Author's Notes: Okay, a little backstory here: I originally wrote this piece for NaNoWriMo 2005. I won, but I wasn't terribly happy with it and set it aside to clean up one day before posting it. Three and a half years later, I happen to find it while cleaning up my harddrive. And I....ignore it until my next harddrive cleaning, and finally decide to sit down, clean it up, and post it for your reading enjoyment. So yeah, it's not beta'd, since the goal was to get it off my damn harddrive. Betas are good, betas are your friends, I always get my newer stuff beta'd, I assure you. It does, however, have the benefit of having been looked over/edited by me years later, when it might as well have been a new story to me. It's still not perfect, and there are a lot of things (particularly the ending) that I'm thrilled about, but I like to think it's still readable and has some merit. And if not, well, it's not like I'm charging anyone for it, right?

Spoiler Warning: Set after episode 26, with some spoilers to later episodes and especially the movie.

Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist. Many nice people who are not me do. I own the OCs that are littered about, but this late in the game, you can have them.

Magnum Opus

By A Guy Named Goo

Chapter 1: Evaluation

Edward ducked underneath a shelf of ground that had just risen in the wake of a powerful blast, looking around him at the items that he had at his disposal. The closest thing was a table with many small articles scattered on it: buckets of water, various minerals, a lit bunsen burner, flasks of colored chemicals...an ideal chemistry set.

Edward dove toward the table, but another blast upset the entire thing. He looked at the chemicals, quickly trying to determine what they were, but he knew he had too little time. He clapped his hands, and put them on the table, drawing the metal together into the familiar shape of his spear. He rolled out of the way of another blast and used his spear to launch himself up into the air, leaving rubble in his wake.

"Time!" a voice shouted. Lights suddenly switched on, and Edward blinked under the sudden brightness, turning in the direction of the voice. Colonel Roy Mustang was standing behind a short stone barrier, holding his watch in one gloved hand. On one side of him was Alphonse, managing to look anxious despite his unchanging facial expression. A line of people Edward couldn't recognize were lined up behind him.

Edward dropped the spear and brushed off his duster. "What, that's it? I was just getting started!" he shouted boastfully to his audience.

Roy stepped out from around the barrier, pocketing his watch once more. "You were given twenty minutes. It's been twenty minutes." Roy kicked the spear off to the side. "Not as impressive as some of your past evaluations, Fullmetal."

Edward grimaced. "Hey, you said the goal was to survive using whatever I had to. I'm alive, I'm in one piece..." He moved his right arm, listening to make sure that this assessment was, indeed, true. Well, it sounded like everything was in working order, anyway.

Roy shrugged. "That you are. And that was the goal of the evaluation, but it's called an 'evaluation' because we evaluate your performance. As in assess your strengths and weaknesses."

"And I have weaknesses?" Edward asked. He stood up on a piece debris. "You're just being a bastard because of what happened during my last evaluation, aren't you? You're a State Alchemist. You have to have an evaluation. I want to see yours!"

Roy still had to look down at his subordinate, despite his clearly assuming his place on the debris to put them closer to the same height. "I've already had mine. The results are none of your business. But as your sponsor, the results of yours are mine. And your evaluation shows you have a significant weakness that could affect your performance on missions, which is the military's concern."

Edward continued to glare at Roy in silence for a few moments. "You're really enjoying this, aren't you?"

Roy waved a dismissive hand, turning to walk away. "I'm your sponsor. Your weaknesses reflect on me. I have a lot more to gain from you getting a perfect evaluation. But as you don't have one, let's go discuss the results elsewhere and let someone else take their test."

Edward jumped off the debris, following Roy closely as he stepped back behind the barrier. Alphonse fell into step behind him as they passed through, leaning over a little to talk to his older brother.

"Brother, did you pass?" Alphonse asked expectantly.

Edward turned to glare at Alphonse for a moment, then sighed resignedly. "I don't know. I guess. The Colonel here is taking me somewhere to discuss my 'weaknesses'."

"He can come, too, if you insist. You end up telling him everything anyway," Roy told Edward. They were walking through the halls of Eastern Headquarters now, heading in the direction of Roy's office.

Alphonse stood up straight again, waving his hands in a gesture of refusal. "Oh, no, Colonel. If you need to speak with Brother privately, I can wait." Edward knew he just wanted to be elsewhere when he had his inevitible temper trantrum directed at Roy.

Roy held open the door to his office. "Your prerogative," he said.

Edward turned to look at Alphonse. "This won't be long. Just wait outside and I'll be out in a few minutes, okay?"

"A few minutes to discuss your weaknesses? You seem pretty sure for someone who didn't think they had any until a few minutes ago, Fullmetal," Roy said with a smirk. Edward glared at him as he strode into his office, waiting for the clanking sound of Alphonse leaving before seating himself on a sofa. Roy closed the door and went to sit at his desk.

"All right, I know you're dying to tell me what my supposed weakness is, so out with it," Edward demanded. He sounded rather like he was sulking, as if the sting of being informed his alchemy technique wasn't perfect was just sinking in.

Roy sighed, thumbing through the stack of paper sitting on his desk. "It's not quite as simple as that, Fullmetal. The ones in charge of the evaluations think that it's a problem that can only be remedied by more training with another alchemist."

Edward sat up a little straighter. "After what happened the last time we studied with an alchemist that was working for the military?!" he cried out. "No damn way! I'll find my own teacher or figure out how to fix it myself!"

Roy shook his head. "You don't have a choice if you want to keep your status as a State Alchemist, Fullmetal. To be blunt, your evaluation shows that your problem lies in quick-thinking and using the tools available to you. You're getting to be a bit one-note, and that will affect you if you're ever in a situation where you're limited."

"But I know how to combine things! I wouldn't be a State Alchemist if I didn't!" Edward argued, standing up now.

"I know that, and you know that, and they know that. It's not whether you can do it that's being questioned. You're right: if anyone doubted whether you could or not, you wouldn't be a State Alchemist. But you completely ignored the dozens of things you could have used to protect yourself and went right to the old standbys you've always used, when there were things you could have done that would have been much more effective. It's not that you can't do it. It's that you don't."

Edward stormed up to the desk, pointing at Roy's glove. "You're the Flame Alchemist! You're known for only having one trick that doesn't even work in the rain! How the hell can you call me 'one-note'?"

Roy rubbed the array on the back of his glove again. "I had my evaluation already. I already told you the results were none of your business, but needless to say, that problem didn't show up on it." Edward noticed that the way he was talking heavily implied that there had been some problems on his evaluation. Well, at least he had a small victory.

Roy took a paper from the stack on his desk, taking a pen into his other hand. "I can improvise. I don't even have my gloves when I get evaluated. As impressive as it is that you don't have to use a circle, I think that if you had used one, the evaluation committee wouldn't be having this concern."

Edward snorted. "So you're saying that I'm so much of a prodigy that the committee is worried that I may not be one at all. That makes perfect sense."

Roy shrugged. "I didn't make the evaluation. You know that you can do it, and I know that you can do it. But they don't, and you did nothing to show them otherwise. So now you've got conditional reinstatement, with more training being the condition. Take it or leave it."

Edward crossed his arms over his chest. "You're my sponsor! Can't you tell them that I'm fine?"

Roy shook his head. "It doesn't work that way. They all outrank me. I'm there because as your sponsor, I am responsible for making sure you meet the military's expectations of a State Alchemist." Roy leaned back in his seat, steepling his fingers, apparently considering something. "But I think they would be willing to grant a little leeway in who trains you."

Edward cocked his head to the side. "Leeway? As in let me pick who trains me?"

"Not quite," Roy corrected. "Let me pick."

Edward snorted. "Because you did such a great job finding us someone to study with the last time, right?"

Roy smiled sadly. "I admit, the Shou Tucker situation was sad and entirely unforseen at the time. But the person I have in mind now is completely harmless, and probably who the military had in mind for you to train with anyway. And you'd have to go to Central, which would unfortunately keep you away from me until you are finished..."

Edward slumped his shoulders. "And I have no choice if I want to stay a State Alchemist?"

"I'm afraid not."

"All right. How soon do I have to leave?"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The first thing Edward noticed as he stepped up to the house in Central a week later was that it smelled good. Very good, in fact. He couldn't pinpoint one specific aroma, but it combined into something distinctly homey and inviting. He sniffed the air deeply, then became aware of Alphonse looking down at him.

"What? It smells good," Edward said in his defense.

"Glad you think so. You'll be smelling it a lot around here," Roy said with a smile as he knocked on the door.

There were some banging sounds heard inside, followed by a friendly voice calling "just a minute!". Edward waited for said minute. And another. And finally, several minutes had passed.

"Colonel?" Alphonse asked, but Roy held up his finger in a silencing gesture.

The door finally came open slightly, slowly, and pale blue eyes swept over the figures appraisingly. "Oh my..." the friendly voice said. The door closed again, and the sound of a chain lock being disengaged could be heard. The door opened wide now, revealing a delicate man who couldn't have looked less imposing if he tried. He wasn't very tall, the top of his head coming about eye level to Roy, and he was rather pale, his cheeks slightly sunken and his light blue eyes sporting bags. He was wearing a pink apron over his white dress shirt, which had the sleeves rolled up, and his arms, shirt, apron, and face were smeared with flour and other stains of various colors. His hair was black and came to just past his shoulder blades, but was tied back in a loose ponytail and streaked with gray, although Edward couldn't tell if it was natural or from the flour.

"C-Colonel Mustang," the man said, stepping aside to let Roy and the pair he had with him into his home. "What I surprise. I mean, I can't say this was unexpected, because you told me you were coming, but I didn't expect it to be so soon. Is it soon? What day is it?" The man started looking around his living room for something, but apparently failed to find it (a feat, considering it consisted of only the bare essential furniture, a few assorted tables, and a telephone), as he turned his gaze back toward the trio, wiping his hands on his apron and bring it up to wipe his face as well. He only managed to smear more flour on his cheeks.

"It's been a week since I phoned you, and you've probably received some sort of official notice by now," Roy told the man patiently.

"I did?" the man asked. He looked at the pile of letters sitting on a table near the door, picking them up and rummaging through them. "Oh. It must be this. I probably should have noticed the military postmark on this..." He took a small knife out of the pocket of his black dress pants, slitting open the envelope and withdrawing the contents. "Oh my...I really should have read this sooner." He put the letter back into the envelope. "Well, no worries. You're all here now and you're safe. You're probably all hungry, too. Dinner will be ready soon. I made plenty. I always do."

The man turned, about to disappear through the door at the other end of the living room, until Roy's voice stopped him. "If you don't mind, I'd like to get introductions out of the way first."

The man paused at the door, mouth moving as if repeating what Roy had just said, brow furrowed in concentration. "Oh! Yes, of course." He turned around, smiling nervously, hand still poised to push open the door.

Roy pointed at the man. "Fullmetal, Alphonse, this is Calvinia Hart, the Building Block Alchemist."

Hart turned away from the door, bowing slightly even as he continued to wipe his hands on his apron. "I would offer you my hand, but I am afraid they are both quite messy right now so you might not appreciate the gesture," he explained. He looked up at Alphonse. "So you are Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist?"

Alphonse jumped a little, and Edward looked away from the man, right hand clenched into a fist. "Um...no, sir...Mr. Hart...I'm Alphonse. He's my older brother, Edward."

Hart mouthed what Alphonse had just said, the look of concentration appearing on his face again. Suddenly, his eyes went wide and he blushed very deeply. "Oh, I am terribly sorry, Mr. Elric! It's just...well, from the name, I assumed...I shouldn't have assumed anything at all. No disrespect intended, surely."

Edward unclenched his fist, his anger appeased by the man's sincere sense of remorse over the mistake. In fact, he was rather surprised by just how upset he seemed to be. "It's no big deal, really," he said at last, and some of the redness started to fade from Hart's cheeks.

"I should really go check on the food. Excuse me," Hart said with a nod. He pushed open the door, and the heavenly smells intensified as it swung on its hinge for a few moments before settling closed once again.

"I told you he was harmless," Roy said proudly.

Edward pointed at the door with his thumb. "He's a State Alchemist?"

Roy nodded, removing his coat and hanging it on the coat rack next to the front door. "And a brilliant one. He's settled into a civilian role now, just keeping his services on retainer, but he's an Ishbal war veteran."

Alphonse was still eyeing the door to what had to have been the kitchen. "He doesn't seem like the soldier type..."

Roy shrugged, sitting on the sofa. "He isn't. Not really. That's why he's working in a civilian capacity now. I didn't serve with his unit in the war, so I'm not sure what he was like back then or how he got through it. Settle down, Fullmetal, and put down your suitcase. You're in for a treat."

Edward put his suitcase down where he ws standing, also removing his duster and hanging it on the coat rack next to Roy's. "How is he supposed to train us to use alchemy better? He hardly remembers who we are, and we just introduced ourselves."

Roy was smirking when Edward walked over to a chair that looked very soft, thowing himself into it. He was surprised to find himself sinking quite deep, and then he realized why: the bottom of the chair had broken. He pulled himself up and clapped his hands, bringing them to the bottom of the chair and focusing on reassembling the wood. He then sat down on it, content that it would at least hold his weight.

"I've been meaning to fix that chair. Thank you for doing it for me," came Hart's voice. Edward had apparently been so busy with fixing the chair, he hadn't noticed the man come out of the kitchen. He was holding a mixing bowl to his chest, a smear of what seemed to be chocolate next to his nose as he continued to stir the contents with a wooden spoon.

Edward bounced up and down in it a little to prove its sturdiness. "It's fine now."

Hart smiled gently. "So it is. Could you boys give me a hand in the kitchen? I just need to put the finishing touches on dessert and then I can serve dinner."

"Of course, Mr. Hart," Alphonse said obediently, following Hart into the kitchen, his wide frame just barely managing to fit through the doorway. Edward, however, was not inclined to move.

"Go help him, Fullmetal," Roy ordered.

"Why? I fixed his chair, and he can't need more than one extra set of hands," Edward pointed out.

"You're here because he's training you, not Alphonse. Now go help," Roy repeated.

Edward sighed and got up, muttering about what helping him with his cooking had to do with his training. The second he stepped into the kitchen, he was pelted in the face with a pink apron similar to Hart's.

"It's about time you got in here," Hart said, sounding a little impatient. He pointed at the table, where two green aprons were spread out. "Make your brother an apron. He won't remove the armor and I can't allow him to work in the kitchen without it. And put on a hairnet."

Edward was amazed. This was the shy man who had gotten flustered over a case of mistaken identity only moments before? Hart busied himself over the stove, stirring things and opening one of the three ovens he had in the kitchen.

"I see you standing over there, but I don't see any aprons yet," Hart said, his voice full of warning.

Edward put down the pink apron and clapped his hands again, pressing them into the two green aprons and focusing on the general shape of aprons. He then produced an apron that was the perfect size for Alphonse, who took it and put it on gratefully.

"Great. One of you is ready. Now you," Hart demanded, pointing at Edward. "It's not hard. Put on the apron and the hairnet and get over here. I need you to help me now."

Edward finally found his voice again. "Why do I have to wear a hairnet? You're not!"

"I'm used to working in a kitchen, and blonde hairs are harder to spot than black. The more you talk, the more the food suffers, and I won't have you wasting food as long as you are in my kitchen," Hart explained. He strode over to Edward, picking up the apron and putting it over his head. Edward quickly tied it on, then picked up the hairnet that was now dangling between Hart's fingers, muttering unpleasant things as he put it on.

"Alphonse, go to oven one and use the thermometer to check the temperature of the roast. You, the small one. Stay close to me. You're going to be my sous-chef."

"Small one?!" Edward growled. "Who are you calling so small you couldn't tell the difference between him and a grain of rice?!"

Hart pointed at Edward with a wooden spoon. "You. And I will continue to do so until you give me a reason not to. I have a few simple rules: you make everything you're going to eat and you don't waste food or you'll regret it. Tonight you can eat dinner with the Colonel, but that's because I am already mostly finished and it's too late to start something new. Now take this spoon and stir the pot on burner one."

Edward took the spoon roughly from Hart, glaring at him as he went to put the spoon in one of the many pots simmering on the eight burners.

"What are you doing?!" Hart shrieked, taking the spoon from him. Edward thought he was going to hit him for a moment, but instead he thrust the spoon into a pot. "This is burner one. See? They go one, two, three...all the way until eight. You're a smart boy. I assume you know how to count."

A few minutes later, Edward and Alphonse were both balancing trays, platters, and bowls of exquisite smelling food into a dining room, where four places were already set at the table. Roy was sitting at the head of the table, smirk still in place.

"I'm going to make sure you hurt for this, Mustang," Edward swore through clenched teeth.

"I hear talking when there's still food to be served!" Hart's voice called from inside the kitchen. Edward jumped and dove into the kitchen.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

At the dinner table, Hart's evil split personality seemed to be at bay once more as he nervously ate, glancing around at the others between each bite. Edward was stabbing his food with ferocity, thinking it would serve the crazy man right if he refused to touch any of it, but finding himself unable to resist: it smelled delicious, and tasted even better than it smelled.

Hart looked over at Alphonse, who was poking at his food without eating any. "Is something the matter, Alphonse? Do you not like it? I can make something else if-"

"He's fine," Edward interrupted. Both Roy and Hart turned to face him. Edward sighed, taking another bite and chewing it thoughtfully as he contemplated his options for explaining why Alphonse didn't need to eat. He put down his fork as something occurred to him. "He's on a really strict diet. He can only eat certain foods. At certain times. And he wears the armor because his body is really delicate."

Hart looked over at Alphonse, apparently buying the lie because he suddenly looked very sad. "I am so sorry to hear that, Alphonse. I hope I will be able to make you something that you can eat someday..."

Alphonse nodded, pushing his plate away. "I hope so, too, Mr. Hart. This all looks very good."

"It's very good, indeed. My compliments to the chef," Roy said, wiping his mouth with his napkin. "But then, no one expects anything less of you, Hart."

Hart blushed again and took another bite. "It was really nothing. I was already cooking all day, and it's always nice to have someone around to enjoy it."

Edward looked around the table. There was so much food that even with his appetite, there would still be quite a bit of leftovers. "So you just spend all day cooking for no one?"

Hart shook his head. "Not no one. The military knows I cook, and usually there are more officers visiting for dinner than this. I am very popular for a free home-cooked meal, although I can only allow so many people in to eat, obviously. I guess word of the Colonel arriving with you two got around and it was assumed that I would want this to be a private dinner."

Edward pulled Alphonse's discarded plate over toward him. "How are you going to have time to teach us alchemy if you're cooking for the military all day every day?"

Hart put down his fork, looking up at the ceiling and mouthing what Edward had just said, the look of concentration returning to his face. A look of realization crossed his face, and he glanced over at Roy. "Colonel Mustang, you told me that they were coming to me for cooking lessons."

Edward started to choke on his food.

"Brother!" Alphonse cried, and he hit Edward's back exceptionally hard, causing the food to fly out of his windpipe. Edward slumped forward a little, taking deep breaths, and fumbled for the nearest thing to drink...which turned out to be milk. He spit that out all over his food.

"Cooking?!" he cried out, still grasping his throat, glaring daggers at Roy. "You said we were coming here to learn about alchemy!"

Roy took another bite of his food. "I said you were coming here to fix the flaw in your alchemy technique. I never said you were going to learn alchemy."