to her.
Elysia paused a moment, probably lost for a few seconds at the sheer thought of it, and let out a few small giggles. "Then he'd be my big sister instead of a big brother." There was silence as she was contemplating the idea. It was nice to hear her call him a big brother. She could use that, and Ed certainly needed all the family he could get. "I don't think he'd talk about shoes and clothes like Winry does, though. It'd still all be about alchemy."
I had to agree, though Ed was getting better at making small conversation, just not on much that would have taken Elysia's interest. Though her mother was doing her best to keep the girl well-rounded in her interests, Elysia's favorite color was still pink and her favorite game was playing house. Those two things, prior to my blindness, I didn't know, hadn't cared to learn. Even if these things had been told to me before, I wouldn't have bothered to remember. It was amazing how priorities changed.
I could hear the footsteps along the wood floors of my hallway: Gracia's light click clack of the heals of her shoes and the pad of the rubber sole at the ball of her foot, and the heavy clomping of military-issued boots designed for the climate of the Drachman border. No matter how much grace the eldest Armstrong possessed, the boots would always betray her. They were outside of the arched doorway to the room, and I knew I really should have probably taken a more attentive position or an official one at least, but honestly I was comfortable with Elysia on my lap, and I thought, perhaps, the child's presence might just dull Armstrong's usually harsh barbs.
"Mustang, we need to talk," she said, sounding almost strained. It must have been taking everything she had not to say more or throw in a dig at my character, blindness, or what have you.
"About ...?" I asked, settling back on the sofa, feeling Elysia's hair move beneath my chin as she turned her head to look at Olivier.
"The fuhrer situation," she said.
I could feel my heart sinking to my stomach at the words, though I masked my face not to show it and nodded instead. "I knew this conversation would be coming sooner or later," I said simply. I heard Gracia ask Elysia to come to the kitchen and help her make cookies for me -- at some point along the line, Gracia had set up a small bakery in my little apartment, guaranteeing whenever she came over for more than a quick visit, I would be rewarded with fresh bread or cookies. She'd even offered to show me how to bake them, as well as learn how to navigate my kitchen without my sight. I reminded her that I hadn't done so well navigating it when I could see, let along now that my vision was still mostly absent.
Elysia hopped off of my lap, saying a pleasant goodbye to the imposing woman in the room. I didn't have to see her to know that Armstrong was imposing; I could damned near feel what I didn't already know from memory. Elysia, however, seemed unaffected by her and happily went into the kitchen with her mother.
I could hear the other woman perch herself on my chair, probably on one of the arms, as I did not hear the usual hiss the cushions made as the leather and fluff inside adjusted to the weight of whomever was sitting on them. "Is it always going to involve all of this politicking?" she asked, sounding almost weary. I dared turn my direct vision from her so that I could at least get an idea of her posture, but what little I could make out, blurred and miniscule as it was, didn't seem out of the ordinary.
I nearly snapped at her, "All of what 'politicking?' You mean what I've been doing?", but the part of me that wanted to fight for the position of fuhrer knew that of the two of us, she was the most fit physically to handle it. I sighed instead and shifted in my seat, my right leg now up and resting on my left knee. "If we don't want war, and even if we do, yes."
She growled softly and I could vaguely make it out as she crossed her arms at her chest. "I don't like politics. Are you sure we can't crush everyone under Amestris' iron will?"
I chuckled and shook my head, trying to squash the slightest glimmer of hope at her dislike of a large portion of the fuhrer's job. I tried my damnedest to let the resignation take over instead. "Not likely," I said. "Our 'iron will' would be in our alchemists, and unless we are on good enough terms with other countries to learn their techniques, Amestrian-style alchemy is going to dry up. We don't have Father and his destruction to keep feeding the alchemy we do."
"Wait ... what?" she asked. I had not mentioned this to her, or to anyone outside of those of us who had seen the Gate, and I could understand her confusion. Amestris had been known for its alchemy since its existence; the mere idea it would one day be powerless, unless it changed its methods, was frightening.
"The thing we fought below, the experiments and death that he brought about, that was the fuel for Amestrian alchemy, what makes it so different from Creta and Xing. I don't know if it means those of us who can use Amestrian alchemy will exhaust the supply like a lantern using oil or if it is more something that will run out when it comes time for newer generations to be born with the ability. Ed probably understands it better than I," I admitted. After all, some of my memories of the "truth" were a bit foggy. "But what I do know is that Creta is working on something with potential for us to learn and Xing already has an established form of alchemy, and that doesn't even consider the countries further from our borders. Diplomacy is our best recourse at this point."
I heard her sigh. "I know it is, I just needed to hear someone say it. We're still weeding through the military for the people who knew about Bradley's plans and the ones most likely to stab us in the back." She shifted somehow that involved needing to stomp down on of her feet on the carpeted floor. "I hate politics. I hate diplomacy. I don't think I have to tell you that I don't know a damned thing about the latter. Put me on a battlefield, have me give the orders, come up with tactics and I know what I'm doing. Hell, if I have to, I can even follow orders if I respect the person barking them enough."
"If you're going to be fuhrer, you're going to have to learn to broaden that."
She let out a huff. "That's the point, though, I don't think I'm going to be fuhrer. Surprisingly enough, I don't think I want it that badly. I can't imagine anyone who would want it that badly." She paused a moment, and I imagine leveled her eyes at me, not that this mattered at all. She could have been giving me the stink eye for all it mattered. "Except for you."
That tiny little spark of hope in the back of my brain was catching fire faster than any alchemy I'd managed. "Which means what?"
"You know what it means," she said, sounding as though her jaw was clenched a bit too tight.
"I just needed to hear someone say it," I replied, using her words from before.
"You're a damned bastard, Mustang, but you're going to be a damned bastard fuhrer. Does that make you happy?"
I smirked because I knew if I didn't show some pleased response to the whole discussion, I was going to finally explode and shout from my complex's rooftop. (Not that I didn't do that anyway after Armstrong left, with Gracia and Elysia tagging behind me certain I'd lost my mind, but that's beside the point. I didn't want to do it at that moment.) "There must be a catch, though," I said.
"Well, we all know that Bradley had too much power, and though I'll admit, begrudgingly, that you're a good tactician, you can't do the diplomacy and the war at the same time. You take the title of fuhrer, and yes, you can tell people what duties to do, what areas you want the military in, but you let the micromanaging up to the Head of the Military." I pointed in her direction, at least, what should have been her direction. "Yes, Mustang. Me. I don't want to kiss foreign ass, but you're good at it. Really good at it, if the rumors are anything to go by."
"Highly exaggerated. Not an area of the body I've ever had an oral fixation for," I say with that same ridiculous smirk. I think it had begun to look a bit goofy by that point, and my response to her innuendo-laced bait probably fell short of even seeming like a come-on.
"Yes, well, whatever your 'oral fixations,'" she said, "they'll be public knowledge along with the rumors. I think I'll stick with a step slightly out of the spotlight."
I chuckled, but there was some truth to that. I knew there were quite a few things in my past that people would have trouble accepting, things that only those closest to me knew. How long until one or another of my lovers surfaced or my upbringing or my father (or people claiming to be him once the truth was out)? The smirk diminished on my lips. "And if the people decide I'm not fit, because they know I'm still mostly blind or because they don't care for some of my past?"
"Then I'll cook in the spotlight. But not until you've done it first." She stood and took a few steps closer to me, actually putting her hand on my shoulder. I don't think it was just my mind making it feel like a fairly awkward gesture. "And if some of the other generals pop up saying they deserve your job or mine, we'll be a unified front. Your job isn't something someone gets promoted to. It happens because of public sentiment and proving yourself in battle. You've done both. And my position is appointed."
I rolled my eyes. "Technically, by me, but we'll keep the fact that you gave yourself this brand new position our little secret." She gave me a sound, stinging pat on the arm and headed for the archway out of the room.
"Just remember, I'll only take orders from you if I can manage to respect you, so don't screw this up, Fuhrer Mustang." I could imagine her pointing at me, icy blue eyes narrowing in my direction. I had no intention of losing that woman's respect, partly because it had been damned difficult to earn and partly because I knew that losing it would mean finding myself at the wrong end of her blade.
"Got it, General Armstrong."
Her steps were still heavy on the hall floors, but they sounded lighter now, eased of the burden of a future of international relations. At the point I heard a few muttered goodbyes between the Ice Queen and the Hughes women, I listened carefully for the sound of my front door shutting. I smiled, then laughed in a way I hadn't managed in a long time.
I'll omit the rest, which, I've mentioned above, involved a somewhat embarrassing lapse of judgement on my part, running out of the front door so that I could shout out to the world that I was finally the fuhrer. I don't recall everything that I yelled, but I remember having enough restraint not to yell out for the world to "bow down to me." Really, it was not one of my better moments, but it was one of the happiest. At least, until I realized I'd frightened Gracia and Elysia had wanted to follow my lead and yell something funny from atop the ten-story building.
It took me two hours and Riza's presence to convince Gracia that I hadn't descended into lunacy.
Rating: R eventually
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Pairings: Canon pairings, yes *those* ones, along with Roy/Ed later. This means both het and yaoi with the main characters. You have been warned.
Spoilers: The whole manga/Brotherhood.
Who will lead Amestris?
Over a month has passed and no fuhrer named
CENTRAL -- Though both have been cooperating, by all reports, amicably, the question remains who of Brig. Gen. Roy Mustang and Maj. Gen. Olivier Armstrong will step down from the leadership role to let the other lead as fuhrer of Amestris. It has been suggested that others may step up to take the helm if this decision is not soon made.
Finally, a woman in power
Personally, I think it's great that a woman with this sort of strength can show her ability to lead and command. It is the kind of empowerment that I show my daughters and say, "See this? This is what you could do one day if you wanted to. There are no restrictions on you. You can be whatever you want."
I think Brig. Gen. Mustang would do the country and women as a whole a favor if he allowed Maj. Gen. Armstrong to lead the country. Considering his health concerns, it makes the most sense that a strong, healthy FEMALE finally lead this country.
Seriously? A woman?
I read these long diatribes about how women are better, that they would prevent war and bring peace and blah blah blah. Honestly. This woman is a hell fiend if there ever was one. She hardly stands for womankind. She has no attachment to family, no children, no husband. There is nothing feminine about Olivier Armstrong. If she didn't scare me so damned much, I'd publicly insist she prove herself a female.
Dear other countries, attack us
Look, I don't really care if it is a woman or a man at the helm. I have seen Olivier Armstrong do a fine job leading this country and the military. If she is the one who is chosen to lead the country, so be it, but given the fact that Roy Mustang was blinded in the attack and we have yet to see any signs that the man has regained his sight, I think it is an invitation to war with our neighbors.
We cannot afford to show that kind of weakness, and though I appreciate what Mustang has sacrificed in service to the country, I feel he should be the bigger man, so to speak. He may be a hero, but that doesn't make him a fit leader for the country, not if he cannot even see a battlefield.
Olivier and I knew we were going to have to make a decision soon. The public had begun their own debate and had made what was a fairly amicable team effort between her camp and my own appear like some great battle. Depending upon who you talked to, it was a matter of male vs. female, disabled rights vs. keeping the handicapped in their places, youth vs. experience (not that Olivier was that much older than me), so on and so forth. It was really growing to be very annoying. Despite our differences going into this fight against Father, Olivier and I were almost amicable. While she'd had next to no respect for either me or my brother -- and still likes to get under my skin, by doing things like releasing Scar to work on rebuilding Ishbal when he should have been sentenced properly through the court system -- she seems to have gained at least a modicum of it for both of us. My struggles with my blindness and my continued work ethic despite it had apparently won her favor, though she pointedly continued to reject even the smallest of flirtations.
All of which, I will add for the record were not serious. Olivier Armstrong is a beautiful woman, frightening as hell, but beautiful. Riza was far more in my eyes than Olivier Armstrong, but I was grateful that the older woman's rejections no longer involved bodily harm. Slowly but surely, I was winning the Ice Queen over, and the first time I got a chuckle out of her, I wanted to dance a jig. I didn't because: a. She'd have killed me and b. I was in a room full of scattered folders and boxes at the time; I'd have likely killed myself in the process.
For having been in the military as long as I had and surrounding myself with men all this time, I was finding myself spending a good deal more time with the women in my life than I ever had, save for my ever-constant Riza, and even she was around far more often. At the moment, she was running an errand for me, once again making the trek to the Central office to get the official documents that I would need. I hated that I needed her to do that for me still, but my eyesight was not improving so noticeably just yet that I could be as independent as I would have liked.
In the meantime, Gracia and Elysia were over the house, visiting. Elysia was sitting on my lap, playing a game with my slowly regaining eyesight. "Can you see me now?"
"I see brown hair and a ... pink bow?" I asked, as the blow was small enough that the blur of my vision was smoothing it right into the color of her hair.
She let out a happy giggle before wrapping her arms around my neck, squeezing tightly. After she released me, she moved again in front of me this time. "What about now?"
"Nope," I told her. We proceeded with this game a few more times, receiving a hug each time I told her I could see her. Elysia never seemed to tire of it, perhaps because she was happy for me, perhaps because I had never allowed myself to get so close to her and Gracia before my blindness. It had taken a long time for me to stop associating them with the friend I had lost, and according to Gracia, it had taken her as long not to do the same with me.
I returned Elysia's hugs until she finally bored of it and settled back against my chest. It was strange how easily she adjusted to her "Uncle Roy" when I had such a small presence in her life over the last year, and really even before then. I owed it to Maes to step up and help her as much as I could. There would be times when she would need a male influence in her life.
I loosely wrapped my arms around her and rested my cheek against the girl's soft hair between the two pigtails. I had never been an overly tactile person -- growing up the way I had, it wasn't really an option I'd had afforded to me as a child -- but with the loss of my vision, I found myself more willing to touch and make contact with others. really, because I had to do it. Elysia seemed to appreciate the contact as she snuggled closer to me.
I closed my eyes for only a moment when I heard the distinctive sound of a camera clicking. My eyes opened, a bit startled by the sound I'd come to associate with Maes. It was a moment of deja vu, knowing Elysia and Gracia were here. "It was too sweet of a picture to pass up," Gracia explained. "There are some traditions that I intend to maintain."
I smiled, despite the fact that the woman had taken a photo without my knowledge. "Make sure that I get a copy."
I know Gracia was about to say something else when the doorbell began to ring. Rather than the repeated ringing that I came to associate with Ed's now-routine visits, this had a short staccato rhythm to the rings that was freakishly precise. Gracia assured me that she would get it, if for no other reason than to make that buzzing stop. I sat, still holding Elysia like it came second nature to me. I think the last time I attempted to hold her, she was a little over one year old and I was so tense that she immediately picked up on it and began to wail.
"Hello, Mrs. Hughes," a female voice said from the doorway of my apartment. Due to some small miracle, Olivier Armstrong liked Gracia and treated her with more respect than she did most others. "I need to talk to Mustang."
Yes, she was and nearly always would refer to me by only my last name. Amicable though we may have gotten, or at least no longer trying constantly to one-up one another, she didn't consider me -- or much of anyone, really -- worthy of my first name, or even my title. It was like dealing with an older, female Ed sometimes. I snickered at the thought.
"What's so funny?" Elysia asked from my lap.
"I was imagining if Ed had been a girl instead of a boy how funny that would be," I whispered to her.
Elysia paused a moment, probably lost for a few seconds at the sheer thought of it, and let out a few small giggles. "Then he'd be my big sister instead of a big brother." There was silence as she was contemplating the idea. It was nice to hear her call him a big brother. She could use that, and Ed certainly needed all the family he could get. "I don't think he'd talk about shoes and clothes like Winry does, though. It'd still all be about alchemy."
I had to agree, though Ed was getting better at making small conversation, just not on much that would have taken Elysia's interest. Though her mother was doing her best to keep the girl well-rounded in her interests, Elysia's favorite color was still pink and her favorite game was playing house. Those two things, prior to my blindness, I didn't know, hadn't cared to learn. Even if these things had been told to me before, I wouldn't have bothered to remember. It was amazing how priorities changed.
I could hear the footsteps along the wood floors of my hallway: Gracia's light click clack of the heals of her shoes and the pad of the rubber sole at the ball of her foot, and the heavy clomping of military-issued boots designed for the climate of the Drachman border. No matter how much grace the eldest Armstrong possessed, the boots would always betray her. They were outside of the arched doorway to the room, and I knew I really should have probably taken a more attentive position or an official one at least, but honestly I was comfortable with Elysia on my lap, and I thought, perhaps, the child's presence might just dull Armstrong's usually harsh barbs.
"Mustang, we need to talk," she said, sounding almost strained. It must have been taking everything she had not to say more or throw in a dig at my character, blindness, or what have you.
"About ...?" I asked, settling back on the sofa, feeling Elysia's hair move beneath my chin as she turned her head to look at Olivier.
"The fuhrer situation," she said.
I could feel my heart sinking to my stomach at the words, though I masked my face not to show it and nodded instead. "I knew this conversation would be coming sooner or later," I said simply. I heard Gracia ask Elysia to come to the kitchen and help her make cookies for me -- at some point along the line, Gracia had set up a small bakery in my little apartment, guaranteeing whenever she came over for more than a quick visit, I would be rewarded with fresh bread or cookies. She'd even offered to show me how to bake them, as well as learn how to navigate my kitchen without my sight. I reminded her that I hadn't done so well navigating it when I could see, let along now that my vision was still mostly absent.
Elysia hopped off of my lap, saying a pleasant goodbye to the imposing woman in the room. I didn't have to see her to know that Armstrong was imposing; I could damned near feel what I didn't already know from memory. Elysia, however, seemed unaffected by her and happily went into the kitchen with her mother.
I could hear the other woman perch herself on my chair, probably on one of the arms, as I did not hear the usual hiss the cushions made as the leather and fluff inside adjusted to the weight of whomever was sitting on them. "Is it always going to involve all of this politicking?" she asked, sounding almost weary. I dared turn my direct vision from her so that I could at least get an idea of her posture, but what little I could make out, blurred and miniscule as it was, didn't seem out of the ordinary.
I nearly snapped at her, "All of what 'politicking?' You mean what I've been doing?", but the part of me that wanted to fight for the position of fuhrer knew that of the two of us, she was the most fit physically to handle it. I sighed instead and shifted in my seat, my right leg now up and resting on my left knee. "If we don't want war, and even if we do, yes."
She growled softly and I could vaguely make it out as she crossed her arms at her chest. "I don't like politics. Are you sure we can't crush everyone under Amestris' iron will?"
I chuckled and shook my head, trying to squash the slightest glimmer of hope at her dislike of a large portion of the fuhrer's job. I tried my damnedest to let the resignation take over instead. "Not likely," I said. "Our 'iron will' would be in our alchemists, and unless we are on good enough terms with other countries to learn their techniques, Amestrian-style alchemy is going to dry up. We don't have Father and his destruction to keep feeding the alchemy we do."
"Wait ... what?" she asked. I had not mentioned this to her, or to anyone outside of those of us who had seen the Gate, and I could understand her confusion. Amestris had been known for its alchemy since its existence; the mere idea it would one day be powerless, unless it changed its methods, was frightening.
"The thing we fought below, the experiments and death that he brought about, that was the fuel for Amestrian alchemy, what makes it so different from Creta and Xing. I don't know if it means those of us who can use Amestrian alchemy will exhaust the supply like a lantern using oil or if it is more something that will run out when it comes time for newer generations to be born with the ability. Ed probably understands it better than I," I admitted. After all, some of my memories of the "truth" were a bit foggy. "But what I do know is that Creta is working on something with potential for us to learn and Xing already has an established form of alchemy, and that doesn't even consider the countries further from our borders. Diplomacy is our best recourse at this point."
I heard her sigh. "I know it is, I just needed to hear someone say it. We're still weeding through the military for the people who knew about Bradley's plans and the ones most likely to stab us in the back." She shifted somehow that involved needing to stomp down on of her feet on the carpeted floor. "I hate politics. I hate diplomacy. I don't think I have to tell you that I don't know a damned thing about the latter. Put me on a battlefield, have me give the orders, come up with tactics and I know what I'm doing. Hell, if I have to, I can even follow orders if I respect the person barking them enough."
"If you're going to be fuhrer, you're going to have to learn to broaden that."
She let out a huff. "That's the point, though, I don't think I'm going to be fuhrer. Surprisingly enough, I don't think I want it that badly. I can't imagine anyone who would want it that badly." She paused a moment, and I imagine leveled her eyes at me, not that this mattered at all. She could have been giving me the stink eye for all it mattered. "Except for you."
That tiny little spark of hope in the back of my brain was catching fire faster than any alchemy I'd managed. "Which means what?"
"You know what it means," she said, sounding as though her jaw was clenched a bit too tight.
"I just needed to hear someone say it," I replied, using her words from before.
"You're a damned bastard, Mustang, but you're going to be a damned bastard fuhrer. Does that make you happy?"
I smirked because I knew if I didn't show some pleased response to the whole discussion, I was going to finally explode and shout from my complex's rooftop. (Not that I didn't do that anyway after Armstrong left, with Gracia and Elysia tagging behind me certain I'd lost my mind, but that's beside the point. I didn't want to do it at that moment.) "There must be a catch, though," I said.
"Well, we all know that Bradley had too much power, and though I'll admit, begrudgingly, that you're a good tactician, you can't do the diplomacy and the war at the same time. You take the title of fuhrer, and yes, you can tell people what duties to do, what areas you want the military in, but you let the micromanaging up to the Head of the Military." I pointed in her direction, at least, what should have been her direction. "Yes, Mustang. Me. I don't want to kiss foreign ass, but you're good at it. Really good at it, if the rumors are anything to go by."
"Highly exaggerated. Not an area of the body I've ever had an oral fixation for," I say with that same ridiculous smirk. I think it had begun to look a bit goofy by that point, and my response to her innuendo-laced bait probably fell short of even seeming like a come-on.
"Yes, well, whatever your 'oral fixations,'" she said, "they'll be public knowledge along with the rumors. I think I'll stick with a step slightly out of the spotlight."
I chuckled, but there was some truth to that. I knew there were quite a few things in my past that people would have trouble accepting, things that only those closest to me knew. How long until one or another of my lovers surfaced or my upbringing or my father (or people claiming to be him once the truth was out)? The smirk diminished on my lips. "And if the people decide I'm not fit, because they know I'm still mostly blind or because they don't care for some of my past?"
"Then I'll cook in the spotlight. But not until you've done it first." She stood and took a few steps closer to me, actually putting her hand on my shoulder. I don't think it was just my mind making it feel like a fairly awkward gesture. "And if some of the other generals pop up saying they deserve your job or mine, we'll be a unified front. Your job isn't something someone gets promoted to. It happens because of public sentiment and proving yourself in battle. You've done both. And my position is appointed."
I rolled my eyes. "Technically, by me, but we'll keep the fact that you gave yourself this brand new position our little secret." She gave me a sound, stinging pat on the arm and headed for the archway out of the room.
"Just remember, I'll only take orders from you if I can manage to respect you, so don't screw this up, Fuhrer Mustang." I could imagine her pointing at me, icy blue eyes narrowing in my direction. I had no intention of losing that woman's respect, partly because it had been damned difficult to earn and partly because I knew that losing it would mean finding myself at the wrong end of her blade.
"Got it, General Armstrong."
Her steps were still heavy on the hall floors, but they sounded lighter now, eased of the burden of a future of international relations. At the point I heard a few muttered goodbyes between the Ice Queen and the Hughes women, I listened carefully for the sound of my front door shutting. I smiled, then laughed in a way I hadn't managed in a long time.
I'll omit the rest, which, I've mentioned above, involved a somewhat embarrassing lapse of judgement on my part, running out of the front door so that I could shout out to the world that I was finally the fuhrer. I don't recall everything that I yelled, but I remember having enough restraint not to yell out for the world to "bow down to me." Really, it was not one of my better moments, but it was one of the happiest. At least, until I realized I'd frightened Gracia and Elysia had wanted to follow my lead and yell something funny from atop the ten-story building.
It took me two hours and Riza's presence to convince Gracia that I hadn't descended into lunacy.