Chapter Eight
Where they run over a speed bump in the tracks.
Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist.
Several days after their arrival in Strasbourg, German newspapers began appearing in the corner grocery stores and newsstands across the city. The first of the threesome to discover the paper was Edward, on one of his daily trips to the grocery to buy new bandages for Sara. At first, he did not think much of it. But when he took the time to pick up the paper, a missing person article offering a reward for anyone with information on Sara's whereabouts caught his eye.
"God damnit!" hissed Edward under his breath, yanking the paper angrily from the miniature newsstand on the store counter. He held the paper up to his face, rereading through the article several times before marching over to the cashier. He waited impatiently as the young clerk charged him for his purchase and placed the items in the grocery bag. When she finished, Edward stormed out of the store and the entire way back to the cottage at the edge of town. Slamming the door behind him, he tossed the newspaper to Alphonse who sat on the dingy couch.
"What is this?" asked the younger Elric brother, gazing down at the paper in his hands suspiciously. In bold, the headline read: Golden Athlete Admits to Fraud at 1924 Olympics. "Brother, I thought you hated the Olympics. You made such a big deal about how ridiculous they were when everyone was hyped for them last summer…"
"Not that, Alphonse!" exclaimed Edward, throwing his hands into the air dramatically. He grits his teeth, pointing to the article about Sara in the bottom corner. "That," he specified.
After scanning through the paragraph-long article, Alphonse's eyes widened in shock. He appeared as though his dark golden irises were going to pop out of his head. "It has been a week!" he spat in awe. "How has this already made it to France?"
"Sven is a desperate, heart-broken father," piped in Sara, emerging from the back hallway that led to her bedroom. She rolled her icy blue eyes to emphasize her sarcasm. Blisters and burns on her neck, arms, and leg had been wrapped in long strips of bandages to keep from further infection.
"I'm sure he is," snorted Edward, folding his arms over his chest. He shook his head, thinking how hopeless this world was when it came to wanting more power. "Your entire world is selfish." Sara shot him a nasty glare. "No," he corrected himself. "The world is beyond selfish, it is greedy."
"Greed lives in everyone," informed the brunette young woman, her eyes sharpening. She sank into the sofa cushions beside Alphonse. "No matter what world you live in, you will always have to deal with sin. Even you, Edward, your drive to return to your world is a very deep-set greed within yourself."
"You have chosen science, Saraphine," he reminded her, a crisp cruelty edging his words. "That gives you no right to lecture me about sin. Your own lifestyle was driven by the need for answers."
Sara had no argument; she pressed her lips firmly into a line and turned to look over Alphonse's shoulder at the newspaper in his hands. She tried her luck at translating the passage herself, but the words swam around her brain too quickly as she read and reread to make any sense of it. "What exactly does it say?" she asked, no longer willing to put up with the confusion. Both brothers gave her suspicious glances. "Just because I speak German does not mean I read it very well!"
Edward's judgmental glare did not fade away after learning her explanation; he instead sat in the armchair across from the sofa and watched as Alphonse read her the paragraph.
"Saraphine Amsel, age eighteen, was taken from her family's manor outside of Munich seven days ago on the night of the twenty-first. The last person to have seen the girl was her sister, who claims that she was with a pair of brothers – Edward and Alphonse Elric. Saraphine's father, Sven, is a successful professor lecturing at Munich University and is willing to give anyone with information on either the whereabouts of his daughter or the Elric brothers a fair amount of gold in return." Alphonse's eyes grew dismal. "This is being blown out of proportion," he murmured.
"These people are desperate to win a war, Al," scoffed Edward, resting his head against the back of the chair. "They want our weapons, they want our alchemy, and they want our military tactics and skill. If they find Sara, she can give them what they want."
Alphonse looked skeptical. "I distinctly remember you saying that the military had no skill. 'Nobody with concerns for military performance, skill, or tact would ever invite the pompous bastard Roy Mustang into its ranks'."
Sara stifled her laughter and ignored Al's comment. "You make it sound like all the Germans want is a war to take their frustration out on, Edward," she said, "and that is not necessarily true. They want to take their frustration out on those they believed caused their loss for the last Great War, the communists and the Jews."
"Bastards," muttered Edward. He thought if killing mass numbers of people – entire races, in some cases – is their goal, that they already had the tools and technology to get away with it. In fact, he knew it for certain.
"Indeed," agreed Sara, blue eyes flashing. "But what does this mean for us? If Sven is serious about finding us, then he will certainly send someone to the University of Paris looking for me, thinking that I returned for my research."
"That is too predictable," Alphonse deduced, placing the newspaper on the coffee table between them. "I would assume you would do the same thing."
Edward smirked, as if he had just stumbled upon realization. "In which case, I would not waste sending any of my men there because it is far too easy to be anticipated," he said. "That is most likely what Sven is thinking. This certainly plays in our favor, especially since that is where we need to go."
"You seem to know quite a fair amount about how others think, Edward," observed Sara, a suspicious gleam lighting up in her eyes. She did not mean to be offensive, but it was clear that he had taken it in a different way than she had intended it. His golden eyes her stern and his shoulders tensed. "I mean you are very good at reading personalities, you did not have to be so defensive."
"You are going to be trouble, Saraphine Amsel," scolded Edward, his narrow eyes sharpening. Confidence swelled within him as he felt his glare piercing Sara, she was shifting uncomfortably. "Mark my words, trouble – just as you have been from the beginning."
She sniffed, "You were the one who originally wanted to help me, need I remind you. I never asked you for a damn thing." Sara sat stiffly; her nose scrunched like a pig's and turned toward the ceiling.
Alphonse placed a hand on Sara's shoulder cautiously, hoping that she was unlike his brother in one way and would not entirely lose her temper when touched or comforted. "Pay him no mind," he whispered, barely loud enough for her to hear. "Brother is just worn down; give him some time to sleep and a bit more food and he should be able to think with a clear head soon enough." He gave her a meek smile.
"I am thinking with a clear head! A tad extra sleep and more food would be nice, of course, but I am doing just fine as is." Edward finished his glib declaration with a prompt nod of his head, greasy strands of his hair falling over his eyes as he did so. Both Alphonse and Sara made a face at him, only slightly able to hide the disgusted expressions they wanted to wear. How long had it been that Edward had not bothered to bathe? "What are you staring at?"
"Nothing, Brother," said the younger Elric quickly.
Sara took the opportunity to take a snap at her keeper. "Your hair is absolutely revolting," she said with a sneer to her words. "I would assume that it is simply a male tendency to not care about your own personal hygiene, but seeing as Alphonse still has another clean day left for him…" She glanced to Alphonse's dark hair, which was not as clean as she would have liked if she was going to use for an example, but it was in much better shape than his brother's.
"What do you want me to do?" asked Edward, snapping. His question lived in his eyes. "It is kind of difficult to wash my hair in a house with no running water!"
"How do you think we all feel?" huffed Sara, a nasty scowl disguising her features. "You could at least try to manage it, though, you know."
"It will be one more day without a shower until we get to Paris, if I can deal with it than so can you," the older Elric brother scowled. Edward rose from his chair and stormed into the back hallway, the section of the cottage that housed the bedrooms. Alphonse watched his brother storm into the bedroom, glancing apologetically at Sara once he was gone.
Sara raised her dark brows, trying to comprehend what he was looking at her for. "Don't look like that, Alphonse," she told him, shaking her head slightly. "You have nothing to appear so remorseful for. You cannot help your brother's terrible behavior."
Al shrugged his shoulders slightly. His dark golden eyes shown with the knowing gleam of brotherhood – at least that was the way that Sara saw it. "He has been difficult being away from home for so long," he explained. "That is why he is so unhappy, and not to mention tough on you. I am just glad that we will be home soon."
She nodded, stringy strands of brunette hair falling over her face. She pleased that Edward's mind that would be allowed some ease when they return; hopefully he would not be so uptight when they passed though. Sara watched Alphonse rise as well from his seat beside her and pick the grocery bag off of the floor where Edward had dropped it beside the door. If only Edward could be more like his younger brother – she did not dare tell him that, she knew he had probably heard it enough times in his life – she would most likely like him more. She extended her arm, allowing him to unwrap the bandages from her forearms. When the bandages had been changed out, Alphonse invited her to go with him to the train station to buy tickets for Paris.
Glancing back to the hallway where Edward had disappeared, Sara answered, "Of course." She was feeling very caged lately, with the disease and being in hiding especially.
The train ride into Paris was not as entertaining as the journey out of Germany. Sara found herself asleep and dreaming a good portion of the ti
me, curled up on the compartment bench across from the Elric brothers. Edward was able to tear his mind away from the stress of returning home for a mere second, which was just long enough to worry about Sara's poisoning. He noticed the clean cloth bandages wrapping around her forearms, face, and neck and began wondering where they came from. He glanced to Alphonse beside him, who was beginning to doze off with his forehead pressed against the window, and assumed that he had taken the time to do it himself. Edward felt guilty that he had not done so himself, he was too busy worrying about himself.
About halfway through the three hour train ride, Edward watched as Sara's eyes fluttered open, her dark lashes casting shadows across her face in the dim light of the night compartment. He did not say anything to her; he merely sat back and watched her look at him. Soon, Sara had closed her eyes again and was drifting off to sleep again. Edward rested his head back on the wall and closed his eyes as well, waiting for more time to pass. Falling into a deep slumber was not as easy as his compartment mates made seem. The stomp of storming footsteps outside in the narrow hall played a part in keeping him awake. Edward glanced at the dusty glass window at the top of the compartment door, watching hatted heads bounce outside the door. Just as he had seen on Sven, there were swastika pins gleaming in the dim light as they moved.
Golden eyes sharpened, body tensing protectively. "Nazis," he thought, sneering. Edward's instinct was to draw the short curtain over the window, to hide the others. He knew that would only look more suspicious. Instead, Edward assumed that they had never seen Sara in person and that he had time to assure they could not recognize her. He reached across the compartment and hastily ripped the bandages from every inch of visible skin. There was a knock on the door when he shoved the infected wrappings into his scuffed boots.
"What?" he rasped harshly, attempting to sound groggy.
The compartment door slid open with a loud squeak. Three blonde headed men marched into the alcove promptly, giving Edward a clear view of their Nazi badges. The man in the middle held up a document for show, Edward could see that it was some sort of warrant. "We are looking for Saraphine Amsel," said the Nazi gruffly. "Her father reported her kidnapped in Munich, Germany just over a week ago."
A second man asked, "Is that she?" He gestured to Sara.
"No," Edward snapped defensively, receiving several suspicious glares from each of the men. Returning a dirty look to each of the Nazis gave him just enough time to think of a new identity for the sleeping woman across from him. It was clearly a long-shot if he was going by appearance, but it was a safe name. It would be untraceable. "That's my fiancé, Winry Rockbell."
I sincerely apologize that this chapter was relatively short, but after the last one and my personal schedule, there was no way I could squeeze anything more in. It covered the ground it needed to and that is what I am happy with. Also, a second note, I will not be able to update for at least the next week. I am not apologizing, but that's because I am going on summer vaca!
Please review. The more reviews I receiver, the sooner new chapters will come when I return!