THE BATTERY CARRIAGE HOUSE

Early evenings were the most crowded since the story hit the blogosphere about the distinguished German-born scientist who came to check out the stories about the Gentleman Ghost and ended up getting caught masturbating in the haunted room by his lover, who then announced to the people outside that the scientist was having an uncomfortably close encounter with an incubus. In fact, it was now a stopping spot on the 9pm Ghost Walk of the Battery District. After the tour, a blonde couple joined the milling crowd in courtyard, both bearing cameras and bags from several market street tourist traps. The man wore a Jimmy Buffett t-shirt, while the woman's shapely figure was well defined by a skin tight baby-doll that proclaimed "Carolina Girls—Best In The World". Gobbets of Murano Glass sparkled from her many necklaces, and she cracked her gum enthusiastically as she surveyed the scene of the Ghost Rape. "Freddie! Ain't this exciting?" she gushed in an accent that could be slathered on a hot biscuit like honey from the farmer's market. "Lookit how old it is! I just love historic places, don't you?" She smiled broadly to the other curious ghost chasers.

Freddie, a rather tall, well built man in his middle years, puffed on an aromatic stogie, consulted his digital watch and shot a few more pictures. "Okay, Sara. We seen it. You 'bout ready to move on out?"

"Gimme another couple of minutes, darlin'. I just wanna—OHHHH! Awww, SHIT! Honey? I lost my contact!"

"Damn it," her companion grumbled. "'Scuse me, folks! Ya'll mind holdin' still a minute? Missus lost her contact lens." Tugging a small LED flashlight from the Bass Pro Shop out of his fanny pack, he carefully inched his way towards where Sara was down on her knees, her loot and shopping bags tossed to one side. They huddled together, for several moments. "Wait—honey, don't move! I think I see it…yeah. I got it! Where's your case?"

"In my bag. I'll just—"

"Woman, don't put that back in your eye! You don't know who might'a walked around here! Somebody with dogshit on their shoes, or who knows what else—"

"Freddie, damn it! I ain't that stupid! I got glasses in my bag. I'll just put the lens in the case. We get to a bathroom and I'll get the other one out."

The couple scrambled to their feet, gathered up their bags and hurried away. In all the fuss, nobody noticed that one slightly greenish looking cobblestone had been pried out of the walkway and replaced by a flat black river rock purchased an hour ago from Black Market Minerals. In fact, the price tag was still on the underside of the stone.

Back in the van, Dr. Winry Sara Elric-Jones, Professor Alfons Heiderich Elric, a researcher for the Elric Foundation named Denny Brosh and a Cajun faith healer named Jeanne-Marie Baptiste Havoc snapped on their seat belts as Gracia Hughes stamped on the accelerator and got them the hell back to Sullivan's Island as fast as the speed limit would allow.

"Careful, cher. Don't touch it. Don' know what might happen," Jeanne-Marie cautioned. "Denny, put that rock in yer pocket, d'accord? Now let's get this damn thing back to de house. An' let's stop off at Sticky Fingers on the way in." She snapped open her cell phone. "I'm getting' us some barbecue to snack on . Gonna be a long night…"

RISEMBOOL SOUTH

They'd offered him their bedroom, saying that they would gladly bunk down in the nursery with the kids. He refused. "I'll get a hotel room." "The fuck you will!" In the end he reluctantly agreed to move into Teddy's music room on the second floor of the tower. A small doorway on one side revealed a microscopic staircase that led up to the cupola, which Teddy had screened in and furnished with a ceiling fan, a battered rattan sofa and a rickety table where she and Remy and their guests would often play cards or board games into the wee hours of the morning. "You'll have all the privacy you need, not to mention the best view of the water." A rollaway bed was moved in, and her Marshall Stack amplifier moved to the storage shed so Mustang would have enough closet space.

Actually, it was perfect. She'd discretely moved his belongings in, filled vases with fresh flowers and greenery from their garden, even installed hangers on the door for his yukata and laid his geta sandals beside the bed. A pile of books by his favorite authors were stacked on the nightstand and Ai-san had even set up a coffeemaker and a small tin of biscotti in case he got hungry. The curved bay window let in the pleasant evening breeze and as he settled in that first night back the sounds of the distant surf and the whisper of palmetto fronds stirring on the wind should have lulled him quickly into a tranquil night's rest.

Instead he flipped through pages without absorbing a single word. He thumbed the remote control, then tossed it in the drawer with a sigh of disgust. Not even a retrospective on 1960's Japanese monster movies could hold his attention. He grinned a little when he saw the little DVD player and the Astro Boy boxed set—Mays remembered how much he'd loved that cartoon as a kid. And Remy had stopped in to chat a bit, telling him quietly that if he needed to talk about anything—at any time—that Remy would be there for him. Mustang had been an only child, and Remy's overtures of sincere friendship made Roy sometimes regard Teddy's husband as the brother he'd often wanted. Of course, to be technical, he had five known half-siblings scattered across Europe, but other than Uncle Simon, nobody in the Rogers clan had the slightest desire to see what the family bastard even looked like.

A letter—a postal letter, not an email—from Montreal had been laid on his pillow. Uncle Simon was attending a medical conference and hoped to see his nephew and attend his wedding on Ranamuerte. "After all, my dear boy, your mother was so fond of Edward. She would have stood with you on your wedding day. And as I heartily approve of this, it would be my pleasure and honor to stand with you in Hikari-san's place. I'm getting up in years now—travel is not quite so simple an affair as it once was. I am in Canada attending a medical conference with your nephew Nigel—that's your brother Jon's lad by his first marriage. Nigel's studied medicine at University College Dublin. A good fellow and my traveling companion. He has some keen interest in the medical applications of bufotoxins and frog venoms found in the rainforests, so he assured me he would be quite glad to provide escort to me to your nuptials---"

That's what was keeping him awake. What the hell do I tell him? He's flying halfway around the world to be with me, hauling around the kid of someone who wishes I'd drop off the planet and disappear…how do I tell him that I'm not sure if there's going to be a wedding or not? He's been so good to me…what the hell do I do now?

There was a soft tapping at the door. Remy, most likely. "Come in," he muttered, folding up the missive and tucking it into the nightstand.

"Hello." Oh. Not Havoc.

"What do you want?" He struggled to keep his expression neutral, his voice flat and free of emotion.

"I…" He edged his way in, closed the door behind him. He cleared his throat with obvious discomfort. "Are you…good? Anything you need?"

Roy didn't look up. "Fine. Thank you."

He approached the bed slowly, gazing down at the man who had occupied the center of his heart, in one incarnation or another, for over eight decades. His expression was wistful and terribly lonely. He'd shaved off his beard. Roy had always hated that needful camouflage that helped conceal how youthful he truly appeared. His hair was loose, just like it had been thirty years ago when he'd come to Roy at the tiny house off campus in Berkeley, four days after they'd been arrested together on their first date. Same expression of yearning and regret. He opened the door into the hall, fetching what appeared to be a large cockatiel cage, which he placed on the window seat.

"What's that for?"

"For him." Edward dug carefully into his breast pocket and then laid a tiny creature on Roy's chest. A baby rat, the color of pale cinnamon mixed with cream, sniffed curiously for a moment at Roy's hand before it fell to licking him enthusiastically. "I didn't want you to be alone. His name is Galileo. He's a silver fawn. The breeder said he was about five weeks old." He smiled shyly and nodded towards the cage. "I didn't want you to be lonely. I know you miss Einstein."

Mustang's fingers stretched out to caress the tiny creature. "Thank you."

Silence. Ed reached into his pocket again, bringing out another scant handful of wriggling fur. This one was glossy black. "Teddy says male rats need companionship so they don't grieve. This one is Stephen Hawking." The blond rat and the black rat sniffed each other for a moment before Galileo turned his attention to his friend, busily grooming Hawking's neck and shoulders. "Want me to put them in the cage?" I've got plenty of food for them and water and some chew toys—oh, and I rigged a hammock for them."

"They're…great. Thank you. I'll…get acquainted with them. I'll put them up later."

"Oh. Okay." For a moment he watched the tiny creatures playfully nip and chase each other up and down Roy's chest. He knelt down, took Mustang's hand and pressed it firmly above his heart. "I know you don't want to talk now—"

"You're right. I don't."

"I…just wanted to tell you…I'm glad you're back. And I am so goddamned sorry—god, Roy, you don't—"

"Goodnight, Edward." Ed bowed his head and buried his face in the palm of Mustang's hand, blindly moving his face against the long elegant fingers, now glistening with traces of tears. He pressed one kiss into the palm, rose abruptly and left. Before he closed the door, he whispered softly, "Ashiteru, Taisa".

Gently scooping up the baby rats, Mustang settled them into the new cage. He showered, had a glass of soy milk and one of Elycia's cookies to keep his blood sugar stable during the night, then crawled wearily back into bed again.

Ashiteru. I love you, Taisa. His hand slid down his belly, stroking the hardness that had risen to that whispered endearment. "Fullmetal," he answered the lonely man behind closed doors downstairs in the guest room. His eyes slid tightly shut as memories rose, unsummoned and unwanted…

Our love was barely three hours old, but in the flickering glow of a dozen candles all I could see was you…

Holding you close, undisturbed before a fire,
The pressure in my chest when you breathe in my ear;
We both knew this would happen when you first appeared…

That phrase, 'lost in your eyes'. So trite. So pointless and idiotic until the moment it happens in truth. Your small slim body, draped across my chest, your metal limbs seemed so strange at first. You were oh so shy about letting me see your scars, so happy when I traced and kissed each one. I opened the whole of my heart to you and you to me in those hours.

…Letting myself wander through the world inside your eyes
You know I'd like to stay here until every tear runs dry…

I nearly asked you what that odd smell was that clung to you until I vaguely recognized it as sewing machine oil. Of course. To keep your joints supple.

In time I would never smell machine oil without remembering that night, how silence wrapped us in its arms and all I needed was the gentle rise and fall of your chest against mine, the sound of rain and the voices of Graham Nash and David Crosby weaving together from the stereo down the hall…

Wrapped around each other in the peeping sun,
Beams of sunshine light the stage,
the red light's on.
I never want to finish what I've just begun with you…

Biting down hard into his pillow, his breath ragged and urgent, he held on to those memories as tightly as he held onto himself. Berkeley…London…that night in Singapore when we rented the houseboat…the night Izumi was born in Tokyo…GOD…ohhh God….PARIS…

KerBLAAAMMM.

A size nine Tony Lama cowgirl boot kicked in his bedroom door.

Jeanne-Marie Havoc stared down into his flushed, sweaty face and grinned. Roy was mortified. The part of his anatomy that had been screaming for attention since he'd licked Ed's tears from his fingers was now curling up and desperately seeking a way to escape the old woman's sharp eye'd appraisal.

"Welllllll," she chuckled. "Don' look like it needs much more polishin' before it shines, boy." Her eyes sparkled with playful malice. "It be mighty pretty, but play with it later, yes? We got bidness. Get dressed. We see you in the library." She stomped to the door, paused and turned around. "An' wash yo' hands while you at it."

The Regulator clock in the kitchen chimed ten times before they locked the door to the library. Ed had gone to bed, possibly with a glass of brandy. Gracia and Ai-san were upstairs with the little ones. Edwin was surfing the web on his laptop in the den. His father, Fritz, had called earlier from Atlanta. He would not be back until Monday. In the library Teddy, Mays, Win-Sara and her brother Al, Remy and Jeanne-Marie circled around the table. Mustang was seated at its head, looking damned uncomfortable. Before him was a plate of liebkuchen biscuits and a cup of hot coffee. There was also the mouth watering smell of pulled pork barbecue and short ribs—that was for later. "This works right, we gon' need some sustenance when it be done, non? So leave the food be for now." Jeanne-Marie told them.

Denny Brosh had already set up his equipment. Digital camcorder. Digital recorder and old fashioned tape deck. He shoved the window up; it was getting stuffy. "I'm ready when you are," he said, nodding to Win-Sara.

The fragment of the Portal Stone was wrapped in a paper napkin from Wild Wing Café so it wouldn't touch her skin. It wasn't enough. The damned thing was already glowing green, just as it probably had when she stepped over it in the courtyard, triggering this stone and the fragment in the foundation in front of the toilet in Room 10. Mustang eyed it warily. "What do I do?"

"Nothin'. Teddy, you and Remy—you do the callin'. He knows you already."

Teddy paled a little, then nodded. Taking Remy's hand tightly in her own, she closed her eyes and began to speak. "Alfons? Herr Heiderich? Es ist mich -- Tricia. Die Nichte von Edward. Können Sie mich hören? Werden Sie zu mir kommen? Ich brauche Ihre Hilfe."

The stone burned. A shimmering form appeared at the head of the table. „Ah! Tricia -- klein Ein. Sie sind wieder gekommen. Es ist gut, Sie zu sehen. Wo ist Edward? Ist er böse mit mir"?

"Alfons—let us speak in English, please?" she requested.

The spirit beamed. „Auf Englisch?Ja. Mine Englitsch is sehr gut" He glanced around curiously. "This place I do not know. But I know you. I know Herr Havoc, your fine husband." He turned his face to meet Mustang's. „Herr Mustang. Herr Taisa Roy Mustang von Japan. Ich kenne Sie. I know you. I know you the whole of your life. And I am sorry--- So erbärmlich—that I have caused you such pain. It is my fault altogether—"

"Shut up!" Roy snapped. "Save it for someone who gives a damn."

The ghost's expression was sympathetic. "Ah, but you care. You care. It was I who intruded---I who trespassed, when dear Edward told me not to. So sweet—so good to be close to him after all these years. Mehr als könnte ich stehen—more that I could stand. You will not forgive, I know."

Mustang's face was impassive. "Forget it. What is it you want?"

Anxiously the spirit looked from Teddy to Remy. "I know not how else to do this thing, but as I did with you." Remy nodded, almost imperceptivity.

"Ja. This is the best way, then. I go in. I show our friend."

An hour ago he lay in the little room above them, miserably fisting his cock and replaying every precious moment of that first night they spent together at the tumbledown house in Berkeley thirty years ago. He'd been teetering on the edge of ecstasy when Jeanne-Marie had burst in on him. His body ached. It was unsatisfied and his groin felt like it had been booted.

The shade of Alfons Heiderich flickered and bled into him, right through the surface of his skin. His body spasmed, and if he had been aware of his surroundings he would have been embarrassed by the damp stain that darkened the front of his trousers. Heiderich was everywhere. Pulsing in is blood. Throbbing in his temples, in his sex, making his heart hammer wildly. Must show you, my friend. You have to know what made your Edward cry out and touch himself…

That…smell. Cinders and sandalwood and musk and fresh sweat. Bodies twining, a metal hand tearing at red satin sheets in a room that was too warm, too stuffy and altogether perfect. A blue uniform, a red coat, crumpled together on the floor. A tall black-haired man, head flung back as if abandoning himself to pleasure, gnawing his lip and gasping, stuttering out half-decipherable declarations of love to the lithe blond youth who rode his cock, swearing and sweating, flushed and perfect…then he was stepping off a plane, being hugged by a small brown haired young woman—but he didn't even see her. His heart lurched violently, knocked against his ribcage at the sight of a slim black haired young man in a clean sweatshirt, neat jeans and a half-smirk, half grin. Oh god…ohhh god…it's you. Teddy found you. It's not over…ohh, Roy…love you…love you so goddamn much…

They saw his body convulse. They heard the muffled sobbing as his hands covered his face. They saw the spirit of Alfons Heiderich appear again, not even a second later. "He knows, now, that Edward does not lie about his love. They will mend this, I am hoping. Auf Wiedersehen, meine lieben Freunde."

"Alfons!" Roy's eyes slid open. His lashes were wet.

"Ja?"

Mustang licked his lips. His mouth was very, very dry. "Vielen Dank. Vielen Dank für Zeigen mich."

Heiderich's smile was boyish, beautiful. "Sorgen Sie für ihn für mich. Für wir beiden. Auf Wiedersehen." Take care of him for me—for both of us.

"No promises."

"I understand." Edward's hand trembled as it brushed a soft strand of sweaty black hair out of Taisa's eyes. "Tomorrow we'll discuss the trip to Ranamuerte. He—Heiderich—says that the stone has been tampered with. We've got to get that thing shut down. And we've got to get that other stone out of the foundation in the Carriage house." He paused, awkward in the silence between them. "The wedding…?"

"I don't know, Edward. This is not a good time to ask me about that." He nodded briefly. "Goodnight."

"Taisa—wait." And he was in Mustang's arms, winding himself around the taller man, rising up on his toes to reach that impassive mouth. Roy didn't resist, and after a tense moment began returning the kiss, pulling his estranged lover closer until they were hugging one another so tightly he feared their ribs would crack. It would be so damned easy, they both knew, to lock the door behind them, tumble onto the bed and lose themselves in each other…but it would be too easy. One glorious fuck does not wipe the slate clean. This time they had wounded one another deeply. They would have to learn to trust again…and that could not be accomplished overnight. And so they parted, neither smiling, retreating to their separate rooms and separate beds…but both of them slept just a little bit better that night.

Before Mustang came back to the music room, Edwin Hoenheim Elric slipped out and closed the door behind him. He carefully coiled up the microphone cord—the 25 footer—the one that was thin enough to slip through the bottom edge of the window screen, long enough to dangle outside the window of the library where the swamp hag was working her voodoo with the family. The little Sapphire Ivory MP3 recorder had the most amazing condenser microphone built right into it, but he used the Shure cartiod mic Teddy preferred when recording music. The little Roland amp had been easy to figure out. Run the mic into the Line In, hook the Ivory to the Line Out, then upload the file into his iPod. With luck, he wouldn't' t miss a word they said in their little red coat meeting—the one they held behind Edward's back.

He crawled in his bed, jammed the ear buds in, cranked the playback and listened.

"Alfons? Herr Heiderich? Es ist mich -- Tricia. Die Nichte von Edward. Können Sie mich hören?" Alfons? Mr. Heiderich? It's me—Tricia. Edward's niece. Can you hear me?

It was all Gluttony could do to keep Envy inside the car before he could motor to a location secluded enough for his tantrum. "Careful! You'll---awwwww, now look what you've done, Envy! You've stabbed a hole right though the upholstery!" Looking nervously around at the cars on either side of their sleek grey Beamer, he prayed to no deity in particular that the over zealous Carolina cops wouldn't notice he had a maniac in the back seat flailing around with a remarkably long knife. "I—hang on—there's the turn off to the state park. Puh­-leez, Envy! You're going to get us into trouble!"

Envy flung himself face down onto the back seat, biting down hard on the leather, hissing furiously, his blade now plunging up and down into the back of the driver's seat. "Oh! Owww! That hurts! I'll tell Lust on you!" In order to pass for something near human, Envy had crammed Gluttony's pallid bulk into a rather sober looking three piece suit. The buttons strained a bit—especially after Gluttony ate the tailor who hemmed up his pants—but no one would mark him as anything other than a grossly fat man with platinum card privileges. And since every jab of the blade made another tear in the tightly stressed fabric, Gluttony was in very real danger of having his trousers split right off his mountainous bum.

"She-doesn't-give-a-shit-about-you! I told you." The tip of the blade punched right through leather, padding, another layer of padding, another of leather and poked a full half inch into ass crack. "Neither does Greed, that sorry son of a bitch."

"Be fair, Envy," his companion whimpered. "Greed was the one who told you where they were. He said they were on the island."

"And nobody was there when we broke in," Envy snapped back. "Or I'd have fucked his ex with the business end of a butcher knife until she told me where the Pipsqueak is—and how to find—"

"---Please, Envy! Don't say his name!"

"HOW—" stab "-TO-" stab-grind "FIND" hack-slash "—MY—" jab-slash "FAAAATHER!!!!"

Silence.

A small voice from the front seat. "Envy?"

"What, goddamn it?"

"Can I have a cheeseburger?"

Pause. Sigh. "Soon as I kill something, okay?"

"I like Sonic. Can we have Sonic?"

"That the place with the cherry limeade?"

"Uh huh."

"Okay. But you're paying---and I want fries instead of tater tots this time."

RISEMBOOL SOUTH

They assembled promptly at ten behind closed doors. Three in black. Three in red.

Win-Sara and her brother Alfons sat outside the library with Edwin. Facing them on the opposite wall was a large framed photograph taken when Teddy was in 6th grade, performing in some benefit show to raise money for a local charity. Teddy, Win-Sara and Winry were lined up on stage in 1950's poodle skirts, pony tails and sherbet-colored cashmere sweaters, each belting into a microphone. To Winry's right, Alfons perched, grinning, on the back of his mom's vintage Vincent Black Lightning motorcycle—the one Malcolm Forbes offered their mom a small fortune for and Al's proudest possession. Edwin jerked his head towards the photo. "What gives?"

His grandfather chuckled warmly at the memory. "They were singing this old song, 'The Leader of the Pack'. I got to gun the engine during the chorus. It was great."

"Where'd Aunt Tee get the Stratocaster?"

"Borrowed it from her guitar teacher. That's not the one upstairs—she got hers for her Sweet Sixteen. All the other girls in her class got charm bracelets," Win-Sara answered proudly. "Her senior year she dressed up like Hendrix under her robes, jumped up out of the school band and played 'Star Spangled Banner' as a joke during her graduation instead of 'Pomp and Circumstance'. Miracle they didn't take back her diploma."

"And now she has to do it again at every class reu—oh, Hughes!" Mayland had poked his head out of the double doors, gesturing for the boy.

The color drained right out of his grandson's face. Alfons patted his shoulder. "It's going to be all right. They're not going to eat you, for heaven's sake!"

"It will be all right, Eddie—I promise," Great Auntie Win assured him with a hug he'd have been too cool to accept even five minutes ago. "Aunt Tee survived the same talk—so will you."

Hughes gestured for him to hurry. Edwin followed him through the door, dragging his feet with every step.

"Not in the house!" Win poked her brother in the ribs as he dug in his breast pocket for a hand rolled cigar. "Let's go outside to wait. We both know what's going to come of it."

Alfons looked skeptical. "Maybe with Teddy—she always had that funny turn of mind, you know? But with this kid…there's no telling."

As was the current custom, each red-coated sensei sat across the table from his or her alchemic disciple. Alchemic tradition required that spouses refrain from the student/teacher relationship, so Remy studied under Alphonse and Roy trained with Teddy.

That paired Edward with Jeanne-Marie, much to their mutual annoyance. The fact that she'd dared to barge into his bedroom and reamed him out, asshole to elbow, over the incident with Heiderich's fetch, was a serious breach in protocol, while Teddy had been perfectly within her rights to lay Mustang out to whaleshit for over-reacting to the whole mess.

So at the moment young Edwin entered the library, the only pair of serene eyes that welcomed him belonged to grandfather and Uncle Jean-Remy. "Sit," Edward ordered with a flick of a gleaming metal hand the boy had never seen before—in fact, Uncle Edo was wearing a black tank top under his red coat, which he shrugged off a shoulder that was—ohhh, shit!—made of gleaming grey metal and bolted on, right through his skin.

"You want to know the truth, kid? Take a good look."

*****************************************************************************************

"More ginger tea?"

"N-no. Thanks. I'm…I mean…it's…okay."

Aunt Tee patted him on the back. "Yeah, I know. Threw me for a loop the first time I got a good look at it. I accidentally walked in on him in the bathroom when he was getting out of the shower. I was about six years old and had a habit of not knocking if I really needed to pee. His arm and leg shocked me so badly I forgot to notice his dick. And Edo's so used to his automail it didn't occur to him that it was all the metal that sent me running through the house, screaming at the top of my lungs. He took mom aside and suggested that for the sake of my future husband she might want to tell me a little something about male anatomy."

Edwin managed a weak grin and wiped his mouth for the umpteenth time. Remy had already replaced the wastebasket and a shot of Febreeze had killed the smell. The adults had all been sympathetic with his reaction, especially Edo, who now tapped his coffee cup with a teaspoon, calling them back to the table.

"All right. Let's continue." Discreetly, Edwin tapped the record button on the tiny Sapphire Ivory mp3 unit in his pocket, vowing to edit out the sound of his disgraceful retching as soon as he could get a moment alone with Aunt Teddy's mixing board upstairs.

"So…Edwin. Since Jeanne-Marie—" he shot the old woman a poisonous glare, "—has told you the essentials, without our permission, mind you—I'm going to open up the floor to you, kid. I know you've got questions. Fire away."

And fire away he did. Gracia sent in a huge tray of sandwiches, a couple of apple pies, a fresh pot of coffee and a couple of cold cokes for Edwin and Teddy. They talked through lunch. They talked through most of the afternoon, adjourning only for bathroom breaks and for Teddy to check on Izumi.

At Edwin's request, they sent out for pizza before Denny Brosh took the floor to show him the actual video footage of the Gateway stone near Disney World, the one called Orlando 5. There were also some digital photos Taisa had snapped of the Ranamuerte stone—the one linked to the Gatestone in Liore. The footage of his Grandfather and Aunt being dragged right through the surface of the stone by a pair of strong human hands made him drop his slice of double-pepperoni and dash for the wastebasket again. Worse yet were the scenes of their return—Uncle Edward, with Uncle Taisa and Uncle Jean holding on to him, leaning halfway into the stone, being yanked back, pulling Teddy and Alphonse out, the thick blood fountaining out of Teddy's mouth, her father moaning and weeping and pale as death. He backed away from the table, trembling all over. "S-stop! Stop it!" he sobbed, covering his face with his sweaty hands.

Everyone agreed that the kid had had enough for one day. "Let's go out and get some ice cream or something," Alphonse had suggested. They piled into Arlo and headed across the bridge to Mt. Pleasant.

"Sonic okay?" Remy asked over his shoulder. "The milkshakes are the best."

"Well, the best we can get at this hour," Mays added.

"Is that the place that has the cherry limeade?" Ed wanted to know. "That drive in place? Yeah, it is—and they've got this really evil thing called Frito Pie. Take a handful of Fritos, bury 'em under homemade chili and beans and cover the whole damn thing with cheese and hot peppers."

"Damn good thing I'm not sleeping with you tonight," Mustang observed dryly. "Too chilly to sleep with the windows open."

"Fuck you, Mustang."

"Fuck yourself, Ed. That's what you're good at, isn't it?"

"WHOAAA! This is Radio Station WTMI—Too Much Information. Why don't we change the channel?" Hughes was trying to defuse what might escalate into the kind of ugly name calling that might not stop once Ed and Roy got wound up. He shot a furthitive glance at the kid, who just shrugged and fiddled with his shirt pocket.

"Okay, that's four cherry limeades, one chocolate Dr. Pepper, one coke, one Diet Sprite with lime, a Frito Pie, three cheeseburgers—one with no pickles, a foot long Coney with no chili and Monterey grilled chicken wrap, sauce on the side. And one banana split."

"And tater tots instead of fries—oh, and we need extra ketchup. Here." Alphonse handed a couple of twenties to the carhop. "Keep the change." He turned to his daughter. "I know—but if she can keep all that straight and carry out that mountain of food she deserves it."

Soon as the food arrived, Mustang ordered everybody to roll down their windows. When Remy asked him why, his friend shot back, "You've obviously never been around Ed in a Mexican restaurant." Edward grabbed his snack and gobbled it down greedily, washing it down with great gulps of cherry limeade. As a result, he'd polished off his food long before everyone else and belched heroically. "Brother," Alphonse pointed out, "you wouldn't get gas if you'd slow down. You swallow all this air when you gulp your food---"

"Do I need to burp you over my shoulder like Izumi?" Teddy snickered. "Remy, have you got a spit rag?"

Ed rolled his eyes. "I am SO blessed to be a part of such a loving family."

"Hey, Aunt Tee—they got bathrooms here?" Edwin asked. "I gotta take a piss."

"Watch your mouth, goddamn it!" Jeanne-Marie muttered. "Don' let me catch you cussin' in front o' dem bebés at home, cher"

The bathrooms were along the rear of the building. Edwin ducked inside, locked the door with a shaking hand…and then hit the rewind button.

"So you're saying the whole atomic weapons thing—the bomb and all—you mean that's our fault?"

"Yeah. I mean, Huskisson sent it through the Gateway because we failed to stop it. And then the Nazis got their hands on it before we could find it ourselves. So…yeah. And that's why we've pledged our lives to this—to serving, to watching Hoenheim's Portal stones. Because either something worse can come from Amestris—or something worse can come from here."

"Um…like…have there been other breakouts since the one in the war? The one where Grandpa came back across?"

"Yeah. Unfortunately. There's dozens of these stones. Denny and Teddy and the rest of us keep track of them. Last time was a year ago—but that wasn't an attack. That was…an old friend who was trying to find me. But your Grandpa and Aunt Teddy could have been killed, getting there and getting back, not to mention your Grandpa almost got his head blown off by somebody who hadn't seen him in years…"

He hit record. "This is me. And this is some weird-assed shit going down. I'm gonna keep records of all this stuff they're telling me, uploading it on my Nano, just in case they turn out to be a bunch of psycho-freaks or something. But…I dunno. I think I believe them, maybe." He hit pause and stuffed the mp3 micro recorder back into his shirt pocket. He peed, washed his hands and face, toweled off and stepped outside.

He walked straight into a huge flabby man who was frantically grabbing at his torn pants. Right behind him stood a slim young man with long black hair, lavender eyes and a face of considerable beauty—so much that it was momentarily hard to determine the person's gender until one checked out his lack of cleavage.

The violet eyes flashed in recognition. "It's….you." He leaned closer; Edwin was too terrified to move. "You have hot fudge on your chin." Swift as a snake, the strange man snatched up a handful of Edwin's hair, yanked him close and sensuously licked the chocolate from the boy's face. "Delicious."

The fat man drooled. "Can I eat him?"

The monstrous beauty smiled, revealing pointed eyeteeth. "No. This one's mine…so fresh…ummmmm….so young. Does he…remind you of someone?"

A fat tongue swirled around thick lips. "Hoenheim. He looks like our Father."

Edwin stopped struggling for a second. "Hoenheim?? That's my—"

They were interrupted by a staccato blast of muffled flatulence. "Goddamn Mustang and his smart mouth," Edward was muttering as he rounded the corner. "Never lets me forget about—HEY! GET THE HELL AWAY FROM HIM, YOU FREAK!"

Envy's head swiveled. His eyes locked on target, then blazed. "You….it's you again, Pipsqueak. Why the hell won't you just DIE??" Shoving Gluttony aside, he grabbed Edwin around the throat, dove backward and locked the restroom door behind him.

As Edward hammered and shouted, Edwin sank to his knees, wide eyed and terrified. "Please," he begged. "Please, god…don't hurt me."

"Being dead doesn't hurt," Envy smirked, pushing him down onto the grimy floor. "Being fucked in the ass? Yeah. That's gonna hurt…a lot. Especially if you're not careful." He leaned in, ripped the boy's shirt open, buttons pinging on the dirty tiles. "I have no intention of being careful…oohh…now what do we have here?"

"GIVE THAT BACK!" Edwin shouted, then gasped in pain when the stranger pinched his nipple between sharp fingernails.

"So…what does the wittle baby alchemist wike to wisten to on his wittle pwayer, hmmmmm?" He flicked it on, eyes sparkling at the sound of familiar voiced. Hated voices:

"There's been some disturbance in the Portal Stone on Ranamuerte again—that's the one Armstrong said he'd buried in the lake. Some idiot is trying to tamper with it, so we're going down there to check it. And get married."

(SILENCE)

"Okay…maybe not get married. Alphonse and I have to go. Teddy and Remy are coming with us. Roy, you still in?"

(SILENCE) "Yeah. I'm coming."

"You not leavin' me behind, old man."

"Right. Hughes? You're staying here, right? You and Gracia are going to keep the kids?"

"Yeah. I can run my practice from here, no sweat. And he's staying here with us, right Edwin? We don't know when your dad is getting back from Atlanta."

(SILENCE) "Yeah. Whatever. You mean I can't go?"

"After all the shit you've seen—you still believe it? This ain't Harry Potter, kid. This is real. I'm not putting you at risk."

"Uncle Edward, you said you were just going to look at the stone, right? What kind of risk is that?"

(SIGH) "Wish I knew, kid. Wish I—"

The lithe figure stuffed the recorder in his pocket. "Well…well…well. A little change in plans….since you're an ELRIC. I was gonna fuck you and then kill you…ohhh, so slow…so hard and deep—the knife in your guts, not my cock in your ass—you might actually enjoy that part, considering your uncle is a cocksucker, just like his daddy Hoenheim. I think I'll just skin you. Then I'll let Gluttony have a few bites—oh, nothing you'll really need. Eventually I'll fuck you…and that's when the fun---"

Ker-BLAMMMMM!

A size 13 Tony Lama boot kicked in the door. It was followed by the muzzle of a semi-automatic pistol of a caliber that might not kill a homunculus—but it would sure as shit slow him down some. Havoc fired off a half dozen rounds into the back of Envy's head. Edward kicked the body to one side, grabbed his nephew and ran like hell.

Gluttony was in the shadows, picking the remains of a foot long Coney out of his brick-like teeth. Havoc ran right over him. So did Edward, pausing only momentarily to kick the brute squarely in the crotch with his automail foot.

Diving into the Microbus, they screeched off down Coleman boulevard, pedal to the floor and the cops be goddamned. Edward hugged his nephew tightly as Alphonse flicked out his cell phone. "Gracia? Listen to me. Grab the 'bug out' kit, get the babies and Ai-San and meet us at the airport. Don't forget the passports. We're leaving now—and tell Al and Win I love them—and to get the hell out of town." He snapped the phone shut with a sigh, then opened it again to leave a voice mail on Fritz's cell phone, telling him Edwin was fine but was going with them on a little business trip to the islands—oh, nothing to worry about. They'd call him when they got back—and to stay away from the house on I'on Avenue.

"Must have been that old VW backfiring," the carhop wondered aloud as the van roared away in the night. "Good tippers."

Gluttony laved smears of Envy's blood off the filthy floor with his tongue, hoisted Envy's inert body over one beefy shoulder and tossed him into the back seat of the Beamer.

Envy shuddered, moaned a little. "Ranamuerte," he gasped. One hand pawed at his pocket. He dug out Edwin's recorder, jammed the buds in his ear. Presently he began to smile.

"Gluttony?"

"Yes?"

"I never got that cherry limeade. Find us another Sonic. I so hate," he smirked evilly, "to travel on an empty stomach…."

…TO BE CONTINUED….