Title: Lessons
Summary: Now that the two most significant people in his life since he'd been eleven had found happiness he should be happy for them. Three years after he's restored his brother's body, one year after he's returned from the other side of The Gate, Edward no longer has a solid goal to focus on.
Pairings: Ed/Several OC's and Russell Tringham, Roy/Al, eventual Roy/Ed/Al
Rating: M/R
Warnings: Yaoi, heavy lime, ANGST, troubled!Ed, somewhat disturbing imagery, incest, spoilers for the series and the movie.
Disclaimer: If I owned FMA, then this wouldn't be a fanfic, now would it?
Notes: No, I haven't actually seen the movie yet, so all I know about it are what I've read in a few translations of a NewType issue, so I apologize ahead of time for any unintentional discrepancies. I also apologize for the sheer amount of ANGST; I should probably get that checked out one of these days.
Chapter One: Understanding
Callused hands stroked gently down his chest, curiously exploring the curves of muscle, the slash of scars. He wasn't surprised by the gentleness; no, why would he be? After all, it was always like this. He always took such care with him -- caressing him, holding him, making him feel like he was cherished, even if he knew he had no right to be.
Those hands drifted lower, tracing the line of blonde hair down from his navel to-- A moan tore itself from his throat as he arched off the bed, and when he forced his eyes open, he wasn't surprised to see that the dark mop of hair had turned a dusty blonde, bronze eyes that reminded him of his mother's smiling down at him with such love and innocence; an expression that didn't belong anywhere near what those hands were doing to him. But no matter how hard he tried to speak, to tell him to stop because this wasn't right, all that came out was an unintelligible moan and those hands just moved faster.
Ed awoke quite abruptly, though his entire body felt as if he'd been sleeping in a bowl of particularly thick pudding when he tried to move. This attempt also brought his attention to the fact that he was slick with sweat and his right hand was clamped rather enticingly around the bulge in his boxers and Ed was suddenly very glad about the fact that he'd opted to stay an extra night in the inn instead of taking the late train back to Central. There was only a moment's thought to just finish the job -- after all, it wasn't as if the automail could feelso he could pretend it was someone else's hand -- but it was pushed aside quicker than it took the blonde to untangle himself from the sheets. There were only three ways Ed knew of to take care of this problem. The first two he tended to avoid like the plague, because he usually ended up feeling sick and disgusted with himself afterwards; besides that one of them required at least one other person present, and Ed didn't know anyone in this town (one of the reasons he'd requested this mission specifically), nor was he about to proposition a stranger. So that left him with just one option, and he quickly padded over to the small bathroom.
He shivered under the cold spray of the shower, letting the frigid water douse the flames spreading out from his groin that begged to devour him. Ed focused on that feeling, on the biting cold of the water and the slight chattering of his teeth, driving the memory of the dream from his mind. He was getting better at it, and he wasn't sure what he felt about that realization. That thought, too, was left to swirl down the drain with the memory of the dream and the extinguished fire, and it wasn't until Ed was able to completely shift his mind back to thinking of what he needed to accomplish that day that he finally reached out and turned the temperature control to the other extreme, the hot water nearly scalding the blonde's skin as he lathered up his hair with shampoo uncaringly.
The first order of business was to get breakfast, and Ed lugged his suitcase down to the little diner that also served as the inn's lobby, picking out his usual table in the corner and setting the suitcase down in the other chair to ward off any possible visitors -- the diner tended to get busy and seating could be scarce. By this point, Ed had eaten there enough times that the waitress didn't even have to ask and ten minutes after he sat down, the middle-aged waitress placed a mug of coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs with a slab of ham on the side in front of him. The blonde nodded his head in thanks and wasn't really all that surprised when she tried to engage him in conversation.
"Checking out finally, hm?" the woman asked, spying the suitcase. "Guess you finished that case you were working on?"
"Yeah…"
"Well," she sighed, not at all put off by the less-than-friendly response, "I'll be sad to see you go; it isn't very often we get celebrities out here. Come back and visit us sometime, alright, Mr. Elric?"
The blonde just nodded half-heartedly and took a sip of coffee, not even acknowledging the woman as she bid him goodbye and left to take care of the other customers. Ed ate in silence, the action done almost mechanically, eyes fixed uncaringly on his suitcase. There was still half a plate of eggs left and a good portion of the ham when he finally stood and dropped his payment on the table, making his way over to the front desk to make his checkout official and make sure they billed Central Headquarters; the only thing he'd finished was the coffee.
The train ride back to Central was long and uneventful. Not wholly unexpected, but not entirely welcome either. There had been a time (it felt like a lifetime ago, though it had only been a few years) when Ed couldn't walk outside without someone wanting him dead or someone needing his help, the scars decorating his body a testament to that fact; but now… He supposed he should be glad that things seemed to be settling down for the country in general, but it made Ed restless. Anxious. It unnerved him even more than knowing that there was a serial murderer after him, and that fact just made him even more aggravated.
The better part of his life had been dedicated to alchemy and his family and how alchemy could be used to make his family happier. First it had been transmuting little gifts to make his mother smile once it had become glaringly obvious that his father wasn't coming back; then it had been seeking a way to bring the woman back from the dead to be with her sons again; after that, Ed had spent five long and hard years trying to find a way to give his brother back the life he'd taken from him; and then, when he'd finally accomplished that, the young man had needed to find a way back to his own home to protect that life he'd given the younger boy. Of course he should have known; should have realized that, not only would it be unnecessary, but it would complicate things in a way that Ed… Well, as much as he was unwilling to admit it to anyone, but he hadn't really been equipped to handle it…
Of course Al would have been taken care of. There were so many people that had fallen in love with the sweet-mannered younger boy, and it was no wonder that any of them would have offered to take him in when he'd abruptly found himself alone in a world that had apparently passed five years without him. But Ed had figured, if anyone, it would have been the Rockbells; after all, they were the only ones that Al really knew, and they were practically family besides. But imagine the young man's shock when he returned to find that after living nearly three months with Pinako and Winry, Al had moved in with Roy Mustang of all people.
"Initially," his brother had said, "It was because he knew so much more than anyone about you and I, and what had happened over those five years. But…"
At that point, Alphonse's face had turned several interesting shades of red. At that point, Roy had reached out, taking the boy's hand and giving it a squeeze, the softest of smiles on his face in a silent reassurance.
At that point, Ed had excused himself from their presence, from their house, and checked himself into an inn on the other side of town. He hadn't been able to explain, then, what had come over him; why he suddenly felt an unfamiliar rage boil up inside of him.
How could they be so damned casual!
How dare they be so damned casual!
How dare they smile at each other like that!
How dare they do something like this behind his back!
How dare they do something like this while he'd been struggling for two long years to find a way back!
How dare they move on without him while he'd been alone!
It had been that thought that had stopped Ed from tossing a small lamp across the room; that made him truly think about what it was he was so upset about.
They were happy. Roy and Alphonse were happy. Roy and Alphonse were happy with each other.
Roy and Alphonse were happy with each other, and without him.
Ed didn't even know how he'd made it to the bathroom. Just remembered kneeling over the toilet and retching into it until there was nothing left for his stomach to give up, the tiles of the floor biting into his right knee. When he was finally able to stand again, he was wobbly on his feet and he had to grab the counter to remain standing as he turned on the faucet and splashed the cool water on his face. He'd spent his life trying to make the people he cared about happy, his little brother first and foremost. Now that the two most significant people in his life since he'd been eleven had found happiness he should be happy for them. But Ed found himself resentful of everything they shared, how close they'd gotten to each other while he'd been tortured for two years by the shadows, the living mockeries of the people he'd cared about while he tried to find a way back home.
It wasn't right that he be resentful of that; it wasn't right that he be jealous of them; and it especially wasn't right that he wanted to get in the way of the happiness of both men when he'd worked so hard to bring it about for at least one of them. The young man looked at himself carefully in the mirror; saw the utter disgust there for his thoughts and his feelings and, when he saw the tears, he turned the water on fully and hoped it would do to cover up his silent sobs as he buried his face in his arms.
The blonde was graciously pulled out of his thoughts when the conductor came by to check his ticket. This was why Ed hated the train; had always hated the train. There was nothing to do but think and, even when he'd been eleven or fifteen, that never led to good places. At least back then, though… he'd had Al with him. It hadn't taken the brothers long to realize the dangers of train-travel and the next chance they got they had picked up a deck of cards. It had been a silent agreement between the siblings, both understanding what might happen if they were left to think. But now… Well, it was probably safer not having the younger Elric with him anyway and Ed just found different ways to keep his mind occupied.
Fumbling around in his pocket, he finally produced the ticket without a word, only glancing up at the conductor for a moment. The man had a kind smile and hazel eyes that reminded him too much of his brother's. Ed carefully kept his own gaze away from the man's face for the rest of the ride and he pulled out his notebook from his suitcase to begin writing his report.
"Well, Edward, it looks like another job well-done."
The tawny-haired man set down his subordinate's report and smiled at the young man. It was a warm smile, pride for the alchemist under his command. It was partly that warm smile that had attracted Ed to General Mitchell in the first place; but even more so the light brown, almost blonde hair that looked like it had once probably been shaped into the proper military buzz cut but had since grown out.
"Thank you, Sir," Ed nodded and waited patiently to be dismissed.
Mitchell flipped through the pages of the alchemist's report again, making sure he hadn't missed anything important before he signed the last page and set his pen and glasses down on his desk. "You took a little extra time on this one than you usual do, Edward," he murmured thoughtfully, regarding his underling with a bit of curiosity in his eyes.
Edward raised an eyebrow at the man, meeting his gaze for the first time since he'd walked into his office. "Is there a concern about my performance, Sir?" he asked a bit more sharply than was probably warranted.
Mitchell merely chuckled and pushed his chair back from his desk. "Not at all, Edward," he answered reassuringly, making his way over to the young man at a comfortable pace. "More of a concern about you."
Ed stiffened defensively at that, his hands clenching just slightly behind him. "The target was a serial burglar, Sir," he responded blandly, "It wasn't exactly a matter of life or death that I caught him within the day."
"Perhaps that is the problem though?" It was more a statement than anything and Ed found himself unable to meet the man's searching gaze. "The FullMetal Alchemist. Champion of the People. A genius alchemist and a skilled fighter, with an unshakeable sense of right and wrong. Single-handedly uncovered the corruption of our country's Military, brought it down with the help of your brother and your former commanding officer, and came back from the dead--"
"You give me more credit than I deserve, Sir."
Mitchell gave the young man that weighing look again and continued. "You're reputation precedes you, Edward, and I can't deny that I felt a little ego boost when I found out that you would be transferred to my detail since Private Mustang resigned his post. But… I can't help but feel that… Well, that you're bored."
There was just the faintest tightening of Ed's jaw at the mention of Mustang, but his eyes flew wide at that… It wasn't quite an accusation, he supposed, but how was he supposed to take that? "I'm afraid I'm not sure what you mean, Sir," the young man replied with just a hint of bite in his tone.
The General cocked his head to the side, as if confused by the blonde's answer, and then moved to stand directly in front of him, looking down the mere four inches that separated them and yet somehow making it seem as if they were on the exact same level. "You're a young man, Edward," he murmured, the warmth in his voice undeniable, "But you've seen and accomplished much in your few years. Now that things seem to be calming down for the country…"
Edward scowled at the unfinished thought and met that kind gaze with little more than ferocious indignation. "What exactly is it you're trying to say, General?"
"I think you're lost," the man sighed finally, shaking his head just slightly as he lifted a hand to caress down the side of his subordinate's throat, unsure if he should be relieved or frightened when he didn't pull away. "I've known you for a little over a year, Edward, and with each mission you go on I see less and less of that eager fifteen-year-old I'd heard so much about and more of… More of this tired old man who looks like he's suddenly gone from the battlefield to doing office work."
Ed was a little unsure how he was expected to respond to that, so he turned just faintly into the hand now at his cheek, stroking gently just under his eye in acknowledgement of the words.
A short sigh puffed from Mitchell's nose and he shook his head as if at a child who'd cut up his father's work papers to make him a birthday card. "Nothing I say is going to change how you do things, is it?" A stubborn half-hearted glare was his only response and the man just smiled again and leaned forward, pressing a light kiss to Edward's forehead and then nuzzled their noses together. "Well, I'm glad you're back in one piece this time, anyway," he added with a wry grin.
"I came back in one piece last time too," Ed argued, returning the nuzzling though with an almost weary smile. "And I'll just have you know, Sir, that gashes and concussions are hardly not coming back in one piece."
"I suppose," the man conceded, and lifted up Ed's chin with a finger to steal a brief kiss from the younger blonde's lips. Those kind eyes slowly shifted until there was a whole different type of warmth directed at the alchemist. "I don't suppose you have some free time this evening?"
Golden eyes quite abruptly looked away from the man's, a familiar guilty expression forming on Edward's face that spoke without the blonde even having to open his mouth. He did anyway. "I'm sorry, I can't tonight. I have--"
"What have I told you about making excuses, Edward?" Mitchell chided in a mockery of a stern tone. "You're dismissed." The man took a respectable step back, an understanding smile on his lips as he watched the young man nod, salute, and then leave.
He couldn't deny that he was disappointed, really, but Mitchell understood quite well why the blonde couldn't see him that night. It had actually been happening more and more frequently when he came back from an assignment. At first the General had just assumed that Edward was meeting one of his other lovers, but on closer inspection, he'd been unable to find that subtle shift in personality, in countenance, in just the way the Colonel carried himself that happened after he'd been with one of his lovers; and Mitchell realized that…perhaps Ed was moving on. From them and from whatever had happened that had settled that heavy weight on his shoulders and put those scars in his eyes. But, if that was the case, then why was Mitchell so worried about the young man?
Perhaps he needed to have a conversation with a few of his acquaintances.
The only thing that told Ed that it was lunchtime was the severe lack of blue uniforms as he slowly made his way from the top floors of Central Headquarters. And the only thing that actually steered him towards the mess hall was the knowledge that, if he didn't at least make an appearance while he was holding a tray with some sort of edible substance on it, he would be hearing about it from Lieutenant Lancer and Major General Tutor as soon as the mess hall cleared out. They always made it a point of "running into him" whether he'd eaten or not.
That thought nearly made the blonde smile and he stuffed his hands in his pockets as he stared at the floor and followed the path to the mess hall mechanically and with complete indifference.
Lieutenant Eli Lancer. A young man of twenty-six and one of those eager-to-please sorts that never could quite get it right. He had a sort of innocent charm that made him seem younger than he really was and he was gracefully clumsy. That had been how Edward had met him, in fact.
Mitchell had pulled rank to get Edward into the cafeteria after a particularly bad assignment (though it hadn't been the assignment that had left him in the foul mood) and, as soon as he'd filled up his tray and turned to find a seat, the good Lieutenant had slipped on a section of the floor that had been a bit over-waxed the night before and skated into Ed. Both of them had landed on the floor, Ed on his stomach and Eli laying on top of his back. However, to the alchemist's surprise, when he looked up the first thing he noticed was the older man holding the blonde's tray an inch or so above the floor with only a few left over peas having skittered off his plate. The second thing he noticed, when they'd both managed to stand up and Lancer had stopped apologizing, was that his eyes were the most interesting shade of brown; so dark they were nearly black.
Ed had immediately invited him to eat lunch with him and the blonde was positively charmed by his innocent enthusiasm. Later that night they'd had dinner at Eli's Military dorm and Ed had found out that the Lieutenant was just the same in bed.
The Major General, however, was a completely different animal.
Graham Tutor was a tall man in his mid-forties that had thick jet black hair to die for. It complemented his somewhat time-worn face perfectly and, with the chain of that silver pocket watch dangling from his pocket, he was more than appealing to those who fancied older men. The Major General knew how to take control of a situation, and he enjoyed doing it. He was both firm and gentle depending on what the situation called for, and he always knew what it called for. And Tutor was the same way with Ed. He probably knew best how to read the blonde, second only to Mitchell; the difference was that Graham was able to adjust and give the young man exactly what he needed, even if Ed wasn't sure what that was.
There were a couple of other Military officials with whom Ed spent his free time; a Major with an almost exotic look to his features that was reminiscent of the inhabitants of Xing, and a fellow Colonel with the second most expressive brown eyes the alchemist had ever seen. However, with the FullMetal Alchemist so frequently out of town, he was often unable to meet with any of his lovers, so he had to improvise.
A few cities, such as Xenotime and Lior, were rather prone to problems; problems that required the touch of the Military. Considering that Ed was already so familiar with these towns, he was often sent to take care of the problems. With his frequent visits, it was difficult to not get to know people and there was always a bed waiting for him in two or three of these towns. Xenotime, in particular, was one town that Edward hadn't minded frequenting early on. The townspeople were corrupt enough that he'd often-times gotten the chance to hit something. Besides that Russell Tringham was there.
The younger blonde had been cocky and self-assured when they'd first met, and he hadn't changed a bit over the three years since Ed had seen him. The sparkle in those blue eyes and that smirk that seemed constantly plastered to his face whenever Ed was within a mile of him was the same sort of mocking and challenging expression that he remembered on someone else from his past. But while nothing of Russell's personality or looks had changed, the one thing that had was their relationship. They were still every bit as competitive, but the two young men fought out their battle in the bedroom instead. It was never a certainty who would come out on top and, by the time they were through, both blondes were covered in scratches and bite marks, unable to even move. That is, until they'd worked each other up enough to have another go.
Perhaps the most surprising thing, though, was not the fact that one so young had so many lovers, but that they all knew (Ed, in fact, had his suspicions that some of the closer ones spent time with each other when he was unable to), and they all accepted it. Even in the most intimate of situations, with nothing separating their bodies but their own skin, they could all sense the unfathomable distance between themselves and the lover they shared. Ed cared about each and every one of them, yes -- was probably incapable of anything less -- and each one of them cared about him, but there was always something blocking them from him. It was in the way that Ed would never initiate a kiss; the way he wouldn't let his hair down with any of them; the way he seemed to focus on one feature alone of the man he was with; the way he wouldn't even say the other's name from the time their clothes would drop to the floor until he'd walked out the door; the fact that no one was ever invited back to his Military dorm; and the look of guilt on his face afterwards that not even his most convincing smile could completely conceal.
For some reason, unknown to any of Edward's lovers, the young man needed them. But, at the same time, he hated himself every time the need became too much that he fell into bed with one of them. They all knew the circumstances, or what little he'd tell them about it; they understood that this was no long-term set up, nothing resembling a serious romantic relationship. And they all accepted that without so much as a frown. It was Ed, however, that knew he was just using them. He may have cared about them, but they really only served to satiate his libido when it became too much for him to take care of on his own. He treated them as no better than prostitutes, and probably worse, considering that they received nothing from this. That was why he was trying to stop; trying to control these sick urges of his. Before he--
"Sir."
Ed looked up from the tray he was idly pushing around the bland starchy goo that passed for mashed potatoes and his eyes widened slightly in what might have been horror as he saw who that voice had belonged to.
"Private," he acknowledged with the slightest of nods once he'd schooled his expression into something more neutral. He immediately turned his attention back to his plate.
Mustang frowned at the young man and took a seat without bothering to ask permission.
A long silence followed and Ed could feel the man's gaze on him and hated himself for the shiver it sent down his spine. "Was there something you wanted or did you just think you might stare at me for a while?" the blonde snapped finally, slamming his fork down on his tray hard enough to send a few potato smatterings flying to the table.
Roy met the blonde's fierce gaze with little more than bland smugness and he waited until Ed's gaze flinched back to his tray to answer. "Forgive me, Colonel," he replied coolly, putting just the slightest accent on the title, "But it has been quite some time since we've spoken. I was simply making certain you hadn't gone and changed."
"And what would you care if I had?"
Roy wasn't sure how he was expected to answer that; or what to make of the distinctly bitter tone, pathetically masked behind sarcasm. Instead, after another pause, the former Colonel backtracked and answered Ed's initial question. "Alphonse's birthday is coming up," he murmured in a tone vaguely reminiscent of the one he used to use when outlining the strategy of a mission. "He's turning--"
"Nineteen, yeah, I know. Thanks for the newsflash."
The expression on the blonde's face was nothing less than insulted, and he was glaring at his former commanding officer as if he had some of that horrid starchy mush on his face. Roy merely watched the young man a few moments, waiting until he wouldn't risk injury before he cleared his throat quietly and continued. "The Hughes' and I, along with a few close friends, were planning on having a get-together of sorts, nothing formal."
Ed was practically vibrating with the tension running through him. He knew what the older man was going to ask.
"Alphonse knows, of course…"
Had been expecting it for about a week now.
"…and he would really like it…"
Despite his attempts to ignore the upcoming date.
"If you were--"
"I'm going to be out of town!"
Both men blinked up at that, and the older saw his own surprise mirrored in golden eyes before they were turned down to that damned tray and hidden beneath long blonde bangs.
"I'm going to be out of town," Ed repeated, "I have an assignment. I can't pass it on to anyone else, General Mitchell wants me on it." Both of the Colonel's hands pressed to the table and he stood up in one motion and grabbed his tray, murmuring before he darted for the door, "Tell Alphonse I'm sorry I can't make it, and Happy Birthday."
Mustang blinked at the blonde's receding back, noting the way his shoulders had hunched over, his gaze was directed at the floor, and his movements were sharp and almost hesitant. He didn't understand it; had tried so hard over the past year to understand it, only to fail rather miserably. The expression on his face could only be categorized as disappointed; not only because he knew Alphonse would be upset, but Roy, himself, had rather been looking forward to spending time with his former subordinate. Apparently it just wasn't to be, though and, as much as it just frustrated him knowing he had no idea why things had turned out this way, he still couldn't help but dwell on it whenever he got a free moment.
Those were really the only times he ever saw Edward anymore, though, was in his own mind. The FullMetal Alchemist was always out of town, and even when he was staying in Central he wasn't easily found. Hell, not even his own little brother knew where exactly Ed was living, and that just irritated him further.
But as he watched the clearly defensive form of that once proud alchemist attempt to leave the crowded mess hall, Roy was surprised to feel that irritation turn into full-fledged anger as one Major General Tutor stepped through the doors and cut off the blonde's exit. It wasn't the man himself that Mustang found himself upset with, but the fact that, at the sight of the man, Ed had clearly relaxed, if just a bit; especially when what was probably meant to be construed as a companionable arm settled at the young man's waist. The image might have actually been successful, if Edward hadn't been leaning just slightly against the Major General's side, and, for Roy, that was enough. In one sharp movement, he was out of his seat and stalking towards the exit, his entire countenance just as frightening and intimidating as it had been when he'd been known as the Flame Alchemist. No, Alphonse most certainly was not going to like this, but neither did Roy.
Mitchell blinked up at the blonde whirlwind that had quite suddenly whisked into his office, hands slammed on the General's desk and shouting something about an assignment.
"I'm sorry, Edward, I didn't quite catch that," the older man murmured calmly and pleasantly.
"I said I want an assignment," Ed repeated, hands clamping just slightly on the desk. "I want a mission. I need a mission. Something that'll take me far away and make sure I stay there until at least the end of next week. And no more bullshit, Mitchell! I won't go chasing after anymore of these damned two-bit cat-burglars. I know you have something bigger than that sitting in your filing cabinet so cough it up before I break the damn lock!"
The look on the General's face was nothing if not concerned, and he was out of his chair in a second and cradling his subordinate's face in both hands. "Edward, what's going on, what's happened?"
"Nothing!" the blonde snapped, though he was unable to come up with anything more convincing than that as he tried to pull away from those hands and that look he was getting.
"Edward, please," Mitchell begged, grabbing Ed's shoulders when he pulled his face away, "Tell me what's wrong!"
The frightened quality of the General's voice was probably the only thing that made the young man relinquish and, as those arms closed around him, Ed all but collapsed against the older man's chest, burrowing his face into the General's throat beneath his chin, his entire body trembling as he fought for control over his emotions.
For his part, Mitchell didn't try to make Edward talk anymore, merely murmured soothingly into his hair as his hands rubbed in gentle circles up and down the young man's back. It was times like these, as rare as they were, that Ed really thought that the older man would make someone a wonderful father someday, and it wasn't long at all before he began to calm down.
"I need to be out of town next week," the blonde stated, his tone, though quiet, yielding no inquiries as to why this needed to be. "And I need to be doing something that takes up more brain cells than tracking down a thief."
The General chuckled softly at that, his arms slowly loosening their hold as Ed calmed down. "Well, I believe there's a case that just came in from somewhere in the West. A couple of possibly corrupt Officers. I do believe that's your specialty, isn't it, FullMetal?"
His tone had been teasing enough, but Ed tensed at the use of his second name before forcing himself to remember that Mitchell wasn't Mustang; and then he forced himself to ignore distinct tightening of his throat as he remembered that. "Don't screw with me, Mitchell," the blonde retorted, "I want something that I'll have to actually work on. I want a challenge for once." The look in those golden eyes was fierce as he pulled away and told quite clearly of the fact that, if the General didn't give him what he wanted, then he was going to go out and find it for himself.
Mitchell gulped in the face of that look. He'd only ever heard about it before; stories told 'round the water cooler or in the mess hall; especially after the FullMetal Alchemist had disappeared, sending him into the bedtime stories of every child. And after the FullMetal Alchemist had come back from the dead, sending him into legend across the country.
"Alright," he practically whispered, and slowly headed back to his desk, tugging a key from his pocket and unlocking the bottom-right drawer of his desk. "I've been sitting on this file for the past month," he explained, his tone all business as he pulled a manila folder from the drawer and held it out in front of him. When Ed reached for it, Mitchell quickly drew it back, holding up a finger to wait until he was through explaining. "As you know," the man continued," While things have settled down between our country and those to the East of us, we're still on rather precarious standing with Drachma. The Briggs Mountains have discouraged most attempts for either of our countries to enter the other; however, recently the citizens of a few of those northern towns that lie on the border have reported possible Military disturbances…"
"They're just not our Military," Ed finished the thought for him and received a nod. "So do you think Drachma's trying to invade then?"
"We're not certain. Fuhrer Hakuro has ordered us to keep this quiet for the time-being, until we can be sure that there's a threat. However, as far as my intelligence knows he hasn't sent out anyone to gather any information to that end."
Edward took the file when Mitchell finally handed it him and quickly scanned the contents: Conflicting reports of violence, looting, and frightened refugees. It sounded as if Drachma's government might be imploding in on itself, or it could merely be going through a major change for all of these Drachmans -- soldiers and civilians alike, it sounded -- to be chancing the journey through the Mountains.
"So it's a reconnaissance mission," the blonde clarified, turning his attention back to his commanding officer.
"More or less," Mitchell nodded, "You may meet with some resistance, however, if they find out you're from the Military."
"Knowing my luck, I'll meet resistance anyway," Ed retorted, but the slight upturn of the one corner of his lips told the General that his subordinate was hoping to meet resistance, and he sighed as he was reminded of their earlier conversation.
The sound made Edward look back up from the file and he nodded and saluted. "Thank you, Sir."
Mitchell waved it off and sighed again, a long-suffering sound that was deliberately dramatized. "I don't suppose you've changed your mind about this evening, Edward?"
The blonde tried not to let the hopeful tone sway him as he shook his head a bit guiltily; he hadn't been planning on spending that evening with anyone, but after the scene in the mess hall, he'd already made plans with Tutor. "I'm probably going to be heading out in about four days…" he murmured in lieu of an actual answer. It was a bit of an unspoken rule between the two, that no matter how Ed was feeling, they'd find time the day before he left on a mission to spend together. It wasn't even about the sex, but Mitchell had proved to be a very superstitious man when, the first time they'd slept together right before one of the younger man's missions just happened to coincide with the first time he'd returned without, what the General had called, a serious injury. Ed thought it stupid, but he indulged the man; it almost made him feel like there was something worth coming back to.
The older man just smiled and nodded in that understanding way of his and, when it was apparent there was nothing left to say, Mitchell dismissed the Colonel and wished him an enjoyable evening.
Ed saluted and thanked his commanding officer before stepping out of the office and greeting Tutor outside the door. A few words were exchanged, questions asked and vague answers given in return, then the Major General handed Edward his coat and led him through Central Headquarters towards the employee parking lot at the back of the building, picking up Lieutenant Lancer along the way.
Only one of the men noticed the careful scrutiny of someone in the building as the Lieutenant kissed the Colonel goodbye in the parking lot, and Edward couldn't help but be impressed and completely unnerved by the fact that, even with only one good eye, Mustang's gaze was still just as intense, burning a hole through him at the point it connected with his body. He flashed a somewhat wan and completely unconvincing smile to Tutor when he asked if something was wrong, and the man reached out to brush a finger along the curve of those lips before he promised the younger man that he would make everything alright.
Edward didn't really believe that the Major General would accomplish such a thing but, as he climbed into the older man's car, the blonde believed that he would try and, for him, that was all he could really hope for, and that was enough.