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ArWen the Eternally Surprised
Author: Ria Time: 2007/11/22
Arwen encounters a strange monk and gains a little extra time.
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Shamballa - Part 3- The Philosopher's Stone
Submitter: Date: 2009/9/14 Views: 427
A Step Back
10.05 am


“Surprised, Lieutenant?” the Havoc look-alike asked, keeping a black eyebrow arched as he still regarded the real one.

Only then Havoc’s ability to speak returned. “B-Boss…”

Roy placed a gloved hand on Havoc’s mouth, effectively silencing him. And before Havoc had the time to react, Roy pushed him in an alley nearby, taking advantage of the darkness the shadows offered.

“No names, 2nd Lieutenant,” he said warningly, holding a gloved finger close to his lips to signify silence.

Complying to Roy’s command, Havoc merely nodded his understanding. Still, a part of him still couldn’t believe what was happening. He’d spoken to the Colonel through the phone just a couple of days ago, and now Roy Mustang was here, in Central, disguised as him.

What’s going on?

It seemed like Roy registered the questioning look in the lieutenant’s face, because he lowered his hand. He snapped his fingers, creating a small yet bright spark. As Havoc soon discovered, it was a signal for Hawkeye to approach.

Havoc’s eyes widened when he saw the woman’s disguise. Her blond locks were down and framed her features in a way Havoc wasn’t accustomed to seeing on her. Instead of the austere military uniform, she was now wearing a brown jacket which covered a white silk shirt, a matching skirt and thick glasses. In fact, she now looked like some sort of a school-teacher but for the gun clasped in both her hands.

“Are we alone?” Roy asked, his eyes locked on Hawkeye.

“For the present, Sir,” she answered. “Even so, I suggest we move somewhere with more privacy.”

“Any suggestions?”

“There’s such a place not too far from here. We passed it on our way here, Sir.”

“Then lead on.” Roy clasped Havoc’s arm and prodded him forward. “You have a lot of things to report, Lieutenant.”

Havoc could only swallow hard at those words.

10.10 am


The abandoned warehouse was a dangerous place for any trespassers. The roof had already collapsed for the most part, filling the whole floor with debris. As for the walls, they’d become mouldy after several years of rain tumbling on them, and there were a lot of bricks that had slipped out of their place, making said walls ready to crumble at the first chance.

Nevertheless, that was where Mustang, Havoc and Hawkeye entered so that they would be able to talk without anyone eavesdropping on them. Roy took off the blond wig he had been wearing all this time and ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to make it presentable. He made a small motion with his head in Hawkeye’s direction, and she seemed to have understood what he asked of her. Placing her gun on the holster, which was discreetly underneath her skirt and tied around her thigh, she walked outside.

As soon as the two men were left alone, Roy grabbed a small wooden crate for himself and used it as a chair to sit down. His eyes locked on the 2nd Lieutenant.

“Sit.”

Complying at once, Havoc found a crate for himself and sat down also.

“Sir, when did you arrive in Central?” he caught himself asking before he could help it.

“I’ll be asking the questions if you don’t mind, Lieutenant,” Roy answered. “What has been happening so far? Are the Elric boys still in the hospital?”

Havoc shook his head. “They took the first train for Dublith just half an hour ago.”

“Dublith?”

“They said they wanted to find their teacher there and make themselves stronger,” Havoc explained.

“Odd course of action,” Roy mused, but he didn’t ponder on it for long. “And what about Beregond? Is he still under arrest?”

“No, Sir. The Führer acquitted him of all charges yesterday. He’s gone with Ed and Al.”

“Did he now?” Roy said, raising an eyebrow. He crossed his arms in thought. “That’s odd. I thought they would have gone after him by now.”

“Sir?”

Roy took out of the inside pocket of his overcoat a picture and handed it to Havoc. When Havoc looked at the picture, however, he could only frown in a bemused manner. It was just a picture of the Gondorian.

Except… his hair was short in this one.

“Sir… I don’t understand.”

“That’s not Beregond, Lieutenant. It’s his doppelganger, who died thirteen years ago,” Roy finally said. He didn’t seem to pay attention at the gasp of surprise that escaped Havoc’s lips. “Connors discovered a copy of the picture when he started examining the death certificates of every town and city in the East Area. You know what that means, of course.”

Havoc nodded weakly. “That was why Fawcette was after him,” he breathed out. “If the Führer hadn’t interfered…” His voice trailed off, not wishing to utter the implications.

“Yes. We would be in big trouble, all of us,” Roy said.

Havoc let out a sigh. “Guess luck was on our side this time.”

“And yet, something doesn’t add up.”

“What do you mean, Sir?”

Roy didn’t answer for the present. “When was Beregond released?” he asked.

Havoc rubbed the back of his head as he tried to remember. “Around 3.30… Maybe 4 o’ clock.”

“Whereas Breda told me that Connors left from East City at 5 o’clock in the morning.”

Havoc blinked, suddenly realising what the Colonel was saying. “It takes 12 hours to arrive here from East City.”

Roy nodded. “That means Connors had more than enough time to inform the Führer about his discovery. After that, Beregond would logically have been taken again and locked behind bars until the matter was investigated further but… nothing of the sort happened.”

“Maybe Connors didn’t see the Führer yet?”

“That seems the best logical explanation for the present. If it’s true though, it’s really strange,” Roy said, pursing his lips. He locked his eyes on Havoc. “I want you to go at Headquarters and try to find out as much as possible about that. Do you know of the Green Dragon?

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good. We’ll meet there at 5 o’clock so you can give me the latest news. Understood?”

“Understood, Sir,” Havoc said. Both men stood up, and the Colonel put on the blond wig once again. “Should I inform Lieutenant Colonel Hughes about your arrival, Sir?” Havoc asked then.

“No,” Roy answered at once. “For the time being, you will be only the one in the know, Lieutenant, so you’d better not let anything slip.”

“Understood, Sir.” The two men got out of the warehouse and they prepared to part ways when Havoc remembered himself.

“Sir? There’s something else.”

Roy faced Havoc, intrigued.

“Before Beregond left, he told me something weird.”

“Such as?

“‘Bradley is Dûrinas.’”

Roy raised an eyebrow. “Sounds to me like the sergeant has found another familiar face from his world.”

“I guess so, Sir,” Havoc said. “But… he seemed quite worried.”

There was a flicker of surprise reflected in the black eyes for a moment, but it was gone in a flash as Roy nodded slightly and said. “Noted. Thank you, Lieutenant.”

Moments later, Roy was gone out of sight.

11.45 am


The cafeteria wasn’t busy. In fact, the only customers at that time of day were a couple of elderly men who played chess and a casually dressed young blond in his late twenties, who was reading the newspaper.

When said young blond man heard the sharp click of heels against the pavement though, he lifted his gaze and looked at the woman who stood before him.

“Am I late?” Riza asked in an uncharacteristic cute smile, pretending that she was Roy’s date.

“No, I’ve only just arrived too,” Roy answered, playing along. He placed the newspaper down as Riza took a seat opposite him, and he ordered some juice for her. As soon as the juice was placed on the table and the waiter left again, Roy decided that it was time to get his report.

“So how was your day?” he asked casually.

Riza made a small tired sigh. “Frustrating, I’m afraid. The customer I had made such painstaking efforts to arrange a meeting with never showed up.”

Did he now? Roy thought. “Try not to think about it,” he said in a soothing manner, taking one of her hands in both his and rubbing them gently. “Maybe there will be a next time.”

“There won’t,” Riza answered, shaking her head. “The dead will rise from their grave first.”

Roy frowned inwardly. So the leader of the mercenaries is dead. The colonel didn’t like this turn of events at all. He had hoped that Riza, disguised as a solicitor, would be able to talk to the prisoner and maybe get some information on who he worked for. Now, however, he would have to find his answers somewhere else.

“And you?” Riza asked then sweetly, taking a few sips of her drink. “What did you do?”

“Counted the minutes till you came,” Roy answered smoothly, placing himself closer to the woman. At that point, anyone who happened to look at them would think that the man was making quite the amorous advances, and the woman was enjoying them. Little could they know that Roy didn’t lean forward to place a loving kiss on the woman’s cheek.

“I just read Connors’ obituary in the newspaper. Dead by heart failure from the looks of it,” he whispered close to Riza’s ear.

As she still kept her act, the lieutenant’s expression at those words was completely contrary to the concerned words she whispered back: “Do you believe it?”

“No.” Roy pulled back, and pushed back a strand of blond hair away from Riza’s face. “Tell your brothers I said hi. I’m thinking of paying a visit to an old friend.”

Riza nodded a bit, another cute smile gracing her features. “Catching up and remembering the good old times, I suppose?”

“Yeah,” Roy said. “And you? Will you go to your next client?”

Riza hummed her affirmative.

“Good.” He placed some money on the table and stood up. “The juice is on me. I’ll see you later at the party.” He was about to walk away, quite sure that Riza understood what he meant, when he suddenly stopped in his tracks. “Oh, and… sweetie?”

Riza raised an eyebrow in curiosity – for real this time.

He grinned broadly. “You should keep your hair down more often. It suits you.” And with that, he was gone.

The woman sighed and shook her head at that, her thought reflected quite clearly in her features.

Men…

12.30 pm


The first thing that Roy did as soon as he arrived at the military hospital was to change his disguise at once. So, he put the wig inside his shirt for safe-keeping and got dressed in a characteristic doctor’s robe that he happened to find forgotten on a coat rack. Minutes later, he walked up at the registry with the air of someone who was quite comfortable with the place.

“Excuse me, do you know where Dr. Knox is?”

“He must be still in his office,” the nurse said, not really looking up from the paperwork she was currently working on. “Take the first flight of stairs downstairs.”

“Thank you,” Roy said politely and walked to the direction the nurse told him.

The office he had been looking for was one of the darkest places in the hospital, and the closer he got to it, the nasty smell of disinfectant and a very familiar something else became stronger.

Then again, that was to be expected in a morgue.

Trying not to think about it too much, Roy walked up to the office and knocked. The sound that echoed throughout the corridor had barely died down when the door opened and a lean, middle-aged man came out.

“Hello, Knox. Long time, no see.”

Knox straightened his glasses, the grey eyes regarding the newcomer from head to toe through drooping eyelids. He smirked knowingly.

“Did you decide to change your profession, Mustang?”

“Something like that. Can I come in?”

Knox shrugged half-heartedly. “I suppose.” He motioned his hand in an inviting manner and closed the door as soon as Roy stepped in. “So... to what do I owe this pleasure? The last time I saw you was in that train on our way back from Ishbal.”

“I’ve heard about Connors.”

“Ah… I see,” Knox said quietly.

Roy was far from finished, though. “Was it really a heart failure?”

Knox’s gaze locked on Roy, eyeing him hard. “What’s it to you? You didn’t exactly like him.”

“Come now, Knox,” Roy said. “The man wasn’t even forty.”

“People can die at all ages, Mustang; we both know that.”

“Maybe,” Roy retorted, “But I also know when someone avoids answering a simple enough question.”

Knox didn’t reply at once this time. He sat down in his chair with a huff, running his hand through his hair. “Mustang… I’m trying to put everything behind me. I don’t want to be dragged into any games again.”

“And yet I’ve got a nasty feeling that you’re already dragged into one,” Roy insisted. He placed both his hands on Knox’s desk, locking his gaze on the coroner. “Something is happening, and I think it’s affecting the military as well. I want to stop it if I can, but I won’t be able to unless you tell me what I need to know.”

Knox chuckled grimly. “You’re the second one that says that to me. Except she asked me to keep my mouth shut.”

Roy tensed. “Who?”

The coroner shook his head. “The Führer’s secretary.” Deciding that he needed something to relax his nerves, Knox took out of his drawer a cigarette and lit it. “She came in and told me that there had been an attempt on Bradley’s life. However, that kind of news wouldn’t be received well from the soldiers, so she ordered me to change the report.”

“How did she reach that conclusion?” Roy asked then, eyes slightly widening.

Knox sighed, letting out a puff of smoke. “I’ve already told you more than I ought to. We fought in the same war and got hurt in more ways than the eye can see, but that doesn’t make us war buddies. You just burnt the bodies and I dissected them.”

Roy clenched his jaw. “That still makes us war accomplices.”

Knox didn’t speak for some time. And when he did speak, his tone was grim and without any clear emotion detected. “Yes… Yes, it does…”

He took off his glasses for a while and rubbed his eyes in a tired manner. When he stood up, Roy thought that Knox was about to send him away, but it wasn’t so. He walked up to the large filing cabinet situated by the wall and took out two case files from two separate drawers, and then tossed them in a careless manner on his desk.

“I’m gonna take a walk,” he said serenely. “Make sure no one comes and looks at those important documents while I’m gone.” Before Roy could say anything, the coroner walked out, still smoking wearily.

Roy understood. Grateful for the opportunity Knox gave him, he immediately picked up the first case file and started reading.

“Wilson…” The name didn’t sound familiar at first but, when Roy read further, he understood that it was the mercenary Riza told him about. He was only half-surprised when he read the man’s cause of death – a puncture wound on his forehead that seemed as though done by a bullet.

“Suicide then,” Roy concluded. It made sense, if the mercenary didn’t want to reveal any information that betrayed his employer.

What really surprised Roy, however, was the true nature of the puncture wound. Knox wrote, quite clearly, that it was an unidentified knife-like object. Furthermore, the angle at which the knife-like object was embedded in the skull clearly told that Wilson was murdered.

That made Roy frown. If that were true, someone wanted to make sure Wilson didn’t talk. But who could have passed such tight security without arousing suspicion? Every civilian that came in contact with a prisoner was carefully checked.

Unless... it wasn’t a civilian who did this.

Roy wiped the sweat that started forming on his brow and quickly checked Connors’ file. His eyes instantly widened, and Roy could actually feel the blood draining from his cheeks.

Connors was poisoned. There were traces of arsenic found in the tea in Führer’s office, and when Bradley offered some to the brigadier general… the man was beyond help.

“So that explains the attempted murder,” Roy mused. Now he saw through Knox’s reasons to have Roy see both files; there was a high chance that those two cases were connected.

Roy was quite dismayed when he realised what this meant. Someone with either very powerful connections or a very easy access to the military was trying to drag Amestris into chaos. But who? And, more importantly, why?

Is that what you didn’t want me to know, Hughes?

Roy decided that it was a probability. Knowing Hughes, the colonel now understood that his friend wouldn’t want Roy dragged into this. This was becoming something very big, and it could distract Roy from his goal to becoming Führer – if not place him in danger.

“Idiot…” the colonel muttered, shaking his head.

It was then that the door opened and two nurses came in, both carrying a stretcher. They both stopped in their tracks when they saw Roy in the office.

“Where’s Dr. Knox?” one of them asked in a bemused manner.

Thankfully, Roy managed to keep his cool. “He’s gone to grab some coffee for himself. What can I do for you?”

“Well, you could take this poor bastard off our hands,” the other said, guiding his companion to place the stretcher beside the coronary table. “I’ll take his head and my buddy will grab the legs. Do you mind if you hold the middle?”

“No,” Roy said, trying to keep the appalled tone off his voice. Doing his best to act as familiar with handling corpses as possible, he held the corpse and helped the nurses to move it. None of the three were gentle in their movements though, and an arm slipped from underneath the sheet.

A military-clad arm.

“What happened to him?” Roy asked before he could help it.

“That’s for you and Dr. Knox to find out. We just carried him from the underground sewage where he was dumped,” the first nurse answered with a shrug. “Anyway, good luck.” And both nurses exited almost as quickly as they had entered, not bothering to look back.

It gave Roy the opportunity to rush to the sink and wash his hands.

“It’s not so easy, is it? When you burn them, you don’t have to dirty yourself.”

Roy sighed and faced Knox, who had in the meantime walked in. “I suppose not,” he replied, his voice unusually weak. “But that doesn’t make it better.” He immediately straightened and composed himself. “By the way, thank you.”

Knox raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Of course,” Roy chuckled wryly and started walking out. “Well, I had better let you be. You’re busy.”

“Wait a moment, Mustang.”

Roy turned in surprise. “What?”

“Look at him,” Knox said, lifting the sheet that had been covering the corpse all this time.

Roy didn’t really want to look, frankly. However, he decided to grit his teeth and indulge the coroner. At the next moment, he was gaping incredulously at the familiar face.

“Didn’t he use to work for Connors?” Knox said, confused.

“Yeah…” Roy breathed out.

“That’s an odd coincidence,” Knox paused, contemplating matters further. “Unless…”

“… it’s no coincidence at all,” Roy completed. “Don’t tell anyone about this. If anyone asks you, just say you haven’t been able to place an ID on him yet.”

“You know I can’t keep silent about this forever,” Knox argued. “He’s a lieutenant colonel!”

“I know! But at least try!” Roy insisted. “There are too many questions now that need answering!”

Knox sighed. “Fine. But if you are to find those answers you say, you’d better make it quick.”

“I’ll contact you again soon,” Roy promised, then hurried out.

TBC…
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