Hi guys! :D I'm sorry about the slight delay; I intended to post this chapter on Wednesday, but I got sick, so I'm leaving this here now. This may be considered begging for comments, but I have a horrid 5 hour long class on tax law tomorrow morning (yes, on a Saturday, please kill me) and I'd really appreciate to have some lovely reviews to read during the break. So, pleeeease?

Chapter 4

When Olivier woke up, she found the outer covers of that drivel considered a newspaper above her head, and she wasn't resting on the pillow. Instead, Roy had somehow managed to manoeuvre her so that Olivier's head was resting on his bare thigh without waking her up.

"Did you like the cover story?" Olivier asked, drawing Roy's attention.

Roy lowered the newspaper with a frown.

"Oh, yes," he drawled sarcastically. "You'd think they'd be more careful writing about a child, even if they don't believe his story."

"I doubt the press knows how to be careful," Olivier said, scoffing. However, bad taste and lack of integrity aside, that article about Harry Potter painted an interesting picture. It was deliberately callous and openly mocking. If Olivier had to make a guess, she'd say that more than presenting the story as an unlikely possibility, the paper wanted the general public to laugh at the mere thought of it being true. Given what Olivier had read about Potter in the recent history book, that was... interesting.

What the situation said about this place, she had no idea.

Roy ran his fingers through Olivier's hair.

"I'm going to take a shower. Would you like to join me?" he asked with an innocent smile.

And that was a proposal.

After a heavy breakfast to compensate for their missed dinner, Roy went upstairs to properly start on his research while Olivier left the hotel for a quick shopping trip.

Over breakfast, they had discussed the advantages of reading muggle press to assess the situation on the muggle side of this country as well. As it turned out, muggles had a much larger selection of newspapers available, and Olivier chose three that had reasonably serious headlines. She ventured into an alleyway to take some loose pieces of brick and put them in a purse Roy had transmuted from a pillowcase, then ventured into Diagon Alley to buy a copy of today's Daily Prophet and headed back to the hotel. On her way there, though, she passed a small corner shop and decided they could put the kitchen in the room to some use.

Loaded with coffee, a bottle of milk and a pack of sugar, Olivier finally returned to the hotel room.

She found Roy sitting at the table, glaring at something on his notebook.

"We may have to start a separate investigation when we return," he said without raising his head.

"Why?" Olivier asked, setting her purchases on the small counter.

"The base design of this array looks remarkably like the one Father used to transport the human sacrifices on the Promised Day."

"Fuck," Olivier muttered, and Roy hummed in agreement. She shook her head. "We can't do anything about that now. Coffee?"

"Please."

Roy had been mistaken in his original assessment of the notebook. It didn't contain random thoughts and reminders; it was a very messy compilation of the alchemist's research, a research the alchemist hadn't even bothered to encode.

"I can't believe this guy pulled off that array," he muttered, dissecting the first design on one of his pages. It hadn't produced a reaction, according to the notes, but Roy wanted a clear step-by-step look at its evolution.

"According to the report, he failed the State Alchemist exam four times," Olivier said from her seat on the couch.

"You mean the report you commandeered on the car?" Roy asked with a note of sarcasm. "Is there any other piece of information you remember?"

"Not much. The missing girls all lived on the street, so it was hard in most cases to know when they went missing exactly, or even to ascertain they had gone missing and not simply left. The military police didn't take the case very seriously until they discovered there was an alchemist involved," she added derisively.

"Which means there could be more missing people," Roy concluded. "Wonderful. Remind me to ask Grumman to demote whoever was in charge of the case."

Once he had the basic design of the array down, following its evolution was easy enough. Roy was reasonably certain that at least some of the changes had been made without any real research behind them, which said a lot about its creator.

More worrying, though, was everything else the notebook contained. The kidnapped victims were used as test subjects. The first girl had been kept captive for three weeks, made to test ineffective arrays for that period until one had worked. The part of her body that had been inside the array had disappeared, leaving behind the bloody parts that had been outside of it in her kneeling position. That fact, accompanied by the alchemist's rants and complaints as he described the event had been enough to make Roy stand up and pace for an entire hour in an attempt to calm himself. He wasn't in Amestris, he couldn't just march into the nearest military training field and reduce every target there to ashes.

Olivier had cursed quite creatively when she read what had bothered Roy so much.

"This dude's a crackpot," Ed proclaimed after two days of going through the library's contents. They were a mix of pretty standard alchemy books and copies of very old texts that preceded Father's arrival to Amestris, and which had been dismissed centuries ago as nonsense in favour of the more scientific alchemy based on Xerxesian knowledge.

"Any particular reason?" Hawkeye asked. She had been fruitlessly looking for any notes while Ed read.

"He's obsessed with some old bullshit about other worlds," Ed said with a frown. It was bullshit, to think that there were other worlds. And yet, the Gate existed, something most people who hadn't seen it would discard as nonsense.

He glared at the array Armstrong had gotten out of the rug and drawn for him, then back at the page of the ancient text that held a symbol that hadn't been used in centuries. Until this array.

And Mustang and Armstrong were gone.

"No notes yet?" Ed asked, hoping for some explanation to the one part of the array he still hadn't figured out: a series of symbols surrounding the one he had identified and a set of numbers below said symbol.

"Nothing. It's as if he doesn't bother to make notes of his research," Hawkeye said dubiously. Ed knew she was familiar enough with alchemists to know that everybody kept some variety of notes. Ed had, Al did, Mustang did...

Ed stood up.

"I want to talk to the asshole."

Robert Sinclair tried to settle more comfortably on the chair in the interrogation room. It was a difficult task, given how hard and awkwardly-bent the chair was. A deliberate choice on the military's part, Robert was sure, but something this trivial wouldn't make him talk. He had been brought to the room and chained the same way he had been every time before this one, and now it was only a matter of waiting before whoever was to interrogate him arrived. Robert absentmindedly wondered whether it would be Alex Armstrong or that woman, Riza Hawkeye. He preferred Armstrong; having one of the more renowned State Alchemists attempting to get the answers out of him meant that the military was truly failing to decipher his brilliant research. It was flattering.

The door slammed open with a loud bang, and in walked... neither Armstrong nor Hawkeye. The newcomer was a young man, barely more than a boy, short and blond with golden eyes and a very angry frown on his face. Behind him entered Hawkeye, but she simply closed the door and settled by the wall.

The young man stormed over to the table and slammed his hands down on it with a resounding bang.

"Okay, asshole," he growled through gritted teeth, "where the fuck'd you hid your damn notes?"

Robert was disappointed. Such rudeness... did the military truly believe a child would make him talk?

"What makes you think there are any?" Robert asked, and he didn't bother to cover his patronising tone. "Some of us have no need of such simple things."

The boy snorted.

"The fuck you don't. I've seen the amount of paragraphs you've underlined in those books of yours. I bet you couldn't find your ass without a map, much less remember an array."

Robert bristled. Who did this boy think he was?

He opened his mouth to tell the boy exactly what he thought of his assessment, but was interrupted.

"Save the crap. Everybody here knows you aren't smart enough to not need to keep notes. Hell, even I had to keep notes. So where are they?"

Robert blinked, surprised by the implications that this boy was an alchemist. Then his mind processed the information he had already noticed: short, blond, golden eyes, an alchemist.

Robert glanced at Hawkeye.

Close to Mustang.

There was one person who fit this description.

Robert found himself laughing before he could think better of it, delighted by the realisation that had crossed his mind. The boy —Edward Elric— frowned deeper, and leaned closer to him over the table. The rumours really hadn't exaggerated about his temper; his frown was truly impressive.

"What the fuck is so funny, you asshole?" Elric demanded.

"This is wonderful!" Robert exclaimed, his pleasure taking over his voice. "The military were so desperate that they had to bring in the Fullmetal Alchemist? I'm flattered!"

Elric slammed his fist on the table, the sound harsh enough to startle Robert out of his laughter. The shackles sank into his wrist when he jumped, and he couldn't help but grimace at the painful sensation. How could anybody stand such humiliating and uncomfortable things?

"Stop laughing and tell me where you hid your notes or I'll tear your entire fucking house outside out looking for them," Elric demanded.

"You wouldn't!" Robert exclaimed, his delight completely gone. Surely an alchemist wouldn't commit such an atrocity as to destroy a library, much less one as impressive as Robert's library was.

Robert looked closely at Elric, at the thin line of his lips and the deep frown between his eyes. At the fist, still pressed against the metal of the table. He remembered Edward Elric's reputation well, and with a sinking feeling realised that he would destroy Robert's library if he found it necessary.

Elric's mouth pulled up into a mockery of a grin, all teeth and no amusement when he saw Robert's assessing gaze.

"Wanna risk it?"

For the first time since he had been arrested, Robert found himself giving in.

"There is no need, Mr. Elric. I'll tell you where my research it, but it won't help you."

"That's for me to decide," Elric snapped.

Robert smiled. He couldn't help it. He knew something that Edward Elric didn't know, and what was best, that something reminded him of why this indignity was worth enduring.

"Roy Mustang has it."

Elric blinked.

"What?"

Robert's smile turned into a wide grin.

"As a fellow alchemist, I'm sure you understand," he started, leaning forward as much as the chains allowed him. "When I saw the Flame Alchemist walk into my library and take my notes, only to then step over my array, I couldn't resist! All my subjects have failed, but surely if anyone could succeed in following my carefully created instructions that is one of the best alchemists in the world!" Robert would have spread his hands then, the moment certainly called for it, but the shackles bit into his wrists again when he moved them too much.

Elric blinked and stayed silent for some long seconds. He was no doubt processing Robert's reasoning, reaching the conclusion that Robert hadn't had another choice. This was for the good of the world!

"Are you telling me," Elric started, "that you activated that array on purpose?"

Robert nodded.

"Of course I did. I—"

"Edward!" Hawkeye yelled suddenly, and a moment later Robert found himself with a gloved fist mere inches from his face, Riza Hawkeye holding an enraged Edward Elric back.

Riza had to drag Edward out of the interrogation room.

She understood, she had almost reached for one of her guns herself, but killing or beating up their prisoner wouldn't change anything. Not even having Edward Elric in his face at his most threatening —and being unaware of the fact that Edward could no longer perform alchemy— had made the prisoner so much as squirm. Punching him wouldn't have accomplished anything.

"Oh, come on, Hawkeye!" Edward practically growled. "Gimme five minutes and I'll know what's in those notes!"

"As much as I'd like to know, we have already tried everything short of torture to make him talk," Riza said, and she saw the expected discomfort cross Edward's face at the implication in her words.

Edward shook her off and turned around, a deep scowl on his face.

"I'm going back to the house. That asshole isn't smart enough to create entirely new symbols; they've got to be in some book."

"Hopefully Brigadier General Mustang will figure out the array with the notes."

It was proof of Edward's distress that he simply nodded instead of taking the chance to make a jab at the General's skills.

"I need an atlas," Roy said suddenly. He closed the book on this place's alchemy and stood up from his seat.

"Have you figured it out?" Olivier asked, looking up at him.

"Maybe. Is there any normal bookshop around?"

"Why? Don't you feel like going into a magic shop?" Olivier asked with a smirk. Roy had spent so much of his time immersed in the research that he had barely stepped out of the room.

"I prefer a map that won't change suddenly while I'm working with it."

Olivier stood up.

"Okay, let's go see what we can find."

"According to that book," Roy started, pointing to the pitifully basic alchemy book, "the symbol above the numbers means the world —which I take to be this world since it's not the symbol I'm familiar with— and the research," now he pointed to the notebook, "indicates the symbols around it are supposed to mark a destination. Could you tell me the coordinates of the place where we appeared?"

Olivier did, looking at the map they had brought with them from the Dursleys' house. The numbers matched those of the array on the last written page of the notebook.

"Okay," Olivier said after Roy nodded. "What do you want the atlas for?"

"I want to check if the numbers on the previous arrays are coordinates as well. They vary from the first ones, and the arrays only started working once a certain amount of numbers was used." Which led Roy to believe the creator of this array had been testing numbers randomly. It was a worrying thought, because it meant the missing girls could have ended up literally anywhere in this world.

Two hours later, Olivier couldn't believe the words she was about to say.

"Roy," she started, deliberately using his first name to draw his attention. It worked, as it always did. Roy paused his pacing and turned a quite impressive glare on her. "I know what you're thinking, but you can't just walk in there and burn the guy to a crisp."

Olivier was certain Roy's expression now must match the one from the battle against Envy that she had heard about, but instead of clinging stubbornly to his anger he took a deep breath and ran a hand through his dishevelled hair.

"I know," he said through gritted teeth. "We need him alive to know where he found his victims at least. Their families deserve answers." Roy sounded as though he was trying to convince himself more than Olivier, which he probably was.

"Go take a shower, Mustang," Olivier said. "You've been stuck to that table for days." And growing progressively more stressed out as the time passed and he pieced everything together. Not that Olivier blamed him for it.

She was expecting him to argue that he still had work left, but he surprised her by nodding and turning around to march stiffly into the bathroom.

Olivier glanced at the two notebooks on the table. The one Roy had taken from the alchemist's library and the one he had been working on.

There were nine victims, not five like the original report had stated. They had no names or descriptions for these other four victims because the alchemist referred to them as numbered subjects and nothing else. The first two had died activating the array before the alchemist had figured out how to fix it so that it would take the entire body instead of only the parts that were on top of the array itself. After that... They could almost certainly confirm four other victims had died as well. Three of them had been sent into the sea, and the fourth to a frozen continent known as Antarctica. The other three victims were an unknown factor right now. They had originally appeared at some point on land, but what might have happened to them afterwards was a mystery. Not only did they lack any information on the areas where these people had arrived, but according to Roy it would have been a disaster if they had used the "return array" the alchemist had given them.

That array, as Roy had pointed out earlier on his fifth cup of coffee of the day, had a very basic mistake: the symbol for the world was this world's symbol instead of their own, which meant if anyone had dared to use that array they would have been sent to the coordinates in this world. Olivier knew those coordinates, back home, were in Central —presumably the alchemist's house— but here they were in an entirely different place. Somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean.

Which meant there were between six and nine dead people.

Despite her earlier words to Roy, Olivier knew she would have to leave her own weapons outside of the interrogation room herself, lest she be tempted to shoot or stab the alchemist.

Roy had forced himself to go to sleep after his shower last night. The only thing left to do now was to fix the return array, and that was something he didn't want to do on little sleep and too much caffeine.

He was somewhat better rested now, had only drank one cup of coffee at the breakfast buffet, eaten something at Olivier's prompting and convincing glare, and was now back at his improvised work station, the defective return array and a blank page of notebook before him.

"Where should we go?" he asked, tapping his pen on the table. He refused to use the house's coordinates —who knew if they were even the right ones— and appearing at Central Command might not be the best of ideas. Unfortunately, the other coordinates Roy knew by heart were in the East, and he'd rather return as close to where they had vanished as possible.

"The Armstrong Estate," Olivier said without hesitation and rattled off a set of coordinates. Roy wrote them down, then started to sketch the array to memorise it better.

"We should pack," he said once he was certain he knew every line of the array by heart. "I'm sure those books will be of great use."

"It's already done," Olivier said, pointing to the two backpacks Roy had transmuted back at the Dursleys' house as well as two large shopping bags.

Roy nodded and walked over to pick his backpack. He took it to the table and put the notebooks inside. He had finished with the books yesterday.

"You'll have to carry both bags," he said. "I don't want to leave such an array lying around after we leave."

"You'll clap your hands?" Olivier asked, securing her own backpack before picking the bags up.

"Of course. Just don't kill me," Roy said, trying to put on a teasing smile that he knew came across as somewhat exhausted.

Olivier rolled her eyes.

"Get over here."

Roy did, wrapping his arms around Olivier's waist to secure her inside the circle. He then closed his eyes for better concentration, envisioned the array, and clapped his hands together to activate it.

To be continued