Summary: The war is won, the celebration is begun…only some people don’t see it that way.
Rating: Teen to Mature.
A.N.: This contains spoilers through chapter 77 of the manga as well as speculation for what might happen to these characters before and after the end of the series. Be warned.
* * *
It seemed all of Amestris had turned out for the celebration. Men in the rich blue of the Amestrian military uniform or the simple black and white of tuxedos escorted women dressed in glittering, frothing fashions through the gates of the enormous mansion. The Armstrong family had offered their ballroom for the festivities; it was the only place large enough to hold the visiting dignitaries and what Roy Mustang had come to refer to as ‘the regulars.’ It wasn’t enough that they’d had to nearly destroy the internal workings of the country; no, but the following trials and sentencing had left the country reeling in shock. This grand ball was as much to show the bordering countries that Amestris was still strong and in the game as it was to reassure the people that they were safe under the fledgling new government.
Roy Mustang adjusted the cuffs of his dress uniform. He was vain enough to admit it looked good on him and realistic enough to think that it itched abominably. Fortunately, there were distractions aplenty to keep his mind off of the wool chafing at his wrists and throat. Lovely ladies everywhere; each one dressed to capture and hold the eye; each more glorious than the next. His gaze drifted across the expanse of color to study a woman not dressed in finery but in dress blues.
“Careful, sir.” Havoc’s voice came at his elbow and Roy acknowledged his subordinate with a glance back and up. “I hear she’s gunning for the top seat.”
“Don’t I know it.” Roy schooled his face to a cheerful grin, turning slightly, thinking this was something he’d never quite expected; Jean Havoc, standing tall once more. When the Elrics had set off their response to the homunculi’s attempts to create a Philosopher’s Stone, many things had happened, not the least of it being a hell of a lot of people were suddenly, almost inexplicably, healed and whole. Roy had listened to the brothers and their friends expound on what had happened and had promptly requested a more in depth report which had made Edward Elric clench his fists and say, “Screw you!” No surprise there. “She has the military backing. Not to mention,” Roy gestured with his champagne glass, “the money to pull it off.”
Havoc clapped his hand on Roy’s shoulder familiarly. “C’mon, boss. You’ve got just as much backing as she does. Okay, maybe not as much money. But,” his flicked his eyes toward a table situated a few rows back from the dance floor, “you’ve got them.”
Roy followed Havoc’s gaze to the table where a volatile trio sat together. Edward Elric lounged in his chair, a dangerously toothy grin on his face. His left hand rested on the back of the chair next to him in a decidedly proprietary manner and Roy wondered if the boy even realized he was laying claim to the young woman at his side. Winry Rockbell was turned away from Edward, whispering something behind her hand to the young man on her left, Edward’s younger brother, Alphonse Elric. His long figure took up most of his side of the table and he took Miss Rockbell’s hand away from her mouth, laughing at her. All in all, they could be a study of the personification of sunshine and Roy almost had to blink away the afterimages of their brilliance. “Edward,” he reminded Havoc quietly, “has tendered his resignation to the military. Alphonse never officially joined. If they want to leave this to us,” Roy turned his attention back to Havoc, “I don’t want to force them to stay.” He had the memory of Edward’s voice in his head, though, when the boy challenged Roy to make the country a better place. Somehow, he doubted the Elric brothers and their companion would go very far away from Central until things were decided. It wasn’t in their natures to leave things unfinished.
A wicked grin settled into place and Roy gestured with his head. “Want to go with me to stir the pot, Havoc?”
“What are you starting, boss?” Havoc recognized that grin and knew it boded ill for someone.
“That poor girl,” Roy said, “stuck with those two young men. I don’t think she’s even been out on the dance floor yet.”
“You’d be the one to notice that, wouldn’t you?” Havoc’s eyebrows tilted. “Jeez, boss, do you really want to start something with Ed tonight? I mean, he’s kind of,” it was obvious that Havoc was trying to come up with something witty but Roy waved him off.
“Jealousy is sometimes good in a relationship.” Roy set his champagne flute on the tray of a waiter walking by and, with a slow wink at Havoc, meandered toward the Elric table. It was interesting to Roy to note that the diplomats from Xing had seated themselves near Edward and his brother. Roy recognized the young man; the Xingese prince, Yao Lin, though the others in the delegation were unfamiliar. If the expression on the youngest member of the party was any indication, some of the delegates were a bit overwhelmed by the party.
“…should come to Xing, Miss Winry.” Lin’s teeth showed in a wicked grin to rival Edward’s. “Automail is unknown in my land.” He reached past Edward to take Winry’s hand. “You could be the first automail mechanic in Xing and under my direct protection.”
Winry rolled her eyes at the flirting. “I told you before, Lin, I’m not leaving Amestris, not as long as someone here needs my skills.” Though her gaze didn’t even flicker sideways, it was obvious who she meant. Edward had not regained his arm and leg when the ‘Great Healing,’ as it had come to be dubbed, happened. He’d explained to Roy, in a few terse sentences, that the Xingese alchemy, while designed for healing, was unable to replace limbs that had been lost.
Lin was not one to give up without a fight. “You should at least consider it.” He leaned back in his own chair, releasing Winry’s hand. “You could even bring these two to carry your equipment.”
“Hey! I am not a pack mule,” Edward snapped. “And if you think I’m carrying that heavy assed equipment across the desert, you’ve got another think coming.”
Lin raised his eyebrows loftily. “I don’t see any other use for you,” he said and Roy had to smother a laugh as Edward made a sound in registers that only dogs could hear comfortably.
“Boys,” Winry said, grabbing Ed’s braid and pulling him back into his seat and giving Lin a glare to set him in his place. “Take a lesson from Al.”
Both young men turned to glare at Alphonse, who raised his hands, sliding his chair back. “Oh, no, Winry, don’t drag me into this.” He gave Roy a ‘help me’ grin. “Colonel! Good evening,” he said, getting to his feet and out of the imminent dogfight. “How are you tonight?”
“Alphonse.” Roy shook his hand. “Edward.” He inclined his head to Lin, “Your highness.” After Lin responded, Roy turned his attention to Winry. “I have to admit, I don’t understand.”
“Understand what?” Edward’s voice took on that abrasive note that Roy had come to expect.
“Edward,” Winry tweaked his braid and he shot her a glare, pulling his hair free from her grip. “Ignore him, sir. It’s probably past his bedtime.”
Roy spoke over Ed’s snarled response. “That would explain why he’s left you to languish here,” there was another sound behind him and Roy knew that Havoc was close enough to listen in, “rather than show you off on the dance floor.” Offering a hand, he asked, “May I have this dance, Miss Rockbell?”
“Thank you, Mr. Mustang.” She put her hand in his. “I’d be honored.” With a little smug grin, Winry allowed herself to be led around Edward and onto the dance floor.
“What the hell just happened?” Ed glared at the retreating back of his superior officer, who had his hand in the center of Winry’s back.
“You got sniped, Brother.” Alphonse lounged back in his chair, grinning.
“By one of the best,” Havoc said, nodding. “Better go after her soon, chief, or the boss’ll have a new filly in his stable.”
Roy was pleasantly surprised once he had Winry on the dance floor. After a misstep - that inadvertently made her laugh and shake her head - she seemed to belong on the floor, her pearl grey dress making her seem to glow. The music itself seemed to move them along in glorious sweeping circles around the dance floor. Roy caught quite a few male eyes following Winry’s progress but not the pair he most expected and he wondered where Edward had gotten off to. “I think I’ve started something,” he said in warning. “The brothers will probably wish I’d left you at their table.”
Grinning up at him, Winry said, “Al and I made a bet on how long it’d take before Ed actually realized there was dancing.” Her smile turned a little rueful. “I lost the bet. I told Al he’d have to take me on the floor, Al said someone else would.”
“You mean they know how to dance?” While he could see it of Alphonse, the idea of Edward dancing was something that Roy couldn’t quite wrap his head around.
“Granny taught all of us when we were kids.” Winry’s bare shoulders lifted in a little shrug. “It was a way to keep us busy on rainy days and later, it helped them get their coordination back after,” her voice trailed off and the corner of her mouth twitched before tipping up into a smile again. “They liked sparring better, of course.”
Roy chuckled. “I dare say that’s probably changed by now.” The music rose to a crescendo and Roy stepped back from Winry, still remaining hold of her hand, bowing to her precisely. She sank into a curtsey and rose back up though Roy noticed a glint in her eyes that he was sure had nothing to do with his dancing skills. A hard finger poked his shoulder, alerting him to Edward’s presence.
“I’m cutting in, sir.” The honorific was tacked on with horrible frigidness and Roy exchanged a little long-suffering glance with Winry, who just grinned in response.
Offering Winry’s hand to Edward, Roy laid his own on the young man’s shoulder. Leaning in, he whispered, “Treat her well, Fullmetal. There are many men here who’d love to take her away from you.”
The snarl was a bare curling of his upper lip though his eyes lit up with an unholy fire. “Like to see them try.” The threat rumbled out of Edward’s chest and Roy felt something like shock to realize the boy was nearly as tall as he was, now. When had that happened? Turning away from Roy abruptly, Edward settled his left hand on Winry’s waist, a little pleased smirk lightening his expression. “Watch and learn, old man.”
Winry rolled her eyes at Edward’s taunt, leaning a little past him to say, “Thank you again for the dance, Mr. Mustang.” Edward snorted and Winry turned a glare at him that Edward counted with a glower of his own. Roy had doubts that they’d even make it to the dancing portion of the evening when a pair of trumpets wailed together and the couple shifted their positions a little bit, Edward’s shoulders squaring and Winry adjusting her grip on his hand. The syncopated drumbeat startled some of the older guests and Roy shot a look at the band, spotting Alphonse next to the bandstand, giving his brother a thumb up, a wicked grin on his face.
Edward answered that smile with one of his own. He pulled lightly and Winry moved as soon as he put pressure on her hand. Their feet were a flurry of movement, smooth little bounces and sudden double side kicks that made Winry’s dress whirl out and the tails on Edward’s tuxedo furl. Ed brought Winry in close, their feet still moving to the beat, close enough that a misstep would have serious consequences, and Edward pushed her out, both of them stepping sideways to dance next to each other. Their arms moved in counterpoint to their swinging feet and they both suddenly spun to face each other, hands crossing the air between them. Winry flowed into Edward’s chest and they froze there for a second before Edward sent her into a series of spins and pulled her in front of him, her back pressed against his chest. Both of their arms outstretched, Edward held Winry’s hands in his, their feet moving together.
“You’d think they do this all the time, wouldn’t you?” Alphonse’s voice broke through Roy’s bemusement.
“They’re very well matched.” Roy couldn’t help but grin at Al’s sudden giggle.
“Too well,” he said, rolling his eyes, “they learned that dance because Granny Pinako said it was too complicated.”
Smothering a laugh, Roy turned it into a cough before asking, “Aren’t you going to dance, Alphonse? I’d think you’d relish a chance to take a turn or two with some of these lovely ladies.” He nodded at the women in the crowd, some of them eyeing Alphonse the same way a fox would a young rabbit.
“Oh, I’ll get around to it, don’t worry.” Alphonse didn’t take his eyes off the dance floor. “It’s more fun to show Brother up after he’s done something he’s really proud of.”
The music swelled and suddenly stopped, leaving the couples on the dance floor in various poses, reminding Roy of a game he’d played when he was a little boy called ‘Statues’. A smattering of applause broke out, both for the dancers and the musicians, and Roy and Alphonse both clapped in the appreciation. Edward leaned in to whisper something to Winry, who nodded in response and they left the dance floor. When close enough to speak without having to yell, Edward said, “Told you,” to Roy, a gloating sneer on his face.
Roy noticed that Edward still held Winry’s hand; that neither of them seemed in the least bit discomfited by that gesture. “All right, so you can dance,” he said grudgingly. “I’ll alert the media that there’s something else the Fullmetal Alchemist excels in.”
Winry didn’t bother to hide her amusement and Edward shot her a dark glare. She ignored the nonverbal threat to nod across the dance floor. “Ed, why don’t you get us something to drink? I’ll meet you back here in a few minutes.”
His fingers tightened slightly on her hand then released it. “All right.” Edward watched Winry cut through the crowds, heading for the ladies’ room. Roy and Alphonse exchanged grins behind his back at Edward’s growl when some man tried to intercept Winry. “Damn it, he’d better leave her alone,” Edward grumbled and started after the young woman.
“I’d say it’s cute,” Roy said, “but I’m afraid you’d rat me out, Alphonse.”
“Would I do that?” He shrugged loosely, putting his hands in his pockets. The easy grin that had graced his face most of the night turned a little brittle. “Winry can take care of herself. If nothing else, everything that’s happened recently should prove that to Edward but he’s always wanted to protect her.”
“The boss does have that protective streak.” Havoc joined them, his hair a little mussed, Riza Hawkeye on his arm. “I didn’t know he could do that.” He nodded at the dance floor.
“You didn’t look bad yourself, Havoc,” Roy said, grinning.
“It’s all in the partner, boss.” Havoc turned a smile on Riza. “She can make even a guy with two left feet look good out on the floor.”
“Flattery does not get you out of paperwork.” Riza swatted at Havoc’s arm then turned her attention to Alphonse. “You haven’t been out on the dance floor yet, Alphonse.”
“No, ma’am.” He risked a glance down her body, sheathed in a dark green dress with jeweled straps and a hem that frothed out from her knees to the floor. “I haven’t had a reason to until now.”
A laugh rippled out of Riza and she accepted the hand Alphonse offered. “You gentlemen,” she said, giving a pointed look to Roy and Havoc, “should take lessons.”
“Well, damn,” Havoc said as Alphonse swept Riza onto the dance floor.
Roy said, feeling a little nonplussed at what just happened, “Wonder where he picked that up from.” He and Havoc exchanged a look.
“Nah.” Havoc shook his head. “Edward isn’t that smooth.”
His mouth open to answer, Roy snapped it shut, hearing the unmistakable hiss and crackle of an alchemic transmutation. Whirling around, he sought the source of the sound, spotting people falling back. He and Havoc rushed forward, Roy shouting, “Hawkeye! Alphonse!” and hoping they’d hear him over the sudden babble and roar of the crowd.
It didn’t surprise Roy to find Edward at the middle of it; his tuxedo jacket already torn along the right sleeve to accommodate the blade he’d transmuted out of his automail arm. “Let her go,” he said furiously, taking a step forward.
A young man held Winry clasped to his chest, a dazed little smile on his face. His chin was pillowed on her shoulder and Roy could see that he’d wrapped his arms around Winry’s waist. “Aw, hell,” Havoc said and Roy realized what he’d taken for a decoration on the man’s wrist was a bomb.
“Let her go,” Edward repeated but the man giggled, clutching Winry tighter, lifting her off the floor when she tried to kick.
“Said to find the pretty blonde.” The man nuzzled the forced curls at Winry’s ear. She arched away from him in disgust, straining against his hold. “She’s the pretty blonde, right?”
“There are many lovely women here tonight.” Alex Louis Armstrong joined the ring forming around the man and Winry. “How do you know you have captured the correct one?”
“It could be me who’s supposed to be your hostage.” Riza stepped into the ring over Edward’s growled protest. Her face was set and proud. “Destroying me would mean you’d cripple the military. With her,” she jerked her chin at Winry, “well, she’s simply a civilian.”
Roy mentally applauded Riza’s approach but the man shook his head, grinning cheerfully. “You’re with the Fullmetal Alchemist,” he said in Winry’s hair. “His…mechanic he’d do anything to protect.”
There was something about the tone of those words that had Roy shoot a puzzled glance at Edward. The boy’s eyes widened then narrowed and Roy knew that Edward recognized something. “Come out, you bastard,” he said, taking a step back, as if Winry being held hostage meant nothing. “This isn’t between anyone but us.”
The man dragged Winry forward, his face turning bright red. “You won’t ignore me, Fullmetal Alchemist!”
Edward shot him a pitying look. “You’re just a pawn. I want the chess master.” Cupping his left hand around his mouth, he shouted, “Kimbley! Where are you, you bastard?”
Winry took advantage of her captor’s lack of attention to thrust her elbow into his stomach. Arching sideways, she bit his cheek, making him howl. Edward leaped forward as the man tried to throw Winry off, his punch landing solidly in the man’s nose. Alphonse grabbed Winry out of the way as Edward dropped on top of her captor, his blade raised above the man’s throat.
“Edward!” Roy clipped out, “Stand down!”
The point of the dagger touched the man’s larynx and he swallowed, sweat breaking out over his face. “It wasn’t supposed to be this way,” he said, rolling his eyes like a skittish horse. A sickly smile crossed his mouth and Alphonse shouted a warning to his brother.
Edward cut backwards with his blade as the man reached for the trigger of the bomb. Blood spurted and the man shrilled in pain, Edward’s face contorted in disgust. He got up, stripping out of his jacket and using the ruined fabric to clean the blade. “Just a cut,” he growled as Havoc and Armstrong rushed in, grabbing Winry’s captor and hauling him to his feet.
“Edward cut the wires, chief, the bomb’s defused,” Havoc said, as Armstrong held the bomber upright. Havoc went through the task of removing the belt holding the armaments in place.
“I want to question him,” Roy said coldly, glancing at Edward. He’d joined his brother and Winry, his left hand resting on the girl’s crown before sliding down her neck to tug her close. Alphonse’s hand rested on Winry’s shoulder but his gaze turned to Roy, a stony expression that he’d never seen in Alphonse’s eyes.
The band leader raised his baton, striking up the band and music again brightened the ballroom. Roy found himself looking up at Alex Louis’ sister, Olivia, who regarded him like she might an insect she wanted to crush. “I have informed the band to keep playing. The party can continue while we interrogate the prisoner.”
“Yes, of course.” Roy gave her a flat smile, gesturing for her to walk beside him. He heard the soft shuffle and knew that Riza had fallen in to her accustomed place at his back and guessed that the Elric brothers and Winry would bring up the rear. Roy mentally sighed. He’d expected opposition from the beginning but Kimbley gunning for Edward was something he’d never expected.
* * *
The room was small and bare; one probably used for servants’ quarters back in the day, and between Olivia and her brother, Alex Louis, it seemed even smaller than what it actually was. Ed had seen that much of it before the door closed in his face, leaving him, Al and Winry on the other side of it, squeezed into a narrow hallway. He’d tried to send Al and Winry back to the ballroom but neither of them was willing to wait to find out the answers. Ed had wanted to do the questioning himself, the idea that he was forced to wait outside like a kid putting him in a foul temper. The fact that he could feel Winry trembling every once in a while from where she pressed against him made him even angrier. This was supposed to be a celebration, damn it, and the asshole ruined it.
“Why do you think Kimbley would be after you, Brother?” Al asked gently from his place on the other side of Winry. His hands were wringing together, the same way they had when he was a hulking suit of armor.
Edward took Winry’s hand in his, surprised at how cold her palm felt. He almost wished he hadn’t left his tuxedo coat in the ballroom but it had blood on it and Ed wasn’t about to let that lunatic touch Winry again in any way.
He wanted to kick in the door and insist he be allowed in the room for the questioning. Hell, Havoc was in there and so was Hawkeye, not to mention that bastard, Mustang. “Feh, who knows.” He curled his lip, glancing up at Al - some things never changed; Ed thought he’d always be looking up to his brother. “Briggs, probably. I didn’t do what he wanted me to do.” He corrected himself, mimicking Kimbley’s voice, “‘Carve a bloody crest into Briggs Mountains.’ Ha. Like she,” he hooked a thumb at the closed door in front of them, “would’ve let me do that.”
“Like you would’ve anyway.” Winry squeezed his hand lightly. Ed shot her a look, knowing what she meant. Kimbley and the Fuhrer had held her as his and Al’s hostage, using Winry’s safety to keep him on a short leash. That plan had backfired when they brought her to Briggs; Winry’s cleverness keeping her out of Kimbley’s hands even if it had put her in danger with Scar. Ed still hated that he’d had to count on his enemy to keep Winry - and Al - safe but there had been no better choice, hell there hadn’t been any choice at the time.
“So this is his revenge?” Al shucked out of his own jacket, draping it around Winry’s shoulders. His mouth turned down as he peered past her to Ed.
“I guess.” Ed scowled at the door, wishing he could just barge in there and ask what the hell was going on. “Kimbley’s more hands on, though. I can’t see him using someone in his place. If he wants to get me, he’ll do it on his own.” He tossed his head in irritation, letting go of Winry’s hand so he could pace down the hall.
“Then we should take precautions, right?” Al called to his brother.
“Yeah,” Ed grumbled, turning and walking back. “But what kind? If Kimbley’s managed to get some more idiots to follow him, who’s to say who he’d use next?” He stopped abruptly next to the doorway, his shoulders tight and tense. “It just doesn’t seem like him, you know? He’s not going to use someone else to do his dirty work.” Ed sneered, “He enjoys it too much.” He dropped against the wall next to the doorway, shoving his hands deep into his trouser pockets.
Winry nodded. “He was always very polite to me but once you warned me, Ed, I thought he could be dangerous.” She sighed, slumping back, cradling her chin in one hand, that elbow resting on her folded arm. “I’m your weak link again, aren’t I?”
“No!” The exclamation exploded out of Ed as he raised his eyes to meet hers. “You never were, Winry.”
“Don’t even think that,” Al told her, his hand resting on her shoulder. “You’ve always been part of our strength.” He squeezed her shoulder. “We’re a team.”
At Winry’s dubious glance between the brothers, Ed bobbed his head once in agreement. He never wanted Winry to think of herself as their vulnerable point. “Yeah, Winry. Without you, I’d never have been able to do anything.” He flexed his automail arm in emphasis, relieved to see Winry smile a little in response. Ed moved to stand next to her again, almost unconsciously leaning his shoulder into hers. He could sense the pressure more than anything, Winry being on his right, but even so, it felt comforting. “I just wish we knew what was going on in there.” Ed nodded at the door.
“They’ll tell us when they come out,” Al said practically, though there was a hint of worry in his voice too, that let Ed know his brother wasn’t as pragmatic as he seemed at first glance.
He was surprised to feel Winry’s hand slide between his ribs and arm, glancing over at her in shock only to see his brother doing the same. She hugged their forearms, linking them together, a smile brightening her face. Eyes closed, she whispered, “We’ll get through this, huh? Like we’ve gotten through everything.”
“Yeah.” Ed breathed out the word in agreement, some of the tension leaving his body with his exhalation. “Yeah, we’ll be fine.” He settled back to wait for whatever crumbs Mustang was willing to give them from the interrogation, consciously thinking he was very lucky to have two people like Al and Winry to stand beside him.
* * *
“Well, that’s disappointing.” The corners of Kimbley’s mouth turned down and he sighed. “I thought for sure there would have been an explosion by now.”
“I told you I didn’t think he’d be able to pull it off.” The man standing next to Kimbley flung back his mane of black hair.
“I know, I know.” Kimbley put his hands in his pockets, turning away from his survey of the Armstrong mansion. “But it’s just an opening salvo, after all. A warning shot.” He smiled, “Fired across their bow, as it were.”
Envy rolled his eyes. “Admit it, Kimbley, you just want to get your revenge on the Fullmetal pipsqueak.”
“Of course I do.” Kimbley turned to his companion. “As do you.” He studied the homunculus thoughtfully, the last of his kind, the rest having perished in the final battle just a few months ago. Even Greed had been defeated, leaving the host body he had inhabited a normal human again. Kimbley wondered how that had felt in the most abstract way, whether Greed’s persona had exploded or been snuffed, like a candle flame between two fingers. He decided that he didn’t particularly want to find out for himself.
“Yeah.” Envy’s grin became malevolent, his eyes glittering with rage. “That kid ruined Father’s plans.”
“And he should be made to pay for it,” Kimbley said smoothly, smiling inwardly as Envy nodded in agreement. Oh, the fun this was going to be.
* * *
Olivia Armstrong couldn’t help the little feeling of delight that strummed through her body at the fact that an adversary was still out there. She chafed under this imposed peacetime rule; her world having been made up of ice and cold; of protecting the Northern Border against all comers. Peace made her wary and, she hated to say it, bored; she preferred the rush of combat, even if it were made up entirely of mental attacks.
The bomber sobbed in his chair, no longer a threat to anyone but himself and she turned her attention to the other officers in the small room, notably, Mustang, who at least had a rank similar to hers. She didn’t like the man, no, he was a hindrance in her plans, but he was Fullmetal’s superior, or had been, until the boy had resigned. Olivia was surprised Mustang let him go that easily. Surely he had to see that Fullmetal needed some sort of supervision; left to his own, he would become a thorn in the side of the new government and Olivia did not want to deal with that. The boy was far too idealistic in nature and soft-hearted as well but also had the public’s heart. Kept in the military, he could be an asset but allowed to roam free, Olivia had her doubts that he would hold his tongue on the things he knew.
“That was useless,” she said to Mustang, who nodded curtly, his hands folded across his chest. “I believe Fullmetal knows more than this tool does.” Olivia didn’t even bother glancing over at the bomber. He was beneath even her contempt at this time.
“I hope you don’t mean to question him the same way,” Mustang said coolly.
“I want answers, Mustang,” Olivia said. She raked a glance at the door, knowing that Fullmetal, his brother and the girl who tagged around with them waited outside.
“I think everyone does.” Mustang turned away from her and opened the door, stepping out if it. Those three kids came off the wall in a bunch and Olivia schooled her expression to hide the irritation that Mustang had walked out first.
“What did you find out?” Fullmetal asked, disengaging his arm from the girl’s. She didn’t seem to notice though her wide eyes seemed to swallow her face.
“Very little.” Olivia swept out behind Mustang. “I’d rather discuss this somewhere other than a hallway.” She turned abruptly, looking back inside the room. “Take care of that piece of garbage,” she ordered, not missing the veil that clouded Mustang’s adjutants’ expressions. Her brother nodded at her though something in his eyes warned her to take steps to not antagonize Mustang or his staff. They were, after all, allies of a sort. “Come with me,” she told Mustang and Fullmetal, leading them down the hall, resigned that the brother and the girl would tag along.
She made her way through the corridors and halls, reaching a den composed of dark colors, walls of books and a fireplace complete with fire burning against one wall. Mustang waited along with her for everyone to come into the room before closing off the door. Something in his stance made Olivia realize that he wished he had more of his staff with him. So be it, if he was off balance, all the better for her. She gestured for them to take seats, not surprised that the girl and Alphonse settled together on the settee, while Fullmetal stood at the end of it and Mustang waited beside another chair. “Well,” Olivia said, taking a chair and leaning her elbows on the arms of it, clasping her hands in front of her. “Someone appears to be out to get you, Fullmetal.”
He made a slicing motion with his hand, his lip curled back in irritation. “That much is obvious. What else did you find out?”
Olivia shrugged. “I told you the first time you asked. Very little.” Olivia waited for the explosion and was almost disappointed it didn’t come.
Edward fingered his chin instead, his brows beetled down. “Kimbley’s playing his cards close to his chest. He’s not going to tell some pawn what he’s up to.” He let out an irritated sigh, slapping his hands down on the back of the settee. “I thought he’d died in Briggs Mountains.”
“Obviously not,” Mustang said, “unless he taught someone we don’t know all of his secrets. And knowing Kimbley, he’d never trust anyone with that knowledge.”
“He was entrusted with a great many secrets of the military,” Olivia said thoughtfully. “It would be useful,” she stressed that word, “if he could be captured rather than killed.” She noticed Fullmetal’s girl swinging her head to track each speaker, her blue eyes wide and Olivia wondered just how much sway the girl held over Fullmetal. She had been his hostage, Olivia knew that, so it was obvious that the boy cared for her. She had no doubt that their affection for each other went beyond that of an automail mechanic and her patient. She remembered all too well how quickly the girl had won over the hearts of her staff. Miles had praised her as being one of the most generous people he had ever met and Miles was not one to utter such things lightly. Olivia wondered if the girl could be used as bait for Kimbley and whether she could maneuver that into happening. If Kimbley believed the best way to strike at Fullmetal was through the girl, that could work to their advantage.
“He’s nuts,” Fullmetal said sharply while Olivia was considering what her next moves should be. “You can’t trust him to tell you the truth.”
“Oh, there are ways of making sure the truth is being told,” Olivia said, noticing Mustang nodding grimly.
“You mean torture.” Alphonse looked between them both, his mouth set in a tight line.
“No one deserves that,” Edward snarled, his fists clenching. “Even Kimbley.”
“How do you propose we go about this then, Fullmetal?” Olivia gave him a cool look, actually curious. “Capture him and ask nicely? Do you honestly believe he’d give us the answers we need?”
“Look, he’s an asshole,” Edward said, “but he’s still a human being. No one deserves to be treated that badly, even if he is the enemy.”
“Everyone should have the right to make amends,” Alphonse insisted.
“Everyone?” Olivia glanced at Mustang. “Surely you know the Ishbalans are asking for the alchemists who murdered their people. Are you saying that, to make amends for those deaths, we should hand over people like Mustang, here?” She flicked a hand in his direction, pleased to see a flush swarm across Edward’s face.
“No,” he ground out, “that’s not what I’m saying.” He hesitated, his forearms trembling as he tried to restrain himself from shouting and Olivia mentally congratulated him on that. “What I’m saying is that there has to be a better way.”
“It’s all a moot point until we can capture Kimbley anyway,” Mustang said, cutting through the tension. “But until we do, Edward, I’d suggest that you, Alphonse and Miss Rockbell, here, remain under military guard.”
“Guard?” Edward’s face twisted. “Screw that. I can’t find out anything with someone babysitting me, telling me when and where I can go and what I can do.”
Dryly, Mustang went on, “Yes, it seems to me that your guardians last time had very little control over you, Edward.” The boy didn’t even have the grace to mumble an apology, his teeth flashing in a cocky grin.
“We’ll need some way to draw Kimbley out,” Olivia said musingly, ignoring the glares that Flame and Fullmetal were exchanging.
“Look,” the girl said, “if Kimbley wants to hurt Ed through me, I should be the one he goes after, right?”
“Winry, no,” Alphonse said, touching her shoulder as Fullmetal broke off his staring contest with Mustang to yell, “No way in hell are you doing that, Winry.”
“I know the risks, Ed.” The girl’s face was set in a firm mask as she turned in her seat to look up at him. “It’s not a great idea, I know, but I don’t see you offering a better one.”
“Hey, Al and I lured Scar and the Homunculi out of hiding before,” Edward said sharply, “we don’t need your help in this.”
“He’s right, Winry.” Alphonse leaned closer to the girl, squeezing her shoulder. “This isn’t your fight.”
She scowled at them both. “Yes, it is. I’m involved, remember?” The girl slapped at Alphonse’s hand. “You just said we’re a team. If we’re a team, then you two better start acting like it.”
“Well spoken, Miss Rockbell,” Olivia said over the sputtered protests of Fullmetal. “I agree. I think we should take advantage of this.”
Edward turned on her then, his eyes molten. “Winry isn’t some tool to be used.” His automail whined from the pressure of his clenched fist.
Olivia bit back the reply that anyone in the military was a tool to be used, as Fullmetal had resigned his commission. She mentally cursed Mustang again for allowing that to happen. “Do you have any better ideas, Fullmetal?” she asked, leaning forward slightly, ignoring the daggered glower the girl was giving the eldest Elric.
His mouth quivered and Edward turned abruptly to the girl. “Winry,” he said, voice lowered, “you don’t have to do this.”
“It isn’t safe,” Alphonse added to his brother’s protest.
“You didn’t see, Winry. I had to stop him from transmuting the building you and Scar were on. He would’ve killed you to get to Scar.” Edward dropped down in front of her, laying his hands on top of hers. “This isn’t your fight.”
She turned her hands over to clasp his. “Yes, it is. If we’re a team, it is my fight.” Her smile was faint but visible. “I trust you guys,” she pulled one hand free to lay it on Alphonse’s knee, “to keep me safe.”
“Well said.” Olivia nodded. “Of course, guards will help.” More to keep an eye out for Kimbley but, she shrugged mentally, whatever.
Edward pulled away from the girl, moving jerkily to stand in front of the fireplace, his head bowed and arms crossed. The girl followed him with her eyes though she didn’t rise from her seat. Alphonse twined his fingers with hers.
Mustang regarded her and Olivia felt a frisson of surprise at his steady gaze. She wondered if he disliked this plan as much as the brothers did. His expression was inscrutable and Olivia didn’t like that she couldn’t read him. “Hawkeye and Havoc can keep an eye on Miss Rockbell. They’re accustomed to covert work. They won’t be too intrusive but they’ll be there to provide back up if you should need it, Edward.”
His hands dropped, tightening into fists and he said to the fireplace, “I don’t like it but thanks.” Taking a deep breath, Edward turned back around, his jaw squared and eyes cold. “So, what do you need us to do?”
Olivia allowed herself a mental smile at their capitulation. Really, manipulation of the young was too easy.
* * *
Link to part two:
http://evil-little-dog.livejournal.com/179658.html