The Waters of Lethe
Disclaimer: I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile.
Summary: Post series and very AU. Some movie events will happen, but differently.
Warning: possible movie spoilers, also bad language, violence, and perhaps sex.
12. The Wily Mouse (Die Wily Maus)
His lungs burning, and sweating despite the cold, Edward slewed to a stop across the street from Munich's train station. It was a grand old nineteenth century pile and brightly lit all night because trains arrived and departed nearly around the clock. It had been a nerve wracking flight from his house to here, Edward had kept to alleys or back streets all the way, his heart racing every time a car engine was heard behind him. The street before him was busy with auto traffic, but no one car seemed to be screeching to a halt and disgorging large men in black trenchcoats to chase him.
Edward dug in his left coat pocket and found an old hankerchief, softened from repeated washings. He used it to dab the sweat off his face, it wouldn't do to look nervous in the station, he needed to blend in with the hundreds of other travellers. He stood up straight and transferred his suitcase from under his right arm to his left hand, took a deep breath and told himself, Green means go, red means stop - green means GO!
He walked quickly across the street, dodged one oncoming car and pushed against the great doors to the main hall of the station and once inside disappeared into the mass of surging humanity. Barely thirty seconds later, two large touring cars turned the corner and braked in open spots near the entrance. Hess's men poured out of the first car, and Hess himself stepped regally from the second before he turnedback to Dietlinde, "We will find him Fraulein, that I promise you."
For his part, Edward was being carried along by a swarm of travellers towards the platform which led towards trains which were bound for points south. Not until the crowd split between two seperate sets of of those was he finally able to break free and fight his way towards a ticket window. The line he found himself in seemed intermitable and he was close to giving up and using the Calais ticket when he heard something unusual: two men speaking in oddly accented English.
One man was complaining bitterly,:"Dammit, Mike! You got all the luck, the last ticket on tonight's express to Calais! Now I gotta cool my heels in this damn station all night - you ever been someplace so noisy? Man, I tell ya Mike, I can't wait to get back to Wyoming! Even the middle of a herd of lowing cows is quieter than this!"
Mike was chuckling at his friend's discomfiture. "I feel your pain Steve, really I do. I'll wait for you in Portsmouth, I promise. I'm not sailing for home without the best saddle tramp in the whole west!"
Wyoming? Saddle tramp? They must be Americans!
They were very near and about to pass so close by, Steve's long leather coat would brush against him. Edward made a snap decision.
"Excuse me - um, Steve?"