Chapter 8
…and there is no greater disaster than greed. – Lao-Tzu
))OO((
The headlines of the East City Times screamed about the record snowfall in the city. The radio reported nothing but warnings on the snow, that everyone should stay inside or go out as little as possible, and be careful of ice. So far, no power lines seemed to be down, but more snow was possible, despite the faint hint of sunshine making the snow outside glow brilliantly.
William read through the paper a second time, gritting his teeth. He found no record commemorating his contribution to Mrs. Rockbell's clinic. There was nothing to indicate anyone had even noticed.
Flinging the paper across the table, William watched the pages flutter, covering his breakfast like snow blanketing the ground outside. "Where is it?" He grabbed a handful of pages, scanning them, seeing nothing regarding the alchemist, his brother, or a body. Shredding the paper, William flung the bits in the air, scraps falling around his wife's shoulders and into her coffee. "Why isn't it here?"
His wife flinched at each piece of paper fluttering onto her. "What isn't there, William?" Her words trembled, like her hand, as she reached for her cup of coffee.
He touched her hair and she dropped the cup back on the saucer with a 'click'. Sifting through the strands, William wondered when it had started fading from the rich auburn it had been when they'd first met. Silver threaded through the red, fading and dulling it. William twisted his fingers, making his wife's mouth open in silent protest. Tears spangled her lashes, bright as morning dew.
"The headlines." William gave her head a shake. "Where are the headlines?" Shoving her face into her plate, he turned away from her. "I gave her everything. Everything. My money removed every obstacle from her path and she doesn't even notice. What does she see? That Fullmetal bastard. An alchemist. He's never had any hardship, never had to work to achieve anything. Travels around the country and beyond." Sneering, he glanced at his wife, at the food dripping off her face. She froze as she realized William was watching her.
He threw a napkin at her face. "Clean yourself up." Sighing, William ruffled the hair up on the back of his neck. "I don't understand. Why can't you be like Winry? She's so vibrant. So knowledgeable."
Her face relatively clean, she cleared her throat, a quiet little bark of a sound. "What's going to happen to me, William?"
"You?" He waved a hand. "You'll retire to the country. The air is better suited for you, I think. I'll make arrangements for you to leave." The soft noises of her rearranging her silverware reminded him of the bell on that damned dog's collar. "Where is Poopsy?"
Her shoulders tensed. "He ran away."
"Did he?" William took two strides across the room to grab her chin, forcing her to look up at him. "When did that happen?"
"Y-yesterday. Before it started snowing." The words twisted her mouth into funny shapes.
He squeezed her chin tighter. "You didn't tell me."
"I – Will-em, you're hurt-ing me."
"Why didn't you tell me? Didn't you think I'd want to know? I bought you that dog, remember?" Her skin under his fingers blazed white. "It was a special gift. Why did you let it run away?"
"I di'n't!" Her mouth was twisted in a funny 'o' shape.
"Then why isn't it here?" William dug his fingernails into her soft skin.
"R-ran 'way!"
William shoved her, sending her sailing backward in her chair. She squealed as she crashed on the floor. "Ran away. Ran away! I don't believe you!" He stood over her. At least the red under the back of her head stained her hair back to its original color. She squirmed between his legs, her face screwed up. Her fingers came away blushed from the blood spreading across the floor. "That dog was too stupid to run away, just like you. Where is it?"
"Gone!" She grunted when he stomped his heel into her thigh.
"Gone where?"
"Gone!" Her eyes widened as William raised his foot again. "I swear, he's gone!" Tears flooded her eyes, streaming through her crow's feet.
"Why'd you let him go? Where'd he go?" He stomped again, hearing her scream. It wasn't enough. It'd never be enough. But she had to learn that his possessions stayed his.
))OO((
The noises had been going on for some time, though not quite loud enough to drag Edward from his sleep. Soft shuffling sounds, faraway clatters, whispers – none of that seemed quite worthwhile of his attention. Besides, he was caught up in a dream he really liked, surrounded by a warm, familiar scent. He wanted to bury his face in his pillow and just ignore the faint hint of dawn.
"That has got to be the most disgustingly cute thing I've ever seen."
Mustang? What the hell was the bastard doing in his dream? Edward rooted his nose deeper into his pillow. If he ignored the bastard, maybe he'd go away.
Giggles erupted around him, making Edward wonder what was going on. But sleep! Uninterrupted…okay, so it wasn't being uninterrupted any more. He clung to it tenaciously. Seemed like it'd been a long time since he'd slept so well.
"On a staircase? Fullmetal, please tell me you got her to a room – ouch!"
More, louder giggles and another complaint from Mustang. Edward gave up his dream, slitting one eye open. Mustang and Hawkeye stood on the floor at the foot of the staircase, two kids, still in pajamas, giggling next to them. The little girl had her head craned back, obviously laughing at her mother smacking her father on the back of the head, if Hawkeye's upraised hand and Mustang's wince meant anything. The little boy watched Edward closely through squinched up eyes.
Grant. Maizy. Edward's sluggish morning brain supplied the kids' names. Winry. Winry! He sat up, fighting off the thing cover his shoulders. "Where's Winry?" Hadn't she been sitting with him? Oh, fuck. Where was she?
"In bed," Grant piped up. He pointed at Edward. "Why're you wearin' a lady's housecoat?"
Edward jerked at the thing on his shoulders, realizing that he'd been using Winry's housecoat, half as a pillow, half as a blanket. "Uh."
"Yes, Edward, please explain that. Particularly when Mrs. Rockbell was last seen wearing said housecoat." Mustang showed that smirk that always made Edward want to punch him. Hard.
Instead, Edward offered Mustang a toothy smile in return, stretching his arms above his head and using that momentum to get to his feet. He was mature enough to ignore the Fuhrer bastard, after all. Waving a lazy hand at the children, he said, "Not in front of the kids," and, tossing the housecoat over his shoulder, turned and started back up the stairs. The brilliance outside caught his attention and Edward paused on the landing, blinking at the expanse of white beyond the window. "Hey, Mustang. Snowball fight after breakfast. I'm handing you your ass." Before Mustang could reply, he'd raced up the rest of the stairs, the cheers of the kids echoing in his ears.
))OO((
The pencil scribbled across the paper, a wriggling line of words. Paul Gerdello leaned back in his chair, the springs squealing in protest at the movement. He tapped the eraser against his mouth, flipped through a few pages of his notebook. Sometimes, if you looked back at earlier impressions, it gave you a clue you missed the first time. Paul popped the pencil in his mouth. Didn't seem like his luck was running good today.
Sighing, Paul turned to a blank page, doodling a flower, followed by a sketch of his coffee cup. That reminded him it needed to be refilled but the swill here at the station almost wasn't worth drinking. He wondered what his family was doing now – playing in the snow? The kids were still young enough they might like it. Too bad there weren't more hills in town, so they could go sliding.
"Hey, Gerdello, didja hear? There're some alchemists in town, cleaning the streets." Murphy rapped his hairy knuckles on a corner of Paul's desk. "They've made some plows, too, following up. Man, it's gonna be a mess when all that snow melts. We're gonna be hip deep in mud."
Paul grunted in response, thinking his daughter would probably be trying to find flowers to throw in the alchemists' paths. "That's nice of them."
"Yeah." Murphy leaned his hip against the desk. "I thought alchemists were supposed to be scary and shit. That seems kind of normal, you know? Something a neighbor would do for you."
"Takes all kinds." Paul stuck his pencil back in his mouth, rolling it from side to side. He tapped his desk, drawing Murphy's attention when the man started to walk away. "What's the word on our guy? Pendergrast? Did the team call in yet?"
"Last call was everything's quiet at his place." Murphy snapped his fingers a couple of times, reaching into his pocket. "You did get a call from the military hotel. Something about a package?" He passed over a scrap of paper. "The manager wants a call, soon as you can. Something came in for one of those guys in the murder room."
"Could've given me this earlier, Murphy," Paul shouted after the man, getting an obscene gesture in response. Grumbling under his breath, he smoothed the rumpled piece of paper, squinting at the numbers. Was that a four or a nine? Getting up, he hesitated, reaching back to grab his notepad. Pencil firmly between his teeth, Gerdello made his way to the telephone banks. If he was lucky, Pendergrast had taken another step down the path to the noose and one little telephone call might confirm it.
Murphy waved at him about a half hour later. "What's up?"
Gerdello flopped into his chair, the springs groaning. "Something I gotta go do." He sighed, frowning at the top of his desk and the papers stacked upon it. "That's gotta be something weird, though."
"What?" Murphy took a slurp of coffee.
"Eh, nothing. I'll see you when I get back." Gerdello hauled himself to his feet. Tucking his notebook in his pocket, he made his way to the coathooks, picking out his heavy jacket. He dreaded going out in the snow, even if the roads were cleared. Alchemy wasn't natural. What if the snow suddenly reappeared? With a mental shake, he went to the car park to meet up with the sergeant driving him to the hotel. He'd see what the package was, first – the manager was too busy to speak to him, something about a rush of customers – and the young woman Gerdello had spoken with couldn't say anything about the package.
Soon enough, he'd know what was waiting at the hotel. And then, he'd contact the Elrics about it. Even if it did mean calling up General Hawkeye on Shortest Day.
))OO((
"I'm so tired." Edward dragged through the last bit of snow, eyes half-closed, looking ready to fall asleep on his feet.
Alphonse twitched. "This was your idea, Brother."
"Not mine!" He waved his right hand, the automail squealing softly. Stopping midwave, Edward stared at his wrist as if it had suddenly turned traitor. "Shit. More maintenance."
"I thought that's what you wanted, Fullmetal. Be sure and have her grease your pole while you're at it." Mustang somehow said it without sounding gloating. It didn't stop Edward from swinging around, thrusting that metal fist in the Fuhrer's face.
Alphonse decided he was too tired himself to get involved in this ongoing battle and continued up the walk to the General's house. Since he'd been rousted from the nice, warm bed he'd been sharing with Paninya this morning by the sound of the alarm bells from Edward's trap, he'd been using alchemy. First, to get rid of the traps, so Hayate and the kids could go outside and not be so wound up during the day. Then, because of his brother's brilliant idea, he, Edward and Roy had been clearing the streets of East City of snow.
And they couldn't just melt the snow, no, that would lead to ice. It had to be vaporized and Alphonse wasn't sure if that might meant there'd be more snow later or not. Havoc, Rebecca and Breda had rigged up some plows for some of the streets but the main thoroughfares, including the roads to the train station and the hospital, were cleaned of snow. Alphonse was pretty sure he didn't want to see the fluffy white stuff again for a while. Summer. High summer. Rush Valley even seemed like a good place to be right now.
Of course, the beautiful young woman swinging the door open, welcoming him home with her brilliant smile might not be so bad, either. "Al!"
"Hi, Paninya." He mustered an answering grin, looping his arm around her shoulders.
Despite her slender build, his lover was strong, and didn't seem to notice the extra weight except for a cheerful huff of air. "Tired?"
"You have no idea. I think Brother and Roy are going to have a fight in the front yard, too." Alphonse pushed the door closed. "They can have it. I'm cold. And hungry." His stomach growled, almost as loud as Ed's usual rumble. "And I feel like a bath." Alphonse gave her a look. "And maybe a nice nap afterward."
"You do know Ed promised the kids a snowball fight?" Paninya chortled at his expression. "I guess you didn't."
Alphonse swung back to the door, reaching for the knob. "I'm going to kill him. Forget Roy. That's my brother. I call dibs."
"Oh, no, Al." Paninya grabbed his elbow. "Save that passion for later. Let the Fuhrer deal with your brother...and the kids…and Winry." She gave him a smile that warmed most of him very nicely. "You can work out your problems with me." There was no innocence in that leer.
Alphonse felt something else heat up at the implications. "Well," he began.
The door slammed open, a gust of wind chilling Alphonse where he stood. "Out of the way!" Roy shouted, shoving Al and Paninya ahead of him.
Alphonse barely had time to right himself so he wouldn't crash into Paninya, seeing a hand made of snow reaching through the door. "Ed!"
His brother's evil cackle rang through the foyer. "Take that, you bastard!"
"Edward!"
Everything froze at that whip crack voice. Cautiously, Alphonse raised his head, seeing Riza on the staircase, Winry a few steps above her. Maizy and Grant stuck their faces against the banister railings, grins looping up in delight at the snow hand reaching for Roy. Alphonse heard Roy sing song, "Someone's gonna get it," not quite under his breath.
"Snow does not belong in the house." Riza took two steps down. "I would thank you to remove it immediately. And clean up any drips and mud tracks on my floor." The slightest pause. "Now."
"But Mo-ooom," Maizy wheedled. "Snow!"
"Snow belongs outside," Grant said, a scowl on his face.
"Snow!" Maizy hopped down two steps to reach her mother. "We can go out and play, huh?"
The expression on Riza's face would've made Alphonse's heart stop if it was directed at him. Fortunately, his brother was outside and therefore oblivious. "Yes. Yes, Maizy, that's an excellent idea. Take your father and Alphonse with you."
"What? Wait! This wasn't my idea!" Alphonse yelped.
Riza's response was to look down her nose at Alphonse. Beside him, Roy shuffled his feet. "Yes, dear," he sighed. "Come along, Alphonse. All alchemists are being punished today."
"But I did good! I cleaned streets!" Alphonse set his jaw stubbornly. "Riza, this isn't fair. Blame the idiots, not me." He ignored Roy's hiss of disgust and Paninya's snicker.
"Oi. There's a snow thing in the way," Havoc called from outside the house.
"And it's melting, Edward." Riza came the rest of the way down the stairs, far too fluid for Alphonse to call it a rush. "I want it removed from my foyer."
"Yeah, okay," Edward called from outside, and Alphonse caught a whiff of ozone and that weird, bell-like tone that accompanied his brother's alchemic transmutations. The hand retreated out the door – not without making a grab for Roy, who cursed and slipped in a puddle on the marble floor. "Oops!" Not surprisingly, Edward didn't sound at all apologetic.
Roy picked himself up, growling. Maizy finished her run down the stairs to plow into her father, still on the floor, laughing in delight. "Snow, Daddy! Let's go play in the snow. Mom said."
Paninya tweaked Alphonse's bangs. "I guess fun times first then fun times later?" Her smile broadened into a leer.
"You're on my team, right?" Alphonse gave her his best pleading eyes.
"Where else? I have to save that cute butt of yours." She patted it and laughed at his expression. "C'mon, Al. Let's go whip up on your brother."
"Gladly." Alphonse smiled at Grant as he joined them tentatively. "You want to be on our team, Grant?"
"No!" Maizy's face twisted. "Grant's on my team."
"Why?" Grant stuck out his lower lip. "Maybe I want to be with Paninya."
"Then she can be on my team, too!"
"And then who would you throw snowballs at?" Grant wanted to know.
Maizy considered, her face still formed in a pout. "Daddy!"
"Oh, no, no, I'm on your team, sweetheart," Roy reminded, setting his daughter on the floor so he could get up. "Unless," he flashed a smirk toward Riza, eyebrows wagging, "I'm on your mother's team and I don't have to play in the snow."
Riza didn't rise to the bait. "You're playing in the snow. Go on, get outside." She made a shooing motion. "Take Hayate with you." Considering for a split second, Riza added, "Make sure you clean up the yard afterward. Do not leave any towering castles of snow, Roy. Alphonse, be sure to tell Edward."
"Like he'll listen," Paninya took Grant's hand and led him to the mud room, grabbing outerwear for them.
"He will if Winry's going outside." Alphonse gave her a charming, albeit wicked, smile. Winry cocked a cool eyebrow up in response.
"Oh, yes, we all know how Edward will react to that." Roy's grin wasn't charming at all.
"Shut up, Roy." Winry didn't even bother looking his way, her steady gaze focused on Alphonse.
"Are you gonna come play, too, Aunt Winry?" Maizy ran to the stairs. "C'mon! It'll be fun. You can be on me and Daddy's team."
"Oh, yes, please, Winry, do be on our team." The way Roy's teeth glittered at that idea reminded Alphonse of Greed's smiles. He had to shake off a shudder.
Winry wagged a finger at Roy. "I have to make pies for later tonight. If you want apple pie, you'll have to understand I'm not playing in the snow."
"And I'll need help in the kitchen, too." Riza gave Winry a proprietary look. "If we're all going to eat tonight. You can have Rebecca in Winry's place."
"I heard that, Riza!" Rebecca hollered in the door. "I'm not some second place, fill in the gap type!"
"You can't cook anyway, Rebecca," Riza waved off that protest. "You might as well stay outside and watch the children." Her gimlet eye focused on Roy. "All of them."
Winry rubbed her chin, her brow furrowing. "Is it…a good idea for Grant to be outside?" She looked from Riza to Alphonse. "I mean…I just get worried."
"It'll be okay, Winry. We won't let him out of our sight." Alphonse couldn't resist, brushing his fingers across her cheek, slipping a strand of her hair back behind her ear. Huh. No earrings. He wondered if Edward had noticed, forgetting that thought when he realized Winry was smiling at him. Unable to stop the grin spreading over his own face in return, he said, "I promise, nothing will happen to him."
"Not with three alchemists, two sharp shooters and a young woman with a cannon in her knee, no." Riza patted Winry's shoulder. "Let him have some fun. It'll wear him out for later."
Grant protested loudly. "I'm not gonna be worn out! It's Longest Night! I'm gonna stay up and hear all the stories and drink Great Granny's cider!"
"All the stories?" Roy disappeared into the mud room long enough to grab jackets and boots. "Here, Maizy. Can you put these on yourself?" He handed her the boots and, at her affirmative hum, turned back to Grant. "I'm not sure if you're allowed to hear all the stories."
"How about most of the stories?" Paninya offered. "I'll bet Ed and Al have some good ones from Xing. Don't you, Al?"
"I," Alphonse felt his smile falter. "I heard some good ones." He wondered if his voice sounded strange to anyone else. A warm hand touched his shoulder and Alphonse looked to see Winry's concerned frown. "Ran Fan told them to me." He wondered at her expression and forced a little grin in response. "But if we're going to have a snowball fight, I guess we'd better get out there, huh, Paninya?" Giving Winry's fingers a quick pat, Alphonse went to his lover, wrapping his arms around her waist. She giggled, rubbing her nose against his jaw. "Fun times now, fun times later," he whispered in her ear.
"Eww." Grant crinkled his nose. "Mom, make them stop!"
"Why? I think it's sweet." Winry followed them to the door. "You have fun." She looked at Roy and Maizy. "You, too."
"Oh, I'm planning on thrashing Fullmetal," Roy gloated, rubbing his hands together.
"Dad! Play nice, like Mom always says!" Maizy tilted her indignant glare up at her father, tugging at his pants leg.
"Yes, sweetheart," Roy said through his teeth. He poked at Alphonse's shoulder. "Help me, Alphonse, and I'll give you whatever you want. A seat in the senate, your own county, you name it."
"Daddy!" Maizy socked him in the thigh, making him hop on one foot. "Mommy says not to bribe people!"
Paninya flashed Alphonse a grin as Roy groaned and limped into the yard full of drifts. "Hey, bastard!" Something whizzed across the lawn, striking Roy in the chest and sending him into a bank of snow. "Thought you'd like to see what I did with that spring trap you tripped last night." Edward's pleased grin at his transmuted catapult turned into a look of horror as Roy rose out of the snow, fingers flexing. "Hey! No fire! Ah-ah-ah!"
Alphonse sighed, slapping a hand over his eyes. "Paninya, Grant, Maizy, tell me when it's over so I can scrape up the ashes of my brother for burial later."
))OO((
The telephone rang repeatedly at Winry's shop, making William wonder where she might be. It didn't seem she had a personal telephone, according to the operator, who couldn't find a listing for her under her name. He'd called the shop the first time around nine o'clock, when the radio announcer reported that alchemists were clearing the streets of snow. William later found the radio on the floor, shattered in pieces. "Did you do this?" He pointed at the flinders. "I needed this radio!"
His wife didn't answer. "Stupid cow." She still lay on the floor next to the table. Something would have to be done with her. The snow made it more difficult. Unless it started snowing again, he'd leave tracks. He could put her in the basement but she would eventually need to be moved from there. It would be best to deal with her now.
William considered dressing her then decided against it. His wife didn't deserve to wear clothing like Winry's. She'd been nothing but a drain all these years, siphoning off his money and his youth. Winry would understand, William knew; she wouldn't be like his wife. She would bring him back from the brink.
The window drew his attention again and William, with a long look out of it, realized why. The recently cleared roads offered him a better view of the world outside his home and the sight of a military police officer patrolling the street. That in and of itself wasn't unusual. Mayhugh Drive was a regular beat for the police and it would be considered strange not to see an officer walking the street at some point during the day. William couldn't remember ever seeing an officer on the street three times in less than two hours, though, and never could he remember an intense fascination with his own home. The officer outside stared openly at Pendergrast House.
William thought back to the other views outside his windows this morning. He'd glanced out the window from the bedroom – had he seen a flash of blue uniform then? Was his house – was he – under surveillance?
"This won't do." He smoothed his thumb over his moustache. "It won't do at all." William turned to his wife, studying her. She was no help. If she was still alive, he could call the hospital for an ambulance and use that confusion to slip away. Dead, she was no use whatsoever. If he contacted the hospital now, it would lead to questions of a nature he was not prepared to answer. If she'd fought back, perhaps he could say there had been a burglar, surprising them at breakfast, but William didn't fancy bruising himself, even for an alibi. Wounds gathered in the heat of battle were one thing. Deliberately inflicting pain on himself another.
Of course, that still left him with the problem of getting out of this house. He needed something to happen, something big enough to distract the officer and his neighbors – Mrs. Colbertson was such a nosy nellie – and allow him to slip away without being noticed.
William stared at the wall as he considered plans, discarding this one and that one, too risky, too noisy, too dangerous. The gaslight in front of him urged him on.
"Oh. Yes. How simple." He smiled. "I'll be in the basement if you need me," he told his wife as he passed her by. "Working. Don't bother getting up." The humor in that statement made William chuckle. "I think you'll like this," he called back, opening the door to the basement. Cool air swarmed out, almost like a ghostly embrace. "It'll all end with a bang."
))OO((