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Chapter 21

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The spicy scent of cinnamon wafted through the streets, catching the attention of the burly man padding through the streets. He paused, nose twitching and turned abruptly, backtracking the smell to a tiny bakery, redolent with breakfast breads. A plump young woman smiled up at him in delight.

"Morning, sir," she said, dimples flashing, "can I interest you in some fresh bread?"

His own face wasn't the kind made for smiling but Sig nodded to her politely. "I smelled cinnamon and my wife is fond of it in the morning."

"I have sweet rolls," the woman said, proudly displaying the sticky confections, "and cinnamon raisin bread, all fresh from the ovens. What would your wife prefer?"

They haggled cheerfully over the prices, Sig walking away with a cinnamon roll and two loaves of bread, carefully wrapped in newspapers. The scent tickled his nose, making his mouth water but he wouldn't eat until he'd checked in on Izumi at their hotel.

Running had never been part of their plans but when the military descended on Dublith trying to find the alchemist who'd rescued a fugitive, Sig and Izumi had to go into hiding. The newspaper crackled under Sig's clenching hands and he loosened his grip. It wouldn't do to take out his rage on the bread.

If only that kid hadn't shown up at Yock Island. Sig shook his head slightly in remembrance of the boy, who looked as if he could've been his and Izumi's son returned to life. He didn't like thinking about it; thinking about what the boy had become or how it had affected their lives afterwards.

She had a good heart, his wife, and she still regretted to this day that she'd lost their baby. What she did afterwards came out of grief and longing and Sig knew she didn't forgive herself for that, either. But she didn't let it rule her life, even if that boy had given her a glimmer of hope.

The hotel wasn't the best in town nor was it the worst and Sig entered it, nodding at the clerk behind the counter. They'd taken a room on the first floor – better escape routes, if it came to that – and Sig made his way down the corridor to their room. If Izumi still slept, she'd wake the instant he touched the doorknob so he knocked lightly before unlocking the door and entering the room.

"Fresh bread," he said, raising his bounty.

"Sounds wonderful, honey." She gave him a warm smile that belied her tension. Neither of them liked this wandering life. It wasn't that it was difficult; evading the military was something Izumi had trained for during her apprenticeship, inadvertently or not. But making their way in the cities of Amestris, where money was needed to survive, that cut closer to the bone.

"It smelled so good, it reminded me of that bakery where we bought our bread," Sig said, setting their breakfast on the table.

"Want me to get some tea from the café?" Izumi rose from the bed, her nightclothes slightly rumpled, her expression warm and open and sweeter than it would be the rest of the day. Sig truly loved his wife in the morning, before the cares of the world intruded.

"I'll do it. You stay here and rest." He pushed one of her braids from her face, giving her a quick peck on the forehead.

The warmth in her eyes followed him back out the hall and to the small restaurant the hotel offered its guests. Ordering a pot of tea, Sig paid and made his way back to the room. Other guests, venturing out this early, started upon seeing him and he sighed inwardly at the their reactions. It wasn't his fault he was big and had the face he was born with, after all, but people rarely looked beyond the extremities.

Opening the door to the room, the words, "Where do you think we should go next?" fell unheeded. Izumi stood in the center of the room, the bread on the floor at her feet. Clutching the newspaper the pastries had been wrapped in, Izumi raised her eyes slowly, letting Sig see the shine of tears in her eyes.

"What is it?" He set the teapot down and moved to his wife, turning the paper enough so he could read it. Over a month old, the article still was enough to make Sig's insides clench.

"My idiot apprentice," Izumi said tightly, "did what he set out to do. He returned his brother to his body."

The words stared up at Sig from the yellowing paper, words that somehow didn't make sense. He knew about equivalent exchange, understood it completely, much to his own chagrin. But that Edward gave up his life for Alphonse…somehow, it wasn't surprising and yet, Sig felt as if he'd taken a blow to the gut from Major Armstrong. Laying a broad hand on his wife's shoulder, he managed to get the words out. "What do you want to do?"

Izumi pulled out from under him, taking a few steps away, her arms folded tightly. Loss held her straight and stiff and she said over her shoulder, "With Edward gone, Alphonse will need someone. He shouldn't be left alone."

"It says he's going to Rezembool," Sig said, reading quickly through the article, "to stay with family friends."

"The Rockbells," Izumi said quietly, musingly.

Sig didn't bother asking, just pulled their bags out and started packing. The East was supposed to be lovely in the spring, or so he'd heard.

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The hulking man stuck to the shadows as he made his way through town. The line of his mouth cut a straight path across his face, his eyebrows drawn tight. The man he searched for seemed to have vanished, leaving no tell tale signs; no clues as to where he'd gone. Tucker shifted his shoulders uncomfortably. It didn't help that he couldn't actually go and ask. Despite what Colonel Archer believed, he had little recourse. Skulking was his best trait with his body the way it was. His present form brought horror to the faces of nearly everyone who saw him. And while Tucker wasn't ashamed of what he'd done, what he'd become, he knew Archer wouldn't appreciate rumors of a monster roaming throughout Central.

"I'm not a spy," he said. "I'm not cut out for it." Tucker wondered how his Nina was doing. He didn't like leaving her alone and here he'd been gone for a long time. She'd realize it, he knew; she'd remember. His daughter. Pride swelled through him at his accomplishments. What other alchemist had brought his daughter back the way he had?

Reality crashed on him the next instant, making Tucker's mouth sour. Archer didn't care about Nina. His goals weren't the same as Tucker's. Archer wanted power; was greedy for it, hence Tucker's attempts to locate the former Colonel Mustang.

Tucker sighed heavily. Checking carefully to make sure that the way was safe, that he wouldn't be spotted, Tucker made his lumbering way to a pay telephone. Archer wasn't going to be happy with the news but why postpone it any longer? Putting coins in the slot, he started dialing. The connection made, he said in his wispy voice, "Put me through to Colonel Archer. The password is 'dragonfly.'"

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Staring in horror at the remains of the house, Roy felt his heart stutter in his chest. The white-haired man who'd driven him to the Rockbell house leaned on the hood of his car. He gestured at the tendrils of smoke still drifting towards the pre-dawn sky. "Happened yesterday morning," he said, shaking his head. Dark brown eyes narrowing, Mr. Nedobeck went on. "State Alchemists did this."

"Horrible," Roy said, swallowing hard. He scanned the rubble, the land beyond it. "Were there any survivors?" His voice seemed to come from far away.

Nedobeck shrugged. "We didn't find anything." Removing the hat from his shaggy head, he said, "Bad enough that Edward died." His wet eyes turning to Roy, he asked, "Why would the military want to hurt those kids? That man," he paused to spit derisively, "sang as I drove him to the train station. What kind of man would do that," he waved at the house, "and sing?"

Roy said quietly, "An insane one." His heart ached with the thought that Hawkeye had been involved in this on his orders.

Mr. Nedobeck sighed heavily. "I can take you back into town, if you want."

"If you don't mind, I'd like to look around a little," Roy said, folding his arms tightly, as if to hold his body together. "Just…say farewell."

The old man's eyes narrowed as he surveyed Roy with a touch of suspicion. "How did you say you knew the Rockbells?"

Watching the smoke drift in the morning breeze, Roy said quietly, "I had an encounter with the Doctors Rockbell in Ishbal once. They left…quite an impression on me."

"They were shot as traitors to Amestris," Mr. Nedobeck said, the words throbbing with fury. "They weren't traitors, they were good people. Surgeons."

"I know." Roy nodded once, meeting the man's gaze. "All too well." He took a breath, the taste of smoke filling his mouth and lungs. "Thank you for the ride, Mr. Nedobeck. I greatly appreciate it."

He must have decided no further harm could come of leaving Roy behind. "All right." Climbing into his vehicle, Nedobeck slammed the door shut and started the engine.

Roy slowly walked towards what was left of the two-story house as Nedobeck drove away. Chickens scratched at the earth and wandered through the grass, searching for their daily food and Roy wondered absently if someone would come and take the birds away or whether foxes or some other wildlife would eat them. Walking around behind the house, he could make out a forest, two pastures away. "Damn it, Riza," he murmured, the spring green of the trees blurring before him. "I can't have lost you, too."

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Opal grinned at the headlights racing towards her. She knew what she wanted to do, knew how her car would react when she shifted the steering wheel like this. The huge automobile slewed sideways, racing up the ramp of an auto garage, the sound of the roaring engine echoing off the brick walls. Behind her, she could hear gasps from her passengers. Cashern simply balanced himself more carefully as they slid around the corner of the ramp, the rear of the car bouncing off the wall before adjusting and traveling farther up.

"Where the hell are we going?" Draken shouted behind her.

"Just wait, Cousin," Opal tossed merrily over her shoulder. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel and swung the car to a stop, the tires screaming over the floor. Rumbling, the vehicle shuddered and shook, then calmed and Cashern hopped out, gesturing for Draken and the boy to come with him.

"What are we doing?" Draken asked as Cashern impatiently opened the rear door of the car.

"Completing the rescue. Now, get out of the car." Opal glanced over her shoulder and fixed the attractive man with a firm look. "I mean it."

"What's going on?" the boy mumbled, looking from her to the building and up at Draken.

"I'm not sure, Ed, but I trust her." He gathered the boy in his arms, sliding out of the car.

Cashern closed the door and came to the driver's window. "How long will you be?" he asked.

"Not long, Cashern." Opal leaned out of the window to give him a quick kiss. "Take care of them until I catch you up." Gunning the engine, she let out a whoop of delight.

"Be careful," Cashern reminded her with a frown.

"Now, where's the fun in that?" Opal floored the accelerator, shifting into first gear. It would be hard to get up the speed she wanted in such a small space but she was sure the engine was good for it. Smoke poured out from the tires, leaving a haze that would confuse their pursuers, the ones she could almost hear over the sound of her own engine. Cashern vanished with Draken and the boy, leading them down the workmen's stairs. He knew this building as well as she did, having come here so often to get repair work done on this car. And the fact that the owner ran booze on the side just meant that there were plenty of hidden escape routes.

Patting the dashboard affectionately, Opal said, "You've been very helpful. I'm sorry it has to end this way."

Lights shone on the wall opposite her and she waited, her eyes trained on the rearview mirror. It wouldn't do to make the run too soon but her timing would have to be impeccable. Before the first vehicle appeared at the mouth of the ramp, she popped the clutch, sending the car shooting forward. First gear shifted to second and the glass wall that let in light for the mechanics came into sudden focus. Opal gritted her teeth and shifted to third, grabbing the door handle and popping it open. The car roared forward as she lunged out of it, rolling across the greasy floor and into the shadows. There was a horrible crash and the reverberating sound of an engine hanging in air.

The second crash was worse than the first, making the building shake. Opal didn't wait to hear the reactions outside the building, sprinting for the stairs. She caught the door and darted through, closing it tightly behind her. Running down the steps, she stopped at the small landing, rubbish stacked along its perimeter. Pressing her foot against an oilcan, she triggered the switch and a secret door opened. Shimmying through, she wondered how well Draken had been able to carry his boy through the narrow vent. Moving quickly, she dropped the last few feet down a ladder into a stream of cold water. More waste; these shoes wouldn't be good for anything after this. Rescues were expensive ventures, Opal thought as she slogged through the sewer, heading for the mouth that opened on the river.

A small boat bobbed there, big enough for the four of them but only just. Opal slithered out of the grate that closed off the sewer from the river and dropped into the boat lightly. The boy huddled in Draken's jacket, only his eyes and hair visible. Draken and Cashern started rowing before she was settled next to the boy, stroking them quickly downstream and away from the police and the burning vehicle above.

"You don't think they recognized that car, do you?" Draken asked as they swept through the fog.

"Fortunately, that wasn't my car." Opal turned her attention on the boy next to her, ignoring Draken's short, surprised laugh. "I'm Opal Armstrong, young man. I've heard a lot about you."

Those exhausted eyes turned towards her and she was suddenly struck by how glad she was that she couldn't see him very clearly. She didn't want to read everything in that gaze. "E-edward," he said, so soft she barely caught his name. "Edward Elric."

"Well, Edward, I'm pleased to meet you." Opal caught at his shoulder to steady him as they bobbled over the waves cast by the wake of a larger boat. Edward flinched hard, nearly winding up in the water himself. Draken reached out with a long arm, grabbing the boy and dumping him into the hull.

"Stay down, Ed," he said gently. "This boat's so small, you could tip us over." The boy's head jerked in agreement as he cowered lower and Draken started rowing again, his face carved with anguish.

Opal turned her sight away, looking out over the mist rising up off the river, stained bloody by the coming dawn. Draken was right, she thought. They should've rescued the boy earlier.

X X X

Lizabet stood in the fog, sweeping her eyes over her house. The lingering odor of smoke still filtered out in the dampness of the morning. Xandor crouched on the front steps, his face curiously blank as police patrolled the grounds, entering the house with their muddy shoes and investigations.

Margot scampered out of the house, dropping lightly off the porch and giving a haughty look to Xandor as she passed him. Reaching Lizabet, she began her recital. "Four of the guards are dead," she said, ticking off her forefinger, "and I can't yet tell how many of your staff are missing, Miss Lizabet." Her gold-green eyes flicked beyond Lizabet to the man looming behind her, dressed in Amestris blue. "But the boy, Edward, he's one of the missing."

"What?" Sherman asked, somehow managing to contain his irritation within that single syllable. He didn't even raise his voice, something that made Lizabet wince inwardly. How did this man rise to such high rankings in his country's military if he spoke so softly?

Shrugging eloquently, Margot said, "I left him in a cage, handcuffed to the bars." Her elegant gesture towards the house spoke of her training and Lizabet absently was proud of the girl. "Rober and Stefan were in the room, both dead, and Edward's gone." She sucked her lower lip between her teeth, nibbling on it. "The police said that they followed a car to the river but it crashed out of the second story garage." Her mouth turned down. "There weren't any bodies."

Sherman seemed ghost-like in the fog as he stepped forward, his pale skin and even paler hair almost vanishing in the mist. "Someone knew of him and helped him escape."

"The only people who knew about him were the guards and us," Lizabet said sharply, not liking the path that Sherman's thoughts were taking. "Xandor is there, four guards are dead and the others aren't on duty yet but should be shortly."

"Then we'll question them all," Sherman said, his grey eyes cold as ice. "And find out how my little terrier has run away."

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