[Fic] The Water-Stone of the Wise - Chapter 2
Hi-ho, hi-ho, it's off to work I go...
The Water-Stone of the Wise
Warning: Mild FMA movie spoilers ... aka if you haven't seen the end of the show, this ain't for you. AU - Just because it's in this fic doesn't mean it's in the movie.
Shorter than the first chapter, but the third chapter ought to be double the length. I have to do some... research ... soon. :3
2: Paris, France
Alphonse Elric scowled as the two men left the bookshop.
He had come in earlier and was browsing through the books, looking for some old texts that he was sure Edward would enjoy when the tall men had walked in. They had given him a cursory glance, then turned to harass the bookseller. Alphonse was on the other side of the shop and couldn’t hear what they were bothering the young man about, but by the time Alphonse brought his purchases to the counter he looked angry to the point of tears.
The bookseller couldn’t have been much older than sixteen or seventeen - he was clearly minding the store for someone. “What was that all about?” Alphonse asked in French.
The boy angrily shook his head, muttering a few choice words about Germans under his breath. “They were looking for my father,” he said, a trace of fear in his voice. He glanced shakily at the books in Alphonse’s hands. “Is… that all for you, sir?”
“Your father is Abelard Manner, isn’t he?”
The boy looked surprised, and eager. “Do you know my father?”
Alphonse shook his head regretfully. “Not personally, I do not. I have heard of him, and that is why I made a special stop at this bookstore. I was hoping to have a chat with him, there are several old books and manuscripts I’m looking for.”
“Oh…” The boy looked crestfallen. “I see. Father has been missing for many days, now, and I am the only one left to mind his store.”
Alphonse was quiet as the boy rang up his purchases. Abelard Manner was missing? He would have to include that information in his next letter to Edward … Manner supposedly had a single copy of a codex by an ancient alchemist that he itched to get his hands on. He loved this world and everything in it, but the lack of alchemy left a hole in him that would never heal. The only balm he had found so far included reading everything there was to read on this world’s version of alchemy.
He bid the boy a good day, and hoped that his father would come home to him soon. That done, Alphonse walked out into the bright spring day.
Kalyn wanted to visit Paris again before they headed to the Mediterranean, and he had acquiesced - France was lovely this time of year. Kalyn shared his love of travel, and they took the long route, exploring a lot of the French countryside as they went. It would never be the same as the countryside in Amestris, but Alphonse had long since come to terms with that.
And he could never have asked for a lovelier travelling companion.
Kalyn was waiting for him outside the shop. She had been irritated that he had told her to wait outside, and it showed in her stance. Her parasol rested on one shoulder and she scowled at several passerby’s, twirling it obsessively. She didn’t like to be ‘told’ anything, but her indignation made her stay put, waiting for him so she could chew him out. The first time he had asked her to wait outside, he had returned to find that she had seen something interesting and was seven blocks away. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said in French.
She turned and directed her scowl at him, her dark brown hair falling out of the clip she had swept it back into. Alphonse thought for a moment she might hit him with her parasol, but instead her scowl lost its edge. “I was worried. I saw Germans go in.”
“There was nothing to worry about,” Alphonse said, sliding his right arm along her back and planting a light kiss on her forehead. “They weren’t interested in me … I’m a reporter, remember? They hardly notice people like me.”
“I wish I was as confident as you were,” Kalyn said, her eyes darting up the street, before back to him. She scowled in half-remember irritation. “Why did you not want me going in?”
“Old man Manner had a reputation of being a letch, and I didn’t want him anywhere near my wife,” Alphonse said, sliding a book out of his parcel. “I bought you this.”
Her eyes lit up at the book, it was on archaeology, one of her favorite hobbies. With the parasol balanced precariously on her shoulder, she opened the book to a random page and started scanning it.
Alphonse laughed then, stretching his arms above his head. “I should have waited to give that to you until we were on the train,” he observed. She didn’t seem to hear him. “Kalyn,” he said, catching her chin. She looked up at him, slightly irritated. “Let’s go find some place to sit, mm?”
She closed the book and smiled at that, tucking it under her arm. “We could go sit by the fountain!” She tugged his hand, and led him in that direction.
Alphonse let her lead, tugged along by her insistent hand, and let himself be slightly amazed at his own life. Fifteen years ago he had been leaving Germany with his brother, unsure of this world or what it had in store for him. Now he traveled it freely, turning his trained scientific mind to the task of learning many languages, and reporting on the situation in various European countries to his new home across the seas.
And he was completely in love with the woman who was now seating herself on the edge of a fountain, dressed all in white. She herself claimed to loathe the dress but wore it anyway and it was just as well, since she looked absolutely lovely in it.
He laughed, seating himself beside her and contenting himself with watching her as she opened the book up, devouring the knowledge inside like a hungry wolf. She was such a rare find, one so eager to learn and not caring who knew about it. The first time he had met her, she was dressed as a boy, to get away with fencing lessons.
Speaking of boys … Alphonse glanced up, watching a tow-headed boy who was maybe twelve or thirteen running across the plaza and swearing loudly in English. The sight reminded him of Edward, and he couldn’t help but smile. It was incredible to think that at that age, he had been following his brother around on adventures, doing good for people and reporting back to Lieutenant Colonel Mustang at East City.
It was then that Alphonse abruptly realized why the boy was swearing. The Germans that Alphonse had seen in the bookshop were pursuing the boy, who very clearly had no intentions of going with them.
Alphonse touched Kalyn’s arm. “Stay here,” he muttered softly, and she glanced up to see him head out to the plaza.
“Honestly,” Kalyn said irritably, stuffing the book into the bag Alphonse had left behind and closing her parasol. “There he goes, without me again.” She tucked the parasol under her arm and ran with the bag of books in both arms after her husband.
Alphonse placed himself directly between the boy and the Germans. “Excuse me,” he said in German. “What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?”
The first man, tall and thin with a reedy look about him, scowled at Alphonse. “There is no problem,” he growled, trying to glance around Alphonse.
“I would say there is,” Kalyn huffed, her German a lot less fluent than Alphonse’s. “Why are you bothering that poor boy?”
“Kalyn,” Alphonse groaned, not taking his eyes off the men. “I told you to stay.”
The second German laughed then, his eyes traveling up Kalyn in a way that Alphonse didn’t like. “And what do we have here, hmm?”
Alphonse grabbed Kalyn’s wrist and tugged her behind him, scowling at the Germans. He hoped he had bought enough time for the kid to get away, because if blocked them any longer, there would be a fight.
Even as he thought that, the first German’s hand snaked toward the interior of his coat, and Alphonse tugged Kalyn aside before the man could draw a gun. Both of the Germans gave them foul looks, before they turned to pursue the boy again. Alphonse took a deep breath as he watched them go, there was something very NOT RIGHT here. He was about to tell Kalyn to stay put, again, when a woman shrieked from the opposite side of the plaza.
“ALEX!”
That did it for Alphonse. “Go find the mother,” he barked to Kalyn, before he turned to sprint after the Germans. He didn’t stop to see if Kalyn moved, his mind was already in motion.
He only had a few options, and they all involved physical force of some sort. The child was very nearly out of his sight, but the Germans were harder to miss. The kid was leading them down one of the many interconnected alleys that Alphonse loved to lose himself in, so instead of following down the same alley Alphonse ran for one that stayed parallel. If he timed this right, he should be able to do something…
Alex O’Connell wasn’t sure why the Germans were running after him. He doubted it was for kicking the larger one in the shins, but he had only done that because when he and his mum had come out of a café for lunch they had been waiting for them. It seemed that they wanted his mum for something, and had waited until his father wasn’t with them to move.
So now it was up to him to lead them away. Of course, once he started running he realized that was the extent of his plan, and not a very good one at that. So now he was just running for his life with two very angry Germans on his tail. As he turned a corner in the alley, he almost ran into a tall, blonde-haired man.
“Get behind me,” the blonde man said, his English slightly accented.
“Who are-?” Alex breathed, but the man grabbed his arm and pulled him so he was behind him. Alex panted, wondering if maybe this was another German, and maybe he ought to keep running.
Then the Germans rounded the corner and slid to a stop. “YOU!” the first one barked; his guns already out.
“Stay down,” the man muttered to Alex. He turned to address the Germans, when the first one shot him.
Kalyn watched Alphonse race across the plaza. He had always been like that, so bent on protecting others. It was heroic and terrifying and it made her love him even more. Instead of pursuing him, she turned to find the woman who had screamed. She couldn’t do much good in her dress and shoes, anyway.
The woman was not hard to find, she was still shouting for the boy, whose name seemed to be Alex. Kalyn ran up to her, still juggling parasol and books. “Ma’am,” she said, dropping her books. “Was that boy your son?”
The woman, who was dressed rather like a librarian, spun. “Do you know what happened to Alex?”
“Germans,” Kalyn said, waving generally off in the direction that they had gone. “They were chasing him.”
“I know that much,” the woman said. “I lost him in the crowd, and-“
“They were still chasing them,” Kalyn said. “My husband tried to stop them, and then gave chase when it didn’t work. Why are the Germans after your son?”
“They’re not after my son, they’re after me.” The woman scanned the crowds. “My son takes after his father and didn’t think before he acted. Oh, Alex-“
Kalyn grabbed her arm. “If they’re after you, we can’t let them find you. Come with me - we’ll go back to our hotel room. My husband will know we’re there, but the Germans won’t have any idea where to find us.”
“But my husband-“
“You can call him from there. Come on!” Kalyn tugged her arm, and the woman finally yielded. “My name is Kalyn Elric,” she said, trying to get the woman to come.
“Evelyn O’Connell,” the woman said, not wanting to take her eyes off of the plaza.
The faint retort of a gunshot split the air.
The streets of Paris were busy but were not yet crowded as Indiana Jones and Edward Elric exited the small bookstore. “That’s another dead end,” Edward snorted, glancing up and down the street in derision.
“Perhaps,” Indy said, although his face was creased in a frown. “Abelard Manner was the man who discovered the manuscripts and sold them to the National Archives. It’s quite odd, don’t you think, that he’s gone missing right at the same time the manuscripts have?”
“It’s not a coincidence, that’s for sure,” Edward had both of his hands in his pockets. “It doesn’t make it any less of a dead end - any more brilliant ideas?”
Indy scowled at him. “We could just start beating up Nazis until one of them has the information we need.”
“Great, that sounds like a good plan.”
“So the manuscripts vanish,” Indy said, ignoring Edward’s sarcastic reply. “The man who found the manuscripts vanishes. What else do they need?”
Edward sat himself on a bench, hooking his arms over the back. “Someone familiar with the material, or someone competent in translations. It sounds as though all they need to unlock the manuscript is a linguist and an alchemist.”
“Except finding someone who actually studies alchemy … honestly studies it, not just reads on it … in this day and age is a Herculean task.” Indy didn’t seat himself. “Linguists, linguists…”
Edward fished one of his notebooks out of the interior pocket of his coat and started flipping through it. “A strong foundation of language and construction of words is vital to being an alchemist,” he intoned, eyes scanning over the pages. When Indy craned his neck to see a page, all he could decipher was childish scrawl. He frowned - what sort of notebooks were those? Edward’s eyes flashed up to the other man’s face and he frowned. “One cannot properly code their notes without such a basis.”
“Are your notes written in code?”
Edward tucked his notebook back in his pocket and rose. He nodded his head once, a small smile on his face. “If I told you what sort, of course, I’d have to kill you.”
A retort was forming on Indy’s lips when a faint echo made him stiffen. Edward heard the noise as well, and cocked his head, concern on his features. “That sounded like a gunshot.” He glanced at the taller man. “Do you think we should check it out?”
Indy thought for a moment, then shook his head. “We don’t need to be involved in local trouble, that’s probably what it is.” He tugged at the brim of his ever-present hat. “I’ve got to make a phone call … come on.”
Edward hesitated, glancing back in the direction that the sound had come from, before turning and hurrying after Indy.
*coughs into hand*
*runs for it*
The Water-Stone of the Wise
Warning: Mild FMA movie spoilers ... aka if you haven't seen the end of the show, this ain't for you. AU - Just because it's in this fic doesn't mean it's in the movie.
Shorter than the first chapter, but the third chapter ought to be double the length. I have to do some... research ... soon. :3
2: Paris, France
Alphonse Elric scowled as the two men left the bookshop.
He had come in earlier and was browsing through the books, looking for some old texts that he was sure Edward would enjoy when the tall men had walked in. They had given him a cursory glance, then turned to harass the bookseller. Alphonse was on the other side of the shop and couldn’t hear what they were bothering the young man about, but by the time Alphonse brought his purchases to the counter he looked angry to the point of tears.
The bookseller couldn’t have been much older than sixteen or seventeen - he was clearly minding the store for someone. “What was that all about?” Alphonse asked in French.
The boy angrily shook his head, muttering a few choice words about Germans under his breath. “They were looking for my father,” he said, a trace of fear in his voice. He glanced shakily at the books in Alphonse’s hands. “Is… that all for you, sir?”
“Your father is Abelard Manner, isn’t he?”
The boy looked surprised, and eager. “Do you know my father?”
Alphonse shook his head regretfully. “Not personally, I do not. I have heard of him, and that is why I made a special stop at this bookstore. I was hoping to have a chat with him, there are several old books and manuscripts I’m looking for.”
“Oh…” The boy looked crestfallen. “I see. Father has been missing for many days, now, and I am the only one left to mind his store.”
Alphonse was quiet as the boy rang up his purchases. Abelard Manner was missing? He would have to include that information in his next letter to Edward … Manner supposedly had a single copy of a codex by an ancient alchemist that he itched to get his hands on. He loved this world and everything in it, but the lack of alchemy left a hole in him that would never heal. The only balm he had found so far included reading everything there was to read on this world’s version of alchemy.
He bid the boy a good day, and hoped that his father would come home to him soon. That done, Alphonse walked out into the bright spring day.
Kalyn wanted to visit Paris again before they headed to the Mediterranean, and he had acquiesced - France was lovely this time of year. Kalyn shared his love of travel, and they took the long route, exploring a lot of the French countryside as they went. It would never be the same as the countryside in Amestris, but Alphonse had long since come to terms with that.
And he could never have asked for a lovelier travelling companion.
Kalyn was waiting for him outside the shop. She had been irritated that he had told her to wait outside, and it showed in her stance. Her parasol rested on one shoulder and she scowled at several passerby’s, twirling it obsessively. She didn’t like to be ‘told’ anything, but her indignation made her stay put, waiting for him so she could chew him out. The first time he had asked her to wait outside, he had returned to find that she had seen something interesting and was seven blocks away. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said in French.
She turned and directed her scowl at him, her dark brown hair falling out of the clip she had swept it back into. Alphonse thought for a moment she might hit him with her parasol, but instead her scowl lost its edge. “I was worried. I saw Germans go in.”
“There was nothing to worry about,” Alphonse said, sliding his right arm along her back and planting a light kiss on her forehead. “They weren’t interested in me … I’m a reporter, remember? They hardly notice people like me.”
“I wish I was as confident as you were,” Kalyn said, her eyes darting up the street, before back to him. She scowled in half-remember irritation. “Why did you not want me going in?”
“Old man Manner had a reputation of being a letch, and I didn’t want him anywhere near my wife,” Alphonse said, sliding a book out of his parcel. “I bought you this.”
Her eyes lit up at the book, it was on archaeology, one of her favorite hobbies. With the parasol balanced precariously on her shoulder, she opened the book to a random page and started scanning it.
Alphonse laughed then, stretching his arms above his head. “I should have waited to give that to you until we were on the train,” he observed. She didn’t seem to hear him. “Kalyn,” he said, catching her chin. She looked up at him, slightly irritated. “Let’s go find some place to sit, mm?”
She closed the book and smiled at that, tucking it under her arm. “We could go sit by the fountain!” She tugged his hand, and led him in that direction.
Alphonse let her lead, tugged along by her insistent hand, and let himself be slightly amazed at his own life. Fifteen years ago he had been leaving Germany with his brother, unsure of this world or what it had in store for him. Now he traveled it freely, turning his trained scientific mind to the task of learning many languages, and reporting on the situation in various European countries to his new home across the seas.
And he was completely in love with the woman who was now seating herself on the edge of a fountain, dressed all in white. She herself claimed to loathe the dress but wore it anyway and it was just as well, since she looked absolutely lovely in it.
He laughed, seating himself beside her and contenting himself with watching her as she opened the book up, devouring the knowledge inside like a hungry wolf. She was such a rare find, one so eager to learn and not caring who knew about it. The first time he had met her, she was dressed as a boy, to get away with fencing lessons.
Speaking of boys … Alphonse glanced up, watching a tow-headed boy who was maybe twelve or thirteen running across the plaza and swearing loudly in English. The sight reminded him of Edward, and he couldn’t help but smile. It was incredible to think that at that age, he had been following his brother around on adventures, doing good for people and reporting back to Lieutenant Colonel Mustang at East City.
It was then that Alphonse abruptly realized why the boy was swearing. The Germans that Alphonse had seen in the bookshop were pursuing the boy, who very clearly had no intentions of going with them.
Alphonse touched Kalyn’s arm. “Stay here,” he muttered softly, and she glanced up to see him head out to the plaza.
“Honestly,” Kalyn said irritably, stuffing the book into the bag Alphonse had left behind and closing her parasol. “There he goes, without me again.” She tucked the parasol under her arm and ran with the bag of books in both arms after her husband.
Alphonse placed himself directly between the boy and the Germans. “Excuse me,” he said in German. “What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?”
The first man, tall and thin with a reedy look about him, scowled at Alphonse. “There is no problem,” he growled, trying to glance around Alphonse.
“I would say there is,” Kalyn huffed, her German a lot less fluent than Alphonse’s. “Why are you bothering that poor boy?”
“Kalyn,” Alphonse groaned, not taking his eyes off the men. “I told you to stay.”
The second German laughed then, his eyes traveling up Kalyn in a way that Alphonse didn’t like. “And what do we have here, hmm?”
Alphonse grabbed Kalyn’s wrist and tugged her behind him, scowling at the Germans. He hoped he had bought enough time for the kid to get away, because if blocked them any longer, there would be a fight.
Even as he thought that, the first German’s hand snaked toward the interior of his coat, and Alphonse tugged Kalyn aside before the man could draw a gun. Both of the Germans gave them foul looks, before they turned to pursue the boy again. Alphonse took a deep breath as he watched them go, there was something very NOT RIGHT here. He was about to tell Kalyn to stay put, again, when a woman shrieked from the opposite side of the plaza.
“ALEX!”
That did it for Alphonse. “Go find the mother,” he barked to Kalyn, before he turned to sprint after the Germans. He didn’t stop to see if Kalyn moved, his mind was already in motion.
He only had a few options, and they all involved physical force of some sort. The child was very nearly out of his sight, but the Germans were harder to miss. The kid was leading them down one of the many interconnected alleys that Alphonse loved to lose himself in, so instead of following down the same alley Alphonse ran for one that stayed parallel. If he timed this right, he should be able to do something…
Alex O’Connell wasn’t sure why the Germans were running after him. He doubted it was for kicking the larger one in the shins, but he had only done that because when he and his mum had come out of a café for lunch they had been waiting for them. It seemed that they wanted his mum for something, and had waited until his father wasn’t with them to move.
So now it was up to him to lead them away. Of course, once he started running he realized that was the extent of his plan, and not a very good one at that. So now he was just running for his life with two very angry Germans on his tail. As he turned a corner in the alley, he almost ran into a tall, blonde-haired man.
“Get behind me,” the blonde man said, his English slightly accented.
“Who are-?” Alex breathed, but the man grabbed his arm and pulled him so he was behind him. Alex panted, wondering if maybe this was another German, and maybe he ought to keep running.
Then the Germans rounded the corner and slid to a stop. “YOU!” the first one barked; his guns already out.
“Stay down,” the man muttered to Alex. He turned to address the Germans, when the first one shot him.
Kalyn watched Alphonse race across the plaza. He had always been like that, so bent on protecting others. It was heroic and terrifying and it made her love him even more. Instead of pursuing him, she turned to find the woman who had screamed. She couldn’t do much good in her dress and shoes, anyway.
The woman was not hard to find, she was still shouting for the boy, whose name seemed to be Alex. Kalyn ran up to her, still juggling parasol and books. “Ma’am,” she said, dropping her books. “Was that boy your son?”
The woman, who was dressed rather like a librarian, spun. “Do you know what happened to Alex?”
“Germans,” Kalyn said, waving generally off in the direction that they had gone. “They were chasing him.”
“I know that much,” the woman said. “I lost him in the crowd, and-“
“They were still chasing them,” Kalyn said. “My husband tried to stop them, and then gave chase when it didn’t work. Why are the Germans after your son?”
“They’re not after my son, they’re after me.” The woman scanned the crowds. “My son takes after his father and didn’t think before he acted. Oh, Alex-“
Kalyn grabbed her arm. “If they’re after you, we can’t let them find you. Come with me - we’ll go back to our hotel room. My husband will know we’re there, but the Germans won’t have any idea where to find us.”
“But my husband-“
“You can call him from there. Come on!” Kalyn tugged her arm, and the woman finally yielded. “My name is Kalyn Elric,” she said, trying to get the woman to come.
“Evelyn O’Connell,” the woman said, not wanting to take her eyes off of the plaza.
The faint retort of a gunshot split the air.
The streets of Paris were busy but were not yet crowded as Indiana Jones and Edward Elric exited the small bookstore. “That’s another dead end,” Edward snorted, glancing up and down the street in derision.
“Perhaps,” Indy said, although his face was creased in a frown. “Abelard Manner was the man who discovered the manuscripts and sold them to the National Archives. It’s quite odd, don’t you think, that he’s gone missing right at the same time the manuscripts have?”
“It’s not a coincidence, that’s for sure,” Edward had both of his hands in his pockets. “It doesn’t make it any less of a dead end - any more brilliant ideas?”
Indy scowled at him. “We could just start beating up Nazis until one of them has the information we need.”
“Great, that sounds like a good plan.”
“So the manuscripts vanish,” Indy said, ignoring Edward’s sarcastic reply. “The man who found the manuscripts vanishes. What else do they need?”
Edward sat himself on a bench, hooking his arms over the back. “Someone familiar with the material, or someone competent in translations. It sounds as though all they need to unlock the manuscript is a linguist and an alchemist.”
“Except finding someone who actually studies alchemy … honestly studies it, not just reads on it … in this day and age is a Herculean task.” Indy didn’t seat himself. “Linguists, linguists…”
Edward fished one of his notebooks out of the interior pocket of his coat and started flipping through it. “A strong foundation of language and construction of words is vital to being an alchemist,” he intoned, eyes scanning over the pages. When Indy craned his neck to see a page, all he could decipher was childish scrawl. He frowned - what sort of notebooks were those? Edward’s eyes flashed up to the other man’s face and he frowned. “One cannot properly code their notes without such a basis.”
“Are your notes written in code?”
Edward tucked his notebook back in his pocket and rose. He nodded his head once, a small smile on his face. “If I told you what sort, of course, I’d have to kill you.”
A retort was forming on Indy’s lips when a faint echo made him stiffen. Edward heard the noise as well, and cocked his head, concern on his features. “That sounded like a gunshot.” He glanced at the taller man. “Do you think we should check it out?”
Indy thought for a moment, then shook his head. “We don’t need to be involved in local trouble, that’s probably what it is.” He tugged at the brim of his ever-present hat. “I’ve got to make a phone call … come on.”
Edward hesitated, glancing back in the direction that the sound had come from, before turning and hurrying after Indy.
*coughs into hand*
*runs for it*