Well, two reviews is enough for me. n.n

Once again, I am a lowly know-nothing who does not own, nor know everything about, FullMetal Alchemist. OCs are my own (there's only one in this chapter, I think), new names for canon characters are my own (two), and old names for canon characters are... well, not mine (all the rest).

Please enjoy!

"Colonel Mustang, sir!" Havoc saluted the man sitting behind the desk at Central HQ. The former colonel raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, Lieutenant?" he asked, not bothering to correct the man's use of title.

"Your… ah… Commanding officer… is on the line."

"I know." Roy returned to his papers, making a very convincing imitation of work. Havoc looked confused.

"Sir?"

"I've already informed Sergeant Simian that I won't be returning until things are cleared up here." Roy shuffled the papers on his desk impressively. "And by the looks of it, that won't be for a while."

"But Colonel…" Havoc shrunk back a little bit. "He says it's urgent…"

With a heavy sigh, Roy picked up the phone. "Yes, Sergeant?"

"Corporal Mustang!" Sergeant Simian's guttural voice barked over the phone. "Get your lazy ass back here and clean out your dorm."

"Excuse me?" Roy sat up, eyes widening fractionally.

"You heard me. Those military dogs want you back, and frankly I'm thrilled to get you off my hands. Get back down here and clear out your dorm by the end of the week, or else everything in here will be thrown in the dump." There was a click. Sergeant Simian hung up without so much as waiting for an 'okay'. Roy stared at the telephone for a moment before pulling on his jacket. With a tiny smile, he pulled the uniform tabs that identified him as a Colonel and attached them back at the shoulders. With a smart salute dismissing Havoc, he strode out of the room.

He had two days before all his worldly possessions were dumped.

"Thanks for the ride!" Al called as he, his brother and Noa dismounted the truck. The man driving nodded. The truck pulled away as Ed blanched.

"Come on, Al, you can't think it wasn't weird that we just hitched a ride from Scar and Lust!" he said, leaning on a fence post. The modest house behind the picket fence seemed to blink innocently at the intruders.

"Remus and Isabel, Brother. They're not the same!" Al said with a laugh. "Although the expression on your face during the ride was rather amusing."

"Who were they, again?" Noa asked as she unlatched the gate.

"In Shambala, they were some of our mortal enemies. Scar was bent on killing state alchemists, and Lust was one of the homunculi who wanted the Philosopher's Stone." Ed explained, following Al and Noa through the gate. "Where are we?"

"My grandmother lives here," Noa explained. "She had come to live a more stable life as soon as my mother turned of age. I have never met her."

"Then why are we here?"

"The clans still keep track of her, she's still known as a great healer, and news travels quite freely between them. My grandmother cleans houses for very wealthy people for a living. She hears things; I was thinking that, perhaps, she might have heard something about this… bomb you are looking for." Noa led the way to the door. She knocked. An old, prim woman opened the door.

"Sharon?" Noa asked. She extended a hand to shake. The woman raised an eyebrow and accepted it. After a moment, her eyes grew wide and she threw her arms around Noa.

"Noa! My dear grandchild! Come, come in. Don't be shy, children, come in!" the old woman waved Ed and Al inside as well.

The inside of the house was plain and simple. The furniture was old and, for the most part, worn out. There was little on the walls, and the fireplace seemed to be out of wood. They were led to a small parlor where the faded floral couch sat opposite two mismatched armchairs.

"My house is not fancy, but please make yourself at home," she addressed the boys. Then she turned back to Noa. "Noa, dear…" she had tears in her eyes. "Oh, Noa! You have seen much."

"I have, Grandmother." Noa and the old woman embraced again, both crying softly. Ed and Al felt as though they were intruding on something. When the women finally separated, Noa took a seat on the couch as Sharon went to get some tea.

She set the mismatched tea-set on the low coffee table and poured a cup for everyone. Her hand, it seemed, deliberately brushed Ed's and Al's as she handed them their saucers.

"Tell me, then, what brings my granddaughter and two Aryans to the doorstep of an old gypsy?" she asked benignly as she sipped her tea.

"We're not German," Ed stated flatly, "but I'm fairly sure you knew that much."

"Please," Al interrupted, "Excuse my brother. He doesn't have the best manners."

"My manners are fine!" Ed protested. Al shook his head, sighed, and turned back to the bemused old woman.

"Indeed, I knew. But I find that many people are unsettled when I know things." She took another sip of tea. "You are looking for a bomb?"

"Yes. Do you know where it is?"

"I'm afraid not." Sharon set down her tea. "But I have heard of it. I was a maid for a man named Mabuse, a wealthy Jew. His wife was a member of the Nazi party, and I heard from her company about a dangerous bomb. It is supposedly well secured."

"I see…" Ed said softly. "Damn! If only we still had Alchemy, we could get it back so much moreeasily…"

"Brother! There are ladies present," Al admonished his brother's curse. Noa and Sharon laughed.

"Sorry…" Ed mumbled. He, too, set down his tea, not having taken a single sip. "Do you have any idea who has it?"

"I heard the name Albert a time or two. Albert… Einstein?"

"Thank you, ma'am." Ed said, standing up. "Come on, Al, we need to find this man."

"Oh, I insist you at least stay the night, Edward." Sharon stood up and led them to a room. There were two cots in it. "I often get friends who come to me when they are ill. I have no patients right now, so you may stay here," Sharon said.

"Thanks…" Ed said. "I hope we aren't being a bother."

"Not at all!" Sharon smiled gently, her wrinkled face lighting up. "It's not often I get company, much less my own granddaughter and her friends."

"Thank you, again, Mrs…" Al stumbled for a moment upon realizing that they hadn't gotten a last name from the woman.

"Please, just call this old gypsy woman 'Sharon'. No need for formalities."

"Thank you, Sharon." Al said, smiling in his uniquely innocent manner. Sharon curtsied, replying that it wasn't a problem.

"I shall start of supper, then," Sharon said, nodding and leaving.