Hey guys. I know that I don't talk to you guys often, but yeah - this is important.

So nanowrimo is here, right? And I'm busy. Like, totally busy. My school is tiriing me out, and I've got a helluva lot of stories to complete. Don't worry, this is just a short hiatus. I think all of my Fullmetal Alchemist stories will be put on hiatus until I can get everything under control again, sorry. Don't worry, though. I know you guys are waiting patiently for this, and I won't let you down. Your patience will be rewarded.

I sound like a preacher. Oh well.

Anyways. I was just going to say that I have made an oath, a promise. And that was to finish every single one of my stories. And I will. Don't you worry your pretty little heads about that - everything will be updated. It's just a matter on when. Thanks.

So. I've set what I've written so far here. Hope you like it, and I hope you forgive me. I'll come back some day. ;)

-Summer R.

The next morning Edward woke up to a cup of coffee beside her and a fresh square of clothes on the side. She saw a note on the clothes, picked it up, and a small smile flickered on her face. Grocery store then school. I'll be with Melissa. Thank you, Ed-san. Really. You're not as bad as I first thought. The blonde snorted; hell, she first thought Edward was a guy. (Well, she was. Personality wise. At least she liked to think so. Winry certainly did.)

"Stupid girl," she muttered to no one. "She should just stop calling me Ed-san. Annoying with their formalities, or whatever." Even still, a smile graced her face all throughout the morning. She drank her coffee and decided to bring a large sandwich along, planning to eat in Mustang's office.

No one gave her odd looks as she came out of the building, greeting Al and Winry before heading off to a nearby deli to pick up a grilled chicken sandwich, on special today. She managed to get a discount after the butcher winked at her and pushed the sandwich toward her, saying, "A pretty girl like you needs to eat to stay strong, right?" It was nothing more than shameless, meaningless flirting, but Edward still blushed nonetheless.

It was also one thing she didn't understand; never did she wear makeup like Riza sometimes did (just that black outliner) or Gracia to one of the parties, yet everyone still called her pretty. She didn't want to be pretty. She wanted to be strong and capable, and Edward was seriously starting to think that telling everyone of her gender was the wrong decision. She was starting to be treated as a joke.

Some respected her, like Sergeant Rye and Sergeant Lenny. General Armstrong had talked with her civilly as well—Havoc told her that she had a soft spot for the female Colonel for some reason—and she was sure that most female personnel treated her like she was their hero. But to everyone else; hell, if she didn't prove herself, she wasn't worthy. Again.

But there were some perks...like the free sandwich. Hey, food was food, and the less money spent meant the more research she could get done. (Yeah, she was that much of a cheapskate, but never tell Winry that.) It wasn't as if she could reject a free sandwich. That would be wrong. Al would agree with her.

Edward remembered that her uniform was back at her dorm. Currently, she was wearing a pair of black slacks and a sweatshirt, nothing huge. Ignoring numerous catcalls that dwindled the closer she got to HQ, Ed made it inside and showered, leaving her hot sandwich on the dinner table and changing into her uniform—odd, this was all starting to seem monotonous. She almost grinned at the thought; her, having a normal life. Well, as normal as it would get. The whole thought was odd, also including the thought of her doing something else other than alchemy and serving in the military. What would she do? Become a teacher? She had no patience. The only thing she could do was this, really.

Blonde hair dripped as she made her way to the bed, where the clothes were laid out haphazardly somewhat earlier. She pulled her hair back into a loose, damp braid, knowing that it would wave later on. She changed quickly and efficiently, glancing at the clock every so often. Then, grabbing her food and keys, she locked the door to her room and stuffed it in her pocket, opening the sandwich and taking a bit as she walked to Mustang's office.

When she entered, everyone else was already there and working, to her surprise. She shrugged and no one gave her a second glance. "Mornin'," she intoned to her coworkers. "How's it hanging?"

"Nice to see you so chipper in the morning, chief." Havoc remarked dryly. "Something good happen?"

Edward pretended to think about it. "Mel got a new home. I got a full night's sleep. That's good enough, right?"

Havoc chucked in response, shaking his head. "Did you head over to your office yet? The chief got an order saying that he was 'to be in meeting room three for the liaison agreement in three days, 400 sharp'." he told her, half-reciting from memory. "I figured you would too."

Edward frowned. "No, I haven't actually. But I've heard of something like that floating around Central Command."

"Better check it out, then."

Edward tapped her bottom lip. "Yeah, I think I should. What time is it?"

This time, Falman informed her of all the details of the liaison project stiffly, including predisposed dates and what the higher ups thought they might go to for the project. Edward was swimming in the excess information and sort of stumbled when she finally managed to get out of there with an arm full of folders; one for the liaison project, another for the State Alchemist dept., another for the draft notes and copies and how many should be made and such. She was told that the other sergeants and petty officers had finished with the writing, so she had to check it over and make sure the questions were as difficult as can be.

It was only when she was back in her own office did she realize that not only was Sergeant Lenny off somewhere doing work (and most possibly getting more paperwork), but she had left her coffee in Mustang's block as well.

"How do people fucking do this?" she groaned, sitting back in her chair and letting her muscles relax for a moment.

That moment was short lived, however, as another unwanted voice answered her bemusedly. "Once you get the hang of it, it'll all be easy, trust me." Edward snapped open her golden eyes to glare at the tall form of Roy Mustang at her doorway, smirking at her and leaning lazily against the frame.

"And when is that?" she grumbled, not even bothering to yell at him for invading her office. There was no one here, anyways.

"Sometime in the next month," he answered lightly, straightening and walking toward her desk. He held up a light manilla folder in one gloved hand, a color that Edward was really starting to hate. In fact, she hated all papers in general. Why can't they have some sort of system for this instead of piling it all on one person? As she glared at the folder, Roy said, "The desk told me that Sergeant Lenny was out today. He sent a note, apparently. And that I was told to give you this."

"Out?" Edward repeated, confused. "There was no note. And why send you?"

Roy shrugged. "What's the folder about?" he asked instead, ignoring her previous question. There was no way that he was going to tell her that he purposely asked for it so that he could come to her office; mostly because his own was boring and filled with papers that he certainly didn't want to complete right now, yeah, that was it...

Edward opened it in response and after a moment of her eyes scrolling the page, she rolled them. "Ah, stupid stuff about the State Alchemist department in the National Parade and shit," she sighed, setting it down. "I'll just hand this over to...Major Di Rossi? Yeah, that's his name...he's working with me on the whole thing."

"You're not going to the National Parade?" Roy asked, amused. "Didn't you get the memo?"

"Obviously not, if you're asking," she shot back, smart-mouthed. Then, standing up, she crossed her arms. "What is it now?"

Instead of answering, she found herself in a stare down with her commanding officer. Once again. Edward found that she could not look away from those dark blue, almost black eyes; how was it that he managed to capture her so easily nowadays? Roy was also staring back, not saying a word, but simply giving her that all-encompassing look. As if he knew every side of her, as if he knew all her secrets and fears. Edward, despite herself, started to feel her heart thump loudly in her chest.

"All State Alchemists higher than the rank of Major are obligated to come to the Parade," he answered, voice low. "Including you and me. Before your promotion, you were allowed to skip out of it." Roy smirked, dark irises glinting the pleasure that he still took from torturing the poor girl. "No loopholes this time, Fullmetal."

Edward frowned, almost scowling at the new piece of information. And, even if she didn't want to admit it, the feeling as though someone had dropped a stone in her stomach when he called her Fullmetal. "...what is it about promotions that makes people so snarky?" she muttered, glaring at the General. "Yeah yeah. I'll go. Fucking...this better not be a waste of my time."

With a practiced ease, she got up from her chair, took a look at the folder and slapped it down on the table. Roy raised an eyebrow, but then Edward held up another paper in her hand, filled to the brim with red marks and scribbles. She smirked. "My turn to turn your day into hell."

For his credit, Roy only winced.

"Fullmetal, you can't put this question in! Even I can't do it!"

Edward only rolled her eyes. "Then maybe you should work on your alchemical theories, bastard General."

Roy glared at her, wondering how in the hell he could've actually wanted the company of this person earlier in the day. God, she was lucky that he had burned his paperwork and Hawkeye was off being an assistant with Havoc to the National Parade Edward gave him a crooked grin in return, and Roy could almost envision the raspberry blown his way.

"Freaking—...okay, Edward, you need to know this." he started slowly, palms laid flat on the table. Edward raised a surprised brow at the usage of her name, a bit happy and floaty inside while Roy ignored whatever he was feeling. "Not everybody is an alchemical prodigy like you are. They don't know all of this! I don't know all of this! Sure, make the questions difficult...but not that difficult. There needs to be a balance between them." He leaned back and crossed his arms. "Understand?"

Edward pursed her lips. "I get it," she said. "I just...don't know how." And with a defeated shrug, she slumped in her chair.

Roy sighed; he knew that it was tough for Edward to admit that she was wrong. After all, he himself hated to admit that he was not in the right either, and he was starting to figure out that he and Edward were much more creepily alike that he had first assumed.

"It takes some time," Roy admitted, "But you have to remember that sometimes other people just aren't as smart as you." Here, he allowed himself to smirk. "Well, maybe except for me, but you can't expect the new recruits to be geniuses."

Edward scoffed. "Please. The only alchemy you're proficient in is fire, bastard. And shouldn't they be geniuses? I mean, at least they would have the brains to make the right decisions if they were in the military, then. And they wouldn't make mistakes with their rebounds. I see a lot of positive things coming from the State Alchemist division being made of geniuses."

Roy frowned; it was actually a pretty good point, and he hated being duped. "While you may be right...we still need all the manpower we can get. And I have studied the basics of alchemy just like you, y'know."

"But you haven't stayed," Edward smirked. "I go through all the branches while you stay in one."

"Fire is volatile," he snapped, no longer talking about the State Alchemist division (as they should have been doing). "Many different subjects and context is included in it, and it takes years to study and tame properly. It's not like the other branches of alchemy!"

"That's also said for the other branches," Edward shot back. "And don't be stupid, General. I've gone into fire alchemy too. It's not that hard once you get the gist of it." She made a gesturing motion to his gloved hands with her own slender ones. "For example; your gloves are made of a special fiber that allows the oxygen in the air to condense quickly. When that happens, you cause friction between your fingers by snapping. With the amount of oxygen in the air, you turn it into a spark with the amount of heat you can get from your snap, and then make it larger because with more oxygen, the large the fire will get." Edward smiled smugly at Roy's stunned face.

"You got that all from one look?" he said a moment's notice later, voice flat. She had, after all, explained the inner workings of the secrets to his alchemy in...what? A minute? It was amazing, the things that Edward knew. Suddenly, Roy was realizing that Edward was in fact a quite intelligent woman. He had not been bored once yet speaking with her.

"I've had years," she replied. "But I figured it out around...oh, thirteen, I think?"

"Four years ago." he stated.

She gave him a little devious smirk. "Yup."

"..."

The only thing Roy was glad about then was that he had made Edward laugh with his shell-shocked expression. None of that giggling or 'masculine chuckling', but a real gut-worthy laugh. She was actually really...dare he say it, fun to talk to. Roy never really had much of a conversation with anyone about his favorite topic before. Hawkeye's father may have been his master, but she knew only the very basics. The other State Alchemists were way too frightened to even put a step forward and face him. Maybe that was why he liked to irritate Edward so much; that kid was always the one to go against him.

"You look constipated, bastard," she said in between her small laughs. "Get that look off your face." Her cheeks were red and there was a lingering smile on her face that could only come from making fun of him. Roy blinked. She's really pretty when she laughs, he noted absentmindedly.

Immediately, the thought caught up to him. Nine years younger, nine years younger, nine years younger! What the hell are you thinking about, Mustang? He would've smacked himself if he wasn't sure that Edward would send him to a mental hospital right away.

"We're way off topic," he said waspishly, not wanting to continue their previous conversation. He had a hunch, a feeling of all that knowledge behind the blond's eyes, and he didn't want to know.

Edward waved her hand. "Fine, fine. We've been here for like..." she stole a glance at the large clock hanging on the wall, "...three hours. Oh, I never got the paper about the liaison term, by the way." She sounded frustrated. "If I'm going to be part of this shit, then shouldn't you think I should know about it?"

Roy frowned. "Huh, interesting. Well, it's tomorrow at four hundred." He'd have to talk to that Sergeant Lenny of hers.

The blond blinked. "Four hundred?" she repeated, baffled. "Havoc told me that it was in three days!"

"They moved it," Roy dismissed. "Apparently, the Fuhrer has some sort of family outing the three days. It's much more important that a liaison agreement to end war and fix our country, as it seems," he said dryly, voice wry. "But you didn't hear that from me."

Edward only smirked.

.