Chapter Nine: Hanging Round
What am I doing hanging round?
I should be on that train and gone.
The Monkees, Hanging Round

Outside, Riza could hear the patter of rain still coming down. She had no doubt the poorer streets of Central would be flooded; her own street would have standing water, too. It would be a good day to hunker up with a cup of tea, a blanket, and a romance novel. Any other day, she might consider it. Any other day, though, was not like today. Right now, Riza thought a sunny day would be a betrayal.

Black Hayate whined, catching her attention, and Riza petted his head, rubbing the base of one of his ears to make him lean into her caress. Riza hadn't been asleep when Winry had left the bedroom last night. It hadn't surprised her that the younger woman hadn't come back. She'd heard Edward and Winry talking, and what they'd started doing, but were unable to finish – the walls in her apartment were that thin. She didn't blame them for taking comfort in each other. She'd invited Black Hayate on the bed, when it became obvious Winry wasn't returning, and soaked her dog's coat in her own tears.

Her wandering eyes caught sight of the toolkit Winry'd left in her room. Riza's breath snared in her throat. That innocent, innocuous thing in her bedroom made it even more real, forced the proof on her that she didn't really want to leave her room and face. Choking back another sob, Riza fought back her tears. She wouldn't – couldn't – allow herself to grieve, not right now. There were two teenagers looking to her for answers as to the whereabouts of Alphonse Elric. Pinching the bridge of her nose, Riza inhaled deeply through her mouth, forcing herself into the same calm state she had to have when firing a gun.

Forcing herself out of her bed, Riza dressed. Black Hayate watched her from the bed, his curly tail waving slowly. He wanted a walk, and, regardless of the rain, he'd get one. If Edward weren't so recognizeable with that missing arm, Riza would have sent him out, but Black Hayate was her dog, and her responsibility. Maybe she could convince the kids to make some sort of breakfast while she took Black Hayate on a walk to the telephone booth a couple of blocks away to make some calls she couldn't make from her own apartment.

When she left her bedroom, Riza wasn't surprised to see Edward and Winry, sharing the couch. What did startle her was that they were still asleep. So much for breakfast being ready when she returned. With a wry smile, Riza clipped a leash to Black Hayate's collar, leaving a note behind on the bathroom sink to let them know she'd gone out. Adjusting the back holster for her pistol, she slipped a raincoat over the top to hide it.

The streets were as bad as she'd expected, which made it both better and worse. Riza chirruped at Black Hayate when he hesitated at the rain still falling. "You need to go," she told him. With a sigh that sounded almost as long-suffering as one Havoc would make, Black Hayate stepped out from under the apartment building's awning. There weren't many people out in this weather; less eyes to see her walking her dog. If nothing else, Black Hayate gave her an excellent excuse to be out, but because the rain kept others inside, she and her dog were that much more noticeable. She didn't carry an umbrella – she always kept a hand free for her pistol, in case she needed it. A little weather wouldn't do much more to dampen her spirits, at any rate.

Black Hayate paused, sniffing at the wet sidewalk, then, his ears drooping, he hopped off the curb, over the water rushing alongside it. He defecated in the road, then minced back over the wet street before jumping back onto the sidewalk with her. "Good boy," Riza praised, earning a flip of Black Hayate's ears. He marked a few lampposts as they continued their wet walk. Riza wished she'd thought to wear a head scarf, at least. Rain trickled down the back of her neck and along her spine, tickling the still-sensitive scar tissue on her back.

The baker opened the door to her shop, letting the warm scent of fresh bread escape into the damp air. Riza thought she'd stop by on her way back to the apartment. She could appreciate the desire to stay in on such a wet day. Shivering as another drop sped down her back, Riza let out a sigh of relief at the sight of the telephone booth. She opened the door, sending Black Hayate inside, and grimacing when he took the drier space as an invitation to shake his thick coat, splattering the entire inside of the booth. "Sit!"

The dog dropped instantly, then started licking his front paws to dry them off. That would keep him occupied for a bit. Riza reached under her raincoat, pulling out a scrap of paper and dialing the number off of it. The rotary dial clicked softly as it accepted each digit, and, a few seconds later, the connection was made with the ringing on the other end.

An unfamiliar voice came on the line. "Armstrong residence."

"Yes, good morning." Riza pitched her voice higher than her normal speaking range, adding a chirp to it. "May I speak to Major Armstrong, please?"

The hesitation barely lasted the tick of a second hand, but Riza heard it, her spine stiffening in reaction. "Whom may I say is calling?" the man on the other end of the line asked.

Without pausing, Riza answered, "Winry, um, Winry Rockbell, sir!" Winry's relationship with the Elric brothers wasn't particularly common knowledge, at least outside Colonel Mustang's team, but, as Major Armstrong had accompanied Edward and Alphonse to Risembool, he'd obviously been introduced to Winry.

"One moment, Miss Rockbell." The line hissed while she waited, and finally, there was a clatter, letting her know someone had picked up the receiver on the other end.

"Miss Rockbell?" Relief colored the major's voice.

"Yes, sir," Riza chirruped, trusting Armstrong to hear through her vocal disguise.

"I am glad to hear from you, Miss Rockbell. Are you well?" Something clacked twice on the receiver, the faintly metallic noise letting Riza know that Major Armstrong recognized her.

"Yes, sir, thank you for asking!" The lie came all too easily. "I was wondering, if it isn't too much trouble, if we could meet later today? There's so much I need to tell you." In case the Armstrong's telephone lines were tapped, Riza didn't want to give out too much information.

"Of course, Miss Rockbell. There's a little café on Willow Street. Would you like to meet me there for lunch?"

"That would be wonderful." 'Lunch' was a vague enough term to keep people guessing, and Riza knew there were at least eight cafés on Willow. "Do you think the Brigadier General could join us?"

There was only one Brigadier General whom both Winry and Major Armstrong knew personally, and Riza knew the major was quick enough to get what she was telling him: meet her at Hughes's grave.

"I will ask him, Miss Rockbell," Armstrong said. "Until lunch."

"Yes, sir, have a good morning!" She replaced the receiver in its cradle, and leaned down to pet Black Hayate's wet ears. "I think we have a plan," she told her dog. Tongue lolling out, Black Hayate rubbed his cheek against her fingers. "Let's go back home." Pushing open the door, Riza arranged her raincoat, hoping that it might protect her neck a little bit more this time.

X X X

The sumptuous bedroom made Alphonse feel kind of like he'd woken up in some romantic movie plot. If he was a woman in such a room, he'd half-expect a man to swoop through the door, and loom over the bed, asking solicitous questions while projecting the air of a predator.

"Geeze," he muttered to himself, "no wonder Ed hates those kinds of movies." Twisting slightly on the bed, Alphonse thought the feather mattress might swallow him whole. If he could stay in bed all day, it wouldn't be a problem, but his bladder had kicked into action, and he needed to use the water closet. The question was, with the size of the room, could he make it across without calling for help? And, even if he did yell, was there anyone around to hear him?

Well, there was Paninya, but Alphonse squirmed at the idea of asking her to help him to the w.c. It just seemed wrong. Sure, he would've asked Winry in a heart beat, but she was different. Yeah, Winry was cute and all, and he'd fought Edward for the right to marry her, but that was back when they were little kids. Now, after watching his brother and Winry, and the way they acted around each other, he knew he really didn't stand a chance. That was okay, though; Alphonse had noticed there were a lot of other girls out there, just as cute as Winry, and not quite as taken with his brother.

Edging carefully toward the side of the bed, Alphonse turned sideways, setting his feet on the floor. His legs looked like twigs, barely able to support him. He knew they would, but they'd shake, and that made it hard to walk. His feet sank into the plush rug next to the bed, and Alphonse windmilled his arms, trying to keep his balance. Grabbing the mattress, he held on until he was steady, then reached out for the corner of the bedside table. He could do this, without anyone's help.

Using the wall and pieces of furniture to keep his balance, Alphonse tottered across the room, hoping he'd make it to the water closet before he lost control of his bladder. It seemed even farther away now that he was walking than when he was on the bed. Stupid bladder. Stupid Armstrongs, with their huge bodies that needed such monstrous rooms. His bony fingers touched the door frame and Alphonse let out a huff of relief. He made it through the door, made use of the facilities, and rested there for a few minutes before cleaning up. A heavy sigh escaped him as he contemplated walking all the way back to his bed, especially without breakfast.

A knock startled him, making him grab for the door frame again. "Who is it?"

"Alex Louis Armstrong, with breakfast," boomed through the door.

"Oh, come in, sir!" Alphonse sagged against the wall as the door opened, Major Armstrong bursting through.

"I hope you are hungry, Alphonse Elric," he said, a large tray of food balanced on the fingertips of his free hand. The other held the door open. "Miss Dhiri will be eating with you, I presume?"

Alphonse hoped he wasn't blushing. "Uh," he said.

"Have a seat, Alphonse Elric, and I will ask her to breakfast." Major Armstrong set the tray down on a little table with a flourish, spinning back out of the room. Alphonse gritted his teeth at how easily the major moved. It really sucked, being like this. He didn't want his armor suit back, no, but having a healthy body that didn't need to be carried and cosseted would be amazing.

He'd barely made it halfway over to the table when Paninya and Major Armstrong came through the door. The first thing he noticed was Paninya's hair was down, and just managed to frame her face, softening it, and making her seem…something he couldn't quite figure out, but he liked it. She was wearing a robe over her pajamas, and still, Alphonse found himself searching for the curves he knew had to be there. She was looking back at him, he realized, and he really, really hoped the heat he felt on his face wasn't showing up. "Uh, morning?"

"Hi," she croaked, rubbing her eyes and managing a sleepy smile that broadened. "Mm, Major Armstrong, breakfast smells so good!"

"I am glad you approve, Miss Dhiri," Major Armstrong said. He offered Alphonse his elbow to help him to the table, just as he offered Paninya his arm, too. Alphonse ducked his head, hiding his smile at the kindness. They made their way to the table at a pace easy for Alphonse, and Major Armstrong let him sit while he pulled out a second chair for Paninya. Removing the covers from the dishes, Major Armstrong said, "I cooked lighter fare, considering your condition, Alphonse. Dr. Anderson approved of the foods here before you."

There was fresh watermelon, and bananas, and soft boiled eggs, with lightly toasted bread. Major Armstrong poured them each a glass of milk, making Alphonse smile again, thinking of how Edward would've ranted if he'd been here with them. Paninya spread a napkin over her lap, grinning across the table at Alphonse. Major Armstrong served them each some eggs and fruit, setting a slice of toast on each of their plates. As Alphonse picked up his fork, Major Armstrong turned to him. "I have good news for you, Alphonse. Your brother and Miss Rockbell are safe."

For a few seconds, Alphonse only heard a ringing in his ears. A stupid, goofy grin had to be spreading across his face. "Really? Where are they? Did they call you? Did you talk to them? When can I see them?"

Moustache twitching, Major Armstrong said, "Very soon. They are with First Lieutenant Hawkeye, and she will be bringing them here. Additionally, Dr. Anderson will be by later today, to take a look at you." Giving Alphonse a long once-over, Major Armstrong said, almost to himself, "You could possibly use a good bath."

A bath. Oh, the idea sounded absolutely amazing. Alphonse thought he might melt in his chair at the idea of it. Blinking back the tears suddenly blurring his eyes, he said, "Yes, I'd like that," and had to cough to clear his throat of the sudden emotion threatening to overwhelm him.

"Are you okay, Al?" Paninya reached across the table, her warm fingers closing gently over his wrist, anchoring him to the here and now.

Managing a watery smile for her, Alphonse said, "Yeah. After yesterday, everything's looking so much better."

X X X

Rain without thunder and lightning bored Kimblee. He knew how useful it was, rainfall; he'd studied weather at his master's insistence, back when he was training to become an alchemist. Without the fireworks, it simply wasn't distracting enough. He rubbed his chin, staring out the window of his rented room. There were people out there, walking in the rain. A fortunate few carried umbrellas, but those weren't the ones Kimblee watched. Those people without umbrellas, running along the streets with soggy newspapers, or wet hats over their heads, they caught his attention, making him wonder if they'd paid any attention to the atmospheric conditions of the night before.

Neither that entertainment, nor the young lady who'd joined him in his room last night, distracted him from the events at the hospital yesterday afternoon. He'd had to beg off to the young woman, though, truly, all he'd wanted from her was an evening of conversation and a lovely meal. As it was, Kimblee had been as charming as he could to 'Miss Winry', and sent her on her way, far earlier than he had wanted.

Riza Hawkeye had spoiled his afternoon's entertainment, and had to pay for that. Kimblee knew he shouldn't obsess over it, but it was difficult to keep from mulling it over. He needed to find Edward and Alphonse Elric. They were no longer in the hospital, and had obviously gone to earth somewhere. There were too many places in Central where they could hide out, and there was always their access to the trains entering and leaving the city.

Making his decision, Kimblee rose to his feet. He needed to get to Central City headquarters and speak to Archer. He couldn't let the Elric brothers escape. Unlike Scar, they had allies across the eastern part of Amestris, and it would be far easier for them to vanish.

Though, he had to admit, if only to himself, tracking them would be glorious.

X X X

Winry woke to a tongue licking her fingers, muttering, "Cut it out, Den," and pulled her hand back sharply. Her elbow stabbed into something that gave only a little, letting out a loud, "Oof!" Opening her eyes fully, Winry saw the black and white face of Miss Riza's dog, not Den. Her eyes stung at the realization that Den wouldn't ever be licking her fingers again.

As she twisted sideways, Edward swore behind her. "Dammit, Winry, stop wiggling!"

Something hard pressed into her backside that didn't feel like automail, and reminded her of a very cold night in the Briggs Mountains. Squeezing her eyes shut, Winry clenched her hands into fists, trying to stay in control. She still couldn't keep a squeak from escaping. Winry rolled off the couch, landing on her knees, sending the little dog scrambling out of the way.

"Hey, are you okay?" Edward asked, sleep-rough but alarmed. He touched her shoulder as he sat up, the light-weight blanket falling off him to land in a puddle between them. His feet hit the floor, and Winry thought, stupidly, that his toes were cute. Slapping her hands over her face, she reminded herself she'd made five of those toes. "Winry?"

"I'm okay," she said through her hands. "It's just." Words failed her.

Edward slipped off the couch to sit next to her, patting her head, then sliding his hand down to the back of her neck, pulling her against him. Winry went with a sigh, pressing her face against his shoulder. Muttering, "Don't cry," Edward put his arm around her. "Please don't cry."

She sniffed. "I won't." There'd been enough tears. Pulling back, Winry dredged up a smile for Edward.

He met her eyes, searching them, seeming satisfied by what he saw there, because he nodded. His hand slid up her back to her shoulder, and he caught hold of a strand of her hair, wrapping it around his fingers. The black dog pushed his way between them, licking Winry's cheek and whining. "Hey!" Edward said, letting go of Winry's hair so he didn't pull it. "You're all wet." He wrinkled his nose. "And stink."

"Black Hayate's had a long walk this morning," Miss Riza said, peering around the corner at them. "Are you two ready for breakfast?"

"Yeah," Edward said, "thanks." He scrubbed his hand through his hair, looking down between his knees, then nudged Winry with his flesh foot. "Do you need to go use?" he tilted his head toward the water closet.

"Thanks, Ed, I do." She put a hand on his shoulder and leaned in, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thanks."

He blushed bright red. "Yeah, uh." Reaching up, his hand covered hers for a second, then he let her go. "Uh," Edward cleared his throat. "Is there anything I can do to help, Lieutenant Hawkeye?"

"You could set the table," Miss Riza said.

Winry used the couch to help lever herself up, offering Edward a hand. He took it without complaining, standing with her help. His calloused fingers moved over hers, a quick caress, before heading for the tiny kitchen. Winry watched his hair, loose and messy, swaying past his shoulders. Inhaling, she made herself turn away and head for the w.c. She had the feeling it was going to be another long day, and she needed to make herself ready for it.

The smell of breakfast and Edward's yelp brought her out of the room a few seconds later. "He's where?"

Miss Riza beckoned Winry to join them at the table. Edward practically vibrated in place with his need to move. "I was telling Edward that Alphonse is with Major Armstrong."

"So, he's okay?" Winry sat down, looking between them, but focusing on Miss Riza.

She nodded. "We will be going to him as soon as we've finished breakfast. Not sooner, Edward," she added, as he started to get to his feet. "You need to eat."

"But he's okay."

Winry asked, "And Paninya?" at the same time.

"Paninya?" Miss Riza's brow creased.

"The little thief. She was with Al." Edward picked up a fork, stabbing a sausage patty and putting it on a piece of bread. "She's helped us in the past," he said grudgingly.

"She's my friend," Winry added. "She came from Risembool with me."

"If she was with Alphonse, Major Armstrong would have taken care of her, as well," Miss Riza said, but the furrow in her brow deepened.

Winry stared into her empty plate, her stomach curdling with the thought that Paninya might not be okay. Something bumped her shin, and she dropped her gaze down further, expecting to see Edward's retreating foot. Instead, Black Hayate gave her a doggy grin.

A sausage patty landed on her plate, startling her. Edward narrowed his eyes at her, trying to tell her something without words. He said, "Eat something, Winry," but even his tone of voice sounded off.

Dully, she picked up her fork and cut into the patty. "Thank you for breakfast, Miss Riza."

"Yeah, thanks, First Lieutenant."

Her answering smile didn't reach her eyes. "It's my pleasure," she said. "But eat up quickly. We need to move soon."

Winry reached across the table, touching Miss Riza's hand. "And thanks for everything. I know we're a lot of trouble."

Miss Riza blinked, and this time, her smile warmed her face. "You two are far less trouble than you think." She got up from the table, putting her dishes in the sink and rinsing them.

"I'll wash while Ed gets ready," Winry said, hopping up. The sausage sat heavy in her belly.

"They can wait, Winry. We really don't have a lot of time. You can change in my bedroom."

Something in her voice made Edward's spine straighten, and he shoved the last piece of toast, chewing quickly. "Right," he said, when his mouth was clear. "We'll be ready in a few minutes." He glanced at Winry. "Maybe I'd better transmute your clothes into something else. All that black stands out."

Chewing on her lip, Winry glanced between them, anxiety warring with the sausage in her stomach. "Do you need me to hold the paper again?" Edward's wry grin was her answer, and Winry set her dishes in the sink and rinsed her hands. "All right. Let's do this."

X X X

"Sir," Captain Williams said, poking his head through the door, "you have a call on line one. Major Kimblee."

Archer looked up from his newspaper, snapping it and folding it before picking up the receiver and punching the button. "Archer."

"Good morning, Major General." Kimblee's voice oozed through the telephone line.

"Good morning, Major. To what do I owe this early call?" He glanced toward the window, wondering if it might stop raining sometime today. The overhang of grey clouds made him think not.

"Were you aware of what happened at the military hospital yesterday?"

"It was all over the radio," Archer said dryly. "You called requesting soldiers accompany you to collect the Flame Alchemist. Instead, he died, and six soldiers, as well. The count is still coming in on those who were harmed or killed in the blast." He took a steadying breath. "What did you have to do with it?"

"I was a bystander." Kimblee's smile shone through the telephone lines.

"I am finding that hard to believe, but go on." Picking up a pencil, Archer began writing notes on a pad.

"I believe my actions will exonerate me, Major General. The men I called to the hospital stopped the Flame Alchemist from destroying the block."

Their deaths were inconsequential, obviously. The corner of Archer's mouth quirked down. There had been some amount of damage at the hospital, involving both an explosion and fire. None of his research, superficial as it had been so far, indicated that Mustang had knowledge of explosive alchemy. The combustible effect, however, had to be taken into account. "I see."

"Without their assistance, things would have been much worse, Major General." Kimblee's voice held a reassuring note.

Archer was not assured, however. "Civilians were killed."

"The Flame Alchemist is not the hero people believe him to be."

And Kimblee presented a danger, himself, though Archer kept that to himself for the moment.

Kimblee cleared his throat softly. "There is the matter of the Fullmetal Alchemist."

"Not involved in Ishbal."

"No," Kimblee purred, "but he was involved in the coup against Fuhrer Bradley."

Archer leaned back in his chair, considering. From what he'd read about Edward Elric, aside from being the youngest State Alchemist, he had something of a reputation – in that, no matter whether citizens had a favorable opinion of him or not, they all agreed he was fair, and tried his best. Since the eclipse, the normal people looked at the military dogs in a darker light. "From the sketchy reports I've read, he was instrumental on making sure that creature known as 'Father' was defeated."

Silence rang through the line, and then, Kimblee asked in a low voice, "Are you sure you want to take the risk?"

He closed his eyes, weighing the consequences. "What are you proposing?"

"He and his brother have disappeared. They need to be detained. Protective custody, if you will, that should soothe anyone who might believe they should remain free."

"And what of Major Armstrong? There was a report he was at the hospital yesterday, helping to contain the fires." Armstrong had been sent home from Ishbal, unable to cope with the horrors of war. 'Soldier's heart', they called it, but it put a blemish on the man's career. What sort of soldier couldn't kill?

"The Strongarm Alchemist," Kimblee said, drawing out each syllable in a mocking tone. "He did kill in Ishbal, you are aware of that, aren't you, Major General? It's just that he didn't have a taste for it. He tried to save the hostiles rather than obliterate them." He clucked his tongue. "Such a waste of his talent. Still, what he did not do in Ishbal, he did here in Central – he was part of the coup, as well."

Public sentiment, particularly in light of yesterday's explosion, probably flowed in Kimblee's direction. People, though, were fickle, and that meant Archer wanted to tread carefully. He didn't want to alienate these people he'd been assigned to lead, at least at this moment, possibly for some time. "There will be hearings," he said.

"Hearings are all well and good while someone is in custody, but when they've vanished," Kimblee sighed.

"Have they vanished?"

"They didn't leave a forwarding address from the hospital, nor have they checked in at any other medical center in Central City." Somehow, Kimblee managed to say it with just the right touch of sarcasm.

Archer scribbled another note on his pad. "Are you offering to hunt them down?"

"I do have some tracking skills," Kimblee said, and Archer could imagine him buffing his nails on the lapel of his white jacket. "Not to mention, I am personally aware of many of their local allies."

"I'll assign you a team of ten soldiers." One more note. "Come by my office, and I'll give you the script. In the mean time, I'll have someone alert the police and the train station."

"Thank you, sir. I will be by later to pick up my orders. Have a good day, Major General."

"Thank you, Major Kimblee." Archer replaced the receiver in its cradle, and folded his hands together, tapping them against his mouth. What in hell had he gotten himself into with this man?

X X X

"I can't believe it."

Captain Corimor looked over the rims of her glasses at the man in her doorway. "Believe what, sergeant?"

"News just came in over the wire, Cap." Sergeant Blocker waved a piece of paper at his captain. "Yesterday, the Flame Alchemist attacked that hospital, and killed those soldiers." His mouth turned down, his moustache emphasizing the moue. "Today, we get an alert to be on the lookout for the Fullmetal Alchemist, that he's wanted for questioning."

Adjusting the glasses, she held out her hand for the paper in Blocker's hand. He passed it over, and Corimor read it over, twice, her eyebrows slowly climbing throughout the second read. "So, we're to be on lookout for a young man with a ponytail, missing an arm." She let out a low whistle. "Guess it won't be too hard to find someone like that." Handing the note back, Corimor said, "Get the word out, Blocker. Let the staff know. And remind them, alchemists are tricky, and State Alchemists." She made a face.

"Got it, Cap." Blocker tapped his finger against his forehead in a kind of an abbreviated salute.

Corimor nodded, going back to her report, her nose buried in paper again.

Blocker watched her for a few seconds before heading out of her office, whistling under his breath. He walked down the hallway, nodding at a couple of officers as they walked by. Pausing at the staff desk, he said, "Going on a break," and picked up his cigarettes and lighter.

Downstairs, it was a little quieter, and he lit up a cigarette while sitting down at an unused desk. Blocker took a drag, inhaling deeply, letting the smoke fill his lungs before he exhaled. He picked up the telephone receiver and dialed a number from memory.

A nasal, bored, feminine voice said, "Central City Times, your news is our news, how may I direct your call?"

Blocker smiled. "Patch me through to Larkins. Tell him I've got a hot tip."

X X X