Travelers

I hate the idea that in nearly every story I read--Winry is always left at the sidelines. By the time the series ends, Winry has definetly matured into a stout young woman. I admire her for that (especially because I hated her, in the beginning). At first, I wasn\'t going to include her as much--but I changed my mind and decided I was gonna put her in because she doesn\'t get a lot of time on the stage. I\'m not saying I\'ve made her a main character but as this story goes on, she\'ll become more and more involved. There\'s only a tiny taste of this involvement here but there will be more.
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You call me strong, you call me weak.... Kryptonite, by Three Doors Down
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Russel was tonguing his cheek. Al could see it out of the corner of his eye. The young man looked irritated, which Al found himself pleasantly satisfied with.

“Why aren’t we taking the train to Central?” Russel asked, a mite coldly, from Al’s left. He had a bag slung over one shoulder and a stick in his hand.

“Because the Colonel isn’t at Central.”

“Where is he?”

Al, still not facing Russel, looked to the side. I have no idea. “He’s farther south. It would simply be easier and cheaper to walk the distance and he didn’t necessarily give us a time schedule.”

Russel rolled his eyes.

Al anxiously kept his gaze forward. These lies were all going to catch up with him, surely. He hated lying like this.

He was so lost in this thought that he nearly jumped out of his clothes when Ranen suddenly appeared next to him, blinking blearily at him and smoking a cigarette.

“Hallo,” she said, groggily.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

She gave Russel a cool look. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He blinked. “Al said I had to go with him to see Colonel Mustang.”

“Fascinating,” Ranen told him in a dry tone, checking an imaginary watch on her wrist. She looked at Al. “You ready?”

“For what?” Russel snapped. “You’re not coming with us are you?”

Ranen rubbed one of her half-closed eyes. “You’re bein’ awfully rude.”

“Mustang only asked for good alchemists.”

“Than what the hell are you doing here? Shouldn’t they have sent for Fletcher instead?”

Al choked on a laugh, smothering it into a cough. When Russel gave him a dirty look, he pointed at Ranen’s cigarette. “The smoke, you know…”

“Shall we be on our way, then?”

“Where are we going?” Al asked.

She smiled. “Right where we need to be.”

Russel gave Al a suspicious look and Al could only shrug in puzzlement in return.

Ranen took off her gloves and knelt in the dirt. “We’re gonna move fast, okay?”

“Ooo,” said Al, grinning. “We get to travel by sand?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought you didn’t do that much?”

“I don’t. Consider yourself privileged. Takes a lot to hold every goddamn particle of sand together.”

“Are we really in that much of a hurry?”

“Dunno. But I’d rather not take a chance. The opportunity may not come again.”

“What are you two talking about?” Russel asked, throwing down the mask of bravado entirely. “What is going on? I’m not going to be dragged into some—”

“You agreed when you walked outta the house with Al.”

Russel was silent for a moment, seeming to be doing some intense thinking. He smiled in a disbelieving sort of way. “We’re not really going to see Mustang, are we?”

Ranen gave him a half-smile. “What do you think?”

“What are you hiding from Winry?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

Russel laughed. “Not likely.” He immediately dropped on his knees, whipping out a hand to draw a transmutation Circle.

But Ranen was already moving, slamming her hands into the dirt. Sand erupted on all sides of them, including Russel, wrapping around him and tossing him forward.

“Sorry Russel,” Al told him, bracing his legs as sand began to shift under him, raising him in the air. “We can’t have you running back and telling Winry.”

“Telling her what?!” Russel yelped, spitting sand out of his mouth.

“Shut up,” Ranen grumbled. “Be quiet a minute.”

Her yellow Circle was dying and the sand suddenly moved, pushing off, racing above the ground.

Al ducked low, smiling over the top of sandy carpet. Russel looked incredibly aggravated. “I hate traveling like this with her.”

“Why?”

“I’m always paranoid she’s going to lose her concentration and we’re going to slam into trees.”

Al couldn’t argue with that, he was just as paranoid, as it had happened once before. He watched her, her hands folded, glaring down at the sand in front of her, never once letting her mind wander.

“Makes it convenient though when we need to get somewhere fast.”

“I don’t think it’s really worth it.” Russel muttered. “What are we doing out here?”

Al looked at him under the tops of his eyes. “I’m sorry but I don’t really know.”

Russel gave him a cool look.

“I really don’t. She just said she thinks she can help me with something. Winry doesn’t want me to know about it.”

“Ah, that explains why she wouldn’t let me go back.” He seemed to think for a minute. “Of course, that doesn’t tell me why you brought me along.”

Because I don’t want to leave you with Winry.

“Ranen said you may be able to help.” Another lie.

“Did she now?” Russel smirked, snorting at Ranen’s back as they flew through the air. “Her asking for my help. Ha! I’ll have to tell Winry when I get back.”

Al scowled to himself as he looked away. If it were his place, he’d kick Russel in the teeth for Edward.

“What?” Russel asked.

“I figured you’d wanna tell Fletcher.”

Russel stretched, shifting on his floor of sand. “I will but I’ll tell Winry first. Maybe it will impress her.” He grinned to show he was joking.

Instead Al, again, felt anger quake through him.

And, of course, his face was open as a book. Russel cocked an eyebrow at him. “What’s your problem? Don’t tell me you’re jealous?”

Jealous?

Al blinked. “Jealous? Of what?”

“Of Winry. You’re a little young for her, don’t you think?”

Al clenched his fingers. “She’s my best friend. I want to make sure nothing happens to her.”

Russel snorted. “You don’t trust me?”

“She doesn’t love you.”

Russel’s face lost the smile and he became very, very serious. He sat up, looking Al right in the eye. “I think she’ll decide that.”

“She’s already decided.”

“Maybe.”

Al glared, clenching his fingernails into his palms.

“You think she’s gonna wait on Ed forever?”

Al felt the touch of a simmering hot rage, threatening him. “He’s coming back.”

The look Russel gave him was sad. “Alphonse. I respected your brother. He was a friend. He got me out of a couple jams and he didn’t kill me for impersonating him. I owe him one. I don’t deny that. But…Ed’s been gone for over a year. He’s not coming back. He’s probably dead.”

“He is not.”

Russel shook his head, exasperated. “Fine, Al. Fine. But while you stay stuck on him—I’m going to move forward. Winry has. She’s become an expert technician. Who could pass up a girl like that?”

“If you respected Ed at all—!”

“I do!” Russel snapped. “But I’m also not stupid. And I’m not mindless. It’s not as though I’m going to force Winry into anything. She’ll decide. And if she decides that maybe we could have something—then you will have to respect that.”

Surely Winry wouldn’t…Ed isn’t dead…she….she….

“I don’t hold it against you, Al. You’re young. You’re only a kid. When you get older, you’ll understand it but right now you just have to deal with it. You don’t have any control over Winry’s life. Neither do I. No one does. Except for Winry. She’s smart, beautiful and independent. She’ll make her own choices. For you to expect her to wait around for Edward is…wishful thinking, Al.”

“But she—“

“She’s accepted that he’s probably dead. You oughtta do the same.”

Al felt everything fall away. He stared down at the moving sand particles, hunching over. His lip trembled.

No…




“Do you attend church, Edward?”

Ed straightened at his desk, tonguing his cheek, and gave him a puzzled look. “Church?”

“Well, I thought I would ask.” Alfons told him, taking a sip of water from a tumbler as he stepped through the doorway of Ed’s room. “There are several churches here in Munich. A lot of them are Catholic but if you’re a Protestant than you should probably be able to find somewhere to go.”

Ed fidgeted. “Er….what’s the difference?”

Ed knew he must have asked an incredibly stupid question from the way Alfons’ eyes widened.

“What’s the difference? They’re practically night and day.”

“Okay,” Ed told him, feeling a smile tug at his lips. “So what?”

“Haven’t you ever been to church?”

Ed snorted. “Of course not. Why would I?”

Alfons looked out of his depth. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed you were a Christian.”

Ed shrugged. “What do Christians do?”

“You’re joking, right?”

“If I was, I’d be laughing. Is this a religion of some kind?”

“You really know nothing about it?”

“Of course I don’t, Alfons. I’m not from here.”

Alfons felt his jaw tighten and his fingers clench around the water glass. Ah yes, of course, how could I forget? “Christianity is a religion.”

“Well there you are,” Ed told him, putting a mark of paper in his book and shutting it. “Where I come from, science is the focus, not religion.”

“Do you believe in God?”

Ed grinned bitterly. “Why would I believe in God?”

Alfons stared at him warily, put on guard by Ed’s tone, sinking down to sit on his bed, putting the water glass on his knee. “You’re an atheist than?”

“Well, it means I don’t believe in God—so yes. Why? Are you a zealot?”

“Oh—no,” Alfons stuttered, blinking. “I’m just surprised. A lot of people in Europe are very…infatuated with their religion.”

Ed snorted. “Sounds like a cult.”

Alfons half-smiled, suddenly feeling weird—an image of his parents forcing its way to the front of his mind. He pushed it back. “Yeah…kind of…” Alfons stared at the floor for a moment and then he looked back at Ed. “Why don’t you believe in God?”

Ed smiled softy. “It’s God that controls everything, right? Heh. He hasn’t done me any favors lately.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m here, aren’t I? No offense to you but coming through to this world isn’t my idea of Godly Love and Intervention.”

Alfons sighed softly and looked away.

Ed bit his lip, realizing his words. “I’m sorry, Al. Just forget it. Thanks for asking me. I appreciate it.”

Alfons looked at him. He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I guess I just don’t understand you.”

“I never said you had to…”

“I want to. You want me to.”

Ed straightened. “I never said that.”

“You didn’t have to. Just how you change when you talk about Al and your alchemy and…all these other…wild….things. You want me to understand and believe.”

“Look, just because I have no interest in God—“

“That’s not the point, Edward. You don’t understand—“and Alfons paused and nearly hated himself for giving in to the idea of Ed’s tales—“our God, like I don’t understand your alchemy but you see fit to mock religion but I make every effort not to mock your alchemy—even though it’s just as preposterous, if not moreso, as religion.”

“It’s not preposterous!”

“It is to me, Edward. These fantasy lands you live in—”

Ed shot up out of his chair. “You don’t understand—“

“—with those damn Circles, Edward—”

They both stopped and quieted.

“This is stupid,” Ed muttered. He grabbed his coat and headed for the door.

“And this is the point where you run away.”

Ed froze. “I am not running away.”

“I’m trying to understand you, Ed.”

“You’re right,” Ed snapped, throwing his arms in the air and turning about. “I don’t understand your concept of God and I made fun of it. I’m sorry. Okay? Now we’re even. Now we’re back to simply not believing each other. Okay?!”

Alfons felt a slip of anger wedge into him. “Why do you immediately take back everything so we’re back at the beginning? I don’t care whether or not you believe in God! I’m trying to understand you!”

Ed gave him a hot glare. “You won’t. You’re not Al.”

Alfons let the glass fall from his hand. It shattered against the wood. “I have taken you in. I’ve studied with you. I’ve provided you with a place to sleep, food to eat and I’m working on getting you a job because you can’t seem to function on your own in normal society. I have made every effort to be your friend and try to comprehend why you are the way you are. I’m sorry for not being able to grasp all the things you tell me. I have tried, Edward. I’m not looking to be your brother—we already had this discussion. I want to listen to what you say because…I…” Careful now, Alfons… “…I can see how firmly you believe it.”

Edward looked away. Alfons could see the guilt on his face.

The guilt ate him up. Ed wasn’t even thinking about it. He just got down on one knee, intending to fix the glass, help patch things back together.

Alfons watched Ed kneel down and clap his hands together for no reason at all. He watched Ed’s eyes close and the sheet of pain that shifted over him.

Ed stood up. “I’m sorry,” was all he could mutter and then he was leaving the room.

Alfons stayed until he heard the door shut. Then he sighed. He glanced around the dimly lit room. There were papers all over Ed’s desk, overflowing onto the floor. Alfons rubbed his forehead, grabbed a towel from the bathroom and started to mop up the water and pick up glass.

He had to close his eyes for a moment when he found a small stack of papers, littered with those Circles. Then he smiled at them.

Oh, Ed. They’re interesting Circles. Very nice designs.

It was three hours later when Alfons was sitting at the kitchen table, reading a book that the knock came.

He stood, rubbing his eyes and went to the door.

Officer Hughes gave him a look. “This your roommate?”

Edward Elric was slumped onto the ground, unconscious.

Alfons quickly stepped outside and knelt next to him. “Is he all right?!”

Hughes raised his eyebrows at his alarm. “He’ll be fine. He’s just very, very drunk. And he picked a fight in the bar. Someone in there had seen him with you, so they called Gracia. You shouldn’t worry her like that, you know.”

“I apologize.”

“It’s not a big deal. Just keep a closer eye on him. Boy is mean when he’s drunk.” Hughes told him with a tiny smile, reaching down and throwing Edward over his shoulder.

A few moments later, Hughes had carried Edward upstairs and put him in bed and Alfons waved him out. When the young man went back into the room, Ed was moaning. He was calling out a name he’d never heard before.

“Winry…”

It made Alfons’ chest clench at how hopelessly miserable Ed sounded.

Ed choked and rasped the name again. “Winry…”

Alfons turned away, closing the door.

He just needed to go to bed. This was too much stress right now. He needed to go to bed.

When Alfons stepped into the hallway, he coughed.




It was evening when Ranen finally slowed her sand. “We’re about there. I gotta stop. I’m gonna pass out.”

Al glanced up at her and steadied his legs. The sand flew slower and slower until it simply met with the dirt on the road and stopped. Al got up, brushing off his coat but unable to look at Russel, although he could feel the blue eyes on him.

Ranen crouched on the ground for a moment and then, in a fluid movement, pushed herself to her feet. She fished out a cigarette and lit it but kept her eyes closed. She took a deep breath. “Almost there kiddies. We’ll be there later tonight if we keep moving.”

So they kept walking. Ranen looked a little sleepier than usual and her eyes seemed to only be focused on the hot cinder a few inches in front of her nose.

Russel stuffed his hands in his pockets and said very little.

Al looked up at the stars, just starting to wink in the sky. Was it cheesy to think that maybe, somewhere, Ed was looking at the same stars? Or was that just…wishful thinking too?


It was several hours into the night when Ranen finally paused. She leaned over, as if she was considering throwing up.

Russel grinned. “You’re such a liability, you know that?”

“Fuck you,” Ranen grumbled. “If not for my sand, it’d take us days to get here.”

“If not for your sand, you wouldn’t be on the verge of tossing up your intestines.”

She gave him a dark grin and then closed her eyes as nauseous waved over her. Then she shook her head. “Hey Al, how about another torch?”

Without a word, Al knelt down, clapping his hands, and set them to the ground. He drew an ignited twist of wood from the earth and held it high.

“Ah, you’ve come.”

With a jerk of surprise, nearly dropping the torch, Al jumped away from the stranger who’d suddenly appeared at his right. Russel took a few steps backwards, kneeling and fixing his hands above the dirt. Ranen gave the stranger a tired, one-eyed glance. “Yep, faster than you thought, huh?”

Al glanced at Ranen and then back at the stranger. He wasn’t a big man, maybe average height and build. He was wearing simple clothes and a faded, weather-worn green coat with an insignia on the right breast that Al couldn’t make out. He was middle-aged, hair just beginning to turn a stately shade of gray and little crow’s feet shadowed at the corners of his eyes. He did not smile.

“Would you like to come inside?”

“Come in where?” Russel asked, still tensing near the ground.

“Is this Trigham?”

Al looked at Ranen, puzzled, but she wasn’t looking at him. She nodded.

“So you, of course, are Alphonse Elric,” said the man, giving Al an eerie glance.

“Ranen, what’s going on?”

Russel stood up warily, edging in Al’s direction.

She still didn’t look at him, for some reason keeping steady eye contact with the man. “This is the Ghost Alchemist, Isaac Crane. I met him a short time ago. He says he may be able to help you find your brother…for a price.”

“I have been looking for you, Alphonse. It was very, very fortunate that I ran into your friend. I think it would be best to discuss these things over tea, however. So, if you like—please follow me.”

“Why should we?”

The Ghost Alchemist gave Russel a smile. “I know your formidable reputation Mister Trigham. You have nothing to fear from me.”

Russel didn’t look convinced. He and Al shared a dark glance but followed side-by-side. Ranen didn’t look at them. She stuffed her hands in her pockets and stared straight ahead.


The house was neat on the outside, with a charming flower garden in the front yard. The inside looked dark and eerie. Al felt a sensation of dread sweep over him and his hands tingled oddly when the Ghost Alchemist opened the door. However, the inside seemed quite homey and comfortable. The man flipped on a few lights and went into a tiny kitchen, where a pot of water was already singing with steam.

“Hey, if y’don’t mind—I need a break. I’m gonna skip out on you and since you were planning on talking shop, I’d prefer to wait until morning.”

The Ghost Alchemist nodded, a strange smile on his face. “Certainly. There are two rooms made up in the basement. One for you and one for Mister Elric and Mister Trigham.”

Russel suddenly shot a glance at Al, nodding suspiciously towards the man. Al shrugged.

“Don’t suppose I can smoke in here?”

The smile got an edge to it. “Certainly not.”

She nodded, tired eyes sweeping towards a staircase off to their left. She didn’t even look at Russel and Alphonse, merely waved and then started sluggishly for the basement.

Al and Russel stepped closer together.

“There is no need to be so suspicious. I am, after all, going to help you.”

“You know how I can find my brother?”

“Well, certainly between the three of us we’ll be able to figure it out.”

“The three of us?” Russel repeated, eyebrows shooting up.

Al felt another twinge on unease.

“Of course. We wouldn’t be able to do what we’re going to do without you, Mister Trigham.”

“What are you talking about?” Russel said, everything in him seemed to tense up.

“Yeah, Russel wasn’t even going to come originally. Ranen said—“

The Ghost Alchemist put up a hand. “Why don’t you get some rest? We’ll talk in the morning. You must be tired after traveling all day.”

Russel and Al looked at each other. Al barely nodded. He gave the man a smile. “All right then. In the morning.”

Russel didn’t even give Crane a glance. He simply turned about and headed for the staircase.

They were surprised to find that the basement looked more like a laboratory than a living space. It was set up with countertops, viles, burners, and various scientific instruments. Russel had to let an appreciative eye roam over it. “He has a nice set-up.”

“This seems wrong. He knew we were coming and he knew we were bringing you. Something’s going on here.” Al clenched his fists.



It would be a few days after this, when Fletcher left, that Winry would finally deem it enough time and picked up the telephone. Her call to Central was transferred only once when they found out her name and she got Riza Hawkeye directly.

“Miss Rockbell?” came the slightly surprised but steady voice of Mustang’s right arm.

“Hi Hawkeye. Er. I was wondering if the Colonel was in Central this week?”

There was a strange silence on the other end. “No.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“Why?” Hawkeye asked, suddenly sounding wary.

So Winry quickly told the story of Mustang summoning Al and Russel Trigham for something important.

This silence was even longer. “I know nothing about that. It doesn’t mean anything, of course. The Colonel works independently. I will contact him and get you more information. Can I reach you at home?”

“Ah. Yes. Thank you Hawkeye.”

“I always told you, you could call me Riza, Miss Rockbell.”

“And you, of course, should call me Winry.”

“Agreed.”

Winry smiled. “Thanks Riza.

When Winry put the phone down, her smile dropped. She glared out the window. “I knew it.”


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