The Waters of Lethe
Disclaimer: I don't own FMA, except any OCs I create for this story. I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile.
Warning: May contain movie spoilers. Already has contained character death and blood. Will eventually contain violence and possible sex.
Beta: Kittygirl109
9. Misdirection (Misdirection)
"Ah, hallo Edward, this is Fraulein Eckart, may I speak to your father, please?"
Edward went cold inside and he could feel the muffins he'd just eaten fighting to come up for air. He gulped hard and forced them back down before he tried to speak. "I'm sorry, Fraulein Eckart, but my father - father," Edward's eyes began to fill with tears and a few trickled down his cheeks as he fought for control. "Father - died. A few hours ago."
Eckart's voice never broke stride. "Ah, that is sad, very sad," she purred. "Just wait there and we will be along shortly to collect you, don't worry about a thing. The Thule Society will make all the necessary arrangements." She hung up and the line buzzed in his right ear. Edward glared at the receiver before he slammed it down on the cradle with such force the Bakelite broke into three pieces. He spun around to face the kitchen, his heart was pounding like a trip hammer.
We will be along shortly to collect you.
Edward was starting to hyperventilate he was in such a panic. Think, dammit! Think! He staggered back to the sink and turned on the tap to splash cold water on his face. It shocked his brain back into working and he began to think clearly again. All the curtains were still closed, even the one over the kitchen sink. Edward peeked out, it was still daylight, but the afternoon was well advanced. He looked at the clock. Three-fifteen p.m. It would start to get dark in just over an hour.
Dark. Run. Hide.
He had to get out of here, out of this house, out of Munich, and out of Germany. Out of the reach of the Thule Society and the Nazis. Things clicked into place and wheels began to turn. Edward felt more engaged than he had in months. He ran from the kitchen, through the living room to the blanket chest where he yanked the top open with such force the hinges squealed in protest. He slipped on his fall jacket and zipped it up, then followed it with his long brown winter coat and buttoned it. Then Edward dug in the outer pockets for his leather gloves.
To his surprise, Edward found a train ticket in one pocket and he scanned it quickly. It was for a second-class compartment on the five o'clock express to Calais, France. Something was paper clipped to it's back. Edward flipped the ticket over to find a second-class steamship ticket from Calais to Dover, England. This can't be right, he thought. Something is wrong here, very wrong.