Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ All's Fair in Love and Alchemy ❯ Plans, Part 1 ( Chapter 6 )

Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist. But I do own an Ed and Al wall scroll and a pair of pants that look like Ed's… lol.

A/N: I'm making this up as I go along XD so don't blame me if the plot is all half-assed. Oh, in this fic, Ed and Winry are 19, Al is 18 and Roy is 23. And they might be a bit OoC…

Apologies for the late update. I was in Edmonton for the past month and already had this half-finished on my computer at home and couldn't get inspiration at Edmonton.

 

“Ok, this is what we do,” Edward explained once they were in their room. “Mustang is outside with Winry, right?” “Uh, yeah,” Alphonse said. “So that means he isn't in his office,” Edward continued. “Where the box is.” “So we snatch it now?” “No, Al, we snatch it when he's in the office and can see us clearly,” Edward said sarcastically. “Of course we snatch it now!”

He got up from the couch and began pacing restlessly around the room. Alphonse scratched his head. “Are you all right, big brother?” he asked in his slightly-echoing voice. “No, I'm not, Al,” Edward replied, standing at the window and peering despondently out the window. “My chest hurts, right here.” He placed a hand over his heart. “It really hurts. As much as when Mom died. I'm losing her, Al. I'm losing Winry. If I don't… if I can't… I'm gonna lose her forever.”

He was crying, tears running gently and unnoticed down his cheeks. Alphonse felt bewildered, standing and going over to Edward. He patted his brother's shoulder, feeling confused. If Edward was so lost—crying, even, something Alphonse hadn't seen him do for five years—then what was Al himself supposed to do?

“Get some sleep, Ed,” he said, pushing the older boy firmly toward his bed. “You're exhausted. Go on.” Proving Edward's fatigue was the fact that he didn't even argue, only stumbled to his bed and fell into it. He was asleep before Alphonse crept silently out the door.

 

A big suit of metal armor isn't exactly easy to sneak around in, Alphonse soon learned, as his attempt to slip unseen up to Roy Mustang's office failed miserably when Riza Hawkeye stepped from her own office.

“Alphonse?” she asked, startled. “What are you doing up here?” Alphonse froze with his hand on Mustang's doorknob, then turned to face her, putting his other hand behind his head and laughing nervously. “Er,” he said, thinking fast. “I… need to see… Colonel Mustang about something… For the wedding, you see.” Her eyes darkened, but her face remained in a pleasant smile. “Oh, I see,” she said. “Carry on.” She turned back into her office, slamming the door hard.

That wasn't like Hawkeye, Alphonse decided, now even more confused. She was more… brutal. He blinked, thinking of the way her eyes had changed when he'd mentioned Winry and Mustang's wedding. There had been sorrow there, pain and anger. A lot like Ed's eyes when Alphonse mentioned the wedding—or Winry or Roy, to be exact—to him.

She loves the colonel.
That was the only possible explanation. Alphonse shook his head and turned away, heading back to his own room. This was all too complicated; his attempt had failed and that was as far as he was going to think into it.

Now all he could do was leave it up to Edward and the Homunculi.

 

Edward woke very suddenly, on the floor. He was confused as to his coming to be on the floor, but from the blankets twisted around his legs he supposed he had fallen out of bed. He wriggled loose—easier said than done—and stood up.

Alphonse wasn't in the room, was the first thing he noticed. The hell… now he's vanished. Lust better not be trying anything with him… Sighing, the alchemist grabbed his cloak—he could tell the night was going to be cold—then slipped out the door and turned left toward the roof.

He swung the cloak over his shoulders before he opened the door to the roof, buckling it at his throat and clutching it around him. The night was freezing for late March, and he spent the next few minutes shivering at the railing before the warmth of the red fabric leaked into his bones. Satisfied, he began to plan.

I guess I'll try the easiest approach, Edward thought. Sneak into his office when he isn't there, grab the box, leave. I only have two days left. I have to hurry.

But what if you fail? a tiny, insidious voice whispered. What if he catches you and has you thrown in the military jail? What will you do then? “I'll think about that when it comes,” he told the voice firmly. “Shut up, I'm trying to think.” The voice was quiet for a few minutes, while Edward pondered several escape routes, then piped up again, But what if she doesn't fall in love with you again? She hates your guts, you know. She'd like nothing more than to see you fail and throw yourself from this rooftop. In fact, why don't you make yourself a promise? If she doesn't fall in love with you after you get rid of Mustang, you throw yourself from here. Got it? Good. “Hey, wait! I'm not gonna do that unless it's absolutely necessary.” Yeah, yeah. Have fun with your devious plans, buddy. The voice was suddenly silent, and though Edward waited several minutes, it didn't come back. Which was probably a good thing. Edward was already completely certain he'd snapped.

He leaned heavily on the railing; he was half-expecting, half-hoping Winry would come around the corner suddenly and join him. He kept looking behind him, searching for her familiar sparkling blue eyes, her long blond ponytail or her slender legs under her skirt. All he saw were the lumpy buildings of Central HQ and darkness. Nothing much else. Well, there was a bat right there, fluttering in the midst of a tree, searching for insects, and Edward amused himself for a few minutes watching it until he grew bored, therefore proceeding to stare into space. Which wasn't much better.

“Oh, why the long face, Fullmetal?”

Edward gritted his teeth at the familiar voice, firmly refusing to be startled at the sudden voice. Instead he turned calmly around and replied, “What do you want, Lust?”

The Homunculus crossed her arms and smirked at him, the ever-present sadness in her violet eyes seeming to give way for a split second to amusement. “What do you think?” she asked softly. “I want that box. Where's my box, Fullmetal?” “I don't have it yet,” he answered, scowling at her tone. “I still have two days left.” “I know,” she replied, sashaying closer and leaning close to him. “But if you don't get it soon, Edward, you know what I'll have to do.” One of her fingernails flicked out to about a foot long, and she examined its razor point with delicate care. “Yeah, yeah, I get it,” he snapped. “Go away and let me think.” Lust sneered again, turning and waltzing off. “Fine; reject my help,” she said, looking back. “Just think on this: I know dear Colonel Mustang far more than you do. I have lived longer, after all.” With one last smirk, she went around a corner and vanished.