Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ Unleashed ❯ Chapter 3 -- Breaking and Entering ( Chapter 3 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

UNLEASHED
A Fullmetal Alchemist Fanfic With Lemon

by Sailor Mac

PART THREE: BREAKING AND ENTERING

When Russell and Ed headed toward the tavern the next morning, the town had come fully to life. Housewives were making their shopping rounds, pushing little carts in front of them; people in suits were going into and out of the various businesses; a street vendor stocked his cart from a basket of fresh vegetables.

If the people knew that there was something amiss in the town, they certainly didnÕt let on.

Ed pushed open the door. ÒDonÕt imagine thereÕs going to be a lot of people here at this time of day,Ó he said. ÒItÕll probably be a good opportunity for us to question the bartender.Ó

The interior of the building was paneled with dark wood, with photographs of scenes from local life hanging on the walls -- a group of kids holding up the fish they just caught, a local fair, a group portrait of the town government . . . At one end of the room, a fireplace crackled invitingly, and tables of various sizes were scattered throughout the room.

Sure enough, it was deserted, and the bartender was busy putting fresh bottles on the shelf. She had her back to them, all they could see was that she was tall and had shoulder-length blond hair.

ÒExcuse me,Ó Russell said, Òcan we have a word with you for a minute?Ó

The woman turned around, a big smile crossing her face, and said, ÒSure -- but I just started working here this morning.Ó There was something about her voice that sounded familiar to Russell . . .

Ed suddenly jumped back with a yelp. ÒYOU!Ó he shouted.

ÒVery good,Ó she said, wiping at the counter with a rag. ÒYouÕre just as clever as I remember you being.Ó

ÒWhat phony cause are you allegedly raising money for now?Ó Ed yelled. ÒIs this *bar* scheduled to be demolished?Ó

Russell looked at the woman, blinked, looked at Ed, and blinked again. ÒWait a minute,Ó he said. ÒEd, whatÕs going on?Ó

ÒDonÕt you get it, Russ?Ó Ed hissed, leaning in toward his lover. ÒThatÕs *Psiren!*Ó

ÒClara, if you donÕt mind,Ó she said, leaning over toward the boys. ÒAnd thatÕs one hell of a way to greet a lady -- especially one whoÕs trying to *help* you.Ó

ÒHelp us?Ó Ed folded his arms over his chest. ÒWhy would *you* help us?Ó

ÒLook, the stealing thing is getting old, okay?Ó she said in a hushed tone. ÒIÕve been at it so long that, well . . . the *thrill* has gone out of it. I was looking for something new, and then you came along, and . . .Ó

ÒAnd you decided that youÕre going to *play secret agent*?Ó Ed said.

ÒYouÕve got to admit, it *would* be a good thing if she could help us,Ó Russell said.

ÒHow do we know we can trust her?Ó Ed said.

ÒDo you think I would have taken this job if I wasnÕt serious about doing this?Ó Clara said, wiping the counter again.

ÒYou took *other* jobs just to bilk people,Ó Ed hissed.

ÒThat was in Aquroya,Ó she said, reaching down to rearrange glasses on a shelf. ÒThat town . . . they *wanted* me to do those things. If you recall . . . I was a celebrity there. People liked to tell each other that the nurse or the teacher who showed up to raise money for something that was about to be demolished must have really been Psiren. They knew their town was doomed. They loved the excitement. And I . . .Ó

ÒLoved the attention?Ó Ed said, hopping up on a barstool.

ÒHey, when youÕre as gorgeous as I am, itÕs nice to know itÕs appreciated,Ó she said.

ÒSo if you were just stealing in Aquroya as some kind of grand theatrical thing,Ó Russell said, sitting beside Ed, Òwhy did you come to Xenotime?Ó

ÒI had to finance my operation somehow, didnÕt I?Ó she said. ÒAquroya was never as rich as it seemed. I used to hit fat cats in other towns -- like your Mugear.Ó She leaned over and stroked the underside of RussellÕs chin with her fingers. ÒImagine my surprise when I found a cute boy working on the PhilosopherÕs Stone there.Ó

Ed swatted her hand away from him. ÒSo now you have no more Aquroya,Ó he said, Òand no more fun.Ó

ÒAnd IÕve just been stealing to *survive,*Ó she said. ÒI wanted *excitement* again. So . . . when I heard you talking about your case last night, and this tavern, I came here first thing in the morning and sweet-talked the manager into giving me a job. Turns out his day bartender had just quit, anyway.Ó

A deep voice from a room in the back of the tavern called, ÒClara! Will you come here for a minute?Ó

ÒComing,Ó she said. ÒTalk to you later, boys. I get off work at six, check back with me then.Ó

Ed turned around, leaning his elbows against the bar. ÒGreat,Ó he said. ÒJust great. SheÕs *invited herself* onto our case.Ó

ÒShe sounded sincere,Ó Russell said, thoughtfully. ÒEd . . . I think she really wants to help.Ó

ÒWonderful. First Al, now you.Ó Ed shot his lover an acid look. ÒShe has a way of convincing men that sheÕs not a crook.Ó

ÒNo, Ed . . . itÕs not that. ItÕs, well . . . she lost Aquroya. She lost everything she had. I know how she feels . . . Fletcher and I have been there. When we lost our mother, and our father had left . . . youÕre willing to do just about anything.Ó He looked Ed in the eye, a silent challenge, telling him without words that *he* had been there, too.

ÒSo you just want to let her work with us?Ó Ed said.

ÒLook, can it hurt us to *try* it?Ó Russell said. ÒSee if she gives us any information we can use. If she doesnÕt, we tell her to get lost.Ó

There was a long pause, after which Ed flung himself off the barstool. ÒFine,Ó he said. ÒWeÕll *try* it. And if it doesnÕt work out, itÕs *your* fault.Ó

The two boys headed out of the bar . . . when Ed caught sight of a paper under one of the tables. It wouldnÕt have struck him as anything unusual . . . except there was something drawn on the corner that looked specifically like an array . . .

He picked it up, examining it closer. ÒWhat is it?Ó Russell said.

ÒLooks like some kind of code,Ó Ed said. ÒA mix of numbers, letters and symbols . . . kind of like the one Maggie was using.Ó

Russell looked over his shoulder. ÒMaybe we should get our brothers to look at it? They cracked the other code.Ó

ÒMight be a good idea,Ó Ed said. ÒRussell, I think we may have found something we can *really* work with.Ó

ÒWell, itÕs a good thing we have a *spy* in that tavern then, isnÕt it?Ó Russell said, folding his arms over his chest and smiling a bit smugly.

ÒDonÕt push it, Russ,Ó Ed said, shoving the paper in his pocket. ÒWe donÕt know if sheÕs *really* a spy for us yet.Ó

ÒAnd if she works out?Ó Russell said.

Ed shrugged. ÒIf she works out, sheÕs a hell of a different person than she was in Aquroya.Ó He pushed open the door, and they headed out.

ÒYou donÕt trust me as a judge of character?Ó Russell said, putting his hands in his pockets as they headed up the street.

ÒYou were completely convinced Madame Marie was guilty!Ó Ed said, walking rapidly in the direction of the inn.

ÒSo were you,Ó Russell reminded him.

ÒYou didnÕt know Baddley was with that gang!Ó Ed walked faster to catch up with Russell -- damn him and his long legs, he could cover huge amounts of ground just by casually striding . . .

ÒAnd you didnÕt know the military was being run by a homunculus,Ó Russell said, cooly, walking faster still.

ÒNobody did! ThatÕs beside the point!Ó Ed struggled to catch up with him again.

ÒOkay, maybe I *am* a bad judge of character,Ó Russell said. ÒAfter all, I once met a guy who was horribly-tempered, stuck-up, *short* . . .Ó

ÒAnd?Ó Ed said, calmly.

Russell turned toward him. ÒAnd? ThatÕs all youÕre saying?Ó

ÒDid you expect me to freak out?Ó Ed said, waving a hand dismissively.

Russell was baffled. HeÕd made a short joke . . . and Ed hadnÕt gone ballistic . . .

ÒDamn,Ó he said. ÒIÕm amazed. Usually youÕd be stomping around, flailing, screaming . . . I have to admit, it was rather entertaining sometimes, watching you blow a smokestack every time someone called you short . . .Ó

ÒWanna end up sleeping in the hall tonight, Tringham?Ó

ÒAt least I got the bad-tempered part right,Ó Russell retorted. ÒMaybe IÕm not a bad judge of character after all.Ó And he took off toward the town, nearly running.

ÒWhat? WhatÕs that supposed to mean? Get back here *now*, Russell . . .Ó

* * *

Several hours later, they dragged themselves back into the tavern, looking and feeling beat.

ÒGreat,Ó Ed said. Ò*Now* every barstool and chair is taken. Just when I want to sit down.Ó

ÒWe *could* make the rounds in here and ask if anyoneÕs seen anything,Ó Russell said, trying not to raise his voice *too* much -- although it was impossible over the din of boisterous post-work chatter.

ÒYou mean thereÕs people in town we *didnÕt* talk to already?Ó Ed leaned against the wall. ÒI think we covered every square inch of the place.Ó

ÒWouldnÕt have been so bad if any of them had information we could use,Ó Russell said, leaning next to Ed, his hand propped on the wall and holding up his long, lean frame.

ÒWell, *I* found something out,Ó said a voice behind them. They turned, and there stood Clara, looking extremely pleased with herself. ÒAnd, it just so happens that I just got off work.Ó

Ed looked around quickly. ÒKeep it down!Ó he hissed. ÒYou want everyone to hear?Ó

ÒSorry, IÕm not used to how things are done in the daytime,Ó she said, flippantly. ÒI usually work at night.Ó

ÒLook, come outside with us,Ó Ed said, pulling her toward the door. ÒWeÕll walk toward the library, our brothers are there.Ó

Once they were out on the street, Ed waited until they were a good half-block away from the tavern before saying, ÒOkay, tell me. What was it you heard in there?Ó

ÒWell, I overheard some gossip about a man named Harker,Ó Clara said as she strolled along casually, eyes straight forward. ÒWord has it that heÕs involved with some suspicious characters.Ó

ÒLike what kind?Ó Russell said.

ÒA couple of mercenaries. People who were in the military during the time of Fuhrer Bradley.Ó

Ed shrugged. ÒLots of them around nowadays.Ó

ÒAlso, he was seen quite a few times meeting up with a prostitute named Maggie . . .Ó

Ed stopped so short that Russell and Clara nearly crashed into him. He whirled around and grabbed the thief by the arm. ÒWhat was that?Ó

ÒSome prostitute from Central,Ó Clara said. ÒShe used to come out here to see him, and sometimes heÕd go into Central to see her . . . but the strange thing is, they were always seen talking out in the open. Not exactly what a guy usually does with a hooker.Ó

ÒHowÕd they know who she was?Ó Ed said, arms crossed over his chest.

ÒWell, you remember that Madame MarieÕs was a pretty well-known place,Ó Russell said. ÒThey got people from all over, and thereÕs some wealthy people in this town who might have business in Central.Ó

ÒOh?Ó Clara turned toward Russell, a sly smile crossing his face. ÒAnd how do *you* know about Madame MarieÕs?Ó

Russell turned red. ÒNever mind,Ó he said.

ÒLook, what else did you hear about Harker?Ó Ed said, tugging Clara away from Russell, knowing if he let their conversation continue as it was, his own mission at Madame MarieÕs would come into the conversation, and heÕd be *damned* if heÕd let *Clara* know what heÕd worn for that.

ÒThatÕs all I learned,Ó she said, simply. ÒI tried to charm more out of the men, but . . . they werenÕt having any of it.Ó

The group rounded a corner and approached a two-story brick building that had a utilitarian, industrial feel, despite the fact that someone tried to make it look more homey by putting shutters on the windows and flowers next to its path. ÒAl and Fletcher have been here since this morning,Ó Ed told Clara, pulling the door open.

ÒSo why doesnÕt your brother wear the armor anymore?Ó she said as they walked in, the all-too familiar smell of must and paper assaulting their senses.

Russell quickly looked at Ed, expecting to see his lover blow up or give her a curt remark to cut her off. He braced himself for anything . . .

Instead, Ed said, quietly, ÒLong story,Ó and led the group rapidly toward the back of the room.

Al and Fletcher were at a rear table, nearly hidden behind a mountain of books. They both shot curious, what-is-*she*-doing-here? glances in the direction of Clara. Ed had to remind himself again that Al could not remember seeing her without her mask.

ÒHello, Brother,Ó Al said, quickly shutting the notebook he had in front of him, having no idea if this is someone he should let see his notes. ÒHow was your day?Ó

ÒEh, weÕve had better,Ó Ed said, sitting down at the table with them.

ÒWe *do* have someone helping us,Ó Russell said, gesturing toward Clara. ÒThis is Clara.Ó

ÒPlease, we already met,Ó she said, sitting down at the table next to Ed.

Ed set his jaw. He didnÕt know how the hell he could explain to her that Al didnÕt have his memories of their first meeting.

But she looked right at Fletcher and said, ÒLast night, remember?Ó

Fletcher looked confused for a moment. ÒYouÕre . . .Ó Then, it dawned on him. ÒOh. Ohhh.Ó

ÒYouÕre helping us out?Ó Al said.

ÒAlready got a job at the tavern as a listening post,Ó she replied. ÒAnd I gave your brother some information.Ó

Fletcher and Al exchanged another look, silently communicating that Clara was to at least be somewhat trusted. ÒWe found some things out, too,Ó Fletcher told Ed. ÒWeÕll tell you later, after dinner.Ó

ÒDid *everybody* have a productive day but us?Ó Ed grumbled, slumping in his seat a bit.

ÒItÕs a lot of fun, being in that tavern,Ó Clara told Fletcher and Al. ÒI get to listen to the local gossip *and* see what people are up to. They drink a *lot* in this town! No wonder I was able to get into their houses so easily, they were probably all passed out!Ó

ÒDo you even know how to bartend?Ó Russell said.

ÒNo,Ó Clara said, casually glancing over at one of Al and FletcherÕs open alchemy texts. ÒBut I *do* know how to alter the chemical composition of a fluid to make it close to what the person wants.Ó

ÒWhat, you flash the whole bar?Ó Ed said.

ÒAs entertaining as that idea is, I *am* capable of drawing an array on a glass with grease pencil when IÕm not on the run,Ó she said, standing up. ÒWell, boys, itÕs been fun, but I *do* have to get my beauty rest. I *do* need to get used to *working* for a living. See you later!Ó She headed for the entrance.

Fletcher frowned. ÒWhy does she suddenly want to help us if sheÕs a thief?Ó he said.

ÒI donÕt know,Ó Al replied, starting to make a neat pile of the books at the end of the table. ÒBut . . . something tells me she has a good heart underneath it all.Ó

Ed groaned. It sounded like what Al had said, over and over, Back Then.

ÒSo, what did you find out, Fletcher?Ó Russell said, leaning over to peek at his brotherÕs notebook.

ÒPlenty about the leaves, and we managed to crack some of the code. When we get back to the inn, weÕll show you.Ó

Ed got up from the table with the others, picking up some of the books, preparing to help the younger boys reshelve them. One of them went on a shelf a few feet over from where he was, right under one of those industrial windows, this one looking out at the backs of businesses . . .

He suddenly stopped, looking out the window, and narrowed his eyes. Oh, he knew *just* where he and Russell were going to investigate tomorrow.

On the back of one of the buildings, a gray thing that looked like a warehouse, was painted the name HARKER.

* * *

Mrs. Miles greeted the boys as they came back into the lobby. ÒDid you find what you were looking for?Ó she said. ÒWord has it there was another break-in last night . . .Ó

ÒWeÕve got something else weÕre looking for now,Ó Ed said. ÒDo you know anything about a guy named Harker? Owns a warehouse of some sort behind the library?Ó

The woman looked thoughtful for a moment, pushing some papers around her desk. Then, she said, ÒOh, you must mean Randall Harker. He owns a shoe making business. He does very well for himself, heÕs always making trips to other towns to sell his merchandise.Ó

ÒHave you ever heard anything about him?Ó Al said. Out of the corner of his eye, Ed could see Russell examining a large standing plant next to the desk, scrutinizing the leaves.

ÒWell, there were some rumors of him keeping company with unsavory ladies, but. . .Ó She looked over toward Russell, who was studying the leaves closer now, frowning a bit. ÒYouÕd expect that for a man who travels as much as him, and I figure itÕs nobodyÕs business but his own, anyway.Ó

Now Russell was gesturing to Fletcher to look at the plant. Ed figured that they were on to something interesting. ÒSo where did he go, besides Central?Ó Ed said.

ÒOh, all over the place. Rubiyat, Xenotime . . .Ó

RussellÕs head suddenly snapped up. ÒXenotime?Ó he said.

ÒWhy, yes,Ó Mrs. Miles said. ÒAre you from there, young man?Ó

ÒYes, I am,Ó Russell said. ÒYou havenÕt heard of who he might have dealt with in Xenotime, did you?Ó

The woman shook her head. ÒNot a thing,Ó she said. ÒIÕm afraid IÕve told you all I know of Mr. Harker -- heÕs not under suspicion of being the bandit, is he?Ó

ÒNo,Ó said Al. ÒNot of being the bandit.Ó

ÒWell, I guess weÕll see you around,Ó Ed said, heading for the rooms. ÒThanks!Ó

As the group started to follow them, Russell stopped and turned around. ÒOh, Mrs. Miles, I have one more question. Where did you get that plant by your desk?Ó

ÒOh, that?Ó she said. ÒIt was given to me as a gift by one of my guests -- why do you ask?Ó

ÒItÕs an unusual plant,Ó Russell said. ÒYou should take good care of it.Ó

As they headed back toward the rooms, Ed said, ÒWhat was that about?Ó

Russell waited until they were all in Al and FletcherÕs room, with the door shut behind them, before he answered.

ÒThe leaves of that plant were starting to show a mutation like the plants in Xenotime -- the ones used for the megaweapon.Ó

ÒYou think Maggie might have been the one who gave it to her?Ó Ed said, sitting on the bed.

ÒOr Baddley,Ó Russell said, sitting opposite him. ÒHe did sell some shoes in that general store of his. He might have had dealings with Harker. It could have looked like business, but . . .Ó

ÒWhy would they put one of their plants *here*, though?Ó Fletcher said as he took the notebooks he and Al had been working with and lay them on the bed. ÒIt doesnÕt make any sense.Ó

ÒThey could be hiding it in plain sight,Ó Ed said, taking one of the notebooks and starting to flip through it. ÒPutting it somewhere where it doesnÕt seem unusual.Ó He glanced at the pages in front of him. ÒSo what did you guys find out?Ó

ÒThe leaves that Russell was using sucked up trace elements of explosives,Ó Al said. ÒThey swept up pretty well, though -- we couldnÕt get enough to really analyze the components.Ó

ÒGiven the way the leaves were starting to turn color, though, I think it was the same chemicals used in the megaweapon,Ó Fletcher said.

ÒAnd we also did some work on the code,Ó said Al. ÒItÕs similar to MaggieÕs, but harder to crack.Ó

ÒWe did manage to get a few words,Ó Fletcher said, flipping through the notebook and pointing to one page. ÒHere, it says *charge* -- as in, explosive charge, IÕm sure. HereÕs the name of Kestrel. And over here . . . Ò

ÒXenotime,Ó Russell read over his brotherÕs shoulder. ÒSo thereÕs definitely a connection.Ó

ÒThink they might be harvesting that soil and bringing it here?Ó Ed said.

ÒA look at the train records might be productive,Ó Russell said, thoughtfully, leaning a hand on his chin and his elbow on the bed. ÒAnd if we could get a look at HarkerÕs personal records . . .Ó

ÒAnyone up for an after-hours trip?Ó Ed said. ÒIÕm very used to midnight investigations.Ó

ÒAs I well know,Ó Russell said, dryly. ÒBetween you and Psiren, I got very used to people breaking into my lab in the middle of the night.Ó

ÒIÕm up for it,Ó Al said, sliding off the bed and reaching into the pockets of his coat to make sure his gloves were there.

Russell started to say something to Fletcher, but Fletcher cut him off by holding up his hand. ÒBrother, remember . . . IÕm safer with all of you than I am here alone.Ó

Russell sighed. ÒAll right. Just stick with me, okay?Ó

ÒI will, donÕt worry.Ó They headed for the door.

ÒAnd have a small plant with you at all times, and chalk!Ó

Fletcher sighed and rolled his eyes. Ò*Brother* . . .Ó

The four of them slipped through the now-deserted lobby and out into the night.

* * *

The warehouse appeared to be unguarded, although it was surrounded by a locked, barbed wire-topped fence -- which Ed was able to open with one simple clap.

ÒObviously, heÕs not expecting any *alchemists* to try to get in,Ó he said. ÒAt least, not *competent* ones.Ó

The four slipped through and headed for the main door. Al peeked in one of the windows. ÒDoesnÕt look unusual,Ó he said.

ÒIt *wouldnÕt,* Ed replied. ÒIf thereÕs a lab or anything in there, it would be hidden away in back.Ó He clapped again, and touched his hands to the main lock. A flash of purple-blue light later, they were able to get inside.

They were greeted by the sight of a long room lined with workbenches, crates filled with boxes of shoes stacked along the walls and some cobblerÕs tools hanging from the walls. Around the perimeter of the room were several doors, including one labeled, ÒMr. Harker -- PRIVATE.Ó

ÒGuess we know where to look first,Ó Al said as they walked toward the door.

ÒThis guy is making it almost too easy,Ó Ed said, clapping again. This time, as they entered the room, they saw a row of filing cabinets, a desk, a door in the back of the room, and . . .

ÒPlants,Ó Russell said, picking up a long, spear-shaped leaf. ÒWell, I guess that means youÕre taking the filing cabinets, then.Ó

Ed whirled around to face him. ÒHEY! Are you saying I know nothing about plant alchemy?Ó

ÒIÕm not saying that,Ó Russell said, coolly, stretching the leaf out to examine it closer. ÒIÕm just saying I know a lot more about it than you.Ó

ÒListen, you!Ó Ed stormed back toward the plants. ÒI know plenty! IÕve done stuff with plants! IÕve . . .Ó

Ò*Brother* . . .Ó Al tugged on the back of EdÕs coat.

ÒThen again, you may not be tall enough to reach the filing cabinets,Ó Russell said, teasingly.

ÒHEY!Ó Ed shouted, but Al literally dragged him across the room, not stopping until he deposited him in front of the cabinets.

ÒThinks heÕs smug. IÕll show him,Ó Ed grumbled, deliberately opening the top drawer of the cabinet -- even though he could barely reach it.

ÒHe *does* love to tease you, doesnÕt he?Ó said Al, trying to conceal a smile as he opened the drawer next to Ed.

ÒHe can be damn annoying, is what he can do,Ó Ed grumbled, starting to look through files.

ÒYou donÕt *really* mind it, do you?Ó Al said, looking up from a file.

ÒWhat the hell does that mean?Ó Ed replied.

ÒBrother . . . when youÕre around Russell, youÕre more *relaxed* than any time youÕve ever been. Even when youÕre fighting with him. I can tell you donÕt mean it.Ó

ÒYeah, when he gets snarky like that, I mean it,Ó Ed said, putting the file he was looking through back in the drawer and pulling out another.

ÒIf anyone else *got snarky* with you, youÕd hit them,Ó Al said, quietly, turning a page within the folder.

Ed mumbled something that Al couldnÕt quite hear, and buried his face completely in the papers before him.

Al smiled to himself. He knew that Ed was *happy* now, even though he wouldnÕt admit it to anyone -- even himself. Al had seen moments when Ed had thought that nobody was looking -- like the time he walked into the living room to see Russell sitting on the couch, EdÕs head pillowed on his lap, the two of them reading books.

Ed had looked *content* then, a little smile on his face, his whole body in a relaxed position -- the polar opposite of how he looked on missions.

Al couldnÕt remember what his brother had been like during those four years that they had traveled together, but he had heard plenty of stories, mainly from Winry and the other military personnel. He knew that his brother hadnÕt had a moment of peace then.

*He does now,* Al thought, and that made him happy.

* * *

A seeming eternity later, Ed just about slammed the last drawer closed. ÒNothing,Ó he said. ÒAbsolutely nothing unusual.Ó

Al poked his head out of the room in the back. ÒJust an ordinary bathroom in here,Ó he said.

ÒThe plants seem fine,Ó Russell said. ÒNothing out of the ordinary.Ó

ÒGuess this is a dead end,Ó Ed sighed. ÒMaybe we should check out the other rooms that we . . .Ó

ÒUm, what is this?Ó said Fletcher, who was bent over HarkerÕs desk, examining the blotter.

Russell peeked over his brotherÕs shoulder. ÒAn array of some sort,Ó he said. ÒLooks familiar . . .Ó

ÒHey, lemme see that.Ó Ed peeked over FletcherÕs other shoulder -- and froze.

ÒWhat is it?Ó Al said.

ÒThis array . . .Ó Ed traced it with his finger. ÒDammit . . . itÕs *her* array!Ó

ÒWhose?Ó Russell said, looking closer at it.

ÒMaggie!Ó Ed said. ÒThatÕs the array she had on her thigh!

They all looked at it again. ÒWell, now we know thereÕs a connection,Ó Al said.

ÒYou think Maggie was meeting with Harker that day?Ó Russell said, looking at Ed.

ÒThis looks more than a bit suspicious, doesnÕt it?Ó Ed said, pointing to the blotter.

ÒYou know,Ó Al said, thoughtfully, Òmaybe you should talk to Madame Marie. Maybe she knows if this Harker ever came into her business.Ó

ÒNo way!Ó Ed said. ÒIÕm not going to have anything to do with . . .Ó

ÒIÕm sure sheÕd *love* to help you, *Thomas*,Ó Russell said, slyly.

ÒYou wanna sleep on the floor tonight?Ó Ed said, whirling around toward him.

ÒIt canÕt hurt anything,Ó Fletcher said. ÒYou said she kept very careful records, right?Ó

ÒAll right, all right.Ó Ed waved his hand dismissively. ÒIÕll call her tomorrow, okay?Ó

ÒWeÕd better put this place back as we found it,Ó Al said, pushing back a couple of cabinet drawers that had been left ajar.

Russell put his hand on EdÕs shoulder. ÒHey,Ó he said. ÒWould you rather *I* called them? Madame Marie seemed to like me, and my part in that whole thing carried less *baggage* than yours.Ó

Ed shook his head. ÒNah, itÕs okay, Russ,Ó he said. ÒIÕll do it. She dealt with me more than you.Ó

Then, Russell leaned close, to be sure the younger brothers couldnÕt hear, and whispered, ÒYou know, thereÕs *something* that was good about that place . . .Ó

ÒThe damn outfit?Ó Ed replied.

ÒSomething else. The other night . . .Ó

Ed turned crimson, remembering their playtime with the sex toy. ÒGeez, Russ!Ó he spluttered.

The younger brothers turned around. ÒIs something wrong, Brother?Ó Al said.

ÒI just reminded Ed of why our last assignment was so important, thatÕs all,Ó Russell patted EdÕs shoulder again and went to help with the cleanup.

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Fullmetal Alchemist is property of Hiromu Arakawa, Square Enix and Studio BONES. No profit is being made from this fanfic.