"Your reaction was priceless." Sandra said, putting on the scarlet coat with obvious curiosity. "But how will the others react?" she mused, similar to Al's thoughts the night before. "I'm afraid I'll have to stand in front of doctor Jethrem so Mustang won't light him on fire." she said.
She patted herself off, straightening the close-to-non-exsistent wrinkles in Ed's coat, tank-top, and pants.
"God," she said, in an un-Ed likely way. "Why does he have to wear leather pants? It's weird."
Alphonse bit back a rising urge to laugh. At least she has a sense of taste. he thought. The urge to laugh died down as he watched her become flustered with the articles of clothing. She turned around, facing the bed.
"So this body switching thing. How're you handling it?" he asked.
Sandra stopped, and turned slowly towards Al again. "I don't know how to handle this." she answered carefully. "I know that I'm completely terrified though." she finished. She let out a small awkward chuckle and rubbed her head with her left hand, but even that rang with a little twinge of fear.
She looked down at her right arm, the one the nurses called automail. They had asked her if it felt alright, and she simply replied that it needed a little tuning. She flexed the fingers again, carefully listening to the all ever present wheeze of the misplaced spring.
Al replayed the events in his head, as they walked through the hallways towards Mustang's office. Much to Sandra's reluctance, she had to walk ahead, so no suspicion would be guided towards them. Sandra ignored as much people as possible while following Al's directions into the hallways. Okay, left. Left again. Then right.
Finally in the seemingly unending hallways, She made sure to to slow down her steps in order to hear the comforting sound of clanking armor that represented Alphonse.
She continued walking at her slow pace until he caught up to her, the cool and collected demeanor changed and she latched onto his side, shoulders hunched, quick cautious glances darted from here to there.
Al continued from where he left off in his directions to Sandra. When we get to the hallways I want you to follow me closely. Al wanted to put a reassuring arm over her, give her a sense of protection, but even if one person saw the duo this way, it would ring major alarm bells.
"You might want to let go of me." he said. "Someone's going to get really confused if they see you like this."
"See you like what?" someone asked. Al froze up and Sandra looked like a complete deer in headlights. Her eyes were wide, and her cheeks were completely flushed. She closed her eyes, breathing in deeply, lips set in a determined thin line. She opened her eyes again, flashing the same familiar fire in those golden irises. Game time. She turned around to face a soldier she obviously didn't know. With a quick glance to Al, he shrugged, clearing the path that this man was a complete stranger.
He had a nice angular face, and blue eyes, dark and clear as sapphire. His dirty blonde hair was neatly combed, but in a way that made it appear messy. His posture was stiff, and uncomfortable, hands crossed neatly behind his back. Sandra judged by his appearance that he could be easily fooled.
"I heard a couple rumors that someone was trying to prank me, when I got here." she lied. She made sure to keep a rather mishievious smirk on her face. The man flashed a smile, but it was empty, with a curious expression flitting through his eyes, then it was gone. Was it...regret?
Wait was this actually going to happen? she thought. She checked her surroundings looing for a tale-tell sign. There. By the corner, was a small garbage can. Inside were shiny colored materials. They looked just like,
She pursed her lip, weighing her chances, and decided to play poker-face.
"I dunno. It could've been some rumor just to get to me, but I did hear that fluids were involved, and I can't get my automail wet." She placed one hand on her right shoulder and rotated the arm. Al decided to play in on the game, and nodded slowly. "Someone would get really mad." he said ominously. The man paled, his eyes darted from place to place.
Sandra narrowed her own eyes, the fire creating sparks of mischief. Bingo. But one man... She looked around again, careful to notice any signs of acomplices. She lingered by one wall behind the soldier. Right where the floor met the wall, there were a pair of shoes, but the heel appeared to be missing. Paint, maybe?
"Careful sir, you've almost succeeded in adapting to the color of the walls." she said, with a devilish smirk. The man blanched even further, his eyes dancing the flight of panic.
Sandra nudged Alphonse and put the icing on the cake. "How long do you think it would take," she asked to no-one in particular, "to completely disappear into a wall?'' Her words seem to echo off each and every corner in what suddenly became a labyrinth. The man took a step back, and another.
He was looking into the eyes of a monster. This was child's play to the Fullmetal Alchemist, and he underestimated the boy way too much. Why did he even take this task on in the first place? He turned his heels and ran, calling out, "Abort mission! Abort mission! God damn it, the kid's onto us! RUN!"
A mass pandomonium ensued. Two to three soldiers peeled themselves off the white walls in three different corners, covered head to toe in the milky colored paint. They all ran, following the same direction as the man they had spoken to. One soldier had even dragged the can full of water balloons. Tripping over his own feet, the soldier fell into his own weapons, splattering water and different colors everywhere.
Alphonse and Sandra were barely able to help themselves from falling because of the force of laughter. They both kneeled on the floor, supporting each other from actually laying on the floorboards. The echoing laughter reached the man they had met, and he swore that the young alchemist was Satan himself.
Mustang tapped on his desk for the past five minutes already, and he wasn't stopping anytime soon. He kept tapping even when his subordinates took a few seconds off to look at him, or next to him for that matter. He was just so pissed.
One of his subordinates, blonde haired and smoke addict, continued to stare head on at the colonel. He caught his eyes momentarily, but he shifted his gaze for a split second to his side. He then directed his attention to jug of water sitting idley on his desk. Mustang continued tapping his desk with his fingers.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Click.
Shit. he thought. How did I let myself forget about her? The fear that Mustang could feel was in-expressible through words. His most reliable subordinate, his First lieutenant, his sniper. A sexy, dangerous woman, especially when angry.
"Instead of wasting time creating your personal drum beat," she said. "I advise you to finish the paperwork you've failed to complete yesterday." She laid her pistol on the desk near her. A very misleading action if percieved by the wrong person. Everyone in the room knew that picking up the gun would mean half a second, and that could be a fatal flaw for someone who didn't know Riza Hawkeye.
Mustang remained quiet, but his tapping had ceased. He sighed, "It's not my fault Fullmetal has me foaming at the mouth with his charades." He wearily cast his eyes towards the paperwork he was supposed to finish. It was about hands width, palm up. It didn't seem like much, but paperwork had a reputation of appearing in greater numbers when you finished the first batch.
"You should be able to remember that you put him to the task, Sir." she replied. Mustang flinched. She was right, in a way. Mustang had called Edward in because he had heard rumors about Scar in Ed's vicinity. The small town of Villian was very prominent with the promise of literature. Naturally, Ed and Al were drawn to it like bees to pollen, but if there was a present danger, no chances would be taken. They were ordered to take a train straight to Central, just for them to land in the hospital.
He sighed again and grabbed a sheet of paper, slapping it onto the space in front of him. Attached to the page was the profile of a transfer.
Second lieutenant Zede Marnoff was to be transfered to Central because of disorderly conduct. The instructions stated in the paperwork included court-martialing the soldier if he committed any other misdemeaning acts.
Mustang sat up straight. Marnoff. That miserable slob of a soldier was one of his classmates in high school. He was known to be a complete failure in academics and social life.
At one point of time a rumor leaked out that he had been dumped by five different girls. The reason for the break-ups were simple. Abusive relationships. His girlfriend at the time when the rumor spread, bore a black eye, which was questionable as to how she got it.
When asked, she would stammer and reply that she was injured from a fight with another student, but her defense was treated as neon light. Bright and clear, but still artificial. They too had split ways. Not long after that, he was shipped off to the military academy, and forgotten.
Mustang sat up even straighter, which grabbed the attention of his subordinates. He switched his attention from the profile to the the designated area he was supposed to sign. Back and forth, back and forth. Did he really want this type of man in his sights? He knew as soon as Marnoff saw him, he would be recognized.
Keep your friends close, he thought. And your enemies closer. He sighed and signed the paper. He placed it next to him. Besides, if he starts acting up, I have Riza or Fullmetal at my disposal.
He reached for another paper, and heard a high amount of chaos beyond his office door. He smirked. Ed. Causing mass destruction as usual. Someone was yelling and a large amount of running was involved. Mustang careened his ears to try and locate the familiar sounds of clapping and the sparks of transmutation. None was given. Instead laughter was heard, one echoed and youthful presented Alphonse. The other, uncontrollable and care free was apparently Edward.
Mustang became gravely confused. Ed's laughter usually consisted of scorn (well, when he was present), but this time it was evidently missing. The laughter began to subside until it was enveloped with silence and the thump of footsteps. They stopped right at the door. Whispers were heared, and eyebrows were raised.
Alphonse opened the door, and walked in. "Good morning Colonel." he said. The young alchemist did not enter at all, which was shocking considering the fact that he would barge in like he owned the place. Strange. thought Mustang.
"Where's-" he started. If anyone knew Fullmetal, it was Al.
"Right behind me." he interrupted. He glanced behind himself, and muttered, "Oh come on." He turned and left the office. Mustang and the others leaned as much as they could to see what was happening outside. Nonetheless, they were only given audio.
"Get in." they heard. A response was quick and swift. "No. I-", a slight pause, "I don't want to." Mustang and the others were greeted with the sound of shifting metal. "You're gonna have to, one way or another."
Mustang was now dumbstruck. Was Alphonse being extremely gentle with his brother? Ed was acting a bit, strange, granted, but that didn't include the need to be spoken to softly.
"Well, you're going to have to shove me in." Ed answered. The gang relaxed, this was the snarky attitude they were accustomed to hear. Another shift of metal. "Fine with me." Al said.
What? Mustang thought. Apparently, the little fiery pipsqueak thought the same thing. "Wait, I wasn't-AH!"
Abruptly, Ed was (true to words) shoved inside the office. He stumbled on his feet for a solid second, then stood straight up, sharply glancing around awkwardly, clenching and un-clenching his hands. He closed his eyes, and the slightly rosy hue that lingered on his cheeks formed into a furious red. He hunched his shoulders, and held his breath.
"Al?" he choked out. Alphonse, who closed the door, and blocked it with his entire frame, shifted his gaze towards his older brother. "Yes?"
"I'm going to kill you." His threat rang hollow, but it still had a presiding feel of anger. To Alphonse it apparently didn't matter. "I'll keep that in mind." he said, a hint of mirth seasoning his words. He turned around to lock the door. His fingers brushed the handle.
"I'm not gonna try to run out of the damn office, Al. I feel safer here than in the hallways." Ed said. Mustang and everyone else raised eyebrows. Ed was very known among them for keeping his feelings to himself. And here he was, displaying them for all to see. Fuery and Falman exchanged glances.
Al released the door handle, and turned to Mustang. "There's a valid reason for all of this colonel." he said, casually answering his internal questions. Ed in turn, blushed even redder, and forcefully released the pent up air he contained. He spoke quickly, "I'm not telling him." he said. Al took a step foward. "But you told me! Why not them?" he asked.
Ed lashed out a heated response. "You're one person okay!? Plus when I told you, you just walked out on me." Al flinched, wounded by his words.
Mustang's attention was brought over to Havoc, who nudged Breda. "Pass the popcorn." he whispered. Mustang glared at the both of them. One more crack, and you're toast. his eyes said. They got the message and remained silent, squirming under his stare. He shifted his gaze to the brothers.
"Just what is going on?" he asked. Alphonse looked at Ed, only to find him turned away, arms crossed, defiant pout on his face. No help was going to be given from him today. Al sighed. This better not be some girl crush thing. Mustang wondered. He decided to take a shot.
"Is this about a girl Alphonse?" he said facing the tall suit of armor. The question caught him off guard, and he began to stammer.
"What? No! No, I mean yes. Wait, no. I mea- ughh!" he growled iritatingly. Words seem to evade the young boy in a way which made him appear hopeless with his own sentences. He looked over to Fullmetal, who gazed at the colonel in shock and muttered, "How-?"
Havoc whooped. "It's about time his testosterone levels kicked in." he said. Breda joined in, relishing the idea of teasing the little teenager.
"It's probably that girl of yours, Winry right?" he snorted. Ed tried to protest the wall of embarrassment crashing in on him. "What!? No, holy shit, guys stop." His cheeks flamed bright red a second time. Mustang took the opportunity to jab at him.
"It's no surprise, she was technically your child-hood sweet heart." The others roared with laughter, while Riza stood behind, displeasure evident on her face. She said nothing. Ed covered his face with his hands and hunched his shoulders. No sound escaped his lips.
"I hardly think this is necessary." Fuery said timidly.
"Guy's stop, it's not funny." Al said. His plea was drowned out by the wave of laughter, and they continued with the embarrassing talk.
"C'mon chief, ask her out." Havoc said.
"You're not gonna get a second chance if someone else does it." Breda followed. More laughter followed his words, enveloping Al with a sense of concern. Any other day would have been fine, and the embarrassment would have blown over, but today was not one of those days. Al heard a whisper.
"I'm not Ed." This simple sentence was also drowned out by their laughter. Mustang watched through jovial tears as his subordinate began to tremble a little. The laughter continued to resonate through the office and it drilled itself into his head. He slammed his foot down, like an impatiant child.
"I'M NOT ED GOD DAMN IT!" he yelled. Everyone stopped, and Al could see that even Riza had not expected this type of outburst. Her eyes widened a bit, and they retained that form.
"Can you get that through your thick skull at least!?" he continued to yell. He stopped abruptly, breathing hard. Short coughs came from him as he dealt with the raspiness of the earlier outburst. Disbelief was evident on everyones face
Mustang nervously chuckled. "What do you mea-" he started. He wasn't able to finish, as the young teen pinched the bridge of his nose, and took a deep breath.
"Ed and I," a pause, "switched bodies. You're not talking to Edward." He looked up at the colonel with an irritated glare. Mustang in return peered at his eyes, searching, and he found what he was looking for.
"Nice try Ed, but you shouldn't prank people when your mad." he chuckled again, hoping to break the courage in his plans. Not today.
"Let me tell you why that's bullshit, dumbass." the boy retorted. He spoke like Ed and sounded a lot like him too, with the wealth of swear words he had, but Mustang couldn't help but feel that this was actually...the truth. It was just the way he sounded, angry of course, but he sounded, hurt, damaged.
"Why the hell would someone prank you when they just came out of the hospital?" he said. He received no answer, just a blank, shocked stare. Leaving that question with the colonel, he rounded on Havoc. "Next time, let a kid explain their situations." he scolded.
Breda, clear of reprimanding, began to chuckle at their short-comings (Get it? Eh? :D). Neither he was spared in the attack. "Wipe that stupid grin off your damn face. Don't act like you didn't say anything." I'm-not-Ed said.
Breda quieted down and remained poker-faced. Mustang was shocked. In any other situation, Ed would lose his cool and storm out of the office, and bury himself with books or anything else to get his mind off the total embarrassment. But, now, he was holding his ground and actually put the adults to shame. With the exception of Riza of course. That wouldn't be possible unless the young alchemist matured, or-.
Mustang couldn't let himself believe this, this nonsense. It was impossible for crying out loud! Who ever heard of a body switch (The entire fandom may raise their hands.)? However, it seemed so real, like a genuine crystal. It is there, but questions still arise.
"How do you propose this happened?" he said. If this was a sick prank made especially by Ed, things will burn. The child in Ed's body blanked, the frustration and anger wiped away, leaving a mask of confusion.
"I don't...know." he said (At this point wet match still thinks there's a guy in front of him.).
Breda reached over and and tilted the jug of water into a clear glass. he filled it halfway, and set the jug down. "Let's start with the basics at least. What's your name? Age?" He tilted his glass for a sip.
No games, right? Mustang thought. The child answered with a sigh. "My name is Sandra Lawrence. I'm sixteen." Breda choked on his glass of water. He sputtered, coughing into his fist, trying to rid himself of the uncomfortable feeling in his throat, while Fuery patted his back. He slammed the glass down.
"You're a girl!?" he yelled, eyes wide. Havoc's mouth gaped open like a fish, as if he forgot to breathe. Falman stared with the usual shocked look on his face and Mustang shielded his humiliation with his hand, and bent over his desk with a groan, forehead almost touching the mahogany desk. His question was right on the money, but he had the wrong idea. He practically insulted a girl, right in his office!
"Oh my god, I'm so sorry." he said, still facing the desk. This had to be the most dumbest mistake he had made. Good thing Ed wasn't here. Mustang flinched. It was his fault this happened. Apparently Sandra didn't think so.
"Don't beat yourself over it." she said. Mustang shot up. In Ed's voice, it was just, insane. It didn't sound normal. Probably because he was so used to hearing Ed sound so snarky and matter-of-fact, not sincere and soft. She turned to Breda.
"What's wrong with that?" she said, as if she didn't just comfort someone. Her eyes were widened with childish innocence, as well as a curious hint. Breda began to melt under her stare. "N-nothing's wrong with that! It's just,-"
"You didn't expect a girl. Alright, I get it." she interrupted. Breda closed his mouth, determined not to speak in the girl's presence. Sandra turned away, facing the floor. She bit her lip, thinking. She also jammed her fists into Ed's pockets, looking all too similar to Ed himself. She looked up.
"Do we have any paper?" she said. Mustang began rustling through his desk drawers, mumbling about seeing if he had any. He opened one drawer, and handed a few blank sheets to Sandra, along with pens. She took them with a quick, "thanks," and handed one to Al.
"Alright, you write down everything you remember up until he became unconscious, and I write down what I remember." Al took the sheet and pen, quickly scribbling down everything he had seen. Sandra took her own, laying down the sheet on the coffee table by the couch. She had only written down a few words until Havoc finally spoke up.
"You're using your left." he said. Sandra glanced down, looking at the small black pen lodged snugly in her left hand. She looked up again. "I've always used my left. I'm naturally left-handed." she responded.
"Has anyone made fun of you for that?" he asked. Sandra's eyes widened. She opened her mouth, but it quickly closed. A light blush emerged and she turned her head away. "No-one's ever asked me that." she whispered. She sat silent, twirling the pen in her fingers. She then shook her head and continued writing.
"Does it even matter?" she said, scribbling data, here and there. Glances went around the room and Fuery stepped forward, sitting down a space away from her. "Do you want to talk about it?" he said. Sandra continued writing, and Mustang thought that she was going to ignore him.
Her writing slowed down, then stopped all together, hand still poised over the sheet. Al watched intently, his hand also hovering above his own page. Sandra continued staring at the page with a blank face, then she chuckled sadly, one corner of her mouth tilting upwards. She set the pen down and looked at Feury with searching eyes.
"Can we do that later?" she said. Fuery smiled widely which surprised Sandra and the others a bit. Her sad smile was replaced with a confused and wide eyed look.
"Sure!" Fuery said. He patted Sandra on the back (which surprised her even more) and got up, walking to his chair. He turned around and faced her, and continued smiling. Sandra continued to stare in surprise.
"Don't you have work to do, Sandra?" Mustang asked, breaking the ice. Sandra blinked and turned towards Mustang. From their angle, Fuery, Breda, Falman, and Havoc weren't able to see her roll her eyes. "That's funny coming from you." she said. Sandra pointed towards the stack of paper work on his desk.
"Don't you have work to do, Colonel?" and she smiled, when she heard the whooping laughter of everyone else, including Riza's light chuckle.
Alright guys. Ed will be in the next chapter as well as a few other characters I'm planning to have. Let me know what you think about Jethrem, and please don't ask me where "Zede Marnoff" came from. That's a story I want to tell my grand kids (enter sarcasm. Don't kill me).
Other notes: I am having a hugely sized problem with summer school, my nephew and all the other things that makes my rich, chunky stew of bull-
Beba- Yo! Keep it P.G. (Nickname for little sis)
Meh. Okay, so far summer school is treated me very nicely, except the fact that I have to wake up early at 7:30am. I has no internet at home, keep that in mind, so I'll have issues uploading my chaps in time.
One of my teachers was my eighth grade teacher, and when I told her that I was making this story, she lent me this book that she said would help me. The title's "If I Must Die Before I Wake" or something , I read it, I couldn't even with the feels, I told her about it, she let me keep it. So now, I have a book that is friggin' amazing, and it really ties in with what I'm doing, so hopefully I can use this to my advantage.
If you're wondering, like Sandra, I'm 16, and my adorable nephew is 2 months, 3 weeks, but who's counting?
Thanks for reading!