Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ Unleashed ❯ Chapter 5 -- Teamwork ( Chapter 5 )
[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]
By: Sailor Mac 
Ed's group finally draws a bead on the gang's hideout -- but have they been double-crossed?
Anime/Manga: Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Drama / Action / Romance | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 09.19.2006 | Pages: 4 | Words: 4.3K | Visits: 262 | Status: Work In Progress
Ed's group finally draws a bead on the gang's hideout -- but have they been double-crossed?
Anime/Manga: Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Hentai / Drama / Action / Romance | Type: Yaoi | Uploaded On: 09.19.2006 | Pages: 4 | Words: 4.3K | Visits: 262 | Status: Work In Progress
UNLEASHED
A Fullmetal Alchemist Fanfic With Lemon
by Sailor Mac
PART FIVE: TEAMWORK
Al bent his head over the paper, studying the symbols and letters laid out in front of him. He felt like heÕd been looking at them all day. The code was proving a lot tougher to crack than it first seemed.
ÒFind anything else?Ó he said to Fletcher, who had his nose buried in a dictionary of symbology.
ÒOnly that the name of Central shows up several times.Ó The boy put his book down and rubbed the back of his head. ÒThatÕs no surprise, since Madame MarieÕs was there.Ó
Al sighed, looking back at the page. ÒIÕm wondering if Clara knows anything about alchemical codes that we donÕt,Ó he said, quietly.
ÒYou think sheÕs talented enough of an alchemist?Ó Fletcher said, opening another book.
ÒMy brother seems to think she is,Ó Al said, looking away from the paper again. ÒHe says we met her a long time ago. He seems to think I was in love with her.Ó
ÒWere you?Ó Fletcher said, looking up from the book.
Al shook his head. ÒI donÕt remember at all. But I think if I *did* feel something for her . . . IÕd feel *something* when we met up again. I felt things when I was introduced to all the people who were important to us back then. Brigadier General Mustang, and Lieutenant Hawkeye, and Major Armstrong . . .Ó
ÒWhat about me?Ó Fletcher said -- then quickly looked away, blushing.
Al smiled, broadly. ÒI knew I felt *something* when I met you, Fletcher,Ó Al said. ÒSomething in the back of my head was nagging me, but I couldnÕt quite place you.Ó
ÒWhen you didnÕt remember me . . .Ó Fletcher fidgeted, curling a strip of paper torn from the edge of a notebook around his finger . . . ÒI was . . . well, I was upset. Really upset. I was wondering if you were just pretending not to know me, for some reason . . . well, we didnÕt know what you two were up to when you showed up in Xenotime . . .Ó
ÒYou were upset? Really?Ó Al said, quickly -- then blushed as well, picking up the paper and studying it intently -- or at least, appearing to.
ÒYes. But . . .it doesnÕt *matter* if you can remember or not, does it?Ó Fletcher said, twisting the piece of paper twice as fast. ÒI mean, we only knew each other for a couple of days back then, and now . . . we spend much more time together, and . . .Ó
ÒYouÕre saying the *then* doesnÕt matter, because we have *now*?Ó Al said.
ÒUm . . . yeah,Ó Fletcher said, raising his eyes to AlÕs.
Al reached over and put his hand on top of the other boyÕs. ÒI know. Because . . . IÕm starting to feel the same way, too. IÕm happy for how things were when I was little, in Riesemboul, and I wish I could remember when Brother and I traveled together . . . but IÕm very happy about the way things are *now*.Ó
They stayed that way for a moment, seemingly frozen, looking at each other . . .
Then, someone opened a door in the library and a breeze swept in, blowing the precious page of code off the table.
ÒOh!Ó Al said, letting go of FletcherÕs hand and snatching the paper out of midair. He ended up looking at the underside of it, with the light streaming in from behind . . .
And suddenly, something became apparent that was so obvious that he wanted to smack himself in the head for not realizing it before.
ÒTheyÕre *backwards,*Ó he said.
ÒWhat was that?Ó Fletcher blinked.
ÒThese symbols,Ó Al said. ÒMost of them are written backwards! No wonder we had such a hard time decoding them!Ó
Fletcher grabbed the paper, held it up to the light and said, ÒWow . . . how did we not . . .Ó
ÒBecause it was too easy,Ó Al said, taking the paper back, opening a notebook and starting to recopy the symbols, this time flipped the way they were supposed to be. ÒThis shouldnÕt take long at all now!Ó
ÒYes!Ó Fletcher said, getting out the symbol books again. He knew that theyÕd have the code cracked in no time now.
After all, they always were a perfect team.
* * *
Clara slipped out the back door of the tavern. As much as she was enjoying her role as bartender and spy, there was always a certain relief to getting off work. After all, there was only so much noisy chatter and smoke one could take -- especially when one was used to working in the quiet of the night.
She headed straight for the public phone just outside the back door, pulled a slip of paper out of her pocket and dialed the seven digits. It rang several times, enough to make her wonder if the person on the other end had left the house.
Then, a voice said, ÒHello?Ó
ÒItÕs Clara,Ó she said. ÒFrom the tavern.Ó
ÒOh, yes, Clara,Ó Gretchen said. ÒDo come to my place, IÕm very interested in that talk. IÕm at 620 Warrant Way -- three blocks over from the tavern and then about half a block to the left.Ó
ÒIÕm on my way,Ó she said, before hanging up. She knew very well where the neighborhood was -- it was one of KestrelÕs more well-to-do areas.
SheÕd cased quite a few homes there upon her arrival in the town.
She walked the two and a half blocks quickly, and came upon the house -- a large white building that looked like the kind of dignified property passed through a family from generation to generation, with a large front porch bearing several antique-looking rocking chairs and a riot of flowers along the front path. A brass knocker adorned the door that, she soon found out, was every bit as heavy as it looked.
When Gretchen opened the door, she was still dressed in her formal blouse and skirt, only the jacket had been shed. ÒCome right in,Ó she said. ÒI just got in myself . . . would you like a cup of coffee or anything?Ó
ÒNo, thank you,Ó Clara said, stepping into something that looked like a magazine layout. A red brick fireplace dominated one wall, with a fire starting to burn in the grate. The mantle bore two huge, red candles in ornate candlesticks, while the dark-paneled walls were covered with small paintings of various mountain scenes. The furniture consisted of a couch and two lounge chairs tastefully upholstered in a wine-colored fabric, surrounding a long, low table the color of the walls. Not a speck of dust could be seen anywhere.
ÒGo on, have a seat,Ó Gretchen said, seating herself at the end of the couch. Clara settled into the nearest easy chair, looking at the other woman expectantly.
There was a moment of silence, and then, Gretchen said, ÒI mentioned in the tavern that thereÕs things going on in town, things that I donÕt want to talk about in public . . .Ó
ÒYou mentioned things going on at closed-down businesses after hours,Ó Clara said. She wanted to bring up the name *Harker* but stopped herself -- she didnÕt want to let on that she knew too much.
ÒYes,Ó Gretchen said. ÒLights and noises at the Harker factory. At an old warehouse outside of town . . .Ó
*Probably the one I took the Elrics and the other boys to,* Clara thought.
ÒBut especially the old paper mill,Ó Gretchen said. ÒThe one that closed down years ago.Ó
Clara frowned. ÒOld paper mill?Ó
ÒYes, out by the passage into the mountains,Ó Gretchen said. ÒA large, white building with a big weather vane on the top. The place was slated for demolition a long time ago, but . . . nothing. Yet another example of something this town doesnÕt pay attention to.Ó She sighed and ran a hand over her still-pulled-back hair.
ÒAnd youÕve seen people there?Ó Clara said.
ÒGoing back and forth toward that mill all the time, late at night,Ó she said. ÒLook, you can see the road leading up to it from here . . .Ó She pointed out the window.
Clara looked in the direction she was pointing. Sure enough, she could see the building -- which definitely looked like it had seen better days. Several shingles were missing from the roof, the weathervane was tilting toward the left and the color was more a sickly gray than anything resembling white.
ÒWhat do you thinkÕs going on up there?Ó she said.
ÒSmuggling operation, no doubt,Ó Gretchen said. ÒIllegal trade of gemstones -- several kinds get harvested from those mountains. There used to be smugglers here years ago, before the time of Fuhrer Bradley. When he was in power, they were shut down, but now that the government has changed .. .Ó
ÒYou think they might be coming back?Ó Clara said.
ÒI have told the mayor and the other members of the town council several times about it,Ó Gretchen said, Òand every time, they brush me off. They say IÕm imagining things. And they *still* donÕt do anything to strengthen the police department.Ó She walked to the window, trailing her fingers along the sill. ÒIÕm afraid that this town is going to be a full-blown hotbed of crime pretty soon.Ó
Clara leaned over in her seat, studying the womanÕs posture, noting that she was holding herself a bit *too* poker-straight -- probably trying to cover up heavy emotions she didnÕt want to show while the frosty mask of the politician was in place.
ÒWhy are you telling me this?Ó she said. ÒIÕm a complete stranger. A barmaid in the tavern, and a new one at that.Ó
ÒBecause I have to tell someone,Ó Gretchen said, turning around to face her. ÒI need to get it off my chest, and you seem like a trustworthy person.Ó
Clara had to supress a laugh at that. If this woman only knew . . .
ÒThis town means a lot to me,Ó Gretchen said, walking back toward the couch. ÒMy family have been public servants here for a long time. My father . . . he passed away a few years ago . . . was mayor for years. I just . . . donÕt want to see it go to ruin.Ó
ÒWell, IÕm afraid there isnÕt much *I* can do,Ó Clara said, in her most sincere voice.
ÒYouÕve done plenty,Ó Gretchen said. ÒJust listening to me talk has been enough -- because youÕve helped *me*.Ó
But wheels were turning in ClaraÕs head. The old mill at the edge of town . . . if there were any candidate for the headquarters of the bombers, this was definitely it.
*I need to tell the boys as soon as possible,* she thought. *I think I know where weÕre all going later tonight.*
* * *
When she arrived at the inn, Ed and Russell were sitting in the lobby. She gave them a small nod, and they nodded back. They headed for their room, and she followed, quietly.
When the door closed behind them, Al and Fletcher were already sitting on the bed, a large stack of books next to them. Clara gave the group a sly smile. ÒWell. One woman and four young men? People are going to start talking.Ó
ÒLike anything would happen!Ó Ed said as he sat down next to his brother.
ÒOh, I donÕt know,Ó Clara said, leaning against the foot of the bed. ÒI can think of a lot worse ways to pass the time.Ó She leaned toward Ed. ÒA lot of women would give their eyeteeth to be at the bottom of a . . . blondpile.Ó
Al turned white. ÒB . . . b. . . blondpile?Ó Next to him, Fletcher had turned crimson, and on the other side, Ed had turned purple. Russell would have remarked that they looked like a row of jellybeans . . . if he, himself, wasnÕt stammering ÒYou . . . you STOP THAT! NOW!Ó
Clara laughed and seated herself in one of the roomÕs two chairs. ÒIÕm just teasing, relax,Ó she said. ÒLook, I have important information.Ó
ÒIt had BETTER be important, after THAT!Ó Ed nearly yelled, his face only slightly less purple than before.
ÒI think I know where HarkerÕs main base is,Ó she said in a cool tone. ÒIs that important enough?Ó
The boys all exchanged looks, and Ed leaned forward. ÒOkay,Ó he said. ÒTell us.Ó
Clara related the story of her meeting with Gretchen Heiss. ÒYou know where the building is, right?Ó she said.
Ed looked thoughtful. ÒItÕs kind of obvious for a base, though,Ó he said.
ÒLess obvious than HarkerÕs own office,Ó Russell said.
ÒYeah, well, we didnÕt get very far *there*, did we?Ó Ed replied.
ÒI think what we found backs it up,Ó Al said, holding up one of their notebooks. ÒWeÕve got quite a bit of the code cracked.Ó
ÒThey were talking about making an ultraweapon,Ó Fletcher said. ÒThey named a lot of the ingredients. And there was a reference in the part we havenÕt fully decoded yet to a weathervane.Ó
ÒItÕs worth investigating, at least,Ó Russell said.
ÒWeÕll go with you,Ó Al added, putting the notebook back down on top of the pile of books.
ÒNo,Ó Ed said, sharply.
ÒI can take care of myself in a fight, Brother,Ó Al said, folding his arms over his chest.
ÒItÕs not that, Al,Ó Ed said.
ÒThen why donÕt you want me to go?Ó Al looked away.
ÒLook, what you and Fletcher are doing is important!Ó Ed said. ÒYouÕre close to cracking that code and you should finish it!Ó
ÒYour brotherÕs right,Ó Russell said, putting a hand on AlÕs shoulder. ÒWe *need* that information. Because if what this person told Clara turns out to be wrong, and the bomber gang is hiding out somewhere *else* . . .Ó
ÒIÕll go with them as backup,Ó Clara said. ÒYou donÕt have to worry about them getting into trouble, Al.Ó
Fletcher put his hand on AlÕs other shoulder. ÒWe got all these books out for a reason, right?Ó
Ed frowned. ÒHowÕd you get them all back here, anyway?Ó
ÒI just showed them my State Alchemist watch,Ó Al said. ÒThey let me take them out.Ó
ÒNo, how did you *get them here*? Physically?Ó Ed said.
ÒOh!Ó Al said, rubbing the back of his head and squeezing his eyes shut. ÒWe transmuted a bunch of old junk outside the library into a wheelbarrow. Some old guy who was looking at us applauded.Ó
ÒHe asked how Al could do alchemy without a circle,Ó Fletcher said. ÒAl showed him his gloves, and he said he knew a lady who could do that with her rings and bracelets.Ó
Ed looked thoughtful. ÒSheÕs gotta be one of them,Ó he said. ÒThey use jewelry -- Maggie had an alchemy bracelet, too.Ó
ÒDid he say anything else about this lady?Ó Russell said.
Fletcher shook his head. ÒHe darted off before we got a chance to ask.Ó
Ed looked over at the clock. ÒWell, if she said she saw these people around midnight . . . weÕd better get going if weÕre going to catch them. Al . . . if you and Fletcher find something that we need to know, come after us . . .Ó
ÒBut *stay here* otherwise,Ó Russell said. ÒAnd Fletcher, if you go out, be *sure* you take a plant.Ó
ÒBrother, IÕll have Al with me,Ó Fletcher said. ÒIÕll be all right.Ó
ÒI donÕt want to take the risk of you being separated,Ó Russell said. ÒIÕll feel better if I know you can protect yourself, Fletcher.Ó
ÒIÕll meet up with you there,Ó Clara said. ÒI never go out at night unless IÕm suitably dressed.Ó
ÒYou donÕt have to make like a phantom thief if youÕre doing something *legitimate*, you know,Ó Ed said as they got up.
ÒI know,Ó she said. ÒBut I *do* have an image to maintain.Ó
Ò*How* did we get hooked up with her again?Ó Ed mumbled to Russell as they headed for the door.
Russell patted his shoulder. ÒItÕll be worth it in the end,Ó he said.
ÒIt better be,Ó Ed replied.
Once they were outside, Ed said, ÒRuss . . . you donÕt have to worry so much about Fletcher. HeÕll be all right.Ó
ÒLike IÕm the only one worrying about his brother,Ó Russell said.
ÒI nearly lost Al once,Ó Ed said as they started on the road out of town. ÒI sacrificed everything to get him back.Ó
Russell looked over at his lover. ÒEd . . . where *did* you go when you disappeared?Ó
Ed sped up. ÒWe donÕt have time for that now,Ó he said.
ÒYouÕve never told me,Ó Russell said, quickly meeting EdÕs pace with his long legs.
ÒItÕs not something I really want to talk about, Russell,Ó Ed said.
ÒEd, whatever it is, you can tell me about it,Ó Russell said as they started uphill, the buildings around them getting more sparse, the streetlights further apart, pools of illumination alternating with large patches of inky darkness.
ÒLook, I know that,Ó Ed said. ÒYou think I donÕt trust you?Ó
ÒThen why donÕt you tell me?Ó Russell said -- then swore softly under his breath as one foot caught on a large stone, nearly sending him sprawling.
ÒI donÕt know if youÕll believe me,Ó Ed said, softly. ÒSometimes . . . I wonder if it was all real, myself.Ó
That took Russell aback. Where *did* Ed end up, if he was wondering if it were *real*? ÒEd . . .Ó he said.
Ed suddenly stopped and turned around, putting a hand on RussellÕs shoulder. ÒLook,Ó he said. ÒThis isnÕt the time or the place.Ó
ÒYouÕre avoiding the issue,Ó Russell said.
ÒDammit, Russ, I am NOT avoiding it!Ó Ed said. ÒItÕs just not something you can tell somebody when youÕre in the middle of freaking nowhere chasing a bunch of nutjobs who blow things up!Ó He stormed off down the path again.
Russell pursued, stubbornly determined. ÒYou *are* going to tell me eventually, arenÕt you?Ó he said.
ÒWhen this is all over,Ó Ed said. ÒOnce we put these people away and I can tell that bastard Mustang where to go . . .Ó
ÒIÕll hold you to that, you know,Ó Russell said in a smirking tone.
ÒOh, yeah?Ó Ed said. The patches of light had almost disappeared now, they were trying to find their way through almost total darkness. Ed reached down and felt for a long stick, propping it between his feet so it stuck straight up. ÒHow are you going to do that?Ó he said as he clapped, touching his hands to the end of the stick and igniting it, creating a torch.
ÒI just may lock you out of the bedroom until you tell me,Ó Russell said, smugly.
ÒAnd I just may transmute the damn door and walk right through it!Ó Ed said, picking up the stick and pointing it at Russell, as if to set him aflame.
ÒWhat if I put a wall of plants around the bed that are alchemized to wrap around anyone who comes near them?Ó Russell said as they began walking again, faster, knowing they didnÕt have much time until the flame of their torch burned too low to be usable.
ÒWell, then, youÕre going to have a hell of a problem if you have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, arenÕt you?Ó Ed said, holding the torch a bit higher.
The paper mill was within sight now, dim light coming through two of its windows. Both boys knew they had to go into stealth mode now, and they stopped talking and started moving as quietly as possible. When they got closer, Ed stubbed the torch out on the ground, and they crept along very carefully, the two windows their target.
When they reached them, the boys both got down on their hands and knees and crawled to the bottom edge, peeking up and over.
They saw plants, and pieces of equipment that seemed randomly placed here and there, and a notebook of some sort flung in a corner, but . . .
ÒNo people,Ó Ed whispered. ÒNot a sign of anyone.Ó
ÒThink we should go in?Ó Russell whispered.
ÒIÕd sure like a look around -- especially at whatÕs in that notebook.Ó Ed reached up and pushed upward on the window, and it opened with little resistance. He climbed into the room, and Russell followed suit.
ÒThey might have known someone figured them out,Ó Russell whispered.
Ed shook his head. ÒThey would have packed up and left completely, like they did the first place we went to. They just havenÕt arrived yet. When they do, weÕll give Ôem a surprise.Ó
They headed toward the notebook . . . and Russell suddenly stopped, looking around. ÒWhat was that?Ó he said.
ÒWhat was what?Ó Ed said -- right before a long plant leaf flew out of seemingly nowhere and wrapped itself around his automail arm. ÒWhat the HELL?Ó He went to clap, but a second vine wrapped around his flesh arm, holding them apart. He turned toward Russell -- but his lover was already wrapped in a tight cocoon of green, struggling to get out, mumbling curses under his breath that his *own specialty* had been turned against him.
ÒSurprise?Ó said a voice from the other side of the room. ÒIt seems I surprised *you.*Ó
It was Harker.
____________
Fullmetal Alchemist is property of Hiromu Arakawa, Square Enix and Studio BONES. No profit is being made from this fanfic.
A Fullmetal Alchemist Fanfic With Lemon
by Sailor Mac
PART FIVE: TEAMWORK
Al bent his head over the paper, studying the symbols and letters laid out in front of him. He felt like heÕd been looking at them all day. The code was proving a lot tougher to crack than it first seemed.
ÒFind anything else?Ó he said to Fletcher, who had his nose buried in a dictionary of symbology.
ÒOnly that the name of Central shows up several times.Ó The boy put his book down and rubbed the back of his head. ÒThatÕs no surprise, since Madame MarieÕs was there.Ó
Al sighed, looking back at the page. ÒIÕm wondering if Clara knows anything about alchemical codes that we donÕt,Ó he said, quietly.
ÒYou think sheÕs talented enough of an alchemist?Ó Fletcher said, opening another book.
ÒMy brother seems to think she is,Ó Al said, looking away from the paper again. ÒHe says we met her a long time ago. He seems to think I was in love with her.Ó
ÒWere you?Ó Fletcher said, looking up from the book.
Al shook his head. ÒI donÕt remember at all. But I think if I *did* feel something for her . . . IÕd feel *something* when we met up again. I felt things when I was introduced to all the people who were important to us back then. Brigadier General Mustang, and Lieutenant Hawkeye, and Major Armstrong . . .Ó
ÒWhat about me?Ó Fletcher said -- then quickly looked away, blushing.
Al smiled, broadly. ÒI knew I felt *something* when I met you, Fletcher,Ó Al said. ÒSomething in the back of my head was nagging me, but I couldnÕt quite place you.Ó
ÒWhen you didnÕt remember me . . .Ó Fletcher fidgeted, curling a strip of paper torn from the edge of a notebook around his finger . . . ÒI was . . . well, I was upset. Really upset. I was wondering if you were just pretending not to know me, for some reason . . . well, we didnÕt know what you two were up to when you showed up in Xenotime . . .Ó
ÒYou were upset? Really?Ó Al said, quickly -- then blushed as well, picking up the paper and studying it intently -- or at least, appearing to.
ÒYes. But . . .it doesnÕt *matter* if you can remember or not, does it?Ó Fletcher said, twisting the piece of paper twice as fast. ÒI mean, we only knew each other for a couple of days back then, and now . . . we spend much more time together, and . . .Ó
ÒYouÕre saying the *then* doesnÕt matter, because we have *now*?Ó Al said.
ÒUm . . . yeah,Ó Fletcher said, raising his eyes to AlÕs.
Al reached over and put his hand on top of the other boyÕs. ÒI know. Because . . . IÕm starting to feel the same way, too. IÕm happy for how things were when I was little, in Riesemboul, and I wish I could remember when Brother and I traveled together . . . but IÕm very happy about the way things are *now*.Ó
They stayed that way for a moment, seemingly frozen, looking at each other . . .
Then, someone opened a door in the library and a breeze swept in, blowing the precious page of code off the table.
ÒOh!Ó Al said, letting go of FletcherÕs hand and snatching the paper out of midair. He ended up looking at the underside of it, with the light streaming in from behind . . .
And suddenly, something became apparent that was so obvious that he wanted to smack himself in the head for not realizing it before.
ÒTheyÕre *backwards,*Ó he said.
ÒWhat was that?Ó Fletcher blinked.
ÒThese symbols,Ó Al said. ÒMost of them are written backwards! No wonder we had such a hard time decoding them!Ó
Fletcher grabbed the paper, held it up to the light and said, ÒWow . . . how did we not . . .Ó
ÒBecause it was too easy,Ó Al said, taking the paper back, opening a notebook and starting to recopy the symbols, this time flipped the way they were supposed to be. ÒThis shouldnÕt take long at all now!Ó
ÒYes!Ó Fletcher said, getting out the symbol books again. He knew that theyÕd have the code cracked in no time now.
After all, they always were a perfect team.
* * *
Clara slipped out the back door of the tavern. As much as she was enjoying her role as bartender and spy, there was always a certain relief to getting off work. After all, there was only so much noisy chatter and smoke one could take -- especially when one was used to working in the quiet of the night.
She headed straight for the public phone just outside the back door, pulled a slip of paper out of her pocket and dialed the seven digits. It rang several times, enough to make her wonder if the person on the other end had left the house.
Then, a voice said, ÒHello?Ó
ÒItÕs Clara,Ó she said. ÒFrom the tavern.Ó
ÒOh, yes, Clara,Ó Gretchen said. ÒDo come to my place, IÕm very interested in that talk. IÕm at 620 Warrant Way -- three blocks over from the tavern and then about half a block to the left.Ó
ÒIÕm on my way,Ó she said, before hanging up. She knew very well where the neighborhood was -- it was one of KestrelÕs more well-to-do areas.
SheÕd cased quite a few homes there upon her arrival in the town.
She walked the two and a half blocks quickly, and came upon the house -- a large white building that looked like the kind of dignified property passed through a family from generation to generation, with a large front porch bearing several antique-looking rocking chairs and a riot of flowers along the front path. A brass knocker adorned the door that, she soon found out, was every bit as heavy as it looked.
When Gretchen opened the door, she was still dressed in her formal blouse and skirt, only the jacket had been shed. ÒCome right in,Ó she said. ÒI just got in myself . . . would you like a cup of coffee or anything?Ó
ÒNo, thank you,Ó Clara said, stepping into something that looked like a magazine layout. A red brick fireplace dominated one wall, with a fire starting to burn in the grate. The mantle bore two huge, red candles in ornate candlesticks, while the dark-paneled walls were covered with small paintings of various mountain scenes. The furniture consisted of a couch and two lounge chairs tastefully upholstered in a wine-colored fabric, surrounding a long, low table the color of the walls. Not a speck of dust could be seen anywhere.
ÒGo on, have a seat,Ó Gretchen said, seating herself at the end of the couch. Clara settled into the nearest easy chair, looking at the other woman expectantly.
There was a moment of silence, and then, Gretchen said, ÒI mentioned in the tavern that thereÕs things going on in town, things that I donÕt want to talk about in public . . .Ó
ÒYou mentioned things going on at closed-down businesses after hours,Ó Clara said. She wanted to bring up the name *Harker* but stopped herself -- she didnÕt want to let on that she knew too much.
ÒYes,Ó Gretchen said. ÒLights and noises at the Harker factory. At an old warehouse outside of town . . .Ó
*Probably the one I took the Elrics and the other boys to,* Clara thought.
ÒBut especially the old paper mill,Ó Gretchen said. ÒThe one that closed down years ago.Ó
Clara frowned. ÒOld paper mill?Ó
ÒYes, out by the passage into the mountains,Ó Gretchen said. ÒA large, white building with a big weather vane on the top. The place was slated for demolition a long time ago, but . . . nothing. Yet another example of something this town doesnÕt pay attention to.Ó She sighed and ran a hand over her still-pulled-back hair.
ÒAnd youÕve seen people there?Ó Clara said.
ÒGoing back and forth toward that mill all the time, late at night,Ó she said. ÒLook, you can see the road leading up to it from here . . .Ó She pointed out the window.
Clara looked in the direction she was pointing. Sure enough, she could see the building -- which definitely looked like it had seen better days. Several shingles were missing from the roof, the weathervane was tilting toward the left and the color was more a sickly gray than anything resembling white.
ÒWhat do you thinkÕs going on up there?Ó she said.
ÒSmuggling operation, no doubt,Ó Gretchen said. ÒIllegal trade of gemstones -- several kinds get harvested from those mountains. There used to be smugglers here years ago, before the time of Fuhrer Bradley. When he was in power, they were shut down, but now that the government has changed .. .Ó
ÒYou think they might be coming back?Ó Clara said.
ÒI have told the mayor and the other members of the town council several times about it,Ó Gretchen said, Òand every time, they brush me off. They say IÕm imagining things. And they *still* donÕt do anything to strengthen the police department.Ó She walked to the window, trailing her fingers along the sill. ÒIÕm afraid that this town is going to be a full-blown hotbed of crime pretty soon.Ó
Clara leaned over in her seat, studying the womanÕs posture, noting that she was holding herself a bit *too* poker-straight -- probably trying to cover up heavy emotions she didnÕt want to show while the frosty mask of the politician was in place.
ÒWhy are you telling me this?Ó she said. ÒIÕm a complete stranger. A barmaid in the tavern, and a new one at that.Ó
ÒBecause I have to tell someone,Ó Gretchen said, turning around to face her. ÒI need to get it off my chest, and you seem like a trustworthy person.Ó
Clara had to supress a laugh at that. If this woman only knew . . .
ÒThis town means a lot to me,Ó Gretchen said, walking back toward the couch. ÒMy family have been public servants here for a long time. My father . . . he passed away a few years ago . . . was mayor for years. I just . . . donÕt want to see it go to ruin.Ó
ÒWell, IÕm afraid there isnÕt much *I* can do,Ó Clara said, in her most sincere voice.
ÒYouÕve done plenty,Ó Gretchen said. ÒJust listening to me talk has been enough -- because youÕve helped *me*.Ó
But wheels were turning in ClaraÕs head. The old mill at the edge of town . . . if there were any candidate for the headquarters of the bombers, this was definitely it.
*I need to tell the boys as soon as possible,* she thought. *I think I know where weÕre all going later tonight.*
* * *
When she arrived at the inn, Ed and Russell were sitting in the lobby. She gave them a small nod, and they nodded back. They headed for their room, and she followed, quietly.
When the door closed behind them, Al and Fletcher were already sitting on the bed, a large stack of books next to them. Clara gave the group a sly smile. ÒWell. One woman and four young men? People are going to start talking.Ó
ÒLike anything would happen!Ó Ed said as he sat down next to his brother.
ÒOh, I donÕt know,Ó Clara said, leaning against the foot of the bed. ÒI can think of a lot worse ways to pass the time.Ó She leaned toward Ed. ÒA lot of women would give their eyeteeth to be at the bottom of a . . . blondpile.Ó
Al turned white. ÒB . . . b. . . blondpile?Ó Next to him, Fletcher had turned crimson, and on the other side, Ed had turned purple. Russell would have remarked that they looked like a row of jellybeans . . . if he, himself, wasnÕt stammering ÒYou . . . you STOP THAT! NOW!Ó
Clara laughed and seated herself in one of the roomÕs two chairs. ÒIÕm just teasing, relax,Ó she said. ÒLook, I have important information.Ó
ÒIt had BETTER be important, after THAT!Ó Ed nearly yelled, his face only slightly less purple than before.
ÒI think I know where HarkerÕs main base is,Ó she said in a cool tone. ÒIs that important enough?Ó
The boys all exchanged looks, and Ed leaned forward. ÒOkay,Ó he said. ÒTell us.Ó
Clara related the story of her meeting with Gretchen Heiss. ÒYou know where the building is, right?Ó she said.
Ed looked thoughtful. ÒItÕs kind of obvious for a base, though,Ó he said.
ÒLess obvious than HarkerÕs own office,Ó Russell said.
ÒYeah, well, we didnÕt get very far *there*, did we?Ó Ed replied.
ÒI think what we found backs it up,Ó Al said, holding up one of their notebooks. ÒWeÕve got quite a bit of the code cracked.Ó
ÒThey were talking about making an ultraweapon,Ó Fletcher said. ÒThey named a lot of the ingredients. And there was a reference in the part we havenÕt fully decoded yet to a weathervane.Ó
ÒItÕs worth investigating, at least,Ó Russell said.
ÒWeÕll go with you,Ó Al added, putting the notebook back down on top of the pile of books.
ÒNo,Ó Ed said, sharply.
ÒI can take care of myself in a fight, Brother,Ó Al said, folding his arms over his chest.
ÒItÕs not that, Al,Ó Ed said.
ÒThen why donÕt you want me to go?Ó Al looked away.
ÒLook, what you and Fletcher are doing is important!Ó Ed said. ÒYouÕre close to cracking that code and you should finish it!Ó
ÒYour brotherÕs right,Ó Russell said, putting a hand on AlÕs shoulder. ÒWe *need* that information. Because if what this person told Clara turns out to be wrong, and the bomber gang is hiding out somewhere *else* . . .Ó
ÒIÕll go with them as backup,Ó Clara said. ÒYou donÕt have to worry about them getting into trouble, Al.Ó
Fletcher put his hand on AlÕs other shoulder. ÒWe got all these books out for a reason, right?Ó
Ed frowned. ÒHowÕd you get them all back here, anyway?Ó
ÒI just showed them my State Alchemist watch,Ó Al said. ÒThey let me take them out.Ó
ÒNo, how did you *get them here*? Physically?Ó Ed said.
ÒOh!Ó Al said, rubbing the back of his head and squeezing his eyes shut. ÒWe transmuted a bunch of old junk outside the library into a wheelbarrow. Some old guy who was looking at us applauded.Ó
ÒHe asked how Al could do alchemy without a circle,Ó Fletcher said. ÒAl showed him his gloves, and he said he knew a lady who could do that with her rings and bracelets.Ó
Ed looked thoughtful. ÒSheÕs gotta be one of them,Ó he said. ÒThey use jewelry -- Maggie had an alchemy bracelet, too.Ó
ÒDid he say anything else about this lady?Ó Russell said.
Fletcher shook his head. ÒHe darted off before we got a chance to ask.Ó
Ed looked over at the clock. ÒWell, if she said she saw these people around midnight . . . weÕd better get going if weÕre going to catch them. Al . . . if you and Fletcher find something that we need to know, come after us . . .Ó
ÒBut *stay here* otherwise,Ó Russell said. ÒAnd Fletcher, if you go out, be *sure* you take a plant.Ó
ÒBrother, IÕll have Al with me,Ó Fletcher said. ÒIÕll be all right.Ó
ÒI donÕt want to take the risk of you being separated,Ó Russell said. ÒIÕll feel better if I know you can protect yourself, Fletcher.Ó
ÒIÕll meet up with you there,Ó Clara said. ÒI never go out at night unless IÕm suitably dressed.Ó
ÒYou donÕt have to make like a phantom thief if youÕre doing something *legitimate*, you know,Ó Ed said as they got up.
ÒI know,Ó she said. ÒBut I *do* have an image to maintain.Ó
Ò*How* did we get hooked up with her again?Ó Ed mumbled to Russell as they headed for the door.
Russell patted his shoulder. ÒItÕll be worth it in the end,Ó he said.
ÒIt better be,Ó Ed replied.
Once they were outside, Ed said, ÒRuss . . . you donÕt have to worry so much about Fletcher. HeÕll be all right.Ó
ÒLike IÕm the only one worrying about his brother,Ó Russell said.
ÒI nearly lost Al once,Ó Ed said as they started on the road out of town. ÒI sacrificed everything to get him back.Ó
Russell looked over at his lover. ÒEd . . . where *did* you go when you disappeared?Ó
Ed sped up. ÒWe donÕt have time for that now,Ó he said.
ÒYouÕve never told me,Ó Russell said, quickly meeting EdÕs pace with his long legs.
ÒItÕs not something I really want to talk about, Russell,Ó Ed said.
ÒEd, whatever it is, you can tell me about it,Ó Russell said as they started uphill, the buildings around them getting more sparse, the streetlights further apart, pools of illumination alternating with large patches of inky darkness.
ÒLook, I know that,Ó Ed said. ÒYou think I donÕt trust you?Ó
ÒThen why donÕt you tell me?Ó Russell said -- then swore softly under his breath as one foot caught on a large stone, nearly sending him sprawling.
ÒI donÕt know if youÕll believe me,Ó Ed said, softly. ÒSometimes . . . I wonder if it was all real, myself.Ó
That took Russell aback. Where *did* Ed end up, if he was wondering if it were *real*? ÒEd . . .Ó he said.
Ed suddenly stopped and turned around, putting a hand on RussellÕs shoulder. ÒLook,Ó he said. ÒThis isnÕt the time or the place.Ó
ÒYouÕre avoiding the issue,Ó Russell said.
ÒDammit, Russ, I am NOT avoiding it!Ó Ed said. ÒItÕs just not something you can tell somebody when youÕre in the middle of freaking nowhere chasing a bunch of nutjobs who blow things up!Ó He stormed off down the path again.
Russell pursued, stubbornly determined. ÒYou *are* going to tell me eventually, arenÕt you?Ó he said.
ÒWhen this is all over,Ó Ed said. ÒOnce we put these people away and I can tell that bastard Mustang where to go . . .Ó
ÒIÕll hold you to that, you know,Ó Russell said in a smirking tone.
ÒOh, yeah?Ó Ed said. The patches of light had almost disappeared now, they were trying to find their way through almost total darkness. Ed reached down and felt for a long stick, propping it between his feet so it stuck straight up. ÒHow are you going to do that?Ó he said as he clapped, touching his hands to the end of the stick and igniting it, creating a torch.
ÒI just may lock you out of the bedroom until you tell me,Ó Russell said, smugly.
ÒAnd I just may transmute the damn door and walk right through it!Ó Ed said, picking up the stick and pointing it at Russell, as if to set him aflame.
ÒWhat if I put a wall of plants around the bed that are alchemized to wrap around anyone who comes near them?Ó Russell said as they began walking again, faster, knowing they didnÕt have much time until the flame of their torch burned too low to be usable.
ÒWell, then, youÕre going to have a hell of a problem if you have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, arenÕt you?Ó Ed said, holding the torch a bit higher.
The paper mill was within sight now, dim light coming through two of its windows. Both boys knew they had to go into stealth mode now, and they stopped talking and started moving as quietly as possible. When they got closer, Ed stubbed the torch out on the ground, and they crept along very carefully, the two windows their target.
When they reached them, the boys both got down on their hands and knees and crawled to the bottom edge, peeking up and over.
They saw plants, and pieces of equipment that seemed randomly placed here and there, and a notebook of some sort flung in a corner, but . . .
ÒNo people,Ó Ed whispered. ÒNot a sign of anyone.Ó
ÒThink we should go in?Ó Russell whispered.
ÒIÕd sure like a look around -- especially at whatÕs in that notebook.Ó Ed reached up and pushed upward on the window, and it opened with little resistance. He climbed into the room, and Russell followed suit.
ÒThey might have known someone figured them out,Ó Russell whispered.
Ed shook his head. ÒThey would have packed up and left completely, like they did the first place we went to. They just havenÕt arrived yet. When they do, weÕll give Ôem a surprise.Ó
They headed toward the notebook . . . and Russell suddenly stopped, looking around. ÒWhat was that?Ó he said.
ÒWhat was what?Ó Ed said -- right before a long plant leaf flew out of seemingly nowhere and wrapped itself around his automail arm. ÒWhat the HELL?Ó He went to clap, but a second vine wrapped around his flesh arm, holding them apart. He turned toward Russell -- but his lover was already wrapped in a tight cocoon of green, struggling to get out, mumbling curses under his breath that his *own specialty* had been turned against him.
ÒSurprise?Ó said a voice from the other side of the room. ÒIt seems I surprised *you.*Ó
It was Harker.
____________
Fullmetal Alchemist is property of Hiromu Arakawa, Square Enix and Studio BONES. No profit is being made from this fanfic.