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You Belong to Me	By : squallstorm Category: Fullmetal Alchemist > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 9883 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Disclaimer:
I don't own Sabrina or Fullmetal Alchemist.

Thanks
to ZaKai for reading and correcting my mistakes. I'd also like to
thank Kestrel Faeran for the help she provided with my sucky French
XD. Merry Christmas y'all!

This
chapter is short but they won't all be like this...some are
longer...let me know what you think XD. Also beware...I time skip
quite a bit through out this story...you have been warned.

(1)
– My French, quite frankly, sucks....so I'm using a translation
page....Also I don't plan on using a whole lot of French here, just
every now and then. He says; “Hello! How are you?”

(2)
- She says; “That's too bad, I would have like to see you drop
those.”

(3)
- “Come with me.”

(4)
- “Are you stupid?”

Chapter
1

Edward nervously walked
down the broad marble corridor towards the door at the far end. His
sneakers squeaked, making the blond attempt to walk softer and
lighter to hide his presence. Looking over his shoulder, he made
sure, for the fifth time, that no one was watching him as he gripped
his messenger bag strap tightly in his hands.

Arg!
Why am I even here? I knew this was a mistake. I'm no good at this
type of thing, Edward fretted.
Not much further to go and then he'd be in front of the door. Then
he had to go in...find the director, figure out his duties. With
only a few feet left before he reached the door, he began to think of
ways to worm out of this job. Maybe he could head out on the next
flight home and forget about all this 'find yourself' nonsense.

The door at the end of
the hall creaked open. Edward froze.

A young man was speaking
with someone in the room, and his back was to Edward. He could jump
behind one of the pillars lining the wall, if he could make his body
move, that is, but then the man would hear the movement. Maybe he
could just turn around and causally walk away. That might work, but
again his feet wouldn't move. As the internal debate raged, the man
turned around, spotting him.

“Bonjour!
Comment allez-vous? (1)” the man addressed Edward as he came
up the hallway, striding confidentiality towards him. Edward could
only stare wide eyed at the man. He was tall, taller then him by
like, ten inches, and the bright short blond hair fell into his blue
eyes. He seemed to be around his age, maybe a little bit older. The
slim pants, and white button down shirt he was wearing made Edward
feel under dressed in his own baggy pants and layers of shirts, with
an open button down over top of it all.

Edward just shook his
head, hitting his face with his loose, shoulder length hair, and hid
his face within his bangs, trying to hide the warmth on his cheeks.
He didn't want to be caught staring.

“Ah,
no French then....my name is Russell. How do you do?” The
tall blond held out his hand, waiting for Edward to clasp it.

Un-clenching his death
grip on the bag's strap, Edward folded his hand around the
outstretched hand and pumped it once before letting go quickly,
smiling shyly at the other boy.

“And
you are.....?” Russell smiled at the obviously shy nature of
the other boy.

“Edward
Elric,” he mumbled.

“Ah,
we've been expecting you. How was your flight? All settled in?”
Russell asked.

“Y-yeah...”

“Good.
Now just to warn you, Marcoh is a bit eccentric,” Russell
threw his arm about the smaller boys shoulder's bring him close to
his body, guiding him towards the door. “So don't take
ANYTHING to heart. He just loves to see weakness.” Edward
nodded, listening carefully to the instructions, but blushing
furiously at such casual contact between strangers. “It
shouldn't take long, then I can show you your duties.”

They walked through the
doors at the end of the hall, and Edward stared in awe at the vast
doomed ceiling in the middle of the room. The place was littered
with shelves full of dusty tomes and drawers seemingly stuffed full
of cloth maps and other documents from the past. With Russell
pulling him along, however, Edward didn't have the chance to study
anything except in passing.

“This
is all the boring stuff through here. We don't really work with this
unless the government is looking for some point to highlight in
session, or something like that.” Russell guided them through
the chamber. “This would be what the tourists see.”

“I
think it looks like fun,” mumbled Edward, hiding his face once
again in his hair. One thing he learned to appreciate as a child,
were books. His father had passed along his quiet past time to his
son, and when Edward wasn't out watching the Mustangs, he was hidden
away in some nook, reading.

Russell smiled down at
the newest member of the Archivist Society of Paris. This one was
going to liven things up nicely, if he had any say in it. This place
was so incredibly dull and boring, but Russell could sense a free
spirit when he saw one, or the desire to be a free spirit. Either
way, he planned to take Edward under his wing.

- - - -

Stumbling
under the weight of the paper piled high in both his arms, Edward
wove down the hall towards the preservation room. As he neared the
door, Edward noticed that he had a big dilemma on his hands. How
the hell am I supposed to get the door open,
he panicked.

Glancing up and down the
hallway, Edward hoped to find someone heading towards him that he
could ask to open the door, but at the moment he was the only one out
here. Why hadn't he taken the cart Russell had shoved his way? Some
need to show off to the other man perhaps. Well there was nothing
for it, he was going to have to do something or else he could be out
here all day.

Balancing the bundle in
one arm, Edward reached out slowly towards the door handle, ready to
whip his hand back at the slightest hint of a paper avalanche.
Molding his fingers around the handle, he carefully turned the knob,
holding his breath as the paper swayed somewhat within his arms.

He had been warned, very
sternly, that if he dropped these very important and OLD papers that
his boss, Dr. Marcoh, would feel it just punishment in taking a body
limb from him in payment. Despite what Russell had told him about
the man, Edward was intimidated. That's why, when the door suddenly
opened from inside, slamming into to his shoulder, Edward screeched
in alarm.

Dropping his hold on the
door handle, Edward pawed at the stack, trying desperately to make
them halt their gravity induced slant at the floor. Squeezing the
top towards the bottom seemed to help still the papers. Sagging with
relief, Edward hopped out of the way of the person still standing in
the doorway watching him with an amused expression on her face.

"Comme
c'est dommage, j'aurais bien aimé vous voir les laisser
tomber.(2)” The dark skinned
woman grinned at him. “Maybe anothsuer time, eh?” she
finished in thickly accented English. Her deep brown eyes flashed
with amusement.

Startled by her callous
sounding words, Edward could only wonder at their meaning. He
watched as she slid past him, smirking all the while. Sashaying her
hips, the small tanned woman walked slowly past. Gapping at her
retreating back, Edward mentally slapped himself. No time to be
dallying in the halls, these papers had to be somewhere. He finally
noticed that the door was swinging back and thrusting out his foot,
he toed the door open again.

Several people were
working on illuminated benches scattered through out the room, not
bothering to look up as he entered. Threading his way through the
lab, Edward carefully placed the stack on the table towards the back,
and stepped away to wipe at his forehead.

His
job was to locate all documents pertaining to the correspondence of
two minor English politicians from 1875, and he had to sift through
this pile to do so. Sounds simple enough,
he thought. Pulling over a chair from the desk beside the table,
Edward took a seat and looked at the first of many documents.

It wasn't long before
Edward felt someone leaning over him from behind. Willing the urge
to squirm to go away, Edward continued with his work hoping who ever
was watching him would get tired and just leave. As the insanely
long seconds ticked by, and Edward had read the same line a dozen
times, he felt that this was enough. He could hear the shadow's foot
tapping in annoyance. Glancing to the left, Edward tried to spy the
watcher with out being noticed.

“I
thought I told you to make sure your ridiculously long hair was tied
back,” the director seethed.

Startled,
Edward stumbled out of his chair and stood to face his boss, Mr.
Marcoh. “N-no ...s-s-sir you didn't...” His voice
faded, and his body wilted under the director's scrutiny. He tried
to collapse in on himself, boy am I weak, he
told himself.

“I
don't want to see your stringy hair all over these papers. Go find
something to take care of it.” Edward watched the large man
pivot on his heel and stomp out. The other people made sure to keep
their heads nice and low until after he had left through the door.
After a moment of standing slack jawed, Edward pulled himself
together and feeling all the eyes on his back, he tried not to appear
to run from the room...it was just walking with a purpose.

- - - -

On his way back to the
lab, Edward spotted the girl from before. Her easy strides were
bringing her closer towards him. Ducking his head and gluing his
eyes to the floor, he hoped that she wouldn't accost him again. He
really missed his ability to hide within his hair now that it was
tied back at the nape of his neck. He could hear her high heeled
boots strike the marble floor, coming closer with each step.

Peeking through his
bangs, Edward choked when he saw that the girl was making a bee line
right for him. No longer able to move forward, he froze in place.
The woman grinned at him, and to Edward it looked very much like she
had horns on her forehead and a forked tail swishing out the back.

“You,
Edward?” the devil asked him.

“...Yeah...”
Edward answered breathlessly.

“Venez
avec moi,(3)” the girl hooked a finger at him, and waited.

Touching his tongue to
the front of his teeth, Edward tried to puzzle out what she wanted
from him. Did he do something wrong again? He had only been here
for a few hours now, and it seemed that everyone was out to make his
life as miserable as possible.

“Êtes-vous
stupide? (4)” the woman's face sneered at him

“I...I
don't know any French...” Edward mumbled to the floor. He
could feel the heat rise to his face.

“Tch!
Come s'his way,” she hooked her finger once more, and turned,
pausing long enough to make sure that Edward followed.

Making an 'O' with his
mouth, Edward forced his feet to move forward, following the woman as
she lead him away from the preservation room, to another part of the
building. Trying not to get hopelessly lost, he paid attention to
all the many twists and turns, but after they had been walking for
fifteen minutes, Edward gave up. Just where were they going anyway?

Finally the woman turned
into a room off of a narrow hallway, and Edward trailed after her.
Once inside the room, she began to speak in rapid French, pointing to
stacks of paper, lifting a few sheets to ramble about them, before
moving on to explain something else. Once she finished what ever she
was saying to him, she turned and walked out leaving him alone in the
room.

Ed
looked around at his new surroundings in forlorn defeat, and then
back at the door. “What the HELL am I supposed to do here?”
He asked the room, knowing he wouldn't be getting an answer anytime
soon. Swallowing against the burning in the back of his throat,
Edward plunked down on the middle of the floor. With his elbows
digging into his knees, he cradled his head in his hands, and blinked
at the tears springing up.

This
is the worst day of my life, even worse then Winry not paying any
attention to me...ever. He
watched as a tear dropped from his eye to splash down to the dirty
floor, making a wet spot. Sniffling, Edward swiped his shirt sleeve
across his eyes. He was not going to cry. He was a boy, dammit.
Boys didn't cry!

Pushing on the floor,
Edward stood and studied the room. Sniffling once more, he walked
over to one of piles of paper and looked at what was written on it.
It was in French. He wanted to screech in frustration, but he held
it in. Would this day never end?

- - - -

“Is
that a letter from Edward? How is he? Staying out of trouble?”

“He's
miserable.” Hohenheim shook his head at the hastily scrawled
plea from his son to let him come home. He looked up into the face
of the speaker as she bent over his shoulder to look at the letter
with him.

Patricia was the head
cook for the Mustang's and had started around the same time as he
had. She had doted on Edward as a small child, and Edward had drank
it up, often asking Hohenheim if she could be his mom when he tucked
the small child into bed at night.

He had always mumbled
some sort of response before leaving the room, but then in the quite
of his study, surrounded by his books, he would wonder what it would
be like to have a woman in his life again. The attraction he felt
for her wasn't sexual at least not in the beginning, it was
companionship that he craved most as he got older. He just wanted
someone to share his thoughts with.

“Oh
dear. Should we bring him home?” Patricia asked, scanning the
letter for any good points at all. She pulled a strand of her warm
brown hair over her shoulder and twirled it around her finger.

“No,
this is good for him. He just doesn't realize it yet.” He
handed the letter over to Patricia and began to eat his breakfast of
eggs and toast. He looked over as the woman took a seat next to him,
pouring over the letter. His eyes softened as he watched her chew on
her lip while reading.

Across the table, the
gardener, Fu, tisked. “You know...” he began in his
heavily accented English. “When I was a small boy, many, many
years ago, I didn't have the chance to travel and be on my own.”

Hohenheim looked over at
the heavily mustached face of the Asian man, and tried not to roll
his eyes at him. He could hear Patricia shift in her seat and he
forced himself to keep his eyes on the man as he talked.

“I
had to work hard, each day
to plant the rice that would feed all of us. Thirteen mouths to
feed, and only one small acre of land, and the house was made out of
mud. We had to scrape together twigs in order to heat us in the
winter. He should enjoy his freedom. I never had any, and look at
me, do I look upset, no.” The gardener sat back, looking
satisfied that he'd made his point.

“Thank
you, Fu.” Hohenheim nodded at him, before shoveling a mouth
full of eggs into his mouth to stop him from saying anything else.
The gardener's stories were always somewhat...eccentric.

“Don't
you think your being hard on him, Hohenheim?” Mei Chang asked
from her position at the sink, water sloshed out and down the front
of the cabinet. “He's like, so...shy. It must be, like, tough
on him.” The young girl looked across the room at the dinners.
“I mean, like...well he's not shy
but, like, he is...shy, you know?” she tilted her head as she
talked.

“Yes,
I am aware of Edward's failings, Mei Chang, thank you,”
Hohenheim said, before taking a sip of his coffee. The young woman
was so engrossed with American television that she was taken on some
of the worst speaking habits. He was glad that Edward didn't talk
like that.

“Well
I was only saying...”
Mei Chang pouted and turned back to her dishes.

“You
should get going soon, the Mustangs will be leaving soon,”
Patricia said as she handed the letter back to Hohenheim.

Hohenheim folded the
letter and pushed it into his pants pocket. “Right.”
Taking one last sip of coffee, he grabbed his hat from the table
beside him and fitted it on his head. “Have a good day.”
he smiled at Patricia and pushed his chair back into the table.

“It'll
be alright, dear. I'm sure of it,” Patricia told him as he
passed. Smiling to signal that he heard, Hohenheim left by the back
entrance to wait by the car for Mrs. Mustang and her son.

--To be continued--
- 1
- 2
- 3
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You Belong to Me