Second Life - Chapter 2

Chapter Two

When he walked through the bright halls of the military headquarters, Mustang felt strangely tight up and unwanted. Everything appeared to be exactly the same as a couple of weeks ago, with the lower ranked people melting away for him and others greeting him with a small nod before continuing with their tasks. But it wasn’t the same. The revelation of his best friend had taken care of that.

Cautiously, he watched at the familiar sights of the people he had always thought they were loyal to him. Sergeant Major Free, Lieutenant Breda, Warrant officer Farman and several others. Could he trust them? How could he be sure that they were truly the persons they said they were? How far has the enemy infiltrated in the military? The knowledge that the Führer’s personal secretary most probably belonged to the enemy had shocked him for some reason. What was probably even worse was that he couldn’t talk to anyone about it. No one could be trusted.

“Good morning, Colonel,” Lieutenant Hawkeye greeted him neutrally as he sank down in his chair. She waited patiently until he was settled down. Then, after looking carefully around to make sure no one heard her, she asked in a low voice, “Are you alright, sir? Wouldn’t it be better for you to wait a few days with work?”

Mustang waved irritably. “I’m fine. Besides, I have to get to work one day. I can’t let one incident determine the rest of my life. What happened while I was absent?” While he said this, he silently thanked Hughes for his conversation.

“I want you to continue your life, just as you’ve always done. Don’t let incident like mine determine the rest of your life. You have to move forward.” Mustang had promised himself at that moment to follow up his friend’s advice. It was only a pity that Hughes couldn’t take the credit he deserved for it.

As he listened to report of Hawkeye, he allowed himself to examine his faithful assistant. It was something he always did. He could concentrate better when he looked at something feminine. All kind of thoughts flashed through his mind when suddenly one popped right out of the continuous stream. What if Hawkeye belonged to the enemy as well?

That notion nearly let him choke in his coffee, but he managed to keep his face neutral and to suppress any urges to show his consternation. If Lieutenant Hawkeye did belong to the enemy, whoever they were, then he would have no idea what to do. She knew most of his schedules, took over his work whenever he was absent. Thus she knew precisely what was going on in the cases he was involved in. Mustang slowly began to realize the importance of Hughes’ warning and what his best friend had tried to do.

“Morning, Colonel. I trust everything is fine?” Jovial and frank as always, with his ever-present cigarette in the corner of his mouth, Lieutenant John Havoc entered the new office. Despite the current events, he managed to look cheerful, though Mustang perceived it was forced. Forced because Havoc as well was taken aback by the death of Brigadier General Hughes or were there reasons more murky than his loyal subordinate dared to confess?

Mustang shook his head slightly and irritably. Hughes had told him to be alert, not paranoid. And he was surely getting paranoid if he even started to suspect his most loyal assistants of evil intentions. Yet the thought that those two might work together against him and the military refused to leave his mind.

“Ah, I’m fine. Was that all, Lieutenant?” he demanded, looking up at the blond woman.

Hawkeye nodded, the strands of hair atop of her head bobbling along with the movement. “Yes, sir. That was all. I tried to do as much work as I could, but there were a few classified cases only you or a higher ranked officer could open, read and sign. If you’d start on that before turning over to the daily work, I could take them to the necessarily departments.”

Strict and efficient as always. Somehow, it set Mustang’s mind at peace that she hadn’t taken a look at the classified cases. They usually contained secret information that should not be spread throughout the country. No matter how many high-ranked officers belonged to this mysterious group, Hawkeye most probably didn’t belong to them. The future would tell him if he could truly trust her.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *

Calm, serene, but into his fingertops alert to any unusual movement or behaviour, Brigadier General Hughes stepped through the halls he had walked down so often, he could close his eyes and still find the way. Yet no matter how many times he had been there, the feeling of not belonging there was strong. Indeed it would have been better if he hadn’t come at all. The military and his years of duty dated back from when he was alive. He could no longer go back to that.

But Hughes admitted he wasn’t prepared yet to let it all go. He wished to know how everyone was doing, if the investigation department was still running and – most importantly – who was now in charge of the investigation department.

A small movement caught his eye and Hughes whirled around to catch it, but all he saw were two colleagues talking to each other. Their voices were strangely hushed, and he drew closer to listen to the conversation.

“I truly don’t like this new guy,” one of them said. “He looks like a zombie and his eyes are cold and dead. Does he never smile?”

“As far as I know, he doesn’t. That’s Lieutenant Colonel Archer for you, alright,” the other replied.

The first one glanced nervously around. “I probably shouldn’t say this, but I wish Brigadier General Hughes was still alive. This Archer… I don’t trust him. Every time I look at him, I get shivers all over me.”

“He’s a creep, yes, but I’d keep that opinion to yourself. You never know what he’s going to do to you when he finds out about this.”

“I was already planning to do that. I’d like to live longer than today. But I’d better go. Archer expects certain reports before lunch.”

That was an interesting conversation, Hughes mused as he, too, moved on. So Frank Archer is my successor? I could have known it. He had wanted that post for ages. It seems that my death came quite handy for him.

Personally, Hughes didn’t like Archer either. The man was only a few years older than him, but a complete idiot with only one hobby: war. He was a leech, though Hughes could come up with worse names for the guy, and he lived on the misfortunes of others. If it had been possible, he’d have protested against his current successor and appointed someone else, someone more trustworthy. Someone like… Major Armstrong?

He faced the muscular man, who had suddenly appeared before him out of nowhere. Many people preferred to be away from the strong Alchemist, most of them were silently afraid of him. But Hughes had always liked the Strongarm Alchemist, because he was loyal and reliable. He carried out his job without too much protest.

The shoulders of the tall, broad man were slumped and there was a sad expression on his face. Armstrong had always been a trifle emotional, but Hughes suspected there were other reasons at the moment. The Alchemist had been his right hand, but Archer wasn’t the kind of man to listen to the advice of a subordinate.

The Strongarm Alchemist headed towards the exit, to carry out his orders, whether he liked them or not. His former superior allowed himself to take a little peek inside his old office. ‘Zombie’ was only a mild way to express to guy’s appearance. His skin was as white as sheet and his eyes, ice cold blue, scanned the environment constantly with a dead interest. Before him on the desk lay a thin dossier. Hughes did not have to read what was written on it, since he already its contents. There was another war coming up.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *

“Have you found anything at all?” Mustang asked that night.

His ghostly friend shook his head. “Nothing at all. I heard several people complaining about Archer, which I can understand, and there’s another war coming up, but nothing you probably didn’t know by now.”

The two friends were situated on a bench near the graveyard. Nobody might notice Hughes talking when they passed the bench, but they would hear Mustang and the Flame Alchemist didn’t feel much for being looked upon as mentally deranged. It was quite common, though, to talk to someone who had only recently passed away when you were at the graveyard.

“I didn’t notice anything as well. I was even summoned to the Führer and as far as I could determine, he acted just like normal. I didn’t get to see his secretary, though.” Mustang frowned. “I also checked on my people, but I don’t think they have any connections with the Homonculus.”

“I still wouldn’t trust them completely,” Hughes cautioned. “I think our enemy is good at hiding and never forget there walks one around who can change his appearance. It an amazing thing to look at, but enemy is enemy. And you can’t kill them.”

“I know, I know.” Impatiently, he waved the warnings away. “We can’t do anything until we know exactly who else has joined this conspiracy. I can’t do much as long as I’m working. Hawkeye manages to find tons of papers every morning and I often don’t even have enough time to finish them in one day. I sometimes think she writes them herself as well. And the only military people I see are my direct subordinates and sometimes someone of another department. The investigation has to be done mainly by you.”

Hughes flashed a broad grin at him. “Isn’t that what I’ve always done anyway?” Mustang permitted himself to smile. The smile faded quickly, however, when his friend raised another problem. “What if the Führer is our enemy as well?”

*   *   *   *   *   *   *

Alicia had finally fallen asleep on the sofa, her head settled against her mother’s shoulder. Gracia picked up the little girl carefully, trying not to wake her up, and carried her to her bedroom. The elder woman felt strangely exhausted as well, but it was considered impolite to sleep when you had visitors.

The blonde woman returned to the living room, where her old friend and doctor sat. “Thank you for coming, Doctor,” she said relieved. “Alicia frightened me a little when she claimed to have seen my husband.” Her gaze wandered automatically to the small photograph on the table, the last picture Maes had taken before he passed away. Tears welled up and she bit on her lip to push them back.

Doctor Keith Grant took her hand, patting her sympathetically. “It’s alright,” he assured. “The first few months are always the worst, for both the child as the mother as well. She’ll get over it as the months pass by.”

Gracia smiled warmly at him, grateful for his compassion. “I know. I just… can’t believe he’s gone. I expect him coming home every minute and the mornings… I think the mornings are the worst. When I wake up and I realise he’s no longer with me, it seems as if I’ve ended up in some endless nightmare.” She took a deep breath, wiping away a lost tear and smiled bravely. “But there are times I can almost feel his presence, like now, and then I just know he’s somewhere watching me and waiting for me. And that’s a comforting thought.”

Keith nodded, then looked closer at her. “Is everything alright with you as well? I know times are hard, but you seem to be a bit wan and absent-minded.”

“I’m fine. Thanks for asking, though.”

“Well, I’d better be on my way, then. It seems to me you need your rest. Tell me when you have problems with sleeping, I can give you sleeping pills then.”

“Thanks for you offer. You’re a good friend.” She led him to the door. “I’ll see you another time again.”

“See you later, Gracia. Take care of yourself and the little girl. Bye bye.”

“Bye.”

From her room, Alicia had listened to the conversation and tears welled up. Why? she thought. Why doesn’t mama want to believe me? Why doesn’t she want to believe I saw papa?