Haha… I should be doing one of my other stories not starting a new one… but, ah whatever! I'm actually doing using a story I read (an actual book, not fanfic) from this book titled Michigan Weddings. There are three romance stories in it and I'm using the middle one titled The Island. I changed the stuff so it's not in Michigan anymore but places in Amestris instead but it'll be weird and I'll MAKE UP SOME THINGS. I'll also put random characters in the story sometimes or OCs. You have been warned. I'll try to do a chapter for each update but I'm not promising anything. I might have a hard time changing some of the stuff in here 'cos it's a Christian romance book but I'll try my best to change that part and it might be a bit weird but this won't be a religion related story, so bear with it, please.
By the way, I NEED A BETA!!! If anyone wants to be my beta, PM me.
I hope you enjoy my story…
Chapter 1: Uh, no titles, sorry…
Edward Elric sucked in a quick breath through clenched teeth and pushed his shoulder into the hackney horse's shoulder until the horse removed his hoof from Ed's foot. He let out a breath and wiggled his toes; nothing seemed broken.
Thunder blinked his big brown eyes at him as if knowing he'd done something wrong.
He stroked his nose. "I know you didn't mean it."
Horses weren't like people; they didn't intentionally hurt a person. His bruised foot would heal with far less difficulty than his heart from betrayal. He still wasn't ready to deal with that whole mess. And fortunately he wouldn't have to for six more weeks. It was amazing how free and uninhibited he felt away from his family. No expectations. No pressure. So until he left Rush Valley in mid October, he would enjoy his time here and not think about his other life off the island.
Havoc, the stable master, stepped around from behind him. "Over there. Sit. Take off your boot."
"What?"
He pointed to a wooden barrel set against the wall. "I saw what happened. I need to check that foot."
"It's fine really. I've been stepped on by horses before. I know what a broken bone feels like."
Havoc just stared at him and took a long drag from his cigarette. He was a man of average height, with a rough-looking appearance, in his early thirties.
Ed sighed as he sat, then tugged up the pant leg of his black jeans and unlaced his boot. His foot smarted when he pulled off his boot. "He didn't even put his full weight on it." Thunder hadn't meant to do it, not like Kimbley, who knew exactly what he had been doing.
"The sock, too."
He complied.
Havoc checked the bones on the top of his foot with a gentle touch that contrasted with his rough-looking appearance. "Nothing broken, but you'll probably have a doozy of a bruise. You want the morning off to ice it?"
Ed shook his head and pulled on his sock. "I'll be fine. What do I do all day? Sit in a carriage seat. I can prop up my foot on the front edge of the carriage if I need to."
"Let me know if it gives you any trouble."
"I will." He tried not to show the pain of replacing his boot. This would heal in time. He didn't need or want people fussing over him. He just wanted to do his job in a place where he was nothing special and no one cared to use him.
After double-knotting his boot, he went over and stroked Thunder's nose again. "I'd take you stepping on my foot over certain people any day." He pulled an apple and his pocketknife out of his jacket. He cut the apple in the middle, half in each flattened hand, one for Thunder and the other for his pulling mate for the day, Thor.
"You're going to spoil those horses," Havoc called from the tack room.
He smiled. Nothing got by Havoc. Besides, those horses were worth spoiling.
Roy Mustang sat on the top of the train with the wind blowing hard in his face. Maybe the wind would cleanse him of his apprehensions. He drank in deeply of the southern Rush Valley wind (A/N: Is Rush Valley south? I might have gotten that wrong…). He still didn't like this case.
He'd become a private investigator because he thought he might like the job, but he didn't. Sooner or later in his life he had to find something that fit. He couldn't keep drifting from one job to another, could he?
He'd asked his boss to give him a case right away, and Bradley had been cooperative. But as soon as he had agreed to take and received the retainer, he saw a side of Cornello Leto (A/N: Made up his last name…) he didn't like—pushy and self-serving. He would have given the money back if not for the sad, helpless look on the face of the man's daughter. Something inside him had wanted to help the young, pregnant Rose Leto, so he hadn't returned the money. But he knew one thing: This would be his first and last case—searching far and wide for someone was not his gig. And working for a person like Mr Leto was not what he wanted to do ever again.
He watched Rush Valley Station grow larger as the train raced towards it. He didn't know much about Rush (A/N: I left out the 'Valley' on purpose, you'll see later. I'm also altering Rush Valley some, it isn't so automail focused anymore and the places in it are the places in the book.), only that it was a popular vacation spot famous for the Grand Hotel—which he could see even now, white stretched against the gray and green background—and that motor vehicles weren't allowed—just horses and bicycles. This ought to be interesting. It sounded like a place a person could hide in if he wanted to.
He pulled out the picture of the blond-haired, blue-eyed youth and shook his head. How was he supposed to find this Alfons Heidrich (A/N: His character so fits, you'll read later.), working on a vacation island during the height of tourist season, if he couldn't show his picture around or ask about him? Not only was this task like looking for a needle in a haystack, he was expected to do so blindfolded too.
Mr Leto had told him explicitly not to show the picture or ask about the boy. His reasoning? He said the minute this kid knew someone was looking for him, he would run again. So that was the requirement of the job—find Alfons on sight alone. Did Mr Leto know how ridiculous his request was? If he did find Alfons this way, nothing would stop him from running anyway. Roy had no authority to hold the boy or take him back. But maybe he could talk to him and get him to cooperate.
He shook his head and returned the copy of the small picture to his pocket before climbing back down into his compartment through the window. His best friend, Maes, said it was going to be like bobbing for apples in an ocean. This was definitely his last case.
"Whoa." Ed pulled back on the worn leather reins in his hands. Thor and Thunder stopped where the next group of tourists waited to board his twenty-passenger tour carriage (A/N: That's right, people! Edward Elric is a tour guide… and gay.). Thor shook his head, causing the traces to jingle.
He took tickets, and several groups of passengers piled on board. He waited until they settled, then counted heads. Seventeen. Two vacancies toward the back and one up front. "I have room for three more."
The man at the front of the line said, "We have five."
He looked past the first five to the next in line, an older couple in their late sixties, he would guess.
"There are just the two of us." The man stepped forward and handed her a pair of tickets. Then they climbed into the next to last row.
It looked as if it would be a group of nineteen this time, but he announced anyway, "I have room for one more." He scanned the line. Behind the next group of four, a ruggedly handsome man who looked to be in his early thirties, wearing khaki shorts and a five o'clock shadow, stepped forward with his index finger raised. He looked at the people near him, but no one seemed to be telling him they would catch up with him later. His black hair looked dark blue at the tips and was tousled on top.
He climbed into the seat behind him and flashed his ticket. Interesting. Ed couldn't recall ever having someone ride by himself. Everyone traveled in pairs and groups.
He took down his microphone and pressed the button as he turned in his seat. "Welcome aboard. I'm Edward. We'll travel up Main Street, past the Grand Hotel and up to Surrey Hills for the middle part of the tour." He hung up his microphone, waited for a horse-drawn freight wagon to pass, then gave a small click with his tongue and a small snap of the reins. Thor and Thunder heaved the carriage forward among the bicycle and foot traffic. In the valley, horses had the right-of-way. Pedestrians and bicyclists, beware.
His foot was aching where Thunder had stepped on it earlier that morning, so he propped it up on the front edge of the carriage. He maneuvered down Main Street and turned on Mahoney Avenue. He reached for his microphone and caught a glimpse of the last man to board, the Lone Ranger. He had a strong jaw line and eyes that were deep and a smoky, firey black. Like charcoal. He pressed the button on his mike. "There are hundreds of lilac bushes on the island. The middle of June, when all the lilacs are in bloom, is the only time when you don't smell the road apples."
The older woman in the front seat asked, "What are road apples?"
Right on cue. Someone usually asked. If no one did, he let them draw their own conclusions. "Someone wants to know what road apples are. If you look out on the left"—he pointed to some horse droppings as they passed—"those are road apples." A few chuckles rippled through the carriage. They did give Rush a unique pungent aroma, but it was better then car exhaust.
As they headed up Cadotte Avenue, Thor settled into a lazy walk while Thunder heaved the full weight of the carriage. "Thor gid-up." He tapped Thor's hind end with his buggy whip. He twitched his ears and tail and grunted at him for being caught, but he picked up his share of the weight.
"The redbrick building on the left is the public school where the children of the five hundred year-round residents attend a K-12 program. On the right is the Little Stone Church. If you look up the hill, you can see the governor's summer home. When the Amestris flag is being flown, as it is today, the governor is in residence. The grassy area to the left is the Grand Hotel golf course. And on the left are some of the grounds of the Grand Hotel." At the small median where West Bluff Road branched off to the left, she pulled on the reins, causing Thor and Thunder to come to a stop.
"The Grand Hotel was built in 1887. It was started in April after the spring thaw and was completed three months later. The hotel opened on July 10." He hung up the microphone and stole another glimpse at the Lone Ranger in khaki shorts. He quickly averted his gaze and brought his camera up to his face. Had he been watching him, rather than looking at the hotel?
He put his team in motion. Well of course, Edward, everyone was looking at you. You were the one talking. Duh.
H tapped Thor's rump with the buggy whip. "Gid-up, Thor."
"Why do you keep telling Thor to giddy up?" someone in the second row asked.
He turned in his seat to answer without the mike and caught the Lone Ranger's gaze skipping to the passing scenery. "Thor gets lazy and lets Thunder do all the work, especially when they're pulling uphill. He thinks I don't notice and he can get away with it, while poor Thunder is huffing and puffing away. It's much easier to walk than to pull."
The Lone Ranger snapped a picture, of what, he wasn't sure. The trees? He rested the camera in his lap.
Why was he alone? It wasn't as if he had a third eye in the middle of his forehead or snarled at people. Despite his serious demeanor, he was pleasant to look at. He looked more like a man on a mission than a man on vacation. Tense. Didn't he know that vacations were supposed to be fun and relaxing? Even though he himself was working, he was more relaxed and stressed free than he had been in years. He had no big responsibilities, no one needing something from him, and no family pulling him in five directions wanting something—no one using him. He was free here.
He pulled his team to a halt. He had passed up one site and was about to pass up another. Distracted by a handsome stranger, just like a schoolgirl, or boy. He spoke into his mike and pointed out the two sites, then continued.
"Were approaching Surrey Hills. A museum and working blacksmith shop are there. Also gift and snack shops. At the far end of the building, you can catch the thirty-five-passenger carriage for the middle part of the tour. It will take you past the post cemetery, Arch Rock, the skull cave and the fort." He pulled his team to a halt in front of the buildings. "You can also visit the Wings of Rush butterfly conservatory. You are welcome to stay as long as you like and catch the next available carriage. Have a good time and enjoy your visit."
The Lone Ranger was the first to jump down; then he offered a helping hand to the two women in front. Ed took a deep breath and watched as he disappeared inside the building. Since he rarely saw a tourist more than once, that was probably the last he'd see of him. He talked a moment with the older couple who had boarded just before he did. They thanked him for a pleasant tour. If they only knew how off he was on this trip. Then, after a glance toward the building, he clicked his team into motion and headed to the pickup spot.
Roy Mustang looked out the Surrey Hills gift shop window at the carriage driver who had just dropped them off. Edward, he had said his name was. He was speaking with an older couple who had been on the carriage and was smiling at them.
He raised his Nikon and pulled Edward into focus. His golden hair was drawn back in a braid and shimmered lightly in the sun. What color did they call that? He'd had a girlfriend once with hair about that color who had insisted it was blond, straw blond. He zoomed in on Edward's face. His warm and inviting smile tugged at him. He zoomed tighter on the honey-colored eyes. He backed off and Edward's wholesome face filled his lens. Click. Saved forever. As he tucked his camera back into his bag, he watched him pull away.
Roy had allowed himself to be distracted long enough. Time to get back to work. He toured the gift shop, museum and blacksmith shop, snapping shots of any male who looked remotely as if he could pass for eighteen.
He boarded the larger carriage and took the second part of the tour. Nothing very interesting—and no Alfons Heidrich hiding from his short past. He got off at Fort Rush (A/N: See, 'Rush' is the name of the valley and other stuff like Rush CITY and FORT Rush…).
He paid the entrance fee. A battle was in progress between what looked like the Americans and the British. He scanned the soldiers with his telephone lens and snapped several pictures. Numerous young men stood among the lesser ranks, and almost any one of them could have been Alfons Heidrich shadowed behind a soldier cap. Alfons had been in drama and performed a leading role in his senior play. Playing war could be right up his alley.
While the war ensued, Roy strolled through the fort exhibits, scanning for other young actors. No Alfons. He exited to the central war zone as the Americans defeated the British. All was well, and history had not been changed in the last half hour.
He mingled with the soldiers and other actors. No baby-faced, blond-haired, blue-eyed Alfons Heidrich. Where to now? He rubbed the scratchy stubble on his face. Even when he shaved, it seemed as if he could use a shave. Winter couldn't come soon enough so he could forgo shaving altogether.
He should head out to catch the next carriage. He couldn't accomplish anything here. He could always trek down the hill, but he would get enough exercise today traipsing up and down streets and in and out of every shop. Shopping was a necessary evil unless it was at a music or electronics store. He wished he had a female friend along to send into the shops. Then again she could get distracted with all the paraphernalia and not accomplish anything for him. He could walk through all the shops in, let's say, an hour, then move on to the marina.
He slung his camera bag over his shoulder and headed to the loading area. Soon a carriage pulled up but Edward was not at the reins. It was one of the larger carriages with three horse4s. Maybe he could catch him back at Surrey Hills. If he found Alfons, he could come back for fun and maybe see Edward again. He hopped aboard and got off at Surrey Hills again. A carriage was pulling up, but no Edward. He buzzed through the butterfly conservatory, but Alfons didn't work there. He stood outside with a small group of tourists. The next departing carriage was filling fast but his special seat behind the beautiful Edward was waiting for him. He flashed his ticket and climbed aboard.
Edward drove the carriage down past the Grand Hotel and turned on what he called Market Street. He pointed out several historical buildings, any one of which Alfons could work in.
The microphone clicked and Edward spoke again, explaining the history of a memorial building that the author can't be bothered to type out. He maneuvered the horses through two consecutive right turns; then he wished them all a pleasant stay in the valley.
It's over already? Roy reluctantly stepped down from the carriage and watched Edward drive up to collect his next group. He walked past the line of tourists waiting to climb aboard the carriage and gave Edward a quick salute as he passed and got a nod in acknowledgement. He stepped into the doorway of a shop two door down and turned. He focused his camera on Edward and snapped a picture. Edward turned to his left and spoke to someone in the street. Roy pulled back the zoom to include the recipient of Edward's attention. A blond male in good shape on a bicycle, who could easily be in his late teens, from what little could be seen of him. The boy had his arm raised in front of his face to shade his eyes. He could be anyone but Roy snapped a picture anyway and kept the boy in his view. Roy zoomed in, hoping to get a glimpse of his face. But the boy dipped his head, turned his bike around, and pedaled off.
Roy snapped several pictures in succession, hoping one had caught the boy's face, then walked quickly, and traversing the crowd in the direction he had gone. By the time he reached the corner, the boy was too far down the street to catch. Was it Alfons?
And…. That's the end of the first chapter of The Island. There are seventeen more chapters plus, maybe, an epilogue. This is the longest chapter I've typed so far... Encourage me, please review!