Chapter 7


Pinako's hands were firmly planted on her hips as she glared at the boy in front of her. "Alphonse, you need to tell me where Winry's gotten off to."

Al lowered his head, refusing to meet the old woman's eyes. "She made me promise not to tell."

"Why, Al?" Mrs. Hughes sat on the sofa next to him. "What's so important that she left without telling us?"

"Uh," Alphonse said, sinking back, "I promised."

"Alphonse Elric, you will tell me where my granddaughter is," Pinako said, pointing the mouthpiece of her pipe at him, "or I promise you'll live to regret it." Al shivered, knowing it was not an idle threat.

"Um, hello?" Sciezca's voice called tentatively from the front door. "Where is everyone?"

"We're in the study," Al called back, using the distraction to slip away from Pinako and Mrs. Hughes. He knew Granny would follow him – she was tenacious like that – but at least he could escape her inquiries for a few seconds. "How was your visit with your mother?"

"Oh, it was good," Sciezca said, "we had a nice, long talk. Um, Doctor Pinako?" She had her hands clasped just under her chin, Al noticed as he joined her in the hallway.

"What is it, Sciezca?" Pinako asked, following Alphonse into the hall, Mrs. Hughes trailing behind.

"I, uh, well, Mrs. Hughes, this concerns you, too." Sciezca smiled nervously. "While I was visiting my mother, one of the men at the hospital overheard us talking." She lowered her gaze. "About Edward. He said he knew you, Al, that Winry played with his little sister."

"Who said this, Sciezca?" Pinako asked, folding her arms.

"He's an intern at the hospital."

"You said that already." Scowling at Sciezca, Pinako said, "Who is he?"

"He said his name is Michael Todd."

"Michael?" Alphonse scratched his head, his eyes widening suddenly in remembrance.

"Nelly is his little sister, Al." Pinako relaxed her stance a little. "You remember Nelly?"

"I remember Michael," Alphonse said with a shudder.

"What's wrong?" Sciezca asked, looking from Pinako to Al.

"Are you all right, Al?" Mrs. Hughes asked, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"Michael was a bully," Alphonse said bluntly. "He picked on Ed, Winry and me, a lot."

"I don't remember that," Pinako said with a frown, tilting her head up to look at Alphonse.

"Ed told me not to tell," Alphonse realized what he'd said and sighed. "We kind of expected it, Granny. The kids at school made fun of us, all of us. Winry because of her parents, Ed because he was little and me because, well, because I was smart. Maybe because all of us were smart." He shrugged.

"What did Michael do to you?" Pinako asked, the wrinkles on her brow deepening.

"It was a long time ago, Granny," Alphonse said, squirming.

"Did you pay him back?" She poked him with her pipe.

"Granny!"

She grinned at his squawk. "What did you do?"

"Nothing!" Alphonse backed away from the waving pipe.

"You aren't nearly as good a liar as Edward," Mrs. Hugh said with a grin.

"Um, can I interrupt?" Sciezca asked, waving her hand. When they turned towards her, she went on. "Mr. Todd's waiting outside."

"He's what?" Mrs. Hughes shook her head. "Sciezca, that's not a polite thing to do, leaving someone alone like that when you invite him to visit."

Sciezca curled in on herself. "I know, Mrs. Hughes. I tried calling, I did! No one answered the telephone."

"That must've been when we were outside looking for Winry," Pinako said, using the opportunity to shoot a glare at Alphonse, who flinched at the look in her eyes.

"She's not here?" Sciezca yelped. "She didn't go to the Central Headquarters, did she?"

"Is there a reason she shouldn't have?" Pinako turned a gimlet eye on Sciezca.

Sciezca actually backed away from the look on Pinako's face. "No, no reason at all, Doctor Pinako." She tried wave off the older woman. "I'm sure she's perfectly safe. You could ask Al, I'm sure he'd tell you the same!"

"I think we should talk to Mr. Todd," Mrs. Hughes said, stepping past Pinako and patting Sciezca on the shoulder. "It's rude to leave him outside, after all, when he came all the way here."

"I suppose it is," Pinako muttered. She poked Alphonse in the ribs, making him jump. "And after we see Michael, you're telling me everything that Winry told you. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am," Alphonse said. He hoped Winry would be back by then. He really didn't want to go through Pinako's interrogation by himself.


Pierce lowered the field glasses, making cryptic marks on a small notepad. The roof across the way made a good surveillance point for Miss Lizabet's house. Plus, the guards never looked up to notice him, proving his theory that people just never thought of anything bad coming from overhead. Pierce already had the rotation of the alley door guards. The passwords changed daily; knocks and taps and scrapes in different patterns. The house was quieter in the early morning – the very early morning – and at those times, Pierce dreamed of thermoses full of coffee.

It was more difficult finding out what the interior of the house was like. No one Pierce knew had ever actually been inside. Those people who had walked through the front doors were out of Pierce's class and therefore, unlikely to give him the information. The guards weren't stupid enough to be tricked into handing it out and Miss Lizabet's pay – and reputation – were enough to keep Pierce from attempting to bribe them for the house plans. Since he prized his own skin, he wasn't going to threaten any of the guards. That way madness lay, as the saying went. Or at least a severe beating. Pierce wasn't a second story man to climb through a window and even if he was, there was still the two-fold problem of getting inside and carrying Edward back out, all without being seen.

At least he now had a place to take Ed, if he could plan a way to get him out of the house. Pierce rubbed his chin, feeling the thick beard he'd grown. He stared at the back door and Orvi, who appeared to be amusing himself by counting how many times he could pitch a rock so it would bounce back to him. "I guess I have to become a guest." Pierce collected his equipment, wondering just how much money and what sort of disguise he'd need to get through the front door.


Winry sat in the back seat of the car, staring at the folder on her lap. Next to her, Mustang leaned his cheek in his hand, staring out the window at the buildings passing by. In the driver's seat, Havoc had an elbow out the open window, letting fresh air flow through the car. Winry was glad of that. The cigarettes that Havoc smoked stank worse than Granny's pipe.

"Where we heading, Boss?" Havoc asked, glancing in the rearview mirror.

"Mm?" Mustang roused himself. "Oh." His black lacquer eyes blinked. "What was that café you told me about last week?"

"The Black Horse it is," Havoc said. He smoothly guided the car around a corner. No one said anything else until the car pulled up across the street from what Winry thought looked more like a tavern than a café. She climbed out of the car, tucking the folder under her arm. Mustang slammed his door, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Havoc leaned out the window. "Want me to wait, Boss?"

Mustang seemed to consider it. "Feel free to order yourself something. I'll call you over when Miss Rockbell and I have finished our discussion."

"Can do, Boss." Havoc touched his forehead with his forefinger then put the car into first gear, pulling away from Mustang and Winry.

"Miss Rockbell?" Mustang glanced back at her. "Shall we?" He started across the street without waiting for her answer.

Winry watched the car disappear around the corner. Presumably, Lieutenant Havoc was going to park the car. This was not what she'd expected but if she asked herself what she'd thought would happen, she had no real answer. Her choices were simple at this point – let Colonel Mustang speak his piece or find her way back to Mrs. Hughes' house. Raising her chin, Winry deliberately followed Mustang into the Black Horse.

Inside, it was dim, the morning sunlight not quite reaching through the windows yet. Waitresses moved around tables, bussing them or delivering food and drinks. A bar belted one wall, the kitchen just visible behind it. Bell containers covered pies and the smell of fresh coffee warmed the air. Winry noticed Mustang waiting by a table and moved to join him. He pulled a chair out for her. As she sat and adjusted her position, Mustang took the seat across from her and waved at one of the waitresses.

A brunette waitress appeared at the table. "Good morning, sir, ma'am. What can I get for you to drink? We have fruit juices, coffee and tea. Oh, and fresh tomato juice, just for today."

"Hot tea, please," Winry said.

"I'll have coffee." Mustang slouched a little in his chair.

The waitress nodded. "Any breakfast?" She rattled off the menu specials and waited with bright eyes and a sunny smile for their preferences.

Winry's stomach fluttered at the idea of food. "Just the tea, please."

"The coffee's fine for now." Mustang waited until the waitress brought their drinks and Winry had adjusted the taste of her tea with cream and sugar. "I'm sorry about the disturbance earlier but this is probably a better place for us to talk anyway." At her questioning glance, Mustang used his cup of coffee to indicate the café. "It'll be harder for anyone to eavesdrop here. The noise level's pretty high. We left the office partially because of that reason and partially because Colonel Frank Archer was on his way to see me, and, more importantly, you."

"Me?" Winry laid her spoon on the saucer.

Mustang nodded. "You ran into one of his aides, Master Sergeant Enance. You said something about meeting with me and Enance went to Archer with the information." He took a drink. "Hmm. Good coffee."

Winry took a sip of her tea as he watched. The hot liquid nearly burned the roof of her mouth. She was forced to suck in a cooling breath before she could ask, "Who is Colonel Archer?"

Tapping a finger on the tabletop, Mustang said, "Let me explain something to you first, Miss Rockbell. This has nothing to do with our earlier discussion and," he hesitated, "everything to do with why Edward was in Lior."

Setting down her tea before she dropped it, Winry leaned forward. "What about Edward?"

"I was trying to keep him out of the city," Mustang said grimly. "He and Alphonse had gone there previously and deposed a tyrant. Once they did that, they went on to their next mission. I got word that the tyrant had somehow managed to regain control of the city. Skirmishes broke out." He shifted in his seat. "I made a judgment call. I didn't tell Edward that Lior had become a battlefield. When he found out, well." Mustang's smirk was sardonic and directed at himself. "To say he took it badly would be an understatement."

Winry found she couldn't help but nod at that. "He went into Lior anyway, didn't he?"

"He went to Colonel Archer behind my back," Mustang said, a growl in his voice. "Archer approved Edward going to Lior on a reconnaissance mission."

"After you'd ordered him to stay away?" That sounded like Ed, too. Hot-tempered and stubborn, he wouldn't have wanted to obey any orders but the ones that would've gotten him into Lior to see for himself what had happened.

"Yes. Archer did take one precaution – he insisted that Alphonse remain behind." Taking a deep breath, Mustang said, "Alphonse disappeared shortly thereafter and I didn't see Edward again, Miss Rockbell. I'm sorry."

Picking up her spoon, Winry stirred her tea again, thinking on what she'd heard so far. "Why would Colonel Archer want to see me?" she asked.

"I would assume because of Alphonse." Those black eyes bored into hers. "Has he attempted any alchemy yet?" At Winry's headshake, Mustang said, "There's a good chance that Alphonse may have acquired Edward's ability with alchemy."

"And that would make him very interesting to the military, wouldn't it?" Winry asked sharply.

"Your closeness at Edward's funeral was noted, Miss Rockbell. You could be an effective tool to some in recruiting Alphonse."

"Are you telling me that I'm in danger?" Winry tossed the spoon into her cup, splashing tea. Her stomach twisted again as she remembered that creature of water with Tricia Elric's face.

"Yes." Mustang leaned across the table, catching her wrist and giving it a squeeze. "You and your grandmother; Alphonse. You need to leave Central as soon as you can."

"I think," Winry said grimly, "we need to have a real meeting, Colonel. I have information that you need to know." She glanced around the café. "Not here. I don't want to repeat myself." She swallowed, looking at Mustang's hand, still on her wrist. "I didn't get a chance to tell Edward. Maybe you can make something of it."

"Miss Rockbell," Mustang began.

"No. This is the way it has to be, Colonel. You're right, I'm in danger. I knew my coming back for Ed's funeral would attract someone's attention. Just not probably not the attention you thought." Gently disengaging her wrist, Winry stood up. "I need to return to Mrs. Hughes' house. Is there some way you can get your people there, without anyone noticing?"

The slow blink of his eyes was the only thing that showed Mustang's surprise at the request. "When?"

"This evening," Winry said with a nod. "It isn't much time but I don't think we can wait much longer."

Mustang got to his feet, picking up the folder and handing it to her. "I'll come over a little early, so we can discuss this. You, Alphonse, your grandmother and I need to go over these papers." He hesitated. "Miss Rockbell, about the other. About your parents."

Stiffening her spine, Winry tossed her hair back over her shoulder. "Yes?"

"The notebook." He wagged the folder at her. "Alphonse will be able to help you decipher it." His smile was even more self-depreciating than before. "I've considered trying the equations in that book three times." Mustang seemed to consider what he said then added, "Havoc will take you to Mrs. Hughes' home. I'll contact you there about this evening."

Winry accepted the folder cautiously. She never liked riddles but right now, she just wanted to get out of this café. "Thank you, Colonel," she said, trying not to let her confusion show. Spinning on her foot, she walked out of the tavern, leaving the man standing at the table. She could feel his gaze pinned to the point between her shoulder blades and fought the urge to shudder.

Havoc was sitting at one of the outdoor tables, flirting with his waitress. Winry stopped next to the table. "You're supposed to take me to the Hughes' place," she said.

"What about the Boss?" Havoc gave her a look that might have appeared lazy if Winry hadn't seen a particular gleam of intelligence there.

"He didn't say."

Havoc shrugged. "Sorry, sweetheart. Guess we'll have to finish this conversation when duty isn't calling." He grinned at the waitress, leaving her a tip and a wink that made her blush. "Let's go, Miss Rockbell."


There were periods of light and dark, both of them marked by pain. He wondered why it hurt so much, why the agony never seemed to end. But time passed and slowly, ever so slowly, the anguish lessened.

His eyes opened, showing him the glare of bright white that alternated with dim grey. This time, the brightness didn't sting, didn't make his eyes tear. He took a cautious breath, slowly expanding his lungs, feeling a tightness that at first didn't want to loosen. He persevered, taking deeper breaths, feeling the rise and fall of his chest.

Above his head, the ceiling was pale green, cracks rippling through the paint. It almost looked like a road map had been plastered to the ceiling, one without any names to mark anything. The light shade hanging from the center of it was frosted glass, dots of paint emphasizing whatever the design was supposed to be. Edward's head ached too much for him to try to figure it out. The ceiling wasn't at all familiar, making him frown. That hurt, too, so he relaxed as much as he could. Hospitals were usually that shade of green but it was far too noisy for him to think he was in a hospital room. Ed could hear laughter and music and other, somewhat lower pitched sounds filtering through the walls. Besides, the bed beneath him was way too soft to be a hospital bed and the blanket pulled over him was too colorful.

Ed tried to push himself upright, gasping at a wave of dizziness. It passed almost as quickly as it had struck but still left him lightheaded. He rested for a little while then twisted himself so his weight landed on his left elbow, using it to lever himself out of the soft mattress. Pain seemed to lick along his missing limbs, making the stump of his left leg twitch.

Breathing heavily, Edward tried to keep from throwing up. When the nausea passed, he managed to sit up the rest of the way, off balance without his automail leg and arm. Wriggling back to lean against the headboard, Ed ran his hand over his shoulder. "Winry's gonna kill me." Exploring the tightness around his head, his fingers brushed over a bandage. Edward let his eyes close, reaching for memories. Everything seemed fuzzy and muddied, as if it was a dream. He could almost swear that he'd heard Lieutenant Colonel Hughes talking to someone…maybe his mother?

"Al," he said, "you won't believe the crazy dream I had."

The lack of a reply made Edward twist in the bed. There was no sign of his brother anywhere. "Al?" The room was even more unfamiliar now that he looked at it, full of overstuffed furniture and diaphanous fabric draping over things. The scent of it was cloying, as if rather than the room being cleaned, incense or candles were burned instead. "Alphonse?" There wasn't any place for a suit of armor as large as Al's to hide, either. There appeared to be a tiny wardrobe shoved into a corner of the room and an elaborate vanity. Edward struggled to throw the blankets off, turning so his leg hung off the side of the bed. Hand resting on the side table for balance, Ed hopped off, the jolt feeling like it was going to pop off the top of his head. "Damn it," he said through gritted teeth. Someone's voice rose in his murky memories, saying something about him having a headache after but after what?

The sole of his foot was cushioned by rugs, the colors and placement of them running riot with the pale green of the room. The door seemed a long way from the bed but Ed was sure he could make it. All he had to do was keep his balance. He took a tentative hop and windmilled his arm, nearly falling back onto the bed. "So it isn't as easy as it looks." His head throbbed harder but he ignored the pain. He needed to find Alphonse, let his brother know he was going to live. Again.

His leg trembled and he knew it wouldn't support him for very long. Arm outstretched, he hopped twice, the surface of the rugs beneath his foot uneven. His toes caught on the edge of one of the rugs and he pitched forward, tucking and rolling the way Granny Pinako had taught him so long ago when he was first learning to use his automail. Landing on his shoulder, Ed somersaulted forward, ramming into the wall.

"Damn it." Ed rubbed his knee with a wince. His whole body felt jarred, the twisting awakening an ache in his ribs like a knife stuck there. "What happened to me?" Alphonse would know, Ed decided, if his brother would just walk through the door. He stared at it hopefully but it remained closed. Aborting a sigh when his ribs protested, Edward carefully maneuvered himself into a sitting position. The door was still a distance away, nothing to someone with two legs but as far as Ed was concerned, it might as well be halfway to Lior.

"Lior," he whispered, his eyes widening. A battlefield settled behind his vision. A city, destroyed from prior skirmishes. An array, carved into the ground and enemies, surrounding him as he screamed his brother's name.

"No," Ed said, sucking in a breath, not even noticing the stab in his ribs. "Alphonse?" He scrabbled over the floor, cursing his handicaps, his chest and knee and elbow burning when they dragged over the rugs. "Alphonse! Al, where are you, damn it?"

The door swung open and Ed found himself staring at a pair of feet encased in soft slippers. His eyes tracked up short legs, clothed in black trousers to a round, soft body. Grey-black hair hung over a pair of ponderous breasts, emphasized by the bright green fabric swathing the woman's form. Her face was equally round with cheekbones jutting out as if they wanted to escape. Dark, long lashes surrounded equally dark eyes that stared down at him. "You're awake," she said as if surprised.

"Where's my brother?" Edward asked sharply.

"Brother? I don't know anything about a brother. They just brought you to me." The corners of her mouth were drawn down in a perpetual glower.

"What? Who brought me here?"

Something like a grin attempted to form on her face. It looked unnatural, like a fish trying to smile. "Pierce and Johns. By your expression, I'm guessing you don't know them. Too bad, they're lovely gentlemen."

"I was in a battle," Edward said tentatively.

"I'm sure you were." The woman looked over her shoulder. "Xandor, I need you to put him back in the bed." She moved out of the door to allow a man through it. He reminded Ed a little of Armstrong, bare chest and huge muscles. "Gently, Xandor," the woman said as he leaned over Ed.

"Yes, Miss Lizabet," Xandor rumbled and gathered Ed up like a bundle of clothing, carrying him to the bed and laying him back in it. Ed glared up at the man, hating being treated this way but the man just nodded to the woman and stepped back out of the room.

The woman, on the other hand, approached. "I'm Miss Lizabet," she said, pausing at the side of the bed, near Ed's foot.

"Look. I'm a State Alchemist. Shouldn't somebody be here to debrief me?" Ed asked.

She gave him that fishy look again. "You won't have to worry about that."

"You don't know my commanding officer," Edward said as Miss Lizabet stroked his foot with the tips of her fingers. He pulled his foot away as her hand continued to move over it. "Uh, what are you doing?"

Her teeth showed but if it was supposed to be a comforting smile, it was anything but. "Interesting."

"What? Look, if this is a hospital, I'd like to see the doctor. And I need to get in touch with my automail mechanic. She's gonna kill me for losing my arm and leg. Is there a telephone I can use? I can pay for the call. And I really need to know where my brother, Alphonse, is." Glaring at the woman, Edward all but dared her to touch him again.

Miss Lizabet sighed. "I told you, you don't have to worry about that any more. I'll take care of you as long as you're a good boy."

Ed gaped at her. "What the hell?"

She pinched his thigh hard. "No foul language, pretty one."

"Ow, damn it, that hurt!" Her fingernails clamped onto his thigh again, twisting as well as pinching. Ed slapped her hand away from his flesh though she left gouges behind. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Don't you understand discipline?" Miss Lizabet's fish face was back though her dark eyes glittered at him and color flushed her cheekbones.

"You don't have any right to do that," Edward snapped.

"Silly boy, I do. You're mine now, just like every other person in this house. And I can do whatever I want to anyone under my roof." She leaned over him, so close that their foreheads nearly touched. "They gave you to me. There isn't any way for you to leave and nowhere for you to go. No one's going to be looking for you because everyone thinks you're dead." Her eyes sparkled as if she found the whole thing to be wildly funny.

"What do you mean, thinks I'm dead?" Edward asked, a trickle of fear working its way down his spine.

"By now, they'll have had your funeral," Miss Lizabet's fingers tickled over his stump and Ed twitched it out from under her hand. "Oh, I'm sure that they made you out to be a hero, pretty one." Her palm came back into contact with his stump and rubbed along it. Ed blocked her hand as it journeyed towards his crotch. She grabbed his wrist with her other hand, pulling it away. "Don't make me tie you up." At his gasp, Miss Lizabet said, "Or maybe you'd like that."

"Damn you," Edward said and got another twisting pinch for his choice of language. "That hurts!"

"Sometimes pain is the only way you learn anything," Miss Lizabet said. She held his wrist and leg in place with little effort, letting Ed wear himself out with his struggles to free himself. "You're stubborn, aren't you, pretty one?"

"You have no idea," Ed growled, bucking in an attempt to break loose.

She laughed, making her body shake. "I like the stubborn ones." Leaning in close again, she showed him her teeth. "Their submission is always the sweetest." Edward snapped at her face, barely missing her nose as she jerked back. "I can't have you doing that," she said, still maintaining her holds on him. Raising her voice, Miss Lizabet called Xandor back into the room.

"Yes, Miss Lizabet?"

"Call for Stefan, Xandor, then come and hold him down. But be careful, this one is a biter." Miss Lizabet only released Edward when Xandor's hands clamped down on his limbs. "There, now." She patted his thigh familiarly. "Let's get you something to chew on, shall we?" Waddling across the room, she unlocked the wardrobe and began rummaging in it. The view of the interior of the cabinet blocked by her body, Edward could still see a collection of whips hanging on the door. His stomach curdled. Where the hell was he?

"Here we are." Lizabet turned around, holding up a strap of leather that at first reminded Edward of a small belt until it moved in the woman's hands and he saw a flash of silver. "This should keep you from biting."

Another man came through the door, his bulky build offset by the light way he moved. "You called, Miss Lizabet?" he asked in a high-sounding voice.

"Stefan, I'll need you to help Xandor. Open the boy's mouth for me, so I can get this bit in there." Lizabet smiled openly at Edward's gasp. "Come now, pretty one, you didn't think I'd let you get away with biting, now did you?" To Stefan and Xandor, she added, "I think he should be strapped down, too. Even with only one leg, he's a little too mobile."

"You can't do this." Ed thrashed, trying to break free from Xandor's heavy hands. The man just tightened his grip, leaning his weight on top of Ed's knee. Leg immobilized, Stefan finished up by tightening a strap around Ed's ankle and looped it off on a bedpost.

"I don't think it's a matter of can't, pretty one," Lizabet said as Xandor and Stefan wrestled with Edward's arm, managing to tie that limb off as well. "I can and I will do whatever I want with you." She nodded and Stefan caught Edward's head, putting pressure on the jaw muscles. Ed fought it, jerking as hard as he could but the man was too strong. He finally managed to pry open Edward's mouth and as soon as his teeth parted, the metal bit was shoved between them. Xandor assisted with buckling the leather straps behind Edward's head and the trio stepped away from the bed.

Edward glared at all of them, tossing his head until he realized he must look like a restive horse.

"Much better. I think that I like you this way even more than I did asleep." Lizabet's smile became cruel as she ran her fingernails over Ed's bare stomach. He twitched and writhed, trying to escape her touch. "Yes, pretty one, wear yourself out trying to get free," she said. Coming across a flush of strawberry, Lizabet scraped her nails over the rug burn. "I like the markings. They show up so nicely on your flesh."

Fury and fear building simultaneously, Ed swore behind the bit as Lizabet pinched him. Her cool fingernails trickled along his body, moving more lightly over the bandages but keeping in continuous contact. He shivered as she traced his breastbone and her eyes flicked up at his face. "You'll pattern up so pretty," Lizabet told him before twisting the skin on his forearm.

Ed only hoped his confusion at her words didn't show. He tugged at the bindings on his limbs as Lizabet continued her exploration of him, trying not to react at the liberties she took. Dread pooled in his stomach when Stefan licked his lips, surveying Edward as if he was some sort of delicacy. "Miss Lizabet?" he asked in his high-pitched voice. "Can I help you break him in?"

The woman eyed Edward before turning her attention to the large man. "I don't know, Stefan." She cocked her head to the side and patted Stefan's crotch familiarly. "You might break him."