Ok, so I went through and rewrote this story. I didn't like how it was written, and I changed a lot of things. The first few chapters will resemble the ones I already had, but I changed a lot of parts to them. I thought that I was moving too fast in the direction I wanted the story to go. The first chapter is the only one that has stayed the same.

So, I hope you enjoy this a lot better than the first time through. Please review to let me know what you think and I will try to update as fast as I can! The more reviews, the faster this story will be updated, and I mean it this time, as I have a lot of it already typed out, so all I'll have to do is clicky a button, and tadda! Your next chapter!

Ok enough about me! Just enjoy the story, and don't forget to let me know what you liked, hated, think I need to improve on!

Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, though I do own Lara!


Chapter 4 Moving In

***Mustang's POV***

Why had I agreed to help her? What had I been thinking? I had to refuse a date from the lovely Emily at the supermarket who wanted to go to a movie. I had been wanting to score with that woman in awhile. Oh well, I had promised her next weekend. I glanced at the paper Lara had gave me. I had a few blocks left to go.

I was too nice a guy. That's what my problem was. I was just doing someone a good deed. I would have done it for anyone at the office. But, dang it. Moving? What a great way to spend a perfectly good Saturday. I should be out on the practice range working on my moves.

Lara had an air about her that was a little stand-offish. She was scared of being hurt, of getting too close to anyone. I wondered if that had something to do with her discharge. It was a very real possibility. What I didn't understand was why it was being covered up. What had she done that was so horrible that no one could find out? I shook my head, wondering if I would ever find out.

That woman was too closed in, too afraid of getting hurt. How could she have been a Colonel? She was so detached from everything and didn't ever talk to me more than necessary. Sure, I'm not the most talkative person, but a conversation wouldn't kill anyone.

I had talked to Hughes, but he just went off about love, and it took me awhile to realize he was talking about his wife and his little girl. I had been too furious to listen to anything else he had to say, as I had thrown him out on his ass, slamming the door in his face. If I had to hear one more thing about his daughter, it would probably kill me. Sure, his kid was cute, but I didn't need to know how she looked at him in the morning before he left for work.

No, I shouldn't be doing this because of past transgressions I had committed on her family. I had done such an unforgivable deed and here was their daughter practically plopped into my lap and I was supposed to just carry on in front of her acting as normal as could be. It was so hard as I wanted so much to just forget what had taken place all those years ago, but there was no sense in dwelling in the past. I couldn't do anything to change it. I needed to make right with Lara to even chip away at the horrendous deed I had executed.

I shook my head as I made my way to the address she had given me. It was a nice looking house in a nice neighborhood. Good. She deserved that. I sighed, complaining again on the inside. I needed to suck it up, I told myself. I had given my promise. Time to get over the fact I was going to have to do hard labor.

I arrived on time and knocked on the door. When she opened the door in a long sleeved top that looked to be too small and short shorts, she smiled politely. Her long, long legs were bare and teasing me. I also noticed she was still wearing gloves. What was it with her and gloves? Of course, I was still wearing mine, so it shouldn't be too weird.

Smiling, she ushered me inside. "There aren't as many boxes as you'd think. It shouldn't take very long. I don't really have a lot of material processions. My father was in the military, and our family was constantly on the move. I learned the hard way that the few things you have, the better. Basically, I need your help moving some of the furniture around."

She was right. Within two hours, everything was unpacked and put in its proper place. We were done at around six. We hardly even sweated. Of course, the couch and chairs were a little hard to move, but it wasn't anything too outrageous.

After emerging from her bedroom, in a different shirt (It was filthy from all the dust), she stood next to me. "I'll make you supper. I know it doesn't even begin to repay you for your help, but I think it's a start. How does spaghetti sound?" she asked, as she headed into the kitchen.

I held out my hands, "There is no need; you don't have to do that." I shook my head. "I don't want to impose."

"But I want to. Please let me," she gave me the puppy-dog pout. I caved immediately, nodding. "Great!" She grinned.

Immediately she set to work. I offered to help, but she made me sit on the couch and make myself at home. From my vantage point, I could see her working.

Her legs were what held most of my attention. In her short shorts, her long, tanned, muscular legs stood out. She was obviously in shape. Her long sleeve top left room for me to fantasize. The sleeves showed off the muscles in her arms, and the shirt stopped right above her naval, showing off her flat stomach. Shaking my head, I thought of Emily, my date next weekend.

Before I knew it, she was done, and we were seated around her kitchen table slurping up the noodles.


***Lara's POV***

As I was washing the dishes, Mustang kept offering to help, and I kept telling him to sit down. It was like he couldn't sit still. What was with men and not being able to just sit and relax. Damion had been the same way, only he would have already been helping, given up sitting still.

Every time I turned around, I caught Mustang staring at me, and I caught myself blushing like mad. His gaze was more than a little intimidating. I wasn't used to anyone but Damion looking at me like that.

Clad in nice khaki's and a T-shirt, I had a random thought that it would be totally weird to see him in jeans. Did Mustang even own a pair? He was usually all dressy even when he was supposed to be casual. Smiling to myself, I shook my head.

Wiping my hands dry on a towel, I joined him in the living room. "May I ask you a question?" I asked. It was about Marcoh, and there was hardly and research on him. I figured Mustang would know.

He waited patiently for me to continue.

"It's about Marcoh. What do you know about him?" I asked.

He frowned. "That makes you the second person that wanted to know." When I gave him a puzzled look, he continued, "Ed asked me about him as well."

"What did you tell him?"

Mustang let out a heavy sigh. "It's not something I like talking about. Besides, what do you want the information for anyway?"

I shrugged nonchalantly, "Curiosity, mainly. At lunch yesterday, I overheard Ed talking about it. Then Brigadier General Basque Gran called him a deserter. I don't like being out of the loop."

Mustang sat there for a long moment before answering, "The Philosopher's Stone was used in the Ishbal rebellion. It was used as an amplification device for many alchemists' powers, the Stone increased damage by large amounts. Marcoh escaped from the army after the large scale destruction during the war and was deemed a deserter. He hasn't been heard from since. No one knows where he is."

I nodded, taking it all in. Then, he must know how to create the stone. I was so close. Hopefully, Ed would find him and bring back a lot of information that would be useful.

"While we are playing twenty questions, I have another one." Mustang waited, so I continued, "Why did the Central headquarters get moved here to the eastern quarters?"

"There is a man named Scar that is responsible for the Fuhrer's move," Mustang answered after hesitating.

I was taken aback. Scar? He was here? Where? I knew it was wrong, but I wanted my revenge. He was going to pay for taking everything that was ever dear to me. He was going to die for his transgressions.

"So, I better be going. I've got some things of my own that I need done," Mustang said as he stood and headed for the door.

"Mind if I walk with you? I usually go for a walk after I eat, and I wanted to go now," I asked. I like his company; he was a good friend. Maybe my first friend since I have been in Central. I never had time to hang with any of the other officers because I was so busy. Sure, Hughes and the rest of the force were cool, but I never had much time for socializing. Hughes and Mustang had to be my closest friends.

"Not at all," he shook his head, shrugging.

So we ended up walking together in the crowded, busy streets of Central. Neither one of us said anything, just taking in the sights. Once we were in the center of the city, we just walked downtown and window shopped.

At last, Mustang said we were at his place. It was a mansion! A freaking mansion! My mouth almost dropped open in awe. It was gorgeous! I would never be able to afford a place like this. The house I was born in was a mansion, but my family couldn't keep buying mansions to live in for only a few short months and we ended up staying with friends or in hotels.

"Do you have a big enough house?" I teased.

He shrugged. "What can I say? I like big things."

"How can you stay alone in a house that big?" I asked looking over the landscaping job that was beautifully done. Must have many butlers and waiters that fawned all over him. Must be nice.

"Who says I was alone? I bring home a woman from time to time," he smiled to let me know he was kidding. "Want to come in?"

"Rain check? I really should be going. See you around!" I waved as I turned and headed back home. I turned down a side street. I wanted to go back home and enjoy my new house. It was really mine. Something I had bought with my hard earned money. Before coming to Central, I had lived at the military's base as it was just easy to live so close.

I noticed four men, all smoking, on the side of the street, all staring at me as I passed. I hurried by, but one caught a hold of my good arm.

"Come here, cutie," he smiled, showing off his yellowed teeth, flicking his cigarette to the ground. His other hand circled my waist.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll let me go," I warned. My automail arm was stronger than a weightlifter's. I would have no problem with beating these guys senseless. I would actually find pleasure in it. That or I would easily be able to use my alchemy to get myself out of this situation.

His friend grabbed my butt, and I smacked his hand away with my automail arm. He held his fingers as if I had broken them when I swatted them away; I probably did. It only angered them and they were all on me.

How was I going to get myself out of this one? The one was holding both my arms, and I couldn't pull away as all four of them were coming at me. I could handle one guy no problem. Two, maybe. But four?


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