The drive home was pleasant enough, Edward spent most of it staring vacantly out the window since he had nothing else to do. Sandra's mother on the other hand was intent on creating some spare conversation.
"Enjoying the view?"
"Yeah."
"Tired?"
"Yeah."
"Hungry?"
Before Ed could answer with any clear or honest answer, his stomach growled in response, earning a curt nod from Sandra's mother.
"Yup. I thought so." She said nonchalantly. Edward tried to shrink back into his car seat as much as possible to hide his burning cheeks, though he wasn't very successful in trying. The drive continued for a few minutes, before the car pulled up to a nicely paved driveway, lined with stepping stones. Leaning as far as possible towards the window, Ed decided that the house was technically the same size as his old house.
The front porch was painted as white as he could imagine, and it was simply decorated with two chairs and a glass table. He looked around the house itself and lingered on the mix of dark and light blue paint that encased most of the house. His lips twitched. He wasn't much of a fan for the color blue, but this was pretty nice.
He jabbed his thumb toward the catch on the seat belt, letting the silken fabric slide against his torso. Opening the car door, Ed stepped out and was enveloped with a strong force of wind, his newly attained brown hair whisking through the air in a futile attempt of being swept away by the wind. A brown strand flitted past his eyes, and he instantly imagined his mother, her loosely tied hair floating with the gusts of wind.
He closed his eyes and savored the sound, the feeling, the smell of the wind, standing with one hand on the car door. In his darkness, he became uncomfortable as he felt that someone was watching him. He glanced around for Sandra's mother, but she was already up the steps of the porch, her back facing him. He looked around as the wind died down into a small breeze, noticing the window shade of the house opposite of him close quickly, but not before he saw a set of green eyes staring at him.
Uhh, weird?
"Are you coming up or not?"
Ed turned around to face Sandra's mother, who was staring at him expectantly. The front door was open, and she was beginning to walk in by herself, not bothering to wait for a reply. Closing the car door, Ed made his way around the driveway and onto the porch steps, choosing to ignore the ever present growl of hunger.
Hospital food just couldn't do enough for him, it seemed.
Alphonse finished his book with a sigh, and shut it quietly. He had read that book before, well, Edward had, but was when he was confined to his wheelchair the day before he received automail surgery. It was beyond him to understand why the Central library had the same book, but nonetheless, it was good enough for him that he was able to read it on his own. The book that he wanted to read however, was currently under Sandra's supervision.
Or her face, one would say. After hours of reading, Sandra had finally succumbed to the lulls of rest, and had literally lain on the book itself. Al couldn't blame her, she had a pretty long and stressful day. Even then, he couldn't help but feel irked by the fact that the book he wanted to read was right under her face. He wanted to be polite, but the thought of just reading that book that could lead him to Edward was scratching away at him.
Sandra was just laying her arms across the book, her back rising and falling softly as she slept with her head covered. Breda had pulled the hood of Ed's coat over her head, allowing for her to fall asleep more quickly. Al patted the book in his hand against one of his gauntlets, wondering.
Should he or should he not take the book from under Sandra? He certainly didn't want to wake her up. But he didn't want to wait another moment to find any possible answers that could lead him to his stared in her direction, weighing his options.
"Alphonse?"
The younger Elric turned towards the Colonel, who had spoken. The Colonel was staring at him with a seemingly concerned stare.
"You okay?"
Al shrugged his shoulders. "Why, yeah?"
"Well, you've been staring at Sandra for a while." If armor could blush, that would have been the precise moment Alphonse would have done it. He flustered and shot his hands up in the air in a defensive stance.
"She just has the book I've wanted to read but,"
Sandra stirred at Al's voice, placing one arm behind her neck while shifting the position of her head. Everyone stilled their breath until she had quieted down and remained still, minus the easy and even breathing that confirmed she was asleep. Fuery started towards to her.
"Is that type of posture natural?" he asked softly. Al shook his head but mirthfully stared at the posture Ed's body was in. "It's the right arm, so it shouldn't hurt." Al suspected that Fuery would leave Sandra be, but he still made his way towards her.
"Wha-?" Al drawled off, watching silently as Fuery quietly extracted the book from under Sandra, gently lifting her face and pulling out the book as if was a precious artifact. Deed done, he closed the book and walked over to Al.
"Here." He said, holding out the book for Al to take. The armored boy received the book with a hesitant grasp, twisting the book over to glance at the binding.
'Aqua Rubrum: Attributes and History by Parraselcus'
Al twisted the book again and stared at the cover. The cover was completely covered in an illustration of a vat of Red Water tipping over to pour an immense amount of it's contents into a small mold. The mold itself was clear and half filled, though it was sloshing about due to the amount pouring over it. Al looked closer at the cover, staring at the mold in confusion.
It wasn't anything remarkable, but the shape was too irregular for anything useful. It broke off into different sections, and shaped into nothing anyone would use for everyday use. Al gasped at the cover as he realized that the mold the took form of a stone.
Is Red Water used to create Philosopher's stones?
"Are you going to drink that or not?" Sandra's mother asked. Ed stared at her with a confused expression and glanced back at the glass cup sitting on the kitchen table. The brown liquid inside sizzled as bubbles floated to the rim and popped. The color of the drink made him uneasy, and the scent of it didn't match in his mind. He stared at the glass with a distrustful gaze. He blinked, and it was already in the hand of Sandra's mother. She took a sip, and placed it back on table beside him.
"See? It's not bad."
Reluctantly moving his hand towards the cup, he picked it up and held it up in front of him. Taking a final glance at Sandra's mother, he wiped the rim with his sleeve, and raised the glass to his lips, not bothering to take a small sip.
His reaction was automatic. Too late before he noticed the liquid burning his tongue, he swallowed his drink, grabbing his throat with his free hand. He coughed and set the cup down, turning away from the counter. He placed a fist in front of mouth, coughing as the burning feeling in his throat quickly went away. He blinked in surprise, spilling the tears that had formed when he was coughing. He vaguely sensed being patted on the back.
"I guess three days or longer is enough to get over soda." (1)
"Yeah, I guess." Wiping away the tears, Ed sent a smoldering glare at the cup sitting on the table, glad enough that it wouldn't do anything else to him. He turned towards Sandra's mother, before a loud burp rumbled from his throat, silencing his efforts of conversation. He slapped a hand over his mouth, and stared in silence.
Sandra's mother stared back at Ed for a moment, before breaking down into a mess of laughter. She gripped her side with one hand, and supported herself with the table. Edward felt his cheeks go hot and he glanced aside, leaning back into his chair. He glanced down at his boots and tapped on his thighs, while the woman kept laughing.
She stood up from her seat, chuckling occasionally while making her way towards the fridge. Ed found this as the opportunity to lay his flaming cheeks against the table, wrapping his arms around his head.
Is this woman Bipolar?
"How's everything going on your end?"
"So far so good. What about you? Aaron?"
"Sunny as toddler on Christmas."
"Same here."
Jen swiveled her chair around, twirling the pen in her hand nervously. Everything had to done just right, but it didn't seem to be going well. She turned back towards her desk and pressed the button on the intercom. She stared questioningly at the microphone, opting to speak into her two-way radio again.
"Chello, are you sure you and Aaron are good?" She asked pointedly. Her radio crackled silently before she received another answer, Chello's manner nonchalant.
"Yeah. Let's go."
Jen pressed on the intercom button again, and she cleared her voice. "Start it up." At her command, Whirs were heard on the other side of the intercom, smooth and controlled. Then a rumbled occurred beneath her feet and she stared down in determination.
Come on, come on.
The rumble in the ground died and a loud screech shook the walls from every side was in. Jen screamed in pain as her eardrums were practically were blasted from her head. She slammed a fist on the intercom and screamed, "Shut that damned thing off!"
The screech whined through the rooms until it began to die down, then completely disappear from the setting. Jen shook her head as the the slow ringing sound made itself comfortable in her head. She grasped her radio with shaking hands and struggled to keep the button down.
"Chello? Aaron. Answer now. What's the issue?"
The radio crackled again. She pressed the button again to speak into the radio when the door opposite of her slammed open, Chello dropping into the room with a surprised stare. A burly man stumbled soon after, his closely shaven crew cut managing to look seared.
"We just can't connect to the other side." He said, helping his fallen comrade off the floor. Jen waved off the set-back and gestured for them to sit opposite of her.
"We'll connect when it's time. Now, has the rat infestation been taken care of?" Jen clapped her hands together, waiting eagerly for a response, the ringing in her ears heightening her eagerness. She winced in pain as the lacerations in her shoulder strained under sudden movement.
Aaron nodded his head and chuckled quietly to himself. "That's out of the way now."
Jen nodded in appreciation and laced her fingers together. So far so good, everything was headed as planned.
"Listen to this." Al said, getting a couple of people to stare at him. He lifted the book closer to him and read off the book.
"There are four pillars that make up the medical field: alchemy, philosophy, astronomy, and ethics. An equal amount of each pillar is said to create a potent strong enough to surpass any illness or injury, fatal or minor. This is false. Although powerful, alchemy is not properly acquainted with medicine; it's creation of Red Water or Aqua Rubrum, was created for the sole purpose of a "healing" feature, but it's power proved to be in reality, vice versa.
"It's destruction has caused many casualties, both intentional and non-intentional. Fertility rates depleted, children among the ages of newly-born to young adolescent succumbed easily to sickness, and then perished shortly after. The elderly and infirm were also unfortunate victims of the power of the Red Water. Physicians who had no understanding of the true nature of Red Water further used this substance on victims, killing them in the process of saving them."
Everyone shared a look with each other, dark thoughts consuming each and every mind in the room. Sandra was still bent over her side of the desk,, fast asleep, but it was most likely she would read the section when she woke up.
"You mean to tell me that someone could have killed two innocent children?" Mustang growled.
"But to what gain?" Falman asked to no-one in particular.
Al raised a hand. "Wait there's more."
"Sadly, after many deaths of innocent people, the true power of Red Water was discovered, banned from any usage of medical or torturous purposes, buried in vaults of knowledge and history -so to speak- and due to it's immense power, was labeled as an incomplete product," Al closed the book and stared up at the rest of the group.
"For a Philosopher's stone."
Mustang's face became ashen, but he didn't say anything.
Havoc stepped forward and placed his arms straight forward. "But the Philosopher's stone doesn't exist. How can-"
Al cut him off. "It said the product was incomplete. Either a group, or someone is trying to build up from that, or,"
"It exists." Mustang said.
All eyes turned towards the Colonel. His pale color and strangely calm demeanor unnerved the room's occupants. Only Riza and Hughes stared at Mustang with sympathetic glances.
"I know it exists because I've been given one." Mustang tightly shut his eyes before shifting his head away from the group. "During the Ishvalan Civil War."
Breda slammed a fist onto the table. "Just what the hell is being planned here!?" Sandra shot up from her place at the desk, yelling, "I'm awake!" as Breda slammed his fist. Everyone's attention went from Sandra to Breda as he began to take on a sheepish appearance.
Sandra stared at the desk in front of her in confusion and sleepily and pointed to an empty space in front of her. "I had a book here." She stated simply. The attention was brought to Al as everyone stared at the book he had in his hands.
"Don't look at me!" He started annoyed. "Fuery gave it to me."
Sandra raised a hand to stop the commotion. "It's alright. I was just confused for a sec." A large yawn was extracted from Sandra's tired form and Al tapped the book on his leg. He set the book down, walking towards Sandra.
"Let's get you to a barrack. You look dead on your feet, and it's pretty dark out." Sandra shook her head and stepped away from the younger Elric, confusing some of the others. Undeterred, Sandra wagged a finger at Alphonse and said, "I don't need sleep, I need answers."
As the crew watched in amusement, Alphonse struggled to coax Sandra into going to sleep, to which she only replied with, "Dejame solo, carajo."(2)
Havoc leaned towards Breda and whispered to him, "Be glad you did that."
Breda turned towards Havoc with a raised eyebrow. "I created a female Chief. What is there to be glad about?"
Havoc shrugged. "Well, maybe the fact that you also created a temporary distraction. The Colonel look about ready to pass out."
Breda glanced at the Colonel who was watching both Sandra and Alphonse banter with each other, his coal black eyes shining in interest when Sandra switched to Spanish. Breda turned back towards Havoc, speaking quietly.
"Let's hope that I don't have to do that again." He said, holding his wrist in his hand. "I almost destroyed this hand."
"Fine! Fine. Okay. Jesus Christ, man." Sandra said exasperatingly. She had woken up a bit more during their banter and had picked up the book laying on the desk. She gestured to Alphonse with the book threateningly. "This is the first and last time you do that. You hear me?" She swept the book towards the desk behind her. "I'm three years older than you, so para."
Al didn't seemed the least bit stirred by her threat, and just opened the office door. Sandra walked out with Al, leaving behind the office for the day.
Once he heard their footsteps fade away, Mustang turned towards his team. "So, what do you think?"
It didn't fit well in her mind at all. Not only did it not make sense, but why would an alchemist like Parraselcus not encrypt his study of Red Water? Better yet, what was her purpose of 'their' plan?
Sandra lay on the bed face down, dressed in an over-sized shirt and boxers, her arms crossed in front of her, one steel, one flesh. She had heard everything Alphonse had to read, ever since Fuery lifted her head to get the book. She had felt her breath tighten as he was reading so she forced herself to breathe easy.
'Children among the ages of newly-born to young adolescent succumbed easily to sickness'
After that, she had listened even closer for more details, waiting for the perfect moment to feign waking up, and she had used their anger to do it. She hid her new golden eyes in shame, feeling badly about what she had done. Casting away her thoughts, she covered her face farther into the pillow, falling asleep very, very slowly.
(1) Soda's been invented since the 1770's, so Ed would have more than likely known what soda was, but since I've never seen him drink soda, or ever made a reference to it, I thought to myself 'What if their world didn't have soda?' BOOM. Writing material.
(2) "Dejame solo, carajo." means "leave me alone, dammit." Just in case you wanted to know.
Bruh. If writer's block isn't an asshole, I don't know who is. Probably me cause I practically gave Mustang PTSD. I HAVE FINISHED!
If writing this alone wasn't enough, I am packed to the shoulder's with recording for journalism and research papers about genocide and whatnot. Till' next time!