Chapter Eight: Danger

By Thursday evening, Al seemed fine. He could take care of himself, at least for a few days while I was gone. Winnie and Becca had promised to check on him now and then, and when I told him that, he just rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. Roy had told me we would be there for no longer than a week, so I packed lightly but thoroughly. Al was sitting on his bed, staring at a page in one of his books while I loaded a single suitcase, when he said, "So where exactly are you going?"

"I don't know," I replied, looking up at him. "Somewhere in rural Massachusetts. Roy said he couldn't disclose the exact location, because it's some sort of government secret."

Al nodded thoughtfully. "Sounds scary."

"Scary?"

"Well, what if it's one of those you know too much, now you must die things? I wouldn't put it past this American government."

I just looked at him. "You must still be delirious. Go to sleep."

Al sighed. "Just don't get killed while you're there."

"Don't worry. I have Roy there to back me up if I need it."

"Oh, of course, since he's such a good bodyguard."

"I'm serious, Al. Sleep."

"I've been sleeping for two days straight! I'm not tired!"

He sounded just like the little boy I knew he really was. In my mind, I saw a vivid picture of him as a seven-year-old, a goofy grin on his face. This was just so absurd, I had to laugh.

"What are you laughing at?" he asked. "There's nothing funny about it."

I shook my head. "You're such a kid."

"Look who's talking."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"You're the size of a kid."

I was suddenly on my feet. "Look Al don't be a jerk just because you're taller now don't be like that come on now it's not funny why are you laughing this is not a joke I swear I am going to strangle you one day…"

Al was still laughing. Then, suddenly, his laughter turned into a violent cough, and he was hacking and gasping into his hand. "Al…"

He waved the other hand nonchalantly. "I'm fine," he gasped, his coughing dying down. He glanced at the hand he had been holding up to his mouth. I followed his gaze.

My eyes widened, but he covered it with his other arm almost immediately. He was smiling a huge, fake smile. "Al."

"Yes, Brother?"

"…you'd tell me if you were really sick, wouldn't you? You'd say something?"

"Of course," he said, and he sounded sincere. I looked at him, concerned, for a second, then I shook my head and got back to my things.

"I trust you," I said quietly.

Maybe I was seeing things, or maybe his crack on my height had reminded me of the Alfons from this world, but I could have sworn that there had been a splash of blood on his hand.

The next day, in early morning, there was a knock on the door. I took my things and loaded them into Roy Mustang's automobile. Then I said to Al, "Take care of yourself while I'm gone. Maybe you should just take off your classes today. And tomorrow."

He smiled. "I'm a big boy now, Ed. I think I'll survive."

"I hope so. 'Bye, Al."

"See you in a week."

"Or less."

He grinned. I rolled my eyes just as Mustang called, "Ready, Ed? We need to get going if we want to be there in time."

"Yeah," I said. "I'm ready." I waved to Al as I got into the car. Then, Roy turned the key in the ignition and the car sputtered to life. As I caught my last glance of Al's face, there was something strange there – relief, maybe, or perhaps wariness. I thought about that flash of crimson red on his hand.

"Sign those," said Roy, handing a stack of papers to me.

"Okay," I said, frowning and flipping through the papers. "What are these?"

"All they say is that the government will sue you for everything you're worth if you talk about this trip to anyone," he said. "Don't worry, they don't actually mean it. But they want the paperwork, just in case."

"Just in case what?"

The car turned around a corner.

"In case you decide to feed the enemy information."

"Enemy? What enemy?"

He kept his gaze locked on the road. "The enemy is anyone from any country other than the United States. And…there are others."

"Others? What do you mean?"

He looked slightly disoriented. "There are organizations."

"What kind of organizations?" He looked thoughtful for a minute. I groaned. "There's a lot I don't know, isn't there?"

"I was going to brief you on the way," he responded. "So I guess that would be now." He took a deep breath. "This goes deeper than you know. Hell, it goes deeper than I know. Anyway. These rockets are being developed for the army. For a war."

I froze. "War? With who?"

"With everyone." He glanced at me. "They say it's all for defense, but I'm not sure. These rockets… they're weapons, no doubt about it."

"Weapons?" I repeated dumbly. "But… I thought…"

"Sorry," he said, shooting an apologetic look my way. "I needed you to come, and I didn't think you would if you knew the truth."

I only stared blankly out the window.

"There are some people who disagree with what the government is doing. There are these….extremist peace groups," he continued. "Some groups are more fanatic than others. They're the people who try to sabotage the rockets and steal the blueprints." He paused, then said, "They also try to silence the people who work on these rockets."

I stared at him. "Does that mean…us?"

"You shouldn't worry. Everyone who works there has codenames. No one knows who we really are." Another silence. Then, he said, "And it's too late to back down now. You're going."

"Not to worry," I said nonchalantly. "I wouldn't want to go back anyway." He raised an eyebrow at me. I smiled and shrugged. "Let's just say I miss the thrill of danger. Things have been pretty square for a while. I've gotten a little bored with it."

"Danger?...I thought you said you weren't in the war."

"I wasn't. But there are other ways to get that kind of buzz."

Roy contemplated this for a second. "How did you lose the arm, again?"

I laughed. "It's complicated."

"Believe me, we've got time."

I glanced out the window. "Wait a minute… this isn't the way to Massachusetts!"

"Oh, yeah. Change of plans. We're going to Pennsylvania."

"Pennsylvania? What the hell?"

"Sorry Edward. I had to be careful about how much information I gave you."

There was silence. Then, I grumbled, "You always so paranoid?"

His grip tightened on the steering wheel and a pained look appeared on his face. "I have to be."

After that, the only sound for a few minutes was the automobile's wheels rolling over the roads. I stared out of the window. It had stopped snowing, but there was plenty of the white stuff on the ground.

Finally, Roy said, "You never answered my question. How did you lose that arm?"

"Not just my arm," I said. "My leg too."

"You're not serious."

"I'm dead serious."

"Damn, kid. What happened?"

I bit my lip and thought about it. What could I say? 'Oh yes, I tried to bring my mother back from the dead, that's how I lost my leg. Then I gave up my arm and bound my brother's soul to a suit of armor. Yes indeed.'

Right.

I said, "An accident."

"What kind of accident?"

"The traumatic kind."

"Oh. Well, I was just curious. Don't have to answer if you don't want to."

I wanted to tell him something. I really did. But there was just nothing I could say. "I was in a…a mining accident." It was like the words came out of their own accord. The more I thought about it, though, the more sense it made.

"Really."

"Yeah. When I was just a kid. The mine collapsed. That's how my mother died."

"I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. It was a long time ago."

I don't think he quite believed me. But at least now he didn't wonder. "Now you get to ask me something," said Roy. "Fair trade, right?"

I looked at him. Fair trade? That sounded like… what the hell was this Mustang doing talking about equivalent exchange?

"Ed?" he asked, glancing at me. "You still with me?"

"Oh, yeah," I said. "Sorry." I thought for a second. "What's Winnie's story? I mean… it has something to do with Michael, doesn't it?"

His eyes flashed. "What do you know about Michael?"

"Well, I…I don't exactly know anything…but I have a theory, and if I'm right…"

He looked at me, frowning, for a second longer, then shook his head. "Might as well get it over with, then. I probably don't have to tell you that Michael was Winnie's younger brother."

My jaw dropped. "Brother?"

"Yes. What did you think?"

"I… nothing."

He smiled, but it was a painful smile, full of regret. "Winnie and Michael's father was killed in the war. I told their mother, when I came back. A week later, she was dead. Suicide. It wasn't pretty."

I realized I was holding my breath. "And you took them in?"

"Yes. At that time, we had three girls, two of which moved out within five years. Anyway. Michael and Winnie were as close as brother and sister could possibly be… They were never apart." Roy made a face. "Michael used to call Winnie by her real name, Winry. After he died, she told us to never call her that again."

"How did he die?"

For at least a minute, Roy was completely silent. A dead look had entered his eye. "He was shot," he said. "One day, a man walked right into the garage and shot him. Winnie wasn't there. She didn't get the news until it was too late."

"What? Why was he shot?"

"I don't want to scare you, Ed," said Roy. "But he was shot because…because of me." He let out a long breath. "I convinced him to come with me on a trip to work on government rockets. They needed two men, and we needed the money…."

I stared at him, my eyes wide. "You mean to say…"

"You're his replacement," he said flatly. I stared at him.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me this earlier?" I demanded.

"I thought you were looking forward to a little danger!"

"A little danger, yeah, but… I'm a replacement for a dead man. Wouldn't that make you uneasy?"

"I am uneasy, dammit!" he said loudly. Then, he shook his head and continued, quieter, "This work pays well. Even with half of what they're offering, it'll be a real lifesaver."

"Half?"

"We're splitting it fifty-fifty, Ed. You didn't expect me to take all of it, did you?"

"No, you take it all. I don't need it."

"Ed. You know I couldn't do that."

"Why not? My brother is paid well. We don't need it."

"But…"

"I insist."

"Fine. Thank you."

More silence. It wasn't exactly awkward, but there was definitely some sort of tension in the air.

The silence was broken when Roy asked softly, "You like Winnie, don't you?"

I was slightly taken aback by his question, but instead of making some lame excuse, I just sighed and admitted, "Yeah. I do."

Roy nodded. "I've seen the way you look at her. I hope she sees, too."

"You don't think I should give her more time?" I asked. "For her to get over her brother?"

He shook his head. "Mike died over six months ago. She needs to have a reason to move on. You could be that reason."

"But… she doesn't even like me."

"Yes she does," said Roy. "That girl is hard to figure out, but once you know her, she's pretty obvious." He shifted in his seat. "She's…afraid of forgetting her brother. She thinks when she lets go, it'll feel like she's losing him all over again."

"You can tell all this by just looking at her?"

There was a wry smile playing around his lips. "She talks to Riza, and Riza talks to me. Need I say more?"

"I get it, I get it." Then, I asked, "So is there anything else I should know about this top-secret mission? Or, let me guess… you're going to say, if I told you, I would have to kill you."

He chuckled. "No, there's nothing that shocking left. We'll probably be there a shorter time than you expected, though. We're only working on a single part of the rocket."

"What?"

"Separate mechanics from different parts of the country build a part of each rocket," he explained. "And then they're sent somewhere to be assembled."

"Why can't we just do that?"

"Because they don't want anyone knowing the whole plans. Because they're unreasonable. I don't know, Ed."

I nodded and looked out the window. It was slightly fogged up from my breathing. I wiped it clear. We passed the car ride mostly in silence, but now and then we'd have a short conversation, a question or two. He seemed content with just driving in peace. It allowed me to have some time to think.

I had no idea what I was getting myself into. Was this going to end up being a struggle for my life, or some harmless project? It couldn't be harmless; a man had died because of this cause.

Michael had died. Now that I knew the truth about him, I was even more shocked that Winnie had even looked at me. He was her little brother… he was her Al…

A horrible thought struck me. I was dragging Al into this too, wasn't I? I was dangerous for him to be around. But I couldn't leave him… but what if I lose him, like Winnie lost Michael?

No. Of course I wouldn't lose him. I would throw myself in the path of a bullet for that kid. Anyone who wanted him dead would have to go through me first. We'd lost each other too many times to go through that whole ordeal again.

I pushed those thoughts out of my mind. Think to the future, not of the past. And my future was definitely worth thinking about. I couldn't believe Roy had tricked me into doing this. If I had known the risks…

Well, would I have? I mean, rockets are great and all, but dying would kind of put a damper on my plans. Or would the thought of fighting for my life had thrilled me? Would I have said yes just to live on the edge again? Didn't I remember that terrifying feeling, when I really believed I was going to die? It's not like it was something that was easy to forget. I'd stared death in the face way too many times, and escaped it every time. Most of the times I had had help, though. From Al.

I'm insane, I thought. "Turn the car around," I said. "Turn the freakin' car around!"

He didn't look at me. "No."

"I can't do this!" I said, and I sounded hysterical now. "This is too dangerous! Turn around!"

"Calm down, Ed," he said. "I promise you won't get hurt."

"Don't talk to me!" I shouted. "Turn the car around before I do it for you!"

He didn't move. I reached for the steering wheel. His arm shot out and he caught me around the wrist. "Please don't do this," he said tiredly. "Please. I can't afford to lose this job."

"To hell with you!" I snarled, and with a flick of my arm, I threw his hand off me. I grabbed the steering wheel with both hands and, ignoring his yells, I wrenched it sideways. We careened off the side of the road. With a puff of snowflakes, we were stopped by a huge pile of snow.

For a second, neither of us said anything. Then I opened the car door and got out. I stood in the frigid air for a second, then I heard Roy get out of the car as well.

"What do you plan to do now?" he asked. "Walk back?"

I didn't turn around.

"Ed, come on. Don't do this."

"Don't do what?" I asked him, whirling around to face him. "You drag me into this huge government conspiracy, put my life on the line, and you just expect me to sit back and let it happen?"

"It's not a conspiracy-"

"Oh yeah? Then what is it? What is this dangerous mission you've decided to throw at me? What is it this time, Mustang?"

He looked at me, with an expression of concern and anxiety and something else I couldn't place.

And I realized something. I had been judging this man based on what I knew of him in my world. I had been thinking of him as that damn Colonel Flame Alchemist. But these were two different men, in completely different circumstances. I couldn't imagine one as the other, or vice versa, because they weren't. The only similarity was their outward appearance.

I turned around to face the empty road again.

"I don't know what exactly has happened to you, kid," said Roy carefully. "And I guess I can't help that. And you can call me selfish, but I need you to do this for me. After today, if you want, you can get the hell away from me and forget this ever happened. But I need this. You don't… you can't even understand how much I need this. You're just a kid."

I bit the inside of my lip.

"You're right," I finally said. "I'm…sorry. I shouldn't have overreacted like that."

"No, you had every right," said Roy. "I should have told you what you were getting into."

A short silence. Then I asked, "How's the car?"

He turned the key in the ignition and the engine kicked. "It'll be fine," he said. "Just need to get it out of the snow."

He glanced at me, and I sighed and nodded, then went to help him push it out of the snow.

It was silent. So silent, a pressing, accusing silence, and with a single glance at his face I could tell that I wasn't the only one who could feel it. My head started to hurt. A pulsing, throbbing pain in the back of my neck… we got in the car. It stalled a few times, then it was off again… I looked out the window at the flat white expanse… Roy coughed once… there was something about that particular silence that made it sound very loud… I brushed a strand of my hair out of my face…

Roy cleared his throat.

"I… feel the need to, uh, justify myself, Ed," he said, not looking at me. I sighed.

"You don't have to."

"I know that. But I want to."

"Okay. Go ahead."

He looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, "My wife and I have helped nineteen young women find good homes and lives. At the moment, we have ten at the house, including Winnie and Becca. With Riza, Tom and I, that makes thirteen of us." He paused, pulled a face, then continued. "As you know, that little garage doesn't pay very well. Do you realize why that is?"

I glanced at him. "…Because it's small?"

He shook his head. "Because I have a reputation. People know my family, and know what I do, and that's strange to them."

"What? It's strange that you're keeping these girls off the streets?"

"I wish we lived wherever you came from, Ed," he said, as soon as the words had left my mouth. "That note of surprise in your voice…" He shook his head. "Was there no such thing as prejudice in Europe?"

I stuttered something vague. "Oh…I…it's not that…that is, I…"

He smiled, but there was a tired look in his eye. "Anyway. The garage doesn't bring in too huge of an income. My wife has been earning money working as a lounge singer in speakeasies, but that… she's taking a break from that for a while." Something else came into his voice. A tense, strained tone, but a loving one nonetheless. "I don't like to haul people in the way of danger, but I would do anything – anything – for my family. Please. Understand this."

An image flashed before my eyes. A huge suit of armor, made out of cold metal. A seal of blood.

"I understand," I said. "I… I really do."

"So please, please, please, please don't be angry," he said, and I realized he was pleading with me. "And… don't leave. When we get back, don't leave. Because there'll be another time far too soon, when my family is going to need the money to get through another week. I can't promise that you won't get hurt, but I swear that I will do everything in my power to keep you safe."

A short silence. Then, smoothing out the cuff of my sleeve, I asked, "You really loved him, didn't you?"

It took him a second to reply. "He…was like a son to me."

I returned to looking out the window. The snow had stopped falling. The sun was coming out of the gray clouds. I thought I saw a tall, thin figure huddling next to a signpost on the side of the road.

I blinked, and it was gone.

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Should Ed believe him? More importantly, do you believe him?

Pay attention to this scene. It's pretty darn important. Thanks for reading. Anybody have any constructive criticism?

Actually, there's a lot more explanation in the next chapter. Backstories: yay! Thanks again.