Gold and Charcoal

Gold and Charcoal
Chapter 18
Discussions

Edward shoved the door open with his shoulder, causing the handle to collide with the pale wall and leave a mark. “They kept us up all bloody night!” He spoke with outrage, voice as loud as usual despite his claimed exhaustion. “What is it with them and paperwork? Honestly, can’t they see I’m mortally wounded here?”

“You said it was nothing.”

“Don’t contradict me,” snapped Edward, offering his sibling a warning glare. “And why is it so cold in here?”

Edward’s upper body was bare aside from the bandages covering his injury, which explained why the temperature that felt fine to Al and his two layers of clothing felt chilly to him.

“I’ll do something about that. Go lay down.” Glimpsing a wince on Edward’s face, Alphonse worried, “You shouldn’t ram doors like that, you have to be careful about your shoulder or Clara will have to redo the stitches.”

“I know, lay off already!”

Edward made a beeline for the bed, eager to burry himself in warmth and sleep. He complained two seconds later, realizing the sunlight was already invading the room. “Do something about the windows too. I’m trying to sleep here.” When his brother complied, he sighed. “Better. Now I suggest we sleep all day long.” There was the rustle of a clothing article falling to the ground and the mattress shifted, informing Edward his brother agreed with the plan. “Night, Al.”

“Sleep well, Niisan.”

Alphonse waited five minutes, the time to be certain his brother had fallen asleep, before leaving the nest. He recovered his boots but didn’t bother with his jacket; it was strange to wear long sleeves when he didn’t have his automail. Winry had promised to return the mechanical limb a few hours later, wishing to take the opportunity to examine it again. She had also said something about it having been damaged by Al’s skull, though the later would freely admit he preferred it that way than the opposite. A skull was harder to fix than automail.

Alphonse knew he drew attention with his exposed automail port but he paid it no mind; if they were not yet aware of the night’s events, they would learn it soon. He expected the news to be in the newspaper but had no intention of investigating what it would say. It would change nothing to the truth.

A large sign stood in the way, informing people the restaurant would be closed until the evening and reminding everybody there was a second restaurant two buildings away if they absolutely needed to eat outside their home today. Alphonse waited for the area to clear – easy, when the early morning crowd was so thin - and sneaked past the barrier.

The large windows would remain dark for another half hour due to being oriented on the side opposed to the sun’s rise and this lack of light forced Alphonse to pick his path carefully through the table-filled area, tripping on several chairs on the way.

Al wandered until he found the door to the kitchen, meeting no one. He supposed the workers had been dismissed on account of the inccident, but he could have bet nobody had thought about the slaves. Nobody ever did, unless they were making trouble.

It was easy to find out where the slaves were; there was light in the back. Alphonse headed for that room, hearing voices already. Young voices, arguing.

“Oh come on, Rick, don’t be a baby. They’re all gone, nobody is going to care if we go for a walk outside.”

“But if they find out…”

“First, they won’t. Second, even if they did, they wouldn’t care.”

“We should ask Scar first.”

“Look, I’m-“

Alphonse’s appearance interrupted the speaker. They were both Ishvarith, bearing the slave collar and appearing slightly younger than Alphonse himself. Their red eyes expressed immediate weariness.

“Hi, I’m looking for Scar. Is he around?”

“He’s resting,” answered Rick. Alphonse saw Rick’s gaze being drawn to his left shoulder and the evident lack of a left arm and wondered what he thought of it. Maybe he should have worn his jacket after all.

“Oh, um, okay.” Alphonse rubbed his eyes, wondering if he should just go back home to sleep or wait. He settled for the second option; it was better to handle the delicate matter while the place was deserted and allowed them privacy. He sat down back to the wall. “I’ll wait then.”

The two Ishvarith looked at each other, clearly puzzled, and scooted away to speak in hushed tones while Alphonse attempted not to fall asleep on the spot. It was about six hours past what he considered a late bedtime and stress always made him sleepy. He knew resting his chin on his knee wouldn’t help, but it was that or nodding every five seconds. The boys’ murmur was lulling…. He would wake up with bad cramps if he slept here…

The smaller boy left and Alphonse’s tired brain didn’t grasp where he could have gone until he reappeared, Scar shadowing him.

“What are you doing here?”

“Mm?” Alphonse made an effort to pull his brain from the fog and lift himself to his feet, stifling a yawn behind his hand. “I just wanted to talk.” He yawned again, shaking his head in an attempt to clear it. Scar looked at the two Ishvarith boys then gestured for Al to follow him, but the blonde shook his head in a negative motion this time. “We can stay here. They should use their free time to go out or something.”

The taller boy frowned distrustfully. “And what do we tell soldiers if they ask what we’re doing there?”

“Oh, um, you can tell them Alphonse Elric said you could.”

The boys quested Scar’s approval with their gaze before taking their leave. The younger one looked over his shoulder before disappearing and Alphonse had the definite impression the boy was worried for Scar. Which felt a bit strange, considering Scar was more than capable of defending himself and the intruder – himself – was lacking an arm. Al thought he was the one who should have been worried, even if he wasn’t.

Scar was showing signs of tensions underneath the unwavering calm; he didn’t cross his arms too tight or lean too far against the wall, keeping his balance to facilitate retaliation should something happened.

Scar’s red eyes didn’t leave Alphonse’s face. “Well?”

“Um, I’m not exactly sure what I wanted to say. I just…” Alphonse trailed off into silence, searching for the answer. He knew he had to talk to the man but he had little idea beyond that. ‘Please stop killing people? It’s not nice and I’m asking with the puppy eyes?’ He hauled himself to sit on the counter, his boots making the metal resonate, and asked, “How is it, where you come from? I know it’s the desert and it has to be very hot, but I never visited a place like that.”

It was the second time Alphonse saw that peculiar look on Scar’s face and he was now certain that it meant Scar was wondering about his sanity. “Hot during the day. Cold during the night.”

“Is that so.” Alphonse nodded gravely. “Sand gets everywhere at the beach. Is it the same in the desert?”

“Sand is everywhere. Food, clothes, air. You get used to it.”

“Do you miss it? The desert, I mean.”

There was a pause and a reluctant answer. “Everybody misses home.”

Somewhere in the next room, a machine started to buzz to fill the silence.

“I don’t know,” replied Alphonse with a grimace. “I wouldn’t miss this place. I would miss some of the people in it, but that’s it. It’s not such a great place to live.”

“It’s luxurious.”

Alphonse shook his head. “The higher ups control everything and do what they want. The military is always plotting something. There are many soldiers and alchemists who would do anything for a promotion. They hunt down so-called traitors, find and eliminate fake blondies, attempt forbidden alchemy and do experiments on innocent people. Everybody else keeps very quiet because they’re afraid of the sins. It’s easy to make people listen when they know their loved ones could be turned into food if they disagree aloud. People have to protect their family, right?”

Alphonse waited for Scar to make a vaguely agreeing sound. Or, at any rate, a sound. Which was followed by the ‘is he sane?’ look. “They say you guys started the war. I was too young to really know what was going on, but I heard from Hawkeye it was a bit of a panic. There were all sorts of rumors. Some people say they tested red stone on the field to finish the war quickly. Some say it was just a big test anyway. Who knows. Even the people who were there can’t tell.” His tone didn’t change when he asked, “I was wondering, does your arm have anything to do with it? I’ve never seen anything like it, but it’s alchemy. I thought your people didn’t even practice alchemy.”

“We don’t.” When Alphonse didn’t speak again, keeping his eyes on him, Scar supplied a vague explanation, “It’s forbidden. They wouldn’t allow me to return to the village, if there was a village to return to.”

“Where are the survivors?” Alphonse hoped the answer wasn’t going to be ‘there are none’.

“Parked in a camp aside from a few troublemakers they took away.”

Removing the potential rebellion leaders sounded exactly like something the military would do, reflected Alphonse.

“What about the boys? Thy couldn’t be of any danger?”

“Orphans.” It was clear by the tone whose fault that was. “They tried to follow me.”

“Very brave of them.”

Alphonse shifted uncomfortably under Scar’s gaze. He couldn’t tell on what standards he was being judged but somehow he thought he was failing. He rubbed his automail port; there was always a strange throb there when he didn’t have his arm. He wasn’t bothered, but it never stopped feeling strange to be missing a limb. Scar was watching; Alphonse took his hand away from the port and nearly winced feeling the question coming, but Scar didn’t voice it.

The silence stretched until Alphonse realized Scar intended to remain on his guards and let him lead their interaction. Finding nothing else to say, he went to the point of his visit. “You lost your brother in the war, right? Are you killing alchemists for revenge?” When there was no answer, only hard eyes burning through his, he admitted to the ground, “I can’t blame you. I think I would-“ Will? “-do the same. Sometimes there are people you can’t let down. People you owe too much.” He was holding his automail port again, vivid memories making his body ache. “I just wanted to ask… why you helped me. I’m an alchemist too.”

Scar’s didn’t answer directly. “You alchemists follow a rule called Equivalent Trade.”

It was not spoken as a question, but it called for an answer. Alphonse slowly looked up. “Yes… Was there something you wanted to ask me?”

Scar’s gaze never wavered. “I want the Fuhrer.”

“You were unable to find out his location by yourself,” guessed Alphonse.

What was the right thing to do? Repay his debt and become the accomplice of a murderer? Edward would have done it. Edward would want him to do it.

No decision was to be made on the spot; the two Ishvarith children ran in, heaving and shouting about the workers coming back.

Alphonse jumped down the counter and glanced at Scar. “I’ll be back when possible. Are you guys alone at night?” A nod said yes. “Please don’t do anything until then.”

Alphonse left by the garden; he couldn’t be seen near the man he might send after the Fuhrer. Might. He stomped along a well-worn dirt path and ran a nervous hand in his hair, unable to make sense out of his thoughts. Murder was wrong, he couldn’t be thinking about this, equivalent trade or not. Beside, the sins. The man wouldn’t make it, he’d just get killed. Saying anything definitely would make him a murderer too.

Alphonse reached home, took off his boots and made the sheet rustle when he curled under them. He firmly shut down his mind, intending to sleep. He could think about everything later. Later.

-

Den greeted Edward with his usual enthusiasm, tail waving madly and muzzle pushing against the visitor’s human leg for attention. Edward was of the opinion the dog understood his pain – he had automail too after all – and was manifesting his support. He crouched to scratch the animal with his human hand, in no hurry to let Winry play with his automail.

Riza had let Edward in with a greeting he had barely returned; she now headed back to her desk where two neat piles of folders rested beside a metal cup filled with pens. It was like her, thought Edward to bring paperwork home. Maybe they were execution sheets to sign? Who knew.

The other owner of the apartment eventually searched for her victim, “Ed, stop stalling and come over here! I don’t have all day!”

Edward winced and stood, turning to face his fate. “Yeah, yeah. I’m here.”

Winry made him lie down and stretch his arm on her worktable. It was a small blessing that she did not need to take it off this time. She worked in unnatural silence, without any rant pertaining to his lack of care for her precious automail.

When Winry spoke, it was thoughtfully and with a little hesitation, “Ed? Do you regret never going back?”

Edward answered automatically, before the question had even sunk in. “No.”

“How about Al?”

Suddenly, Edward felt annoyed. What did she want? It was the past and he did not want to hear about it. “We agreed we were never going back.” Feeling judged by her silence, he snapped an additional, “You don’t know what it would have been like with them.”

Winry responded to Edward’s harsh tone with a growl. “Of course I wouldn’t know. You barely ever tell me anything. I’m not important enough to be told about all your little secrets. I’m not allowed to know why you hurt, but I have to stand your damn temper anyway.” She yanked something hard with her wrench. “Honestly, you think we didn’t notice? You’ve been absolutely horrible in the last few weeks. I thought you were getting better, and there you go, getting worse for no reason.”

“It wasn’t for no reason!” Edward jerked his arm away from Winry. “I’m going home.”

Winry swung her wrench. “Get the hell back down!” Once Edward had finished howling in pain and indignation and complied with her orders, she reached to rub his shoulder under the pretense of feeling his port alignment. She lowered her voice, “You can tell me. I’m still your sister, right? That’s what you used to say…”

Edward’s silence did not last. “Ross. They didn’t kill her. Not right away.”

“What do you mean?”

“They said she was executed over a year ago, right? After she was caught?” Edward closed his eyes. “It was a lie. They kept her as a test subject for a while. Something about chimera experimentation. She died last month.”

Winry pulled back, appalled. “How…how do you know?”

Edward sounded old when he admitted his source. “Envy told me.”

“You can’t believe anything he says!”

“He brought me a handful of her hair.” A bloody handful of dark hair. Edward could have performed tests on the strands to verify Envy’s claims; he hadn’t wanted to, not after watching Envy’s devious expression.

Winry insisted, “It could have been anyone’s.”

The blond turned his head around so she couldn’t even look at his face. “Winry, cut it out. Please. I know him, you don’t.”

“But, Envy is always riling you up, right? He can’t always say the truth…” She went quiet. “Ed…”

He chewed on his lower lip, his voice down to a whisper. “If anything happens to me, Al has to leave. I told him so but I’m not sure he’d listen. Force him to, okay?”

Winry took her hand away from his shoulders, sitting up and averting her eyes. “If they go after you, they’ll go after him too. I live with Riza you know. I hear things. How the military works…it’s disgusting.”

She snorted, obviously not thinking very highly of those people she spoke of. “They’re always trying to catch the Fuhrer’s attention to go up in ranks. Because he doesn’t like you, many people think framing you for something would be a quick boost up the ladder. Of course if it’s too obvious that you’re being framed, people are going to be upset and scared and they don’t want that. Rebellions are troublesome and whoever provoked one wouldn’t get praised for it. They want the public meek and content so they can concentrate on whatever it is they do. But the public opinion is against you, then you’re open to attacks. So far I hear Armstrong has done a certain amount of work to discourage them, but he can’t protect you forever.”

The blonde girl leaned back down for a friendly rub to Edward’s human shoulder. “Things like last night should help though. The military was being lazy, and you caught the guy by yourself.”

Despite knowing Winry was trying her best to be helpful, Edward couldn’t bother to care about what she was saying. It wasn’t the problem. He had never feared normal people. “I’m not talking about random people out for promotions. I’m talking about them. They already have six sins. They’re missing either Greed or Pride.”

Winry was silent the whole of two seconds. “Nothing says-“

“Don’t be stupid,” cut Edward. “You know about Envy and Sloth. It’s pretty clear what they’re doing. Creating an homunculus is too dangerous for a person. They manipulate others to create them. Lust…she appeared after Ishbal, right? I don’t care what they say about a rebellion, I think recovering her was their goal. Then, there was Sloth. The next step is pretty obvious.” He paused and announced the conclusion he had reached a long time ago. “I bet they’ll kill one of us and want the other to do something. Their choice is clear.”

“Ed, you can’t be serious…” Winry’s voice was altered; she didn’t really believe in her objection so Edward ignored it.

He closed his eyes and shifted on the table, explaining his reasoning quickly, before he could think too much about it. “Envy has been hinting at it for a while too. We have what they’re looking for. We have the skills to do it, and we both have a person we could be desperate enough to do this to, even knowing what would happen. As for the designated victim… I’m a stubborn brat who doesn’t listen and rebels every five minutes. I’m unpredictable. Al, he just follows my lead. He’d be easier to intimidate. Beside, they’re watching his work, I’m sure. After all, the better he become at alchemy, the easier it should be for him to succeed. That, plus…well, if Envy randomly snapped my neck, I think Al would take the chance on his own to help me, even if he knew that was what they wanted. He’d try to do better than we did before… He might succeed too, but I don’t think he’d survive.”

“You don’t want them to know you’re better than him,” murmured Winry, seeing the connection perfectly. She was facing the window now, talking to the blue sky rather than Edward and idly playing with her wrench. “That’s why you stick to chimeras and pretend not to know that much about other things. Al always said you had more raw talent, more strength and more genius in you than he did. If they knew what you can really do, they’d exchange the roles and kill him. You’d try to bring him back too, wouldn’t you? You wouldn’t run. So you would rather make sure you are the target to kill, so he can escape instead of doing their biding.” She let go of her tool and turned to face Edward again. “Why don’t you leave right away then? Both of you? You don’t have to play in their hands.”

There was a snort of derision in answer to her proposition. “Yeah, with the whole country looking for us? They started a war just to get Lust. They’d go all out after us. We wouldn’t go far. We don’t even know the first thing about traveling anyway. The farther we’ve gone is Rush Valley. We’d stand out and we’d get caught in no time, especially with all the metal limbs we have.”

“Why do you think Al would have a chance alone if you think both of you can’t cut it?”

“Because,” explained Edward patiently, “if he runs instead of trying to save me, they’ll know he won’t do it. It’s a very difficult transmutation. If he doesn’t want to do it, the results can’t be good. They won’t have a choice but to forget it and look elsewhere.”

“I hate to say this but…” Winry drew in a sharp breath. “They could use me to threaten him.”

“I know. I don’t think it would help their case much, but they could try. Maybe you should leave too.”

Winry appeared to drop the conversation, resuming her work on the automail. Her fingers were gentler and Edward had no cause to wince. Winry soon revealed she had been thinking when she offered, in a determined voice, “Come to Rush Valley with me next year. It’ll be the perfect time to run away. You can leave me a fake goodbye letter saying you’re going to Creta. I’m sure you can make it to Drachma before they catch up.”

Edward creaked an eye open to look up at his mechanic and adopted sister. “And you?”

She smiled and shrugged. “I’ll be fine. I’m just a mechanic, what can I do? Plus, everybody loves me here. Can you see the scandal?” She joined her hands dramatically. “Soft, gentle, helpfully Winry Rockbell accused of…well I don’t know what they could accuse me with, really.”

Edward didn’t react to her attempt at humor. He sighed, chin pillowed on his human arm and eyes fixed upon the window and the blue sky beyond. “Maybe it’s a good idea. Thanks, Winry.”

-

Alphonse just felt like it. There was nothing wrong with feeling like going to the market to see kittens, was there? Edward was going to be at Winry’s all day while she tweaked his automail to reflect what she had done to his after the Barry incident. It was the perfect time to do what he wanted. He knew his older brother would have a fit if he knew where he went, therefore he planned to keep it a secret. He only had to be back before Edward could become suspicious.

The two kittens in the window were the cutest ones. The gold one was playing with what seemed to be a toy mouse, but only until the black one tried to steal it. They fought and Alphonse chuckled when the black one gained possession of the toy.

The saleswoman, a small brunette, looked nervous when he inquired if it was okay to pet the animals. She granted him permission immediately; he hoped it was not merely out of fear.

After getting bitten a few times, Alphonse left the kittens to their fights, seeking the woman again. “Excuse me, ma’am?”

The saleswoman smiled but her eyes did not lose their worried taint. “Yes, may I help you?”

“The area of the city called the slums…how do I go there?”

Alphonse left the store with a map scribbled on a piece of paper. Several squares indicated buildings, a circle around the middle pointed out the inner city’s walls, a smaller circle to the north indicated the market – his current position - and an arrow indicated the general direction of the slums.

The progression was clear and rather shocking. The individual houses slowly gave way to apartment buildings, and they were more and more decrepit, until they started looking hazardous to walk by, never mind walk in. The last decent-looking buildings were surrounding a night bar with the name ‘The Chimera’. It told Alphonse he was going in the right direction; according to the lady, what was called the slums began two streets after this bar.

The scenery wasn’t the only thing to change. The people in the market had been commoners, who were wary but not usually overly afraid of him. The people around here were mostly mongrels and their fright was evident, almost as transparent as the hate in their glares.

With all the glares he attracted, Alphonse was glad he had his automail. As much as he disliked intimidation techniques, he wanted to prevent violence. He took the precaution of removing his gloves to let them all know he was equipped with automail and fished out his watch, letting the silver chain swing freely outside his pocket. Only a fool with a death wish would try to touch him. The effect was immediate; people returned to their occupation, unwilling to attract his attention.

After several minutes of shuffling his feet and wondering what he in the world he was doing in a place where everybody feared and hated him with equal passion, he found the determination to start asking questions. He pretended not to notice how they shrank away or bailed their hands into rageful and helpless fists.

To the name ‘Roy Mustang’, they all claimed ignorance. Some of them with sincerity, others with something that made Alphonse think they were lying – but he couldn’t force them to talk so he thanked them politely like the others and moved on. After the first dozen people, he took up the idea of offering a reward to whoever would tell Roy Mustang that Alphonse Elric wanted to see him. It made people look at him twice but nothing more.

Growing frustrated, Alphonse glared at the ground as he walked and, in the process, bumped into a girl. “Sorry,” he muttered. In the same breathe, he gave a ‘hey!’ as he felt his watch’s chain snap off his pants.

The girl was dashing away, laughing. “Thanks, blondie!”

“Give that back!” Alphonse turned on his heels and chased her. “Please, I need that!”

“Come and get it if it’s so important!”

Alphonse watched the girl climb to the roof of a building and continue on her way, from rooftop to rooftop. “Oh, I can’t believe this…” He reached the wall and climbed after her. “Miss! Please, wait up!” Why wasn’t being polite and cute working? Being polite and cute always worked! Except in the slums apparently.

If she was going to be like that, he had no choice. He followed her, leaping from roof to roof without a thought for the deadly fall he could earn if he missed. He was catching up and felt pleased with himself the whole of two seconds, right before the girl stopped, knelt and shoot a round at him from an automail leg.

They were standing on a building that looked able to collapse on its own; the shock was more than it needed to do so.

Alphonse yelled and flung himself aside, hands seeking to find something to hold on before he fell down several feet to the ground. He caught a beam; his human hand slipped, but the other did not. He clenched his automail hand on the wood, glad for its iron grip. His eyes were watering from the dust-heavy air and had to squint to see where he was and where he had to go. He swung himself nearer to the wall, found the hole of what was a window not so long ago and transmuted stairs reaching to the top of the closest building. He rubbed his face on his sleeve and he surveyed the mess from his new position. He was glad it had been an abandoned building; most of the ceiling and large parts of the walls had crumbled inward, raising a great deal of dust and causing a commotion.

The girl was standing nearby; she hadn’t noticed him, taken by the contemplation of her work. Her expression was sheepish and the way she rubbed the back of her head was not unlike the way Edward did. “Oops. Over did it. Oh well, hopefully he’s not dead.”

Creeping up to the dangerous girl was no problem. Alphonse coughed some dust out of his lungs. “I’m okay, thank you.”

Startled, the thief turned to find a dusty and ruffled but very much alive Alphonse. “Good for you! Gotta go!” She fled, but it was evident her automail leg did not function properly now that the round had been fired and her speed was greatly affected by it. Alphonse caught her almost in mid-air, closing a hand on her arm as they landed on yet another old and decrepit building.

“Got you!”

“No you don’t.” Paninya slammed a foot on Alphonse’s, expecting it to be flesh. Metal hit metal and all it did was bring an ominous crack from the roof they were on. Paninya went very still. “Oh, boy. Not good.”

Alphonse glanced down, growing worried. “Is everything that frail around here? It’s caving in…”

“How about you let go and I jump away?” Paninya proposed cheerfully. “I weight a ton with all this metal.”

“Then you’ll disappear, sell my watch and I’ll be in so much trouble.” He shuddered just at the idea. Losing a watch was almost a crime in itself, because of its alchemy amplification powers. “I’m sorry, I don’t like the idea.” He clutched her tighter to prevent her escape.

They didn’t move, but the roof under their feet did.

The thief sighed. “This is going to hurt.”

“Yeah,” agreed Alphonse, though he didn’t worry overmuch; it wouldn’t be that high a fall and they didn’t have a lot of limbs to break.

Paninya fell through first but Alphonse didn’t release his hold on her, only wincing, eyes closed. The expected pain never came; they fell on something far softer than a floor.

“A bed,” Paninya told the ceiling. “How lucky.”

“My watch, please,” panted Alphonse. He snatched it back himself.

“I’m not done,” protested Paninya, stirring with the obvious intention of attacking him.

Alphonse made a peace offering, unwilling to fight and potential harm a girl. “Look, I’ll give you my money, okay?”

The pouch of money effectively distracted Paninya. Her eyes shone as she snagged it, sat up and began to count her new fortune. Alphonse groaned and sat up too, putting his watch away safely. It wasn’t his day – not that it ever really was his day – and there went all his money. He was never going to find Roy.

“Why do you look so crestfallen?” asked Paninya. “It’s not like you can’t spare the change. Geez, this is almost nothing compared to what I could have gotten for your watch.”

He told her the truth. “I needed that money for the reward.”

“What reward?”

“I’m looking for somebody called Roy Mustang. Nobody wants to help me so I thought maybe money would convince them.”

“What are you looking for him for?”

Something in her tone told Al she knew something. She was suspicious, protective. “I know him. We’re friends. I think.” He shrugged as casually as possible. “I just wanted to see him and warm him about some things.”

“If I find him,” said Paninya, her voice tainted with greedy hope, “do I get another reward?”

Al smiled dryly. “Sure.”

The girl crossed her arms behind her head with a drawn out sigh. “Ahhh, but you’re broke. There’s no way I can trust you to pay me later.”

“You can ask Roy if you can trust me or not.”

Looking at him, Paninya dropped her arms and took the chance. “Okay. I’ll do it. Name’s Paninya and I know how to find anything and anybody. Just follow me.”

“Wait. I need to fix the roof…”

They extricated themselves from the mess, Paninya brushing dust off her green and brown pants and Alphonse laying his hands on the wall to fix the mess they had created. “I’m glad nobody was home…”

Every fallen piece drifted back in the air to return to its rightful place until the ceiling looked whole and perfect, in a better and more secure state than it had been earlier. Nobody else would be falling through this roof.

Paninya whistled. “Not bad.” She beckoned to him from the window stile with daring eyes. “Now come on, there’s a pile of old oil containers we can jump on from here.”

It was easier for somebody with two automail legs than for somebody with just one; Alphonse winced when he landed, the shock traveling unpleasantly up his limbs. He rubbed at the junction of automail and flesh, scurried down the triangular pile of rusty metal containers and followed Paninya with a barely noticeable limp.

Soon, Alphonse recognized the buildings. “We’re going to the market? I was there earlier, don’t tell me I should have stayed there?”

Paninya looked over her shoulder. “I’ll sit you down somewhere while I go look for him. I’m not letting you know where he lives. I’m not stupid.”

“Oh. Right.” Alphonse stopped, eyes shinning at the view of a books laden shop window. “Ohh, bookshop. Maybe I can find something for Niisan here… Paniya, I’ll wait there okay?”

Paniya raised a hand in alarm, “Wait-!” In front of Alphonse’s expression, she changed idea with a sigh. “Geez, another bookworm. Fine.”

They went in and Alphonse started browsing with greedy hands. It was unfortunate, but Edward would certainly already be home when he went back, and he would demand answers. If he found something nice, perhaps his brother wouldn’t be so upset about his trip outside. Alphonse knew not to expect alchemy-related books out here, but they might have something scientific that would be just as good.

Alphonse kept his expression as focused as possible on the book he held, edging to the left toward the counter where Paninya was talking to somebody. Eavesdropping was bad, but Alphonse thought ignorance was dangerous. He pretended not to hear the girls whisper but paid attention to every word of the exchange.

“He’s looking for Roy,” was saying Paninya. “You said he was going to come here later, right?”

The other girl had a nervous voice. “Yes, he’s supposed to pick up something. So what do I do? Is it trouble for Roy?”

“Beats me. Look, let him read books, I’ll stand guard outside and tell Roy about it when he shows up. He’ll decide what to do.”

Alphonse relaxed. Everything was just perfect. He could devote himself to the books now.