Rather short fic here, under ten chapters. Just so you know, while it's rated T, there'll be a chapter later on rated M (with appropriate warnings). Just because Lust is involved, doing Lust-y things. Anyway... it starts off a little slow, because it's more plot advancement and mission-esque focused, not just feels for the sake of feels- but I can only write feels. I'm still learning how to write normal things. Bleh. But I promise, the feels do come! And now... onwards, into my next venture into sadness and angst! Enjoy :)

"Welcome back, my child."

"F... Father?"

"Correct. Now, rise. Rise, and come to me."

"Where... where are we?"

"Oh. Yes. It's not our usual home, is it...? It's a human cemetery, if you must know- but this is unimportant. How do you feel?"

"...I am... well. I think. I- ...Father, what is this?"

"Oh, that? It is nothing. A sentimental trifle, left over from your host. Feel free to discard of it however you please. But then, come with me. There is much work to be done, Lust."

"Yes, Father."

Calmly, one of the shadows raised his left hand to the moon, extricating the ring off his finger and letting it carelessly fall to the dirt. Then, without another word, he followed behind his master out of the graveyard.

It was a cold, dreary, and miserable day. Lonely and overcast, swollen clouds that threatened rain rolling over the city, drowning everything underneath shadows and swallowed up even the weak, meager sunlight that wandered through the stormclouds.

Roy scowled at the pathetic weather, taking another sip of his lukewarm coffee, and rolled his eyes at the irony of it all.

It had been raining every day since the funeral.

And, depending on who you asked, it had also been raining the day of.

With another sigh, he firmly clicked his pen and turned back to his desk, pushing such morose thoughts of his his mind. The dreary, rainy weather should have no affect on him. It was raining because it was the wet season- not because of any funeral or black depression stalking him like a raincloud. He was an alchemist, after all. The weather had absolutely no relation to that god damn funeral.

And, meanwhile, I've thought more about the fucking rain than anything else today.

He glared darkly at the paragraph before him, the paragraph he'd spent the last ten minutes straight trying to read and still processed none of it.

With another ferocious sigh, Roy clicked his pen again and forcefully set it to paper, scrawling his signature down while barely even reading what he was approving. He set the form aside and reached for another, massaging at the building headache in his temples.

A knock on his door stopped him.

After several more moments of glaring at the paper, he cleared his throat, scowling again. "Enter."

He was not surprised when his office door opened to reveal Hawkeye, standing there straight and firm, still demanding professionalism and duty even now, her expectations the only thing that kept him performing. He was surprised, however, to see her hands empty of any new paperwork, or even, thank god, the sandwiches she'd taken to foisting on him at lunch time. Her eyes were filled with silent warning, however, a warning he heard even before she explained it for him, with a simple, "Major Elric to see you, sir."

Ah.

A warning well warranted, then.

"...I see." Distantly, he leaned back against his chair, pen set carefully down on his desk so gloved hands could fold in his lap.

Part of him wondered why Ed hadn't just barged in, like usual.

The rest of him already knew why.

"...Let him in, then."

With nothing more than a silent nod, and a look that said you should've known better, sir, Hawkeye stepped back and allowed his youngest subordinate to enter, shutting the door behind him.

Ed just stood there, right by the door, and glared at him without saying a single word.

Now, Roy was no stranger to being the recipient to Fullmetal's glares, but this one- this icy, detached stare filled with simmering, unspoken rage; it was not one he'd ever seen before. Fullmetal was a hothead. When angry, he made sure everyone within a hundred foot radius knew it. He shouted and stomped and made a fuss over everything.

He didn't think he'd ever seen Ed as still, silent, and furious as he was now.

Oh, the kid definitely knew the truth now.

When the seconds ticked by, and the kid didn't say anything, just glared at him, Roy found himself throwing away his one chance to make this right without so much as a second thought. "Cat got your tongue, Fullmetal?" he snapped waspishly, waving a finger at him. "I've got to say, this is probably the most I've liked you since I met you."

It was not a very good idea, to provoke him like that. Not now. And he knew that.

But, for the same reason he'd lied to him in the first place, Roy still could not look at him now and tell him the truth.

Ed's cold glare intensified, but no rant or screaming fit came. He just stood there stiffly by the door, arms folded, then finally cleared his throat. "I'm taking some time off," he said, voice resonating with black, barely contained rage. "I've already given the leave request to Lieutenant Hawkeye. She approved it for you."

"...I see."

Things were worse than he'd thought, it seemed.

After several moments, Roy left it at that. He wasn't going to ask where he was going. By the look on his face, anywhere that was not here was his goal. He wasn't going to ask why, either- because he knew that, too.

He should've apologized.

"...You have twenty-five days of unused leave time," was what he said instead. Flat and unfeeling; just like Ed's proclamation. "I expect to see you back here before the conclusion of that time."

Ed's glare didn't once waver. "Understood." He stood there silently for several moments, clearly waiting for more even as he raised his metal hand up in a stiff, formal salute. "Colonel."

And with that, he turned and left.

Roy was left to sit there and watch his retreat, far too aware to know he should stop him, far too prideful to do it. He remained at his desk, gaze on Ed's back as he retreated out to his outer office, then the hallway without once looking back. None of his other subordinates tried to stop him, either; even as little as they knew of the situation, they could see from Ed's state now was not the time to interfere.

Unsurprisingly, however, the moment Ed was gone, Hawkeye stood up again and returned to his office, without him even having to ask her to.

"He did not inform me where he was going," she told him, answering his unasked question. "He only said he needed some time to think."

"And yet, you approved the leave request anyway. ...Approved it for me."

Her eyes narrowed. "Given your recent behavior, I decided it would be prudent to act in your best interests, since it is most likely you wouldn't have, given the choice. Acting rashly, as you two are prone to do, would make things worse."

He wanted to scowl at her for it, but part of him knew she was right, and had probably prevented him from making things much, much worse. His pride still prevented a thank you as he leaned back in his command chair again, interlacing his fingers. "He certainly was angry. That was the most polite he's ever been to me, Lieutenant... he actually saluted me, did you see that?"

"There's a first time for everything, sir."

He could see it in her eyes she was not pleased with him.

Sighing, Roy returned his gaze down to his desk and said nothing.

He could feel Hawkeye's stare weighing on him again, his lieutenant plainly wanting to lecture him but not yet decided on the words. He kept his mouth shut, well aware that his best chances of getting her out of there was to just sit there and not react- and at the moment, all he wanted was to be left alone.

Another knock on his door ruined any such hopes, and he flinched, nearly snapping his pen in his hand. Glancing darkly up revealed Fuery making his way inside, blissfully innocent of what he was interrupting, and Hawkeye glaring at him again, as if warning him not to take his black mood out on him. He glared right back, in no mood for her silent lectures today.

"Colonel," Fuery greeted, shifting his grip on his stack of paperwork. "Straight from the Fuhrer's office. Needs your attention, ASAP."

Roy glared at the stack, briefly considering incinerating it.

"Oh!" Fuery said abruptly, as if just remembering something. "And I passed Ed just now, on his way into Bradley's office. He looked awful pleased with himself, too." Fuery smiled innocently, plainly unaware of the implications of his words. "Something going on, sir?"

Startled- if only briefly- out of his dark mood, Roy exchanged a surprised glance with Hawkeye. "...You must've been mistaken," he said at last, sitting back with a frown. "Fullmetal's taking some personal time at the moment. We're not going to see him around HQ for a little while." And he most certainly wouldn't be looking happy, now, either, he added on mentally, but felt no reason to say that aloud.

Fuery looked at him oddly, as if wanting to question him, but Hawkeye cleared her throat and stopped any such plans long before they could be put into action. "While Edward's absence will certainly decrease the amount of paperwork, it by no means has reduced it to none. We all have work to do and should get back to it."

Shrugging, Fuery let it go and headed back out to his desk, leaving Roy with his brand new stack of uninteresting drivel. He frowned at it.

"And, sir?"

What now? For god's sake, what could she possibly want now?!

Quieter now, so only he could hear her, Hawkeye said, "Unless you plan to transfer to Investigations, then set aside that file you were going to work on until after hours, sir. ...You're not going to find anything new today that you haven't found this past week."

Then she left him alone. She made her exit quickly- so quickly, he couldn't see the sympathy, concern, or pity growing in her eyes.

He sighed, battling to smother away the deep ache in his chest that had been growing for days now. She was right. He knew she was right. She was always right. He knew that.

It still took him several seconds to, very reluctantly, shut the case file for the murder of Maes Hughes, put it very carefully aside, and attempt to turn his attention towards the new paperwork waiting for his signature.

Ed yawned magnificently, stretched his arms and legs- creaking metal joints and all- and then, promptly buried his face in the book and and resisted the urge to scream.

"Brother," Al tried mournfully next to him, tugging a little on the text to try and get it away from him. "Come on. We've been here for hours. Why don't we just go back to the dorms for now? Please?"

But he shook his head, refusing to consider the proposition- even if he also couldn't open his eyes just yet, either. "No. ...One more."

Al sighed again. "You always say that, Brother."

After several moments, Ed just shook his head, pushing himself up off the book and blinking down at the words again. They remained stubbornly fuzzily for a second until he glared them into submission, and, groaning, he pulled over his notes and started to continue.

When his head hit the pages for the second time in five minutes, Al put his foot down.

"Nope," he declared staunchly, tugging Ed back with one hand and smartly snapping the book shut with the other. "We are going home, and you are going to bed. Right now."

"But..."

"No arguments!" Al very easily pulled the book out of his grip and piled it on top of the others, then poked a finger at him. "I'm going to go put these back where they came from. You, stay here, and don't go get anymore. I'll be right back."

Ed found himself too tired to do anything but sway in his seat and watch as Al toted the books back to their rightful places. And while he knew Al was just as weary as he was, his brother never showed it, steps always swift and steady and hold on the high stack of books never wavering as he lugged them away.

He shook his head miserably at the sight and frowned back at the worn table, shoulders slumping with exhaustion he didn't have the time to feel and Al didn't have the body to suffer. It must've been ten hours they'd been here, working without a break.. maybe more. And they'd been here even longer yesterday. Ed didn't think he'd even seen another person since yesterday, when they'd run into Mustang and Hawkeye and heard about Hughes' retirement. Al was probably right, he realized ruefully... getting at least a couple hours sleep would be far more productive than insisting on staying here a while longer.

In a daze, he wasn't really sure how long it was until Al came back, pulling him to his feet and out of the study room. His feet wavered a bit at first but his brother steadied him, guiding him out into the hall, and Ed couldn't help but sigh, leaning on his arm for support. "Sorry, Al."

It wasn't just for being this; so tired Al had to take charge, clean up, and drag him home. It wasn't just for tonight. But Al knew that, and Ed knew he didn't have to say anymore when Al just looked at him with the closest thing to a smile he could do, and said, "We'll keep trying tomorrow."

Nodding gratefully, Ed swallowed back the regretful feeling in his throat and shut his eyes, just for a moment. He let Al lead him the rest of the way to the stairs, yawning again, suddenly unable to think about anything but bed. Ah, bed. Glorious bed. Perfect, soft, wonderful bed-

"Oh, Colonel Mustang! And Lieutenant Colonel Hughes! What are you doing here?"

Ed jerked away from his brother's arm and wrenched his eyes open in the same instant.

There was Mustang, a while off down the hallway but completely unmistakeable- but Hughes... if it hadn't been for Al, Ed wouldn't have recognized him at all. Out of uniform, for once, but rather than his outlandish purple or orange ridiculous civilian shirts, he was dressed entirely in black, a sleeveless shirt and pants that struck him more as something Mustang would wear than Hughes. Ed stared blankly, first at him, then the colonel, looking between them in confusion. What, did the bastard have a mission for him? At this hour? Surely it could've waited until the morning... and besides, that didn't explain what Hughes was doing here, dressed like that.

His pride was saved, at least, since Mustang wasn't smirking or laughing at him for once, apparently haven't noticed how heavily he'd just been leaning on his brother for support. Instead, the two officers just approached them, both almost curiously expressionless, and he frowned. "Hughes?" he called, then rubbed his eyes hard, the surprise helping to wake him up a little more. "Hughes, what are you doing here? I thought you'd retired to the country... and why are you dressed like that?"

But Hughes just waved the comment off, shaking his head with a quick grin. "Mustang had to say all that, before; you were in public. Sorry for all the misdirection, it's a long story- can we talk?" He jabbed a thumb towards a study room- the one, in fact, that Ed and Al had just left.

Ed glanced at Al uncertainly, still more than a little thrown by their sudden appearances. On one hand, if it had just been Mustang here, he would've told him to fuck off; the bastard may have owned him during the day, but it was the middle of the night and he was not doing this. But if Hughes was here, it had to be important... besides, Mustang hadn't insulted him yet. He supposed he could be patient.

Grunting irritably, Ed led the way back inside, though one look at the chair he'd spent the better part of a day in and he slouched against the wall instead, glancing suspiciously between the two men as they trailed in after him and shut the door. "So, what's this all about, really? And hey, Hughes, what the hell; did you actually retire? I thought you liked Central!"

Hughes held up a hand to forestall the questions, though, shaking his head at him while Mustang just stood silently by the door, watching. "I didn't retire, actually. Like I said before, it's a bit of a delicate situation- I'm being sent on a mission, but it needs to be secret. The public story is that I'm retiring, but in actuality I'll be headed south."

Mustang finally stepped forward, but his dark eyes were curiously unreadable as he folded his arms into an unapproachable front. "There's been a string of murders in the south. We're thinking a rouge group of Ishvallans," he explained dispassionately. "Hughes is being dispatched to handle it. Quietly. The Ishvallans are angry enough with us as is, and the last thing we need are tensions being heightened if word got out about the military retaliating against them. You are being dispatched with him, as protection."

"Wait- protection?!" he spat out, all previous exhaustion now brushed aside in favor of irritation. "Um, I don't think so. Unless these Ishvallans happen to have something to do with the Philosopher's Stone, then I'll pass. Besides, why can't you just go with him yourself?"

Mustang's eyes narrowed darkly. "Because I'm ordering you to go. Can you not understand that? It's an order. You follow orders. That's all there is to it, Fullmetal."

Ed blinked, thrown by the casually dismissive response. What, no pipsqueak? No taunting or height jabs or smug remarks? He glanced between the two men again, then back at Al, frowning quietly against the wall. "...What's going on here?" he asked again. "You're not telling me something."

It was quiet for several seconds, Mustang and Hughes looking at each other and saying nothing while Ed and Al were left to wait in increasing discontent.

At last, Hughes cleared his throat, eyes shadowed and wary. "Things are happening, Ed. Some of the generals are getting interested in soul bonding... god knows why. Now, they don't know about Alphonse," he said quickly, holding up a hand to calm him down, "but Mustang thinks, and I agree, it'd be best if we got you two out of town for now. Out of sight, out of mind, right?"

He finished the statement with a lighthearted laugh, but Ed had already stiffened, and beside him, Al was frozen in sudden nerves. He drew an inch closer to his brother, unable to help himself. Instantly, his mind started spinning of what would happen if anyone found out... he'd be imprisoned or executed- and Al, god, Al. The military would take him and- no. No. It wasn't something he could bear even thinking of. "Maybe clearing out is the best idea," he hedged reluctantly, stepping closer to Al again. "Just until this is all done with."

Al hesitated. "But... this isn't going to go away, is it? I mean, if they want to start experimenting into soul binding..."

"I think I'll be able to nip this in the bud, actually," Mustang cut in, raising a hand. "I'm the highest ranking State Alchemist at the moment, courtesy of Scar." His mouth became something of a nasty grin, something that almost sent chills down his spine and unsettled him greatly. "So, while the generals may detest me in every other fashion, my opinion on alchemy related matters still holds some weight. I'll be able to convince them soon that this is too close to human transmutation to risk- but in the meantime, you should be elsewhere. Just to be safe."

Hughes went on after him, not giving Ed a chance to comment. "Besides, this is a good excuse to get you two out of town! The Fuhrer himself wants this group in the south dealt with, and he ordered I do it myself, along with an alchemist for protection... no one will question it." He grinned easily. "It's perfect. So, Ed? What do you say?"

Ed hesitated, torn, and shared an uneasy glance with Al. This was all very sudden... and still, something about it didn't sit right with him. It made sense that he shouldn't be in Central, he supposed, but surely there was somewhere he could be in the meantime, Philosopher's Stone hunting? Why did he have to tag along with Hughes? But, on the other hand, while Mustang was a manipulative prick, Ed was well aware the bastard did try and keep them searching for the stone as much as he could. If Mustang was suggesting this as an option, then it could only be that things were about to get more dangerous in Central than he was willing to admit.

Or, hell, it could just be that he's worried about Hughes and wants someone he can count on there to help him out...

After several moments, holding Al's gaze and communicating silently, Ed sighed, glancing grumpily back at Mustang. "...This wouldn't be for that long, right? I'm serious, bastard, no longer than two months. We've got stuff to do."

Mustang, however, just nodded easily, his expression unreadable again. "Don't worry, Fullmetal. Everything'll be done before you know it- I can promise you that."

Once again, Ed exchanged an uncertain glance with Al, thrown. Everything about the bastard just seemed slightly off...

But before he could question it, Hughes nudged Mustang back towards the door and cleared his throat. "So it's settled, then. Ed, Al- I'll meet you at the train station in two hours. You two had best go back and pack. And remember, if anyone asks, you didn't see me. I'm supposed to already be gone, after all." He waited for them to nod slowly, both still a little confused, to grace them with another grin and make his exit. "Great! Then I'll see you two soon?"

Ed hesitated, exchanging an uncertain glance with his brother. Whatever was going on, they clearly didn't know the full story... but, this was Al's safety at stake here. Mustang wouldn't trick them; not like this, at least. For Al's safety, he was content to not press the matter, and just get the hell out of Central as fast as possible.

"...Sure," he said at last, swallowing back the urge to pry and pry until he knew everything and instead, for Al's sake, just nodding instead. "We'll be there."

Then, just as the two men were making the exit, he called out again. "Hey, Mustang?"

The colonel paused in the doorway, looking over his shoulder at him. Once again, everything in his expression was just slightly off... but now was simply not the time to question it.

"Thanks, Mustang," he grunted reluctantly.

The colonel watched him for a moment longer, then just made his silent exit again, and left the two of them alone.

Ed watched as the two men left, frowning and trying to place the sense of unease, and just a glance at Al told him his brother was doing the same. It wasn't until the sound of their footsteps outside faded away, though, that Al spoke up, standing up straight as realization hit him.

"Ed, Hughes didn't even mention anything about his daughter. I think that's the first conversation we've had with him where he didn't pull out any pictures."

Ed's eyes widened. Al was right. Hughes hadn't even once mentioned his wife or daughter... and, granted, while he wasn't complaining he wasn't still having his ear talked off about how cute whatever Elicia had done now was, it was definitely odd. "Yeah... and you know what? Now that I think about it, Mustang didn't call me short even once."

He frowned again, both of them watching the door in uncertain confusion that they couldn't answer, and silence dominated the room.

If Ed and Al had been a little bit quicker in leaving themselves, perhaps they would've caught sight of Colonel Mustang's form morphing into that of a homunculus, and laughing in a new voice that was nothing like his previous one as he said, "No, no, pipsqueak, thank you,", and they would've seen Hughes laugh as well, clapping the homunculus on the shoulder but saying nothing.

But they didn't.