Waiting: Mother Arc: Chapter 4

"They didn't!"

"I'm telling you, I saw I myself!"

Yu laughed along with her husband's former superior, enjoying the stories of old friends and acquaintances she had lost touch with over the years.

"You shouldn't stay away for so long, Yu-chan. There's too much for you to catch up on."

"Yes, indeed," she mused. "But, Major General—I'm sorry, General—"

"Bah." He waved a hand. "I'm tired of that old title. Just call me Charles."

"Charles, then. You still haven't told me why you've come out here. Especially since you've been stationed in the west?"

"I've been in Central these last few weeks, actually." He finished off his sandwich and wiped his hands on his napkin. "Getting the finer points of my retirement straightened out. So when news of the little group from the east came by, I decided to come out and see if my little Yu-chan was with them."

Yu smiled again, toying with her fork, and waited.

"Ah, I also wanted to see how your boy was doing. There's a lot of talk about him in Central. Some people are just waiting for him to crash, y'know. After this demotion and then undemotion business, people are saying he's not really cut out for command, that it was his old staff that did all the work."

"Is that so?"

"He's young to be a brigadier general, y'know. Some people don't like how alchemists start with such a high rank, they say it's an unfair advantage. I say, let them have their rank, and if they can't handle it, then they won't get promoted, same as the rest of us."

She folded her hands and rested her chin on her fingers, putting on her best "ignorant foreigner" face. "I'm not sure I understand why his rank changed so much. I didn't think the military would do that so lightly."

"It wasn't lightly, he had some pretty heavy accusations against him."

"But if that was so, then why did they give him back his rank?"

"No proof. His demotion was done on shaky ground in the first place."

"Ah, Major—I'm sorry, Charles, you've confused me too much. How could the military demote him with no reason?"

"They had reason—at least a lot of 'em thought they did—what they didn't have was proof. The only reason it stuck as long as it did was because he didn't fight it right away. But I tell you, if there had been an ounce less doubt. . . ." He shook his head. "I'm sorry to tell you this, but your boy would've been facing a firing squad."

Yu put a hand to her mouth. The reaction might have been played up, but her shock was very real; she'd never imagined the charges had been that serious. What had her little boy gotten mixed up in?

"Roy's a fine boy and a good officer, and I'd hate to've seen it, but considering the charges. . . ." The man leaned forward over his plate and lowered his voice. "Y'see, he was accused of killing the Fuhrer. There're still those who think he did."

"And you?" she asked, fighting to control her voice. "What do you think?" Charles Johansen had his blind spots—she always could play him into telling her more than he maybe ought—but she'd always admired him for his level head and his insistence on relying on facts instead of emotions.

"I don't know what to think," he admitted. "It's pretty suspicious, but I don't really see how he could have. None of it adds up."

She frowned and tilted her head to one side. "Not add up?"

"It's like this." He glanced around, then leaned further over the table. "About four years ago now, the Fuhrer went missing. He's presumed dead, but no body was ever found. You can see why it'd be hard to make a case, right? But just before then, your boy and another state alchemist, Major Armstrong, were sent north with a squadron to deal with some problem or another. Only they didn't get that far. They weren't a day out of Central before they halted all progress, and half the squadron turned traitor, supposedly on Armstrong and Mustang's orders."

"Turn traitor?"

"That's the word. Most of the charges were dropped in light of what was uncovered after, but that's a different story. Thing is, when this went down, none of the soldiers there could say with any certainty that Brigadier General Mustang was actually with them. Some of 'em swear they saw him when they left Central, but none of 'em can remember him giving any orders or even talking to any of the men. The Armstrong boy was the one who actually gave all the orders. He took the fall for it, too, although it got argued down until he was simply discharged."

"I don't understand. Was Roy instigating a rebellion or not?"

"Not unless he can be in two places at once. Because he was undeniably in Central that same night."

"In Central?"

"Here's where things get really fuzzy. This is what we do know: the Fuhrer suspected an intruder in his home, and he sent his family off while he went to go deal with it. He didn't even allow any guards to go with him, he sent them all off with his wife and kid. Only before they could get anywhere, they crash into Frank Archer. He's another story altogether; let me just say that the man was not in his right mind. So here he is babbling about needing to get to the Fuhrer, and when the guards tell him they have orders to keep everyone away from the mansion, he opens fire on them and steals a car. Somewhere in all this Bradley's boy—poor lad—slips off and runs back home.

"Well, when the guards finally got back to the Fuhrer's residence, they found Lieutenant Hawkeye—oh, she'd been at the mansion, so the guards had been taking her along with the Fuhrer's family; apparently she'd run off in the commotion, too— she was crouched down over Mustang, trying to shake him awake, and little Selim was a few feet way with a broken neck and Archer's body was out on the lawn. She said she'd come just in time to see Archer shoot at Mustang with no provocation, so Hawkeye'd shot him—protecting her commanding officer, no charges were ever filed against her for it."

So that's how, Yu thought to herself. So that's what happened to Roy's face.

"No one knows what happened to Fuhrer Bradley. The wine cellar in the mansion was wrecked and burning, but not so badly that there wouldn't've been something left—y'know, if there's been a body in there. Mustang says he doesn't remember much about that night. The doctors said that wasn't surprising, considering he took a bullet to the head. So all he remembers is that he'd heard word of something suspicious at the Fuhrer's residence and had gone to investigate. From what I hear, he definitely looked like he'd been in some kind of fight. They found one of the Fuhrer's sabers down in the cellar, and it looked like it might have had blood on it, but it was too scorched to really tell."

"So Roy . . . had been the only one there."

"Aside from Bradley's boy, yeah. But if he did kill Bradley, what did he do with the body? He wasn't in any shape to have dragged it anywhere, and anyway the grounds were searched thoroughly. If he'd burned it or transmuted it, there would have something left. The only other thing they found in the cellar was some sort of puddle nobody could identify."

"A puddle?"

"Or what was left of one. Seems it was organic, but it wasn't wine, and it wasn't blood—although there was blood in the cellar—and nobody was quite sure what to make of it.

"And another thing; the way the Bradley boy's neck was snapped would've taken incredible strength. Not only that, the experts say whoever did it used their bare hands. Your boy just doesn't have that sort of strength. Not many people do. The Armstrong boy, maybe, but he was confirmed to be up north, and anyway he doesn't have the disposition. Come to that, neither does Roy."

"Maybe . . . someone else was there?"

"There wasn't much evidence of that, but I don't see how else to explain it. Frankly, I don't see how to explain it at all. But I've looked at all the scenarios, and I just don't see how Mustang could have killed Bradley and gotten rid of the body so thoroughly, not to mention snapped Selim's neck like that. It just doesn't add up."

"I see." Yu picked up her coffee and sipped it slowly, her eyes on the tablecloth as she tried to sort out her thoughts. Her baby, a murderer? Her guts twisted at the idea, but he'd been in war, and the battlefield . . . did things to people. He had killed, she knew that, but under orders, always under orders. Could he have killed—murdered a man on his own? And what of the child?

"Now, I'm not saying that whatever happened to the Fuhrer was justified," Charles went on, "but there was a lot that came out into the light after he was gone, things that show that maybe he wasn't as clean as everyone thought."

She looked up and lowered her mug. "Oh?"

"Evidence about cover-ups in the Ishval war, like soldiers who were supposedly reassigned who never showed up again, and a death certificate for the woman who was supposed to have started the war—a death certificate dated some years before the war started. That same woman, or someone using her identity, was acting as the Fuhrer's secretary some years later, and then—get this—she disappears around the same time as the Fuhrer."

"Is that so. . . ."

"That's only the start of it. There's shaky grounds for most of the skirmishes the Fuhrer got the army involved in. There's also evidence of funds being siphoned off, and all the trails on that lead to dead ends. From what I heard, the best lead was a tentative connection to some woman named Dante, an old recluse who lived in the southern area, but she died some months before the Fuhrer, and there's evidence that that wasn't her real name. There's also rumors of underground projects and experiments using death row prisoners, chimeras—all sorts of stuff. A whole laboratory, in fact, that was supposed to've been condemned, but was far too heavily guarded and had been seeing far too much activity around it."

"I see. . . ."

"With that, and what happened in Liore, and the military's best PR disappearing—"

"PR?"

He chuckled. "The Fullmetal boy. He's called the People's Alchemist, y'know. Right before the Fuhrer went missing, he supposedly turned traitor and stormed headquarters, just him and some unidentified woman, and then he up and vanishes. Wasn't seen or heard from until about a year ago."

"For three years, nobody—including his brother—knew where he was or what had happened to him."

"Popular opinion now is that he'd gotten wind of some rottenness at the core of the military, and was trying to root it out. Anyway, what with all that, parliament and the military went pretty light on anyone suspected of acting against Bradley toward the end there. They couldn't risk becoming unpopular."

"I see. . . . So, Edward-san—he was gone for three years? Where was he all that time?"

"No one knows. Not that I've heard. There was an inquiry when he came back, of course, but to be honest, I don't think they pushed him too hard. The military needs all the good PR they can get right now, and court marshalling a favorite just for acting in what everyone says was the best interests of the people would be a bad, bad move." He laughed and sat back, and Yu managed a smile that didn't feel too forced.

"Had you known him back then?"

"The Fullmetal boy? Nah, not really. I met him once though, when he came through my area. He couldn't have been more than thirteen, maybe fourteen at the most. Foul-mouthed little brat with a chip on his shoulder the size of Central, stomping about in that gaudy coat of his, like he was afraid someone might overlook him. And his brother? He was wearing this huge suit of armor with spikes all over it."

"Armor?"

He waved a hand about a foot over his own head. "Full armor, real mediaeval stuff, and I mean huge. I don't see how anyone smaller than the Armstrong boy could even move in it, but this kid wore it like he was born to it. He never once took it off, from what I hear. Not for years."

"Well. I suppose boys like to play-act, but this sounds a little. . . ."

"Extreme?" he finished for her.

"Indeed. Alphonse-san may be a strong boy, but he is not much taller than his brother. And he would have been no more than child back then."

Charles laughed again. "I mistook him for the Fullmetal Alchemist at first. With all that armor, the name would fit, y'know? He was embarrassed, but the real Fullmetal brat was downright pissed about it. Then I made the mistake of mentioning the little guy's size—I don't think anyone makes that mistake twice. I probably should have disciplined him for insubordination, but he was just a kid. And anyway, I owed him for taking down this rogue alchemist we'd been trying to root out for months. Kid was a powerhouse, if you believe even half the rumors about him."

"And do you? Believe them?"

"I know he brought that rogue alchemist down, just him and his brother, and there must have been some reason to give a state license to a twelve-year-old." He sipped his coffee. "Speaking of the Fullmetal boy, there are some other, um, rumors going around recently. . . ."

He coughed and tugged at his ear, and Yu smiled. She could guess what these were about, but was having too much fun watching her old friend squirm. "My, there seems to be so many rumors lately."

"Yes, well. Seems when Roy moved to East here, the Fullmetal boy moved with him, so word is—eh—well, you know."

She raised her eyebrows and gave him an innocent smile.

"Your boy used to be pretty well known with the ladies, but there's talk now that—he and the Fullmetal kid—well, they are living in the same house, after all, it's pretty suspicious even if they aren't really—you know—"

"Together?" she said, finally taking pity. "That rumor, at least, I can confirm for you."

"So then they are—um—y'know."

"Together. Yes, it seems so. Roy told me as much in the letter he sent last year."

"Last year? So this was even before they moved out here."

"If they moved in together when they moved here, it would have had to have been, hadn't it?"

"Ha! I suppose so. I just have a hard time thinking of your boy as—well." He tugged his ear again.

So do I, Yu agreed silently. Aloud, she said, "So this has also become talk in Central? What is being said?"

"You know how the military is, everybody's always in everybody's business, nobody can eat lunch without word of it going around command. But this is . . . hm. A little more unusual than most rumors, y'know? There's some nasty ones that I won't repeat, but I'm sure you can guess. I wouldn't believe bullshit like that in a million years. Roy's not that kind of person, and Fullmetal—well, I told you what a powerhouse he was, and quick tempered, at that."

"Yes, the temper I have seen for myself."

"Don't tell me he mouthed off at you!"

"Not at me, no. But I had a good view."

He laughed again. "Well. You can see, then, why I don't think he'd put up with anyone—eh—taking advantage of him, as it were."

"Mm."

He coughed and looked off to the side, sitting back and sipping his coffee. At length, he went on; "Y'know, this talk about Roy being unfit for command . . . I tell you, he must have been doing something right. I had one of his former subordinates for the last few years, a fellow named Breda. When he got word Mustang was going to challenge the demotion, and he immediately set to work, digging up anything that could be used to get the sentence overturned. Not just him, either. I poked around some, and it seems all of Mustang's former office staff were doing the same. There was nothing in it for them, either. I watched. No kickbacks, no favors, nothing. They just wanted to help out their former commander." He shook his head. "You can't buy that sort of loyalty."

Yu smiled—a genuine smile, this time—and tried to put thoughts of murders and aside while she listened to the lengths her son's former subordinates would go to to serve and support him.

* * *

"What." Ed said in exasperation when he noticed the librarian giving him yet another sidelong look.

"Nothing! Nothing." She glanced at him again over the rim of her glasses and added, "You just, seem to be in a good mood, that's all."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing."

"Can't I be in a good mood?" Shit, he better not be blushing. "Is there something wrong with being in a good mood?"

"No, of course not." She cleared her throat and ducked her head over her notebook, and Ed could swear she was fighting a grin.

Fucking perceptive librarian. Edward sighed and rubbed his automail over his face, hoping the metal would pull some of the heat away. At least he could use the excuse of meeting Winry at the train station to escape before long. "Oh yeah. Al told Winry about this book you're doing, so now she wants to meet and, y'know, talk or something."

She grinned at him. "Give me embarrassing stories about you as a kid, you mean?"

"Probably. Hey, don't forget I get final say about what goes in this thing."

"I know, I know. I'm sure she has enough blackmail on you to get a few in, though."

Ed grumbled under his breath and watched her write something in the margin. He'd tried reading her notes once, but they were so full of inserts and scribbles in the margins and between lines that they might as well have been written in code. "She has to catch the train to Central on Sunday, but maybe tomorrow, after the demonstration."

"Okay. I'm not working tomorrow, so that's fine. Oh, that's reminds me." Olivia tugged off her glasses and set them on her notebook. "Someone from the Xingian embassy came by earlier, looking for old news articles about alchemy."

"It wasn't an obnoxious little girl with a mutant cat, was it?"

"Um, no . . . we don't allow animals in here anyway," she muttered, giving him a blank look. "It was a woman in her thirties. She said her name was—" she winced, "—I'm so going to mangle this—Lee Shoo or something."

Ed started. "Li Xue??"

"Yeah, that was it. She said she was looking for news articles from about five years ago. I suggested she talk to you, since you pretty much were the alchemy news back then, but she said this wasn't for her."

"Did she say who it was for?"

"No, although I suggested that maybe that person should come in themselves."

"You didn't ask who it was?"

She gave him a look. "Edward-san, librarians are supposed to be conduits for knowledge. We're not supposed to be nosy."

He glanced down at her notebook and grumbled, "I dunno, you're nosy enough."

She grinned. "Moonlighting."

He snorted. "So what sort of things was she looking for?"

"Pretty general stuff. She didn't seem to know. That's why I suggested this other person come in. But I think she was mostly trying to get a sense of what kind of stuff was reported on back then."

"Why would she want to know that?"

"That would've been being nosy."

"Fucking librarian ethics."

She grinned again and bent her head to write in the notebook. "Anything from East is gonna be pretty biased, though, like I said," she said after a moment. "You were our Golden Boy, after all."

"Was I really in the news so much?" He'd never paid much attention to newspapers, being of the opinion that they never had anything important to say and so were not worth his time.

"Are you kidding me? You were our pride." She looked up and waved her pen. "East City's always been more or less ignored by the rest of the country. Central gets all the attention, and people seem to think we're not much more than a bunch of hicks. But hell, we had the Fullmetal Alchemist."

"Huh." Ed slouched back in his chair and scratched his nose. "I'd never really thought of it like that." He and Al had been on the road more than not back then, and he hadn't thought of East or any other place as home; he'd never considered that the place he reported to between assignments would claim him. "So I guess you were here back then." That was something else he hadn't considered; that part of his life seemed so distinct from his life now that he was startled any time there was any overlap.

"I've lived in East since I was a kid," she confirmed. "I used to work at the grocery down by the base. I'd see you come in all the time with your brother, back when Alphonse-kun was still wearing the armor." Olivia hadn't yet come out and asked about the armor, but Ed knew it was only a matter of time. He still wasn't sure what he would tell her. "You'd always ask for a sample and he was always getting on your case for it."

"Eh." He grinned sheepishly and scratched the back of his head. "I guess I did ask for free food a lot."

"As your brother often pointed out, you must have already known what everything tasted like," she said with a teasing smile. "You always bought something, though, so we never minded." She picked up her glasses, then paused. "That reminds me, some of the girls had a bet going about you and Mustang-san. I wonder if anyone ever collected."

Edward sputtered and jerked forward. "About me and—me and the Colonel? Back then?? The fuck—?"

She tugged on her braid. "Well, you were always complaining about him, and it really was like the way a kid acts about a crush sometimes. . . ."

"There was a bet that—that I had a—"

"No, they all pretty much agreed on that. The bet was on what you would do about it. Y'know, like whether or not you would act on it, and whether you'd get shot down or if Mustang-san would actually go for it, that sort of thing."

"Fuck." He leaned forward and buried his face in his hand. "Never shopping there again."

"Oh, don't worry, most of us don't even work there anymore. I doubt anyone there even knows about that old bet." She was grinning at him, he was sure of it.

"Please don't mention this to Roy." The bastard would never let him live it down.

She stifled a giggle as her pen started scratching across the paper again.