Disclaimer: I own nothing except for my imagination.

Author's Note: because I hate it when authors put a long A/N in the beginning of the story, look for mine at the bottom. Enjoy! (Ratings for language-No yaoi.)

Prologue

The lack of murmurings and papers shuffling was something that Roy Mustang cherished during stressful days such as these. Even with the absence of almost half his staff that normally occupied the large office, the room felt like it was filled with hundreds of people. It was stuffy and uncomfortable and all Mustang wanted to do was get out.

But that wasn't an option. Rather, it wasn't a wise option. With Lieutenant Hawkeye sitting in her small yet right sized desk in her corner, the logical thing to do would be to obediently listen to her.

Funny though, it wasn't actually Hawkeye who put Roy in this position of looking over countless documents. No, it was himself. Hawkeye was just there as motivation; finish or face the wrath of the lieutenant who will make sure you finish.

Roy suddenly sighed loudly and rubbed his face with the hand that didn't hold his pen, catching the attention of Riza, who merely looked up for less then a second and continued on with her own work.

He's been here, sitting on this exact chair, in this exact position for about six hours straight. His neck was stiff, his shoulders ached, and his fingers were growing red from the amount of writing he had to do. After Brigadier General Anthony Mackerel – a man of high status who held a reputation for his intimidation and ruthlessness – came in yesterday to kindlypatronize, mock and insult him, Mustang was understandably in a foul mood.

The man had openly insulted his staff and his own conduct, describing Mustang as "indolent and lacking the commanding skills a colonel should have." Mustang had to physically restrain himself from scorching the man alive while he stood and was forced to listen to all the bullshit that came out of the idiot's mouth.

And to top it all off – not even allowing Roy to bask in the fact that the Brigadier General was finally leaving – Mackerel ended his rant with the gift of paperwork, claiming that it would "sharped him up." When the door finally closed, announcing the man's exit, Roy didn't even spare the large yellow envelope a second glance. He simply slipped on his trusty white gloves and exited the building whole, reaching the large, empty and spacious training grounds in the back of the building, and vented his anger out.

And vented and vented and vented and vented.

By the time he returned to his office, his fingers were trembling with pain and his forehead was covered with a thin sheet of sweat. Hawkeye held her tongue when she saw the image of blazing fury dancing in his eyes and pretended to not to have noticed – or heard; The window in the office was open and had a nice view of the back training grounds – his outburst. As did the Fuery, Havoc, Falman, and Breda; the others who were present at the time.

His outbursts were not surprising, but they were never easy afterward.

It always left Roy in a particularly sour mood that made him both snappy and impatient – two traits that were very bed when chosen to describe him.

When he finally did decide to look through the files Mackerel had left for him, he growled at the papers and cursed his luck. These wouldn't take just hours to complete; they would take days.

Roy glanced at the wall clock that was on the wall across from him and groaned inwardly. It was a quarter past five now. He began these papers at nine in the morning when he first came in. Almost seven hours. Sevenhours.

It was a good thing he started them today, though. If he would have went through them yesterday when he first initially received them, Roy would've stayed up through out the night just reading them.

The best part of all this, Roy thought sarcastically as he scanned the dozens of folders and papers that littered his desk, was that this research held little to no importance to him.

They were absolute crap. Just some bullshit typed on paper and printed with the official military stamp in order for it to look legitimate. His orders were to read the files about the budget cuts, tax increases, and average salaries and to file them in the correct order, prove the mathematics were accurate and compare them with the other military's frugality.

Bullshit, in other words.

The fact that he, the Flame Alchemist, had to complete work that was fit for an accountant when his specialty was combat, just proved that Mackerel only wanted to piss off Roy and flaunt his status as a Brigadier General in his face.

The sound of Havoc clearing his throat brought him back from his musings. He looked up and saw the blond man extending a hand that held a steaming plastic cup. "Coffee, Boss?"

Mustang grunted his thanks but didn't take the cup from the other man who – did he just come it or was he here the whole time?- stood in front of him. Havoc simply placed the cup on the only part of the desk that wasn't drowning with paper and took a seat on his desk.

"No lunch, Havoc?" Mustang suddenly asked after a moment of silence. Usually by this time, his staff including himself would go down to the military cafeteria and feast in the sad attempt the military called gourmet food. But today, Mustang decided to sacrifice his only time of relaxation to finish Mackerel's assignment, along with Hawkeye who volunteered to keep the Colonel company – "I'd rather there be someone to watch you in case you doze off, sir." – and now, apparently Havoc as well.

"Nah," Havoc answered, pulling out a cigarette and then putting it away when Riza gave him a somber look. "Thought I could lend a hand."

Without looking up, Mustang replied, "Go back and eat, I don't need help."

"I don't need food, so I guess I have no other option but to stay here."

The Colonel sighed and looked up. Havoc was again standing on the other side of his desk and had that stupid, goofy look on his face that he wore when he thinks he's being clever. Roy smirked and handed him a folder that he planned to do himself but decided against a moment before. As expected, that stupid, goofy face completely dropped from Jean's face when he read the first contents of the paper.

"Better get started," Mustang said smoothly, the smirk still firmly set on his face. Jean let out a tiny moan and took his seat on one of the empty desks.

The only sounds now were pencils scratching on paper and the occasional grunt from Mustang. He wasn't even able to enjoy those tiny minutes of silence before the door to the spacious room burst open.

"Roy! How's it going?"

Mustang groaned loudly and dropped his head on the desk, making a small thud. "Why does everything happen to me..." He moaned, his voice muffled from the papers.

Maes laughed and greeted the other two officers – with lovely pictures of his wife and daughter, mind you – before making his way to the Colonel. Mustang picked up his head and rubbed his eyes, "What do you want, Hughes. I'm busy."

"Ah yes, I've heard," Hughes replied. "Someone's been a busy boy, eh? But don't worry, I have something that would defiantly put you in a good mood."

Roy then realized that his friend was holding a large plastic bag and his shoulders sagged in sweet relief when he was able to smell the sweet aroma that was coming from it.

"My beautiful Gracia made some apple pie for the lot of you! Be grateful, it's still warm," Hughes chirped, holding the white box that held the pie.

Roy watched him, masking his face with an unemotional look to cover up the fact that he was dying for a piece of that heaven-sent pie, as he cut the pie into four even pieces and passed them to each occupant of the room. Havoc's face brightened ten fold after the first bite and thanked Hughes vigorously and Riza also extended her thanks when she received her piece.

Maes pulled up a chair and set it beside Roy, handing him his plate and taking the pen from his hand. "Take a break, Roy," he said, replacing the pen with a fork. "It won't hurt to relax a bit."

"Maybe not for you, but for me, it's going to hurt like a bitch," Roy muttered, inspecting the piece of dessert that he stabbed with his fork. "If I hold it off even for a little, that means I'm going to have to stay here longer."

"Ouch. How long have you been here doing these?" Hughes asked, gesturing with a nod from his head.

"Hours. I don't even know anymore. It's ridiculous!"

"I've heard. Walking down the halls, the word is is that Roy Mustang is cooped up in his office doing homework like a good little nerd boy."

Mustang pulled a face and Hughes held up his hands defensively, "Hey, hey! Don't look at me like that – that's what other people are saying."

Roy shoved a piece of the pastry into his mouth and muttered, "being compared to a child, just great. Just what I need."

"Aw, cheer up, Roy-Boy! By the time you finish, you'll feel like a new man and I'll take you out for a drink; my treat."

"Easy for you to say. You're not the one who has to do all this."

"And I thank the great lord everyday for that."

Roy scoffed, "So what are you still doing here? In Eastern Headquarters, I mean."

"Eh..." Hughes shrugged. "It's getting pretty hectic in Central. I needed to get away for a while."

"Hectic? Hectic how?"

"Some low ranked officer died a couple days ago and the arrangement for his replacement got a little complicated."

"Death?"

"Food poisoning."

"Ah." Roy chewed slowly and then said, "Did they get a replacement for him?"

"Some guy called Harold Daniels is expected to take over. He's supposedly an alchemist but didn't sign up to be a State Alchemist; said he just wanted to be a regular soldier."

"Idiot."

"Exactly. But he'll defiantly get the spot."

"Who was he? The officer who died?"

"Him?" Hughes looked to the ceiling as he gathered his thoughts. "Uh, Michael Dorr – no Morris. Michael Morris. He worked under that General . . . what's his name?" He began snapping his fingers to – Roy mused – spark a thought. "What's his name, what's his name, what's his name – Oh! Napoleon!"

"General Arthur Napoleon?" Hawkeye quipped from her corner.

Maes pointed at her like a child pointing at a toy that they so desperately

wanted, "That's the one! Yes! Arthur Napoleon. You heard of him, right Roy."

Mustang nodded slowly, "General Arthur Napoleon. Lead three different platoons in the Ishvalan war and was raised from a Lieutenant Colonel to a General for completely incinerating a large city. Not a fun man to be friends with – trust me."

"Yeah, well, he's the reason why everything's crazy in Central. The higher ups want someone reliable to serve under him and so far they're debating with either the Daniels fellow or some other guy."

"Morons."

"I know," Hughes chuckled. "But regardless, it's not my problem so I'm glad I don't have to deal with it."

Roy glanced down at his now empty plate, debating whether he should ask for another piece or not. Deciding against it, he put the plate down and grabbed his pen.

"Is there a deadline for that or do you just want to get it over with?" Hughes suddenly asked.

The other man shook his head, "No, but Mackerel made it quite clear that he wanted it as early as possible and to save myself from hearing that bastard talk, I'm trying to get it done by Friday."

"But...today's Thursday."

"Precisely," he mumbled.

"Roy, that's crazy! There's no way you'll be able to finish..."

" –You don't think I know that?" Roy snapped. "I know my limits, Hughes and if I – "

The shrill sound of the phone ringing cut the Colonel off. Mustang and Hughes both looked down at the desk telephone in curiosity. "Hasn't rung all day..." Roy mumbled after the second ring.

When it rang a third time – and when Riza showed no indication of getting up and answering it herself – Roy reached down and picked it up, placing it on his ear and said, "Colonel Roy Mustang speaking."

"...Colonel? Oh this is your number..."

The voice sounded familiar but just to be sure, he asked, "Who is this?"

"Huh? Oh, it's Ed. Uh...sir."

"Fullmetal?" Hughes head perked up when he heard the name, but Roy ignored him and continued. "What is it? You're supposed to be on a break. There should be no reason for you to be calling."

When there was no response, Mustang said, his voice high with authority, "Fullmetal, I asked you a question."

"Huh? Shit, right. Uh...I wanted to ask you a … a question."

Mustang's brow furrowed at the slow responses Edward was giving him. He shrugged when Hughes mouthed to him, "what's wrong?"

"And what question would that be?" He asked.

Through the other end, he clearly heard the sound of harsh breathing and wondered whether
he should be concerned or not.

"Remember that time, when you gave me … those codes … for when something really bad happens.?"

"Yes, what about it," he asked impatiently.

"What was the … that one code for assassinations and all that. I can't remember it..."
Mustang's blood ran cold in an instant. Why would he ask for that code, even if it was just to remember it? Surely it wasn't because...

No. Mustang stopped that train of thought. Remain calm, he told himself. Don't panic.

He cleared his throat and said the necessary codification: "Code Black 814"

He shut his eyes when he heard the sound of chairs scraping against the wooden floor. Opening them, he saw Havoc, Riza, and Hughes all standing and looking dreadfully vigilant and serious – a reflex that was drilled into their minds in order put them on high alert during such a serious situation.

"Oh yeah … that was it. Code Black 814..."

"Was there a specific reason why you wanted to know?"

Silence. "Fullmetal?"

"What? Oh right, Code Black 814...I guess."

Roy gripped the phone tightly and said, "Are you issuing a Code Black 814?"

"...Huh?"

He looked up and motioned for his two subordinates to draw closer. When they reached his desk, Mustang loudly asked into the phone, "Fullmetal. Are you or are you not issuing a Code Black 814 for an assassination attempt on you or any other military officer's life – yes or no?"

He could practically feel Hughes' head closing in him as if trying to hear Ed on the other line.

"...Yes."

With that, Mustang stood up and straightened himself, roughly pushing his chair back and scanning his desk for a blank piece of paper. "Who is it regarding."

"Uh... for me, I guess."

The man froze. "Someone tried to assassinate you?"

Everybody's eyebrows shot to the roof at that.

"Sir, what's going on..." Mustang cut Havoc off by raising his hand; he waited to hear Ed's voice.

"Uh-huh...some guy came in and started attacking me..." There was a short pause where the only thing Roy heard was a small thud and a rustling of clothing. "Shit...stupid phone."

Riza handed her superior officer a sheet of paper and he snatched it from her hand, scribbling down basic information that he received from the conversation so far.

"Are you hurt anywhere," he started, beginning with the simplest yet most important questions. His heart was pounding at an unreasonably fast rate but he was able to pull off the calm facade easily.
"I dunno...my hand hurts a little...I don't think," pause. "I'm cold..."

"Where are you?" Mustang demanded over the phone, ignoring Hughes anxious eyes that begged for answers. When Mustang received no answer from the other line, he repeated more forcefully, "Fullmetal, where are you?"

"At the dorms,"came the small reply.

Cradling the phone with one hand and the pen with the other, Mustang scratched the address of Ed's military dorm's address and room number and handed it to Havoc, saying, "Go get a medical team and tell them to meet us here, then go to the hospital and tell them to prepare a room for us immediately, understand?"

Havoc sharply saluted, "Sir!" He took the paper and sped off like a dog chasing after a ball, Mustang grimly mused.

Hughes took this opportunity to ask, "Roy, what the hell is going on?"

The man in question shook his head dreadfully, "someone tried to kill Edward."

"I've already figured as much," Maes exclaimed annoyingly. "But what happened exactly?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out," the Colonel snapped. He turned his attention back to Ed, "Fullmetal."

There was no response and the knot in Mustangs stomach tightened ten fold. "Fullmetal, answer me."

"Mmm...?"

"I want you to stay where you are and don't move at all." He signaled to Riza to get him his coat and she obediently complied. Hughes also began buttoning his own coat, but Roy said nothing of it.

"I can do that..."

"Is there anyone else there with you? Alphonse?" Mustang froze from his own words. "Fullmetal, where is Alphonse?"

That's right. How could he forget? Edward and Alphonse were practically inseparable; wherever one went, the other was surely to follow. If that was correct, than where was Alphonse at the time his brother was being attacked?

"Al...? He...he...crap, I don't know. I don't know." The boy's voice was hinting hysterics. "Where is he? I – I can't... shit, I can't remember! Colonel, w-where's Al?"

"Calm down, Fullmetal. I'm sure he'll turn up." His coat in his hand, he reassured the boy slowly, "We'll be there shortly, so I need you to be patient, okay? Stay where you are and don't move, remember? Can you do that for me, Edward?"

His answer was so low it was practically a whisper but the Colonel heard him nonetheless, "Okay."

"Good, we'll be there in fifteen minutes at most."

"Okay but ... Don't take long 'cause I'm really sleepy."

"Stay awake, kid. Don't sleep, okay?"

"But," Ed whined. "I'm tired..."

"Don't sleep, Fullmetal! That's an order. Are you going to disobey a direct order from your superior officer?" Roy snapped annoyingly.

"Mm fine," The boy mumbled through the phone. "Bastard..."

He allowed a small smile before ending with, "Fifteen minutes."

He slammed the phone harshly and threw on his coat, marching towards the door with both Hughes and Hawkeye at his tail. When they reached the end of the gateway for the Headquarters, Mustang was already pulling on his white ignition gloves and Hawkeye sped forward to prepare the car in advance.

Hughes leaned forward during their rushed walking and whispered harshly, "Roy, now would be a good time to tell me what the hell is going on!"

Mustang ignored him for the time being – much to Maes' irritation – but when the car came to view with Hawkeye driving it, he started, "I don't know what's going on except that someone tried to kill Fullmetal; apparently an assassination attempt."

Both men quickly jumped into the car and Riza drove off.

"He didn't say anything else? Was he hurt?" Hughes asked.

He shrugged,"most likely. He didn't specifically say he was hurt but but it was obvious he was in some sort of pain." Adjusting his safety belt, he leaned forward and told Hawkeye the address of their destination. She nodded and made the necessary turn.

Mustang leaned back, folding his arms and sighed. This was not going to be a good day.

The ride over was much less nerve wrecking than Mustang had expected it to be. Then again, when you're lost deep in your thoughts, all other surroundings are blocked out so you wouldn't really know what to feel.

He did, however, notice the rapid tapping of Hughes' foot all throughout the car ride. The man looked like a worrisome mess. Mustang always knew that the father had a sweet spot for the Elric Brothers – practically all of his subordinates did, as well – so it was understandable why he was so distressed.

When the car finally pulled over to a stop, Mustang got out of the car before the vehicle came to a full pause. He stifled a gasp when he took in the appearance of the once was military dorm building.

Rods and walls of alchemical concrete were pointing in all directions and pieces of the large building were either missing or transmuted into a sort of pillar like structure or a completely unidentifiable object. The fact that the mutilated building was still standing was a surprise on it's own.

"My God," breathed Hughes from behind Mustang. He and Riza had just came out of the car and were craning their necks up to take in the whole quality of the destruction. "Did Edward do all this?" Riza asked, pulling out her gun for safety precautions.

"Apparently," Roy murmured, observing the crowd that was now arriving at the scene as well. "Let's go."

Hawkeye and Hughes followed, each with a gun in hand, while Mustang led, his white gloves pulled up tightly around his wrist. Entering the building and climbing up the stairs – dodging a few concrete blocks laying on the floor here and there – and reached the third floor.

They didn't even need to find the room number to Ed and Al's dorm; it was pretty obvious which one was theirs since there was on room where the front door was completely blown off and all that was left was a large, gaping hole.

"Over here," Roy barked, rounding the door with Hawkeye on the other side and Hughes right behind him. He leaned his back against the wall and carefully snaked his head around the gap that once held a door, checking to see if anyone else was inside.

He nodded, signaling that his perimeter was clear and Hawkeye provided the same answer for her side. Again, Mustang nodded, "All right, our objective is to retrieve Edward Elric. Any other person, I want them restrained and if they resist, shoot on sight. Understood?"

They nodded in union and pushed their way inside.

The room was never a large one; never one for fancy decor or excessive furniture. The area had only four rooms: a quaint sized living room, one bedroom with two small beds, a kitchen across from the living room and a bathroom next to the bedroom.

So it wasn't really that startling that they found Edward Elric slumped against the wall opposite the door frame, with his chest covered in glistening crimson blood and his only flesh arm pinned above the boy's head with a stoned spear that went through is small forearm, the moment they stepped into the largest room.

But when Ed picked up his head, slowly recognizing each person in the room and then raising his automail arm with obvious struggle to give a shaky wave, that's when Colonel Roy Mustang knew that today was defiantly not going to be a good day at all.

Author's Note: 10/27/11- I honestly don't know where this story idea came from; it was just a random day and this random idea hit me. Anyways, the question about updates is that this story will update spontaneously. I already have the outline for the whole thing - I know how the plot will evolve, I know all the OC characters and their roles, I know how it will end, etc... - so this story will defiantly end eventually (as in I highly doubt I will abandon it). This next chapter will defiantly be out by the next week, but other than that, I honestly don't know how long it will take for the next next chapter. Just an FYI, this is my first FMA fic, so bear with me. I've written for Naruto and also for DBZ (in my old account, that is) but this is my first time for FMA. AS FOR WHAT TIME PERIOD THIS: The story revolves around the manga/Brotherhood (because I don't really understand the original anime that well) and it takes place before Hughes (SPOILERS) dies (Hughes is awesome and deserves to be alive in my stories.) and during the search for the Philosopher's Stone. Ed and Al would be about 14-15 and 13-14 and just a reminder, there will be no yaoi in this story! No Yaoi. Please don't ask about it!

Review please! Reviews are very motivational.

Next Chapter: "Dog Days."

-Two days earlier...