I Just Know I Love You

Chapter 2

My boots tack tack tacked as we strode down the elegant hallway after the soldier that brought us inside. He walked swiftly, with purpose, in a way that made others clear a path for him and left us feeling like little ducklings in his wake. Of course, he was in no way a mother duck or anything soft like that. He had yet to introduce himself and it was honestly pretty off-putting. The boys and I followed after him, winding the hallways, peering into open office doors as we passed them, trying to make ourselves scarce amongst the dozens of glances from other officers.
The soldier delivered us at one of the many blue doors, opening it with stiff movements for us to enter through. Inside were two rows of desks sitting lengthwise in the room, each station with varying cleanliness and little trinkets. The walls had bookshelves running from floor to ceiling, every shelf packed so tightly it seemed the books would be impossible to remove. At the very back of the room, straight forward from where we stood in the doorway, past the desk rows, creaked an old wooden desk, bigger than the others. Right behind it was a large window that overlooked the courtyard we had just stood in, the drapes pulled neatly to either side.
The soldier side-stepped us as we looked around the room and stomped his way over to the large desk, gesturing for us to grab ourselves a chair. We did as he implied and sat hesitantly before his serious eyes.
"My name is Colonel Roy Mustang," he introduced himself, "and I've been instructed by the Fuhrer to guide you three through your militant experience." He flung open a desk drawer, whipped out three thick manilla folders and slapped them on his desk. We each took the one labeled with our name on it and opened them hesitantly.
"You've created quite a stir, you three. Honestly, I don't think the building has been this active about a new recruit in years," Mustang was certainly amused, a jarring difference from his previous demeanor.
"What's that supposed to mean, huh?" Edward retorted, defiant as always.
"Not only did the military admit three applicants as state alchemists this year, you are the youngest state alchemists the nation has ever seen. It's quite an accomplishment, really," Musang assured us, intertwining his fingers and setting his chin on the tops of his tangled hands.  I could tell already that this guy was going to be difficult. Alphonse had already opened his manilla folder, looking like a birthday card in his large hands, so I did the same and opened mine.
My eyes scanned the thick packet of papers and legal documents, only half paying attention, looking to pick out important words or phrases. My weight, height, and general appearance was typed out in bullet points on one of the first pages.
'Birthdate... 1889," I read to myself in my mind, "seems like they have every little detail about me in here." I flipped to about the middle of the stack. My resting heart rate, highest weight I can lift with my bare hands, and some standard physical health evaluations were on the middle pages, signed at the bottom with a scribbly, chicken-scratch-y doctor's signature. My heart started to pound as I flipped to the last pages of the packet. Mental health evaluations and little notes scattered the pages, the worst thing being the doctor's evaluation of me explaining the death of my older brother. I thanked myself for not explaining more of the incident, there was nothing in the paper more than what I had told him, nothing about why I lost my limbs, nothing about my attempt as a child at one of the taboos of alchemy, nothing about my failed attempt at bringing him back to life.
I must have visibly relaxed because Edward whispered to me, "You okay? You look pale." I hummed a quiet "mm-hmm" in response and closed my folder, straightening the papers inside.  Edward may be a bit self-centered and a bit of  a jerk sometimes, but it's the little things he does, like noticing I look pale or flushed, or walking a bit slower to let me walk beside him, that let me know he cares. Edward has never been very direct with his feelings, not like Alphonse. Alphonse could spill out his heart's contents at the drop of a pin, telling his whole life story if you were willing to listen. Edward on the other hand, it was like pulling teeth just to get him to admit he stubbed his toe or hit his funny bone on something. And yet the two of them went together like a cherry on whipped cream. A metallic, stubborn cherry and whipped cream pairing, that is.
"Did you see your state alchemist code names? Edward, the Fuhrer was quite amused with himself over the name he picked for you," Mustang gestured to our folders with the tip of his finger, keeping his other hand inplace to hold up his chin. We opened our folders once more, I didn't think mine was too bad. If I said it in a cool, superhero voice in my head, it had a nice ring to it.
"Is this some kind of joke?!" Edward shot up straight in his chair.
Mustang giggled gruffly to himself, "I thought you might react like that. Don't be so upset, it was chosen by the Fuhrer himself, this is a great honor!" Edward leaned forward to begin to stand up, I quickly but gently placed my left hand on his right arm to remind him not to cause a scene. He quickly glanced at me then flopped into the back of his chair, almost embarrassed.
"Now, after we finish an exhausting amount of paperwork," Mustang takes on a more professional, more militant tone, "I regret to inform you that there won't be much excitement. You'll mostly spend your days around here, unless something arises."
Edward's chair shot out from under him and screeched across the floor. He banged his palms on Mustang's desk, "Wait!" Mustang sat back in his chair, away from Edward a bit. He looked at him with surprise and a bit of amusement. Edward took a breath, "We were told that becoming state alchemists permits us to do whatever we want-"
"Within reason," Alphonse chimed.
"-Within reason," Edward quickly corrected himself without breaking eye contact with the Colonel. Mustang took a deep breath and blinked slowly, looking up through his eyebrows at Edward, who looked down his nose at the Colonel.
"If..." the Colonel meticulously planned his words, "you all can give me some solid work and finish your documents and paperwork..." We took a breath and leaned towards him eagerly. "And if..." Mustang emphasized, silencing us to let him finish, "there isn't anything that needs immediate attention or can serve as a promising learning opportunity, you may have some time to yourselves. Although I don't recommend going too far, there's been a series of murders picking off even the most skilled of our State Alchemists."
Murders? Upon hearing Mustang's last words, we gave each other a worried glance. A slurry of questions came to my mind, who was behind them? why did they only go after state alchemists? is Central City really safe to be in right now? was this a good ide- I stopped from asking myself that last one. This was a good idea, this was merely a setback we would have to overcome.
"Colonel, you have an appointment at 4pm. We don't want to be late again," A blonde haired woman wearing the same uniform as the Colonel knocked on the doorframe. She saw us turn around to look at her, nodding slightly and bearing a slight smile before turning back to Mustang and giving him a stiff salute with her right hand.
"Excuse me," the Colonel arose from his desk and strode confidently toward the door, "I won't be but a minute." He stepped into the hallway, the woman from earlier closing the door behind him and leaving us inside, leaving us to our own, uncertain devices.