Chapter Three: Help Needed

That Sunday, Al missed another luncheon because he wanted to stay with me. We started to go out a little more, though. We tried a few New York restaurants. And we went to the library a few more times. They actually had a pretty good selection. Whoever had Amestris checked it back in. I didn't check it out, but it made me happy to see Al's name next to the names of other famous authors on the shelf.

I looked at the non-fiction section. It was alright. The science books weren't the best, but I guessed I could get Al to take me to the University's science department if I was really interested.

Which I was, really. When I first got to this world, I only really like science for my own benefit – to get back home. But since Alfons was killed, I started to get interested for real. I hate it, because I can't share that passion with him anymore, but…that's equivalent exchange, I guess.

And who would I rather have had? Alfons or Al?... It's an impossible question. I know I wouldn't have wished death on Alfons, but I would have done…almost…anything to see Al again.

But it's not like any of that mattered. Alfons was dead, and my brother was here with me. That's how it turned out. I didn't even have to choose.

Anyhow, in the middle of the week, when I was reading an interesting book and sipping from a glass that I had filled with the liquor that had been refilled yet again, Al strode up to me and took the glass out of my hand.

"Hey, I was drinking that!" I said, making a swipe for it. He held it out of my reach and looked at me seriously.

"You need to get a job."

I frowned. "What?"

"I'm serious. I have a writing gig with the University, but I don't want you sitting around here mooching off me."

"I promise not to mooch that much."

He rolled his eyes. "Brother, please. I think it would be good for you."

"What kind of job did you have in mind?"

"I don't know. You could work in a factory."

"A factory?"

"It was just an idea!"

I sighed. "I'll look into it."

"Are you lying?"

"Nah, no, of course not. Give me my drink back."

He groaned and I grabbed my glass out of his hand. As he stomped away, I heard him mutter, "You're such a drunk!"

Upon hearing this, I stopped and looked at the alcohol in my hand. Maybe he was right. This couldn't be a healthy habit. You know what? He was right about everything. I needed to get a job. And I needed to quit drinking.

The next morning, earlier than I had been up for the past week or two, I got up and got ready for the day. While Al was still sleeping, I took a bath (no suicide attempts this time), got dressed, and managed to make my hair look quasi-professional.

Just as I was pulling on my coat, Al woke up. Rubbing his eyes, he came to the doorway of the bedroom and looked at me. "What's the occasion?" he asked, scrutinizing me.

"I'm going out-" He raised one eyebrow. "-to find a job."

He raised the other eyebrow, a feat I couldn't help but admire. "Are you joking?"

I laughed. "No, Al, I'm completely serious. Is it that hard to believe?"

He thought for a moment, then said, "Yeah. It is."

I shook my head. "Well. I'll probably be gone for a couple hours. Don't you have classes to take or something?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I do. Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?"

"Al, I'm not stupid. I won't throw myself into the path of a moving automobile."

"You promise?"

I smiled. "I promise."

He nodded again. "Okay. Don't get into any trouble. Be back soon."

"I will be. 'Bye, Al."

In lieu of a goodbye, he just nodded his head solemnly. I left.

For almost an hour, I just explored the city. It was huge. I could have spent days wandering around.

I asked around, and was directed to a couple places, but it seemed that nowhere was hiring. Which was strange, because I always had thought of America as this new land that presented people with the chance to start over and get rich.

I guess not.

I spent a little of the money that I had on my on a small sandwich from a deli for lunch. I even looked there for a job, but they weren't hiring.

It was still in the afternoon when I went back to the apartment. Al wasn't there. I assumed he took advantage of my absence and went to some sort of University meeting. I thought for a while about what I'd like to do. Something that helped people. And something that took brains. It wasn't like I wasn't smart enough to find a job – no, I was well-educated. My father had taught me all about this world, and then some. If someone just recognized my intellect, then I would have no problem finding some place to work.

Al got back in the late evening. When he saw me, he asked, "No luck?"

I shook my head. "Nothing."

"That's too bad. Maybe you could try tomorrow."

"Yeah."

He lingered in the room a little longer. I looked at him. "What's up?"

"Can I…is it okay if I go to the luncheon tomorrow?" I remembered it was Saturday today. "I won't if you don't want me to, but I just want to make another appearance and if it's okay with you then I'd like to go take classes at the University but only if you're alright with that because if you're not I'll stay home and I won't-"

"Al, stop," I said, smiling. "Calm down. I'm fine with you going to the luncheon tomorrow, and then classes after that. But come on, Al. You don't have to ask me about everything."

"Oh. Okay then. I just wanted to make sure you were alright with that."

He didn't move.

"Is there something else-"

"Cannagochurwithecomtimorrow?"

I frowned. "What?"

He took a deep breath. "Can I go to church tomorrow?"

"Church? Why? What for?" I asked, sitting straight up.

"Well, most of the committee members go to church before lunch, and I want them to like me, so I think that if I go with them then… can I, Brother?"

It took all my strength to say, "Of course you can. I don't mind. And once again, you don't have to ask me before you do something."

"Right. Um. Thanks."

He disappeared. I shook my head. He's a little odd sometimes, but I really do love him. I don't know what I would've done without him.

The next morning, he was gone when I woke up. He left a note saying that he would be home at one o'clock and that I should look around for a job some more.

So I did. Once I looked presentable, I left the apartment again. The weather was turning brisk, and I could see my breath if I tried. So I turned the collar of my coat up, wore my old white gloves and a hat that Noa had said looked good on me, and made my way through the crowded streets of New York.

I tried a few more places, but it was just like yesterday. Nothing. So I decided to walk around some more, which is how I ran into a familiar face.

I was striding down a street, glancing around for any Now Hiring signs. I had no such luck. I paused to look into the window of a small pawn shop that looked interesting, when a young woman sprinted down the street and stood behind me.

"Um, hello," I said, raising my eyebrows at her, but she just stared at something behind me. I followed her gaze and was surprised to see three or four policemen running after her, batons waving menacingly. Out of instinct, I placed myself protectively in front of her.

Once they caught up to me, the one in front said, "Sir, please move out of the way."

"Why should I?" I asked.

"She's under arrest, sir."

"Is that so?" I asked, glancing at the young woman. She looked familiar. I could tell from her expression that she was trying to hide the fact that she was frightened. "Well, gentlemen, I'm afraid that's not necessary. She's with me."

A policeman in back lunged forward, the man in front glared at me, and everything went black.

I woke up after a while, in a comfy chair. My head hurt, but it wasn't an alcohol hurt this time. I looked around.

I was in a small office. It was connected to a small jail - I was at a police station. I tried to stand up.

"Ah, Mr. Elric, good to see that you're awake," said the police officer from earlier, coming into the room. "How are you feeling? Would you like a drink?"

"Uh – I'm fine," I said. How did they know my name?

My question answered itself when I saw my wallet on the desk in the room, and Al's library card lying out next to it. They thought I was my brother. They thought they had just knocked unconscious a member of the International Literary Exchange Program. I almost laughed. I picked my wallet up.

"We're sorry, sir," said the policeman. "But we thought that-"

"Yeah, yeah," I mumbled. "Where's the girl?"

The policeman frowned, the pointed to the jail. "Behind bars, sir. She won't bother you again."

"She wasn't bothering me. Did you give her a phone call?"

"Er, no, sir," he said.

"Can I talk to her?"

"Of course, sir."

I nodded and walked out to the jail cell. The young woman was sitting in the corner, glaring at something.

"Hey kid," I said. She glanced up.

"What do you want?" I noticed she had a black eye.

"You look awfully young to be getting into this much trouble," I said. "Need a phone call?"

She looked at me for a second, then nodded. "Yeah."

"Got a number?"

"Yeah." She recited it several times until I had it memorized. "Ask for Riza," she said.

I nodded, still looking at her. "Hey," I said. "You're that girl from the docks, aren't you?"

She raised an eyebrow. "…excuse me?"

"You and that other girl. Winry."

Her face brightened as she remembered. "Oh yeah! I remember you…I'm sorry, what was your name again?"

"Edward," I said. "Edward Elric."

"Right. Well, thanks for helping me out."

"No problem. And what was your name?"

"Rebecca Miethke."

"Okay. I'll be right back."

She nodded and I went back into the policeman's office. "Excuse me," I said. "May I use your telephone?"

"Of course, of course," flustered the man. "Anything at all, Mr. Elric."

He pointed towards the phone and left the room. I rolled my eyes at him and dialed the number that Rebecca had told me.

After a few rings, someone picked up. "Hello?"

"Hello, I'm calling for Riza…"

"This is she."

"Right…" I was slightly stunned at the familiarity of the voice. "I'm calling from the police station… there's a Rebecca Miethke here who needs to be picked up."

"Ah, sh- are you joking?"

"No, ma'am."

"Great. Just great. I'll send someone over right away."

"Yes ma'am."

"Which police station?"

I gave her the streets. She swore. "Thanks for letting us know," she said, and before I could say, "No problem" the other line went dead. I hung the phone up. That was easy.

I went back to see the girl. "I called the number you gave me. She said she's sending someone over."

Rebecca sighed. "Thanks so much. I don't know what I would have done if you weren't here."

There was a short silence.

"So…did you read my brother's book yet?"

She looked at me. "Um…oh yeah, what was it called?... Alexis?"

"Amestris," I corrected. "It's pretty good."

"Oh. Well, because you helped me out, I promise to read it."

"Great."

There was another silence. "You don't have to stay," she said finally.

"I want to make sure you get out of here okay," I said. "I'll just stick around for a while longer."

She said nothing at first, then there was a quiet, "Thanks."

Finally, the door swung open and someone barged in. "Becca what did I tell you about using violence, didn't I say that you never use your-"

"Hi Roy."

For at least ten seconds, I was so shocked that I could not speak. Then, Roy Mustang turned to me and said, "And who is this?"

"Edward Elric, sir," I said, holding out my hand. He shook it suspiciously.

"He called Riza," said Rebecca. "And he tried to stop them from arresting me."

One of the officers unlocked the jail and let the girl out. Mustang looked me up and down once, then sighed. "Well I guess I should thank you, then," he said. "Usually we don't figure out she's been arrested until she's been gone for a day or two."

Rebecca smiled sheepishly at me as my eyes widened. "Come on," said Rebecca and we walked out of the station. It was dark. I wondered how long I'd been out. "Where are you headed?" she asked me.

"NYU," I said.

"That's the same way we're going," said Rebecca. "You can walk with us!"

I nodded and we started walking. I wasn't exactly sure where we were going, so I sort of followed them.

"You a student?" asked Mustang. I shook my head.

"No, I'm not. My brother is, though. He's in the exchange program."

"The literature exchange program?"

"Yeah."

"Interesting. So where you from?"

"British-born, but my brother and I never settled down in Europe. We're hoping to change that here."

Mustang nodded. It was strange, how easily I could believe that we were complete strangers. "Good luck, kid. Things aren't going to be this good for long."

"…right."

I looked at Mustang, then at Rebecca. Then back at Mustang, then to Rebecca a second time. "Are you Rebecca's father?"

Rebecca laughed. Mustang smiled. "Not biologically, no. But I guess you could say that." He smiled at her. "My wife runs a shelter for young women who need a home. Becca's been with us for a while now."

They stopped walking. I realized we had reached NYU.

"Listen, kid," said Mustang, suddenly serious. "You got a job?"

"Not at the moment."

"Want one?"

"Yeah, actually."

He smiled. "Here's my card. Stop by sometime. I'll see what I can do."

"Wow… thank you."

"Don't mention it. You looked out for Becca; it's the least I can do. See you around."

"You too."

"'Bye Edward!" called Rebecca as they strode away.

I stood there, shocked for a moment, then finally looked at the card he had handed me. Mustang's Mechanic Garage it said. There was an address and a telephone number under that.

It was a little too much to take in right now. Roy Mustang just offered me a job? As a mechanic?

In some sort of daze, I returned to our apartment. Al was lying on the couch, almost asleep. He sat up when I opened the door. "I was wondering when you'd get home."

"Sorry," I said. "I ran into some trouble."

"What kind of trouble?"

"Some cop knocked me out when I tried to defend this girl. The same girl from the docks the day we got here. Rebecca, remember?"

"The one with Winry?"

"Yeah, that's her."

"Oh…did they arrest you?"

"No. They thought I was you, so they apologized. And guess what else?"

"What?"

"I got a job offer!" I handed him the card.

He read it once slowly, then turned it over and read it again.

"Mustang's Mechanic Garage?" he asked dubiously. "As in…"

"Roy Mustang, yes," I said. "He's the one who came and got Rebecca out of jail."

"What was she in for?"

I thought for a second. "You know…I didn't ask. Hmm."

Al sighed. "Of course. I leave you alone for a couple hours, and you make friends with a criminal. Brother, what am I going to do with you?"

"I don't think she was a criminal. I think she was just in…a tight spot."

"A tight spot. Really."

"Don't look at me like that. Anyway, how did church go?"

Al seemed to cheer up a little. "It went really well. They had these little psalm books that we sang from-"

"You sung?"

"Yes, and then we heard the sermon, which was kind of boring, but I liked it, and then he read us a Bible verse, and then we went to lunch and I talked about church with them and it was very nice. I think they like me better now."

I smiled. "That's great. I told you things would work out."

"And I told you that you could get a job."

"I guess we should start trusting each other more."

He caught my eye. Then, he smiled and nodded. "Yeah, Brother. We should."

I smiled back at him, then groaned. "That cop hit me pretty hard. I think I need to sleep."

"Wait, what if you have a concussion?"

"Ah, Al, I don't have a concussion."

"Oh come on, Ed, let me have a look."

"Hey, back off, how would you-"

"Don't you know how to spot a concussion? It's not that hard."

"Argh! Get off me, Al!"

"Don't go to sleep, Brother! I think you do have a concussion!"

"Oh, great. Thanks, Doctor Elric."

"You're welcome."

I rolled my eyes as Al turned on the radio.

"Don't go to sleep, Ed," he repeated. "I wouldn't be able to handle it if you didn't wake up."

I opened my eyes. His anxious face was hovering above me.

"Don't worry, Al," I said. "I'll still be here in the morning."

"Really?"

"...I promise."

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Still setting up the premise for later, and reveling in Alphonse and Edward cuteness. Stay tuned; next chapter gets interesting.