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
Author's note: Post series, some movie events may happen, but differently
Warning: may contain movie spoilers. Has contained and will contain violence, death, and sex.
Beta: Moi for now.
49. Fragile Freedom (Empfindliche Freiheit)
Edward stayed in Casablanca for nearly eight months,and Harry used his contacts to find him a job teaching English to the children of minor Moroccan civil servants. He enjoyed his work even if it wasn't concerned with the "hard" sciences he was used to: physics, and chemistry. The children were bright, although a few of the boys liked to push the envelope to see what they could get away with. Rambunctious eight to ten year olds weren't exactly the same as the serious twenty-somethings his father taught at Munich University, but Edward had observed Hohenheim's methods closely. What he remembered was quick wit and an even quicker tongue were more effective than shouting at the students and punishing them with extra work.
After a few days of "feeling" each other out, Edward and his dozen or so ('or so" because some were rather casual about attending school) students got on swimmingly. Just prior to starting the new job, Edward also moved his few possessions from the hotel to lodgings near the Old Quarter, and within walking distance of the school. The three rooms - sitting room, kitchen, and bedroom - plus a small bathroom were very pleasant, but bare of all but basic appliances. With the last of the wages from Major Howard, Edward visisted the souk (marketplace) and purchased some furniture and kitchenware.
A month later, he went back for a bookcase, because he'd made so many visits to the booksellers in the market Ginger convinced him he couldn't stack books on the floor anymore. A comfortable chair, a reading lamp and books within reach were all Edward needed, so it was a good thing he also had Ginger Beere who prodded him to add curtains, rugs, artwork and some potted plants to his bachelor digs. The woman who had so horrified Edward his first morning in Casablanca was now his de facto girlfriend. Among other things, she taught him how affairs ran in Casablanca. Edward learned how to haggle with vendors, cook something edible and prevent his apartment from turning into a pig-sty.
Nearly eight months after he'd landed with a thud in Casablanca, the life Edward was building for himself was rudely torn to shreds. His landlord one afternoon made an innocent remark about two men with German accents who said they were friends had come inquiring about him. Edward felt a cold hard hole open inside, and he asked his landlord to describe the men. Edward recognized Rudolph at once, who else had such bad smallpox scars? The landlord really couldn't recall the other man at all because he had no distinguishing features, and this bothered Edward most of all. A man so unremarkable he couldn't be remembered made him very nervous.
Within a week, he had left his position at the school, sold the furniture and most of the books, said a very difficult good-bye to Ginger, and hitched a ride with Harry when he flew a courier job to Gibraltor. Edward stayed there just long enough to change his last name again ("Hullo, I'm Edward Thompson") before he crossed the border into Spain. He made his way to Madrid and stayed for five months until the night two men grabbed him and tried to force him into a car. It was fortunate they thought Edward too weak to fight, but fight he did. After a hard elbow to the ribs and a heel to the instep of the man holding him, he broke free, ducked the grasping hands of the other and ran for it.
He fled Madrid that same night and was in Portugal early the next day. But Nazi agents eventually caught up to him and one April evening in 1930, Edward was cornered by three men in a Lisbon alley. He panted with apprehension, backed up against an old brick wall, and waited to see who would come at him first. Two men flanked him, while the third stood directly in front. He took a rag and a small brown bottle from opposite coat pockets, unscrewed the bottle cap and poured some of it's contents onto the rag. After he recapped the bottle, he returned it to one pocket before he began to advance. "Time for a little nap, Shambalan."
Edward growled in defiance and made a feint to his right before bolting to his left. The man on that flank fell for the ruse and rushed forward to grab him. Edward stopped, pivoted and whirled from his attacker's grasp before he seized the Nazi's arm and shoved him into the man holding the choloroform soaked rag. They went down in a tangle of limbs and Edward leaped over them to attack the third man, who wasn't expecting this at all. Edward drove his right hand hard into a solar plexus and the other went down with a loud oof!
A few minutes later, Edward juddered to a halt a block from the apartment building he lived in. He peeked around the corner of another building and to his dismay saw a large black sedan parked across the street from his home. In case he escaped the other three, more Nazi agents were waiting for him. Edward spun on his heel and took the long way around to the back of the apartment building where he climbed up the fire escape. Fortunately, the evening air was warm and he'd left a window open a few inches. Edward pushed it up and squirmed inside, then reached under the bed to pull out his suitcase and throw it open.
He filled it with the few clothes he owned, and his favorite books, the ones from Casablanca, plus the ones he'd originally fled from Munich with. His last act before leaving was to lever up a loose floorboard and grab the small cache of money he had squirreled away from his job at a bookstore. As he stuffed it into an inside pocket of his coat. Edward heard footsteps coming up the hall outside his apartment and he stopped. Heart in his mouth, he stood still and listened. Three people stood on the other side of the door, and the knob rattled. Someone muttered in German, too low for Edward to hear the exact words. Then the footsteps moved away and Edward blew out the breath he had been holding in.
He moved quietly to the window and crawled out onto the fire escap, and pulled the window partially shut behind him. Edward climbed back down the fire escape and raced across the shadowed back yard, towards the Lisbon docks. A few hours later, he stood on the fantail of a cross-Channel ferry boat and watched the coast line of Portugal recede into the night. Two close escapes in the space of a year reminded him of the fragility of his freedom. This time he had to get further away if he wanted to remain at liberty.
Back in Lisbon, the unremarkable man pulled a silencer-equipped pistol from a inner coat pocket and unceremoniusly shot one of the agents between the eyes. He smiled blandly at the remaining men, who cowered in terror. "You were only taking orders from this incompetent fool," he indicated the dead man with a wave of his hand. "He was the one responsible for the failure of the mission, which is why he is the only one punished. I will let you live, but let this be a lesson to you. Now get out of my sight."
The survivors scrambled to do his bidding. Once they were out of earshot, he turned to his assistant. "The Shambalan has bared his fangs, Rudolph, and this will make his capture more difficult. I have orders not to hurt him, yet I don't have any desire to get bitten either!"
"Should I start making inquiries, Herr Doktor?"
"Nein, Rudolph, not tonight anymore. We shall get a good night's sleep and cast about for his trail tomorrow."