The Heist

AN: Oh. My. It's Chapter 13. I can't believe this! I have never been so persistent in my writing in the past 10 years. All I have to say is thank you for the continued interest and support, guys! You're the reason why I'm able to do this.

Merry Christmas!

Lan Fan had never been to the Cretan border. The rugged terrain of the canyon made her nervous, and the narrow path cutting through the high, rouge walls of sediment did not give her an extensive view of her surroundings, additionally causing her to feel claustrophobic and edgy. Winry had warned her that there were loose groups of bandits that patrolled the border, knowing that they had an off-chance of catching smugglers. Lan Fan was still in the Amestris side of the canyon, but she gripped the belt containing a few thousand sens that she had wrapped around her waist beneath her shirt. It was the remaining money from the stash that Paninya had found several weeks ago, the one that Manos had apparently saved for himself. The rest of the money had gone into funding Auto-Mail's work on finding the collaterals they could use to threaten Henry Chu.

Lan Fan hoped that the money would be enough to bribe some of the bandits to leave her alone, should she encounter any. Winry assured her that as soon as she crossed the border, there would be someone waiting to help her manage the canyon on the Cretan side; this person was one of the hired guides who helped Auto-Mail smuggle clients in or out of the country.

She sighed, looking up at the sliver of darkening blue sky. It took her a few hours to get from Resembool to the south-western side of the country where she could follow the same path that Chu and his men had taken into Creta. Winry had packed her off with enough food for a few days. Once she was able to retrieve the stones, she and her guide would be riding across the Cretan country near the border until they reached the broader pass at the south side of Amestris. That pass was wide enough for them to be able to ride a vehicle through it. Not like the canyon she was currently traversing.

Lan Fan slipped her hand in the pocket of the leather jacket that Ling had given her just a few days before. Ling must already be well on his way to Xing now. He had wanted to come with her. And the small, scared part of her almost wanted him to go too, but she knew she would never risk his health for this. Fortunately, before they could begin to argue about it, the Colonel had called them and requested Ling to accompany an Amestrian representative to Xing. The King had demanded an explanation for the three cities presently erupting with the Cretan plague. President Grumman instructed for Ling to go since he was the only one who had been at the meeting with Chu and could spare the time to meet with the King. Grumman also hoped that Ling's dual citizenship would appease the monarch's worries somewhat and make him less likely to doubt their explanation.

She lifted the collar of the jacket, protecting her neck from the growing cold. She forced her feet to move faster, despite the sharpness of the rocks scattered across the ground. There were people who could be dying from the plague right this moment – she couldn't afford to let her thoughts and hesitance bog her down.

Lan Fan spent almost the next hour trudging through the growing darkness, senses straining from the effort of running across the difficult path while keeping herself alert enough should anyone be waiting to attack her. Despite the dropping temperature, she soon began to sweat beneath her jacket. She slowed to a brisk walk when a rather voluminous cloud began to block the light of the moon, and the path in front of her sunk among the shadows. She tensed when a few loose pebbles cascaded from one of the canyon's walls to land directly onto her shoulder.

Something up there?

She looked up, squinting and straining to see anything in the dark. A movement caught her periphery, and Lan Fan braced herself for company. Something – or rather, someone – jumped from somewhere high above and landed right in front of her.

Lan Fan blinked when she recognized the person's features even within the shadows.

"Paninya?"

"Hey, took you long enough!" the girl waved a hand. She looked back up on the wall, and whistled. Moments later, a second person dropped from an outcropping that Lan Fan's eyes had missed before when she hadn't known where to look.

The second person was a short, stocky man, wearing camping gear. He gave her a brief nod.

Paninya said, "This is our guide."

"Our?" Lan Fan quirked an eyebrow. "You're coming with me?"

"Isn't there supposed to be a ton's worth of you-know-what where we're going?"

"Huh," Lan Fan narrowed her eyes playfully. "How come you only show up whenever Auto-Mail has large values at stake, hmm?"

"That is not what I meant!" Paninya exclaimed, loud enough that Lan Fan worried that she might have just alerted any wandering bandits to their location. "How are you supposed to carry all those things? I know you think of yourself as a one-handed Superwoman, and I would rarely disagree, but for pragmatism's sake, let's admit you'd need an extra hand or two – literally – to help you out this time!"

She then leaned in closer to Lan Fan and dropped her voice. "Look, buddy over there is a commissioner. Auto-Mail pays him whenever we need to do some sketchy things here at the border, but guides rarely get involved in Auto-Mail missions. He doesn't know what we have to do or why, and he doesn't particularly care. It's simpler to keep the guides a little disconnected so they don't get into trouble. That means you and I are the only ones who must handle the Red Stones, got it?"

"Did Winry send you here?" Lan Fan asked, and the other girl nodded.

"Right after Ling was called off."

Paninya was about to give the guide the signal to begin moving along, when Lan Fan stopped her. "Hey, you know you might get sick, right?"

Paninya shrugged. "We're fetching the cure, so I'm not too worried. Besides, there's a slim chance I might not get it." She pointed to the guide. "There are people like him after all. If everyone who'd been in contact with the virus did not survive, I'm pretty sure Creta would be a ghost country by now. But a significant percentage of the population is still alive."

"Are they?" Lan Fan asked. Since the blockade that President Bradley implemented, very few people have heard news from within Creta. She wouldn't be surprised to hear if Auto-Mail knew a bit more though.

"Last time I heard," Paninya answered.

The guide led them down the same path for several more minutes, before sharply cutting to the right, where through one of the canyon walls hid a second route. He opened a big flashlight to light up the hidden walkway.

"There is a shortcut here that will lead us to the same place as you want to go," he explained. "The good thing about being within the walls of the canyon is that it's something the roaming bandits rarely brave, so we'll have a safer time in here than out there."

They continued their track for hours, it seemed to Lan Fan, until the guide reached a round, open space that seemed to resemble a low cave. There, he unpacked his bag and distributed a meager set of sleeping materials: blankets for each of them and a wash towel. He mentioned that there is a small, trapped body of water some ways down where they could wash if they wanted to. He also had a bit of food, and Lan Fan shared with them the food Winry had given her before she'd left for her journey. After washing up and filling their stomachs, they settled in for the night.

In the dark, Lan Fan felt hollow. She tried her best to keep her anxieties at bay; what she was left with was an emptiness she didn't know what to do with, but one she particularly preferred this moment. Thoughts of Ling flitted through her mind, and she felt a pang of guilt for the current condition of the operation, even though she knew that Ling would never blame her for what happened. If anything, he would be blaming himself.

Lan Fan shifted beneath her blankets, hand reaching for her small pack beside her. From one of the pockets, she pulled out her smart phone. It was yet another thing that her new last name afforded her. Gone was the old-fashioned flip phone she'd used for so long. Ling had reassured her that smart phones weren't that expensive in Xing, considering that many companies manufactured no-name brand gadgets, unlike Amestris where only a handful of companies held an oligarchy in the smart phone industry. She had stopped receiving signal hours before, and she had turned the phone off to stop it from using up the battery. She wouldn't have a chance to recharge it if it ran out in this in-between place, far from urban facilities. But now, she switched it on.

Her screen saver was a picture of her and Ling smiling on the bridge in the garden at the Yao compound. Ms. Yuna had insisted they take a picture to send to her while she was freezing away in Drachma. Ling had taken several enthusiastic shots of them both, all of them way too awkward for Lan Fan's liking, but Ms. Yuna loved them, and now Lan Fan looked back at the embarrassing time quite fondly. Ling's mother had told her she would add the pictures in their family album, and that simple comment had made Lan Fan's heart flutter with an indescribable kind of joy and disbelief. After all, it wasn't like she'd been without family – she had her grandfather, and she always did.

Still, having someone not of her flesh and blood treat her the way Ling and his mother did... it elated her and scared her at the same time.

-o-

Of all the places King Xiao had to be at this time of the year, it just had to be in the Liu province. The province was small enough that it didn't bother with an airport, and the nearest one was a two hour cab ride away. Ling didn't know if this was yet again another sign that the god of luck, whether or not such an entity existed, hated Ling with a passion of a thousand suns. Or perhaps, his own father was just smart enough to deploy one of the infected cargos in the same city that the King was currently visiting, a city that was not easily accessible from Amestris. No wonder King Xiao was panicking.

Ling rubbed his belly, watching the pinkish-orange glow of the sky on the horizon as the car sped down the roadway. The color reminded him of salmon, and salmon reminded him of food – good, steamy fish on rice – and it was all he could do not to let his stomach grumble in protest. He turned to his side. Beside him, the Amestrian ambassador that President Grumman had chosen to send to Xing looked nervous.

"You got any food on you?" Ling asked.

The man looked through his pockets, and then pulled out a sorry looking pack of gum. "This is all I have, kid."

Ling shrugged and pulled one of the sticks from the pack, then popped it into his mouth.

"So, what exactly do we tell the King?"

The ambassador grimaced. "Basically the entire truth. From the reports I've heard from Officer Falman, who keyed me in on the important aspects of your meeting with Henry Chu, it's going to take take some, er... colourful narration to convince the King that this isn't some trade paperback novel."

Ling sunk against the chair, chewing on the gum that was quickly growing bland. "King Xiao knows how petty and bitter my father is. Remember that they once butted heads for the throne. Xiao won. I think if there's anyone who would never underestimate just how much trouble my father can cause, it's the King."

"Well, if you say so," the ambassador said. "I hope you're in good terms with your uncle. The tricky part about politics, I find, is that believability is so tricky to handle. Even if it's believable, you risk making the other party think that you've purposely arranged the situation just to your liking."

"Tell me about it," Ling grumbled. He looked back out the window to watch the sun's rays paint the rice paddies with a tint of gold. In the distance he could finally make out the grayed outline of the city's core, the few modern high rise buildings mingling with the more traditionally built Xingese structures. The driver continued along the packed dirt road in relative speediness until their surroundings turned from rice fields into a small town, and finally into the city proper.

Ling heard a sudden, piercing screech, and before he was able to register the source of the sound, he found himself jerked violently against his seatbelt, his momentum throwing his body against the constraints of the vinyl strip as their car struggled to brake in time. He heard, more than saw, the ugly crash of a vehicle somewhere ahead to the right, and when he opened the eyes he didn't know he'd closed, he found himself disoriented and confused.

Rushing past their car were dozens of panicking people. In front of them, the view was obstructed by dark, oily clouds of smoke emanating from the car that had crashed moments earlier.

It was then that Ling registered that the area was in a state of utter mayhem. It wasn't just the one car in front of them; everyone in the vicinity seemed to be possessed by a chaotic sense of urgency. There were abandoned vehicles ahead of the traffic in front of them, and many more were being left behind by drivers and passengers who were all rushing away in the opposite direction.

Ling unclasped the seatbelt, and exited the car, peering through the chaos to try to understand the situation. The ambassador followed his lead, moving towards the car that had crashed earlier to try and help those stuck inside. Ling tried to move against the flow of people to see what was happening ahead.

At the next intersection, he found the source of the commotion.

A large, upturned truck lay in the middle of the intersection of the two roads. The back of the truck had been opened wide, and there were some people who lay lifelessly inside and some who were struggling to get out.

Then it hit him.

It was one of the human cargoes that his father had sent. It was sitting right here, uncontained and exposed.

He should have been more attentive. He realized belatedly that everyone he'd passed had been covering their noses and mouth with handkerchiefs, scarves or the collars of their shirts. He pulled up his own scarf to cover the lower part of his face. He ran back to their car and approached the ambassador, who successfully managed to pull out the injured driver from the crash.

"Cover your face!" Ling instructed him. "The cargo is just down the street. The quarantine hasn't been implemented."

"It failed?" the ambassador asked.

"I don't know. Maybe it did, because I can't imagine the city officials delaying it especially if the King is in the city. We must take a detour to the City Hall."

Between him and the ambassador, they hoisted the injured man up and began to walk down the road, away from the intersection. Ling could no longer find the driver of their own car. People jostled against them, trying to get ahead. Ling was confused. It had been hours since the cargoes were released – at least, it had almost been a day since they've heard word that 'Amestrian' militants were assisting infected people into several cities. Why wasn't anyone doing anything about it? The City Hall was only an hour away. And if they had tried to do something, why didn't it work?

A wheezing noise passed overhead, and a second later, an explosion knocked Ling and the ambassador and the injured man to their knees. Ling recovered quickly, looking back to find a fiery destruction consuming the intersection he had inspected only minutes before. Then from somewhere in the distance, he heard cheers. Cheers?

Oh no.

No, no, no.

There were vigilantes trying to kill the people in the truck.

"Ambassador," Ling called to him. "Try to escape. Find another way to the City Hall. I will meet you there." And with that, Ling rushed up the street again, trying to reach the intersection.

Once there, he found that the explosion had pretty much missed the truck. The sidewalk, on the other hand, was a pit of debris and soot and destroyed concrete. Ling let out a sigh of relief. From the truck, he saw a young man trying to crawl out, stepping over his unconscious peers, and reaching out a hand. He seemed to be mouthing the word 'help', and Ling shuddered. He almost took a step forward when he remembered that this person was carrying a fatal pathogen. Ling fell back in shame.

He heard yelling off to his left, and found a group of men and women, covered from head to toe. They huddled beside their packs, filled with gears and weapons. Ling watched in fright as one of them lit up the fuse of another explosive and sent it hurtling through the air. Knocking himself out of his stupor, Ling rushed towards where it was heading. He used the piles of debris on the ground to launch himself onto the top of the overturned truck, and luckily managed to swipe the weapon from the air on the correct side so it didn't go off on his hand. With a sharp turn, he threw it far from the truck and towards the abandoned street on the other side.

The explosive went off with a deafening boom that shuddered through the ground. Ling almost fell backwards.

Someone yelled at him, one of the people from the group throwing bombs, but he couldn't understand. His ears were ringing. All he could tell was that they were speaking in Xingese.

"What the hell are you doing? Get away! Get away!" he heard as the ringing in his ears cleared.

"No!" Ling yelled back, pulling his scarf down. "These people are innocent!"

"They will kill us all!" another shot back.

"They never asked for this!" Ling told them. "They don't deserve this. We will have a cure. You don't have to kill – "

Ling was cut off as someone launched a container towards the truck. When it broke beside Ling's feet, liquid spilled out. Gasoline.

A series of expletives filled Ling's head in panic. "Stop it!" he yelled at them again. "You don't understand. These people are victims!"

"If we don't kill them now, they will infect the entire city," a woman shot back. "You want to risk the lives of thousands of people for these dozens?"

"No! But do you think it's right to punish innocent people for something they cannot help?"

"For everyone else's sake, then yes!"

Ling gritted his teeth. These people did not understand. They didn't know the truth, why there were sick Amestrians here, and why they've been released. If they knew, they would be more sympathetic. They would not see these unfortunate people as weapons. Ling told himself that, because he could not fathom how anybody could be so ruthless.

He saw one of them attempt to fire up a broken piece of wood. Ling jumped down from the truck, grabbed the nearest hefty debris he could lift, and threw it towards the guy. His aim struck true, hitting the person square on the chest. The guy fell back with a grunt, the wood dropping to the ground unlit. Ling didn't lose a moment. He sped towards the group, picking up stray rocks and pieces of broken things to throw at the them. He didn't know what kind of insanity seized him; after all, petty rocks and pebbles weren't going to do much good when he was up against half a dozen people who had guns and grenades.

Still, he couldn't just stand by.

Ling observed one of them readying a rifle. He sent the last of his stones flying towards the man's head, and the guy fell off the platform they were using as a base to launch their weapons. Ling finally reached them by the time someone else was able to make a grab for the rifle, and Ling threw himself against the person, knocking the wooden butt of the weapon against the his face. He heard the cringe-worthy sound of bone breaking, but ignored it as he turned and threw his elbow against the padded torso of the person next to him. The woman grunted, but didn't go down. Ling knocked the flat of his palm up her nose, and she stumbled backwards.

"Hold it!" a voice demanded. Ling paused, hearing the clicks of a gun, and he turned around slowly, arms rising in a pacifying gesture. A man behind him aimed a small gun at Ling's head. Ling heard the loud clap of the gun being triggered, and looked away, bracing himself for the utterly excruciating pain he knew would come with getting his face blown off.

But the pain never came. Slowly, he opened his eyes, and found the man's eyes wide with confusion, before he fainted right in front of Ling. The other men and women in the group looked at each other in befuddlement, before a series of gunshots echoed in succession, and a few more of them dropped to the ground.

"Put your hands in the air!" someone shouted at them, and Ling saw that below the platform, about a block away, Xingese officials had finally come. There were about three dozen of them, suited in a combined combat apparel and protective gear against the plague. Half of them had weapons trained on Ling and the others. Ling raised his hands, and backed away from the vigilantes.

Slowly, those who remained still standing within the group lowered their own weapons. They probably knew their ragtag unit would not fare well against Xingese officials. Several of the officials approached them and began to lead them to the police cars.

When one came up beside him, Ling asked, "What happened? Why did you come only now? I heard that the cargo was released yesterday."

The official quirked one of her eyebrows. "The passengers of the cargo were never released until now. We sent a contingent of cops and paramedics yesterday as soon as we heard word of Amestrian militants – something we've been on a lookout for since the outbreak in the city up in Jiang province. We almost had the situation contained, but several Xingese Families attacked us last night."

"Xingese Families attacked?" Ling was shocked to hear that. Something as important as a government protocol to protect the Xingese people themselves usually appeased the Families.

The woman shrugged. "King Xiao is holding a week-long meeting in the city. Representatives from almost twenty Families have come here. Imagine the outrage when we notified them yesterday that the city is in lock-down. Nobody can enter, nobody can leave. They had relatives trapped in the city, where there was a risk of becoming infected with the contagion.

"We were attacked on three fronts the previous night. It was mayhem. It caused a blow in morale as well... after all, if the so-called 'nobles' could escape the quarantine, why couldn't regular residents of the city? Many took the opportunity to escape. We've only regained control and backup just now. We don't even know how the truck managed to get opened this morning. We're assuming that someone had purposely done it to cause further distraction." She clenched her fists, looking past Ling at the upended truck that was now surrounded by the fully-protected paramedics. "Whoever it is will be charged with crimes against the state!"

She glanced back at him, and as if seeing him for the first time, she asked in a surprised tone, "You're not from here? The news stations had been reporting and updating the situation frequently. Surely, you would have heard about what happened."

Ling shook his head. "No, I'm an emissary. Please, I need to talk with the King! Do you know of a quick way to get to him?"

The woman pursed her lips. "No, that is impossible now. You cannot face him like this. Not when you've been exposed."

A deep tendril of dread slithered inside Ling. "No, you don't understand. He has demanded explanation for this, and I can help clarify the situation."

The woman shook her head and took him by the arm. "You'll be coming with us at the emergency hospital. You can meet with the King either only when the doctors have cleared you, or when this entire fiasco is finished, or if the King agrees to hold a virtual meeting with you, if you are who you say you are."

The last part pacified Ling somewhat, and he didn't resist as the official escorted him to the car. Ling didn't dare mention the Amestrian ambassador he was with; he wished that the ambassador would be able to find a way to get to the city hall and talk with King Xiao. It might take a while for Ling to be released, and he knew that if the King was left without an explanation for long, he might be insulted or might come to the wrong conclusion.

Still, Ling would insist that they allow him to speak with the king even through a webcam, or at this point, even on a phone. That shouldn't be too much to ask, right? But, Ling thought, if he could speak via phone, then the King would not have summoned him to the country. They could have talked in their respective places. He didn't blame the man; during rocky situations like these, long-distance communication was not as safe as face-to-face was.

With the intensity of the past few moments dissipating, Ling found himself able to relax slightly. He began to perceive certain aches in his body that the adrenaline of the fight earlier had masked; his ribs were bruised from the car's abrupt stop, and he realized he'd been nicked in a few places while he was confronting the vigilantes.

Even the rumbling in his stomach had returned. He realized just now that the gum he'd been eating was gone... most likely swallowed – yeesh. And with the hunger resurfacing, Ling soon became aware of the lightheadedness creeping in on him. He stretched out a hand to balance himself, but when he looked down at the ground and found it blurred, he knew he was in trouble. He tried to call out to the official in front of him, but before she even turned, his world grew dark and then completely ceased.

-o-

When the guide woke them up later, it seemed to Lan Fan that she had barely gotten any sleep. Still, she pushed the tempting calls of slumber to the back of her mind, focusing only on the task that lay ahead. She didn't know how many Red Stones Chu was able to manufacture, but the longer it took her to complete her mission, the higher the chance that there wouldn't be enough Red Stones for everyone who'd been infected.

They set out immediately after having light breakfast, continuing their route through the dark cavern, until they emerged out into the open. The sun was high in the sky by then. It was early morning. The space before them was now flat and rocky with traces of dead grass. The guide went behind another cave-like aperture in the canyon, and came out riding a small, sturdy jeep.

"Let's go," Paninya told her, and they settled in the back of the jeep. The ride was not as long as Lan Fan was expecting. Perhaps the man who had managed to escape had been terrified and stressed when he was traveling, enough to feel as if the ride from the canyon to the run-down warehouse took hours. For Lan Fan and her companions however, it only took a little more than one.

Even before she had exited the jeep, Lan Fan caught the horrible stench exuding from the sorry-looking building. It hit her then that the bodies of the people who had died that night were probably still in there. She had not given it any thought before, but it made a shudder run down her spine now.

Paninya came up beside her, grimacing. "Smells like a graveyard. Worse actually."

Lan Fan looked at her hesitantly. "Ever robbed a graveyard before?"

Paninya shrugged, before braving the odour and moving closer. "Not in Creta."

Lan Fan followed her, pulling up the zipper of the jacket. The collar only came up to her chin, not far enough for Lan Fan's taste. The smell got even worse when they passed the warehouse on their way to the rickety shed beside it, the place where the Red Stones were according to Winry's contact. Lan Fan hoped that nobody had gotten to the Red Stones before them. For once, she thanked Chu's meticulousness, knowing he would not leave the Red Stones in a place easily accessible by thieves and marauders.

Besides, it wasn't as if the decomposing smell was a welcoming sign. If anyone had ventured near this place, they were probably too cowed by the smell, and what it implied, to explore any further.

Lan Fan slid the door of the shack, and found stacks upon stacks of crates. Tentatively, she walked up to one of the crates, and pulled the dusty cover aside. Inside, was a treasure trove she never expected in her whole life to see.

The crate was lined with a sack entirely filled with what must be hundreds of Red Stones. Well, she assumed they were Red Stones, but they didn't look like the one she'd always received from Henry Chu. While hers had been a viscous liquid in glass bottles, these were solid crystals the size of her thumb. She reached out, then halted, unsure of what she was doing, but the urge to touch the stones were too strong. Lan Fan dug her hands in the crate, feeling the cold, solid sting of the crystals enveloping her hand.

"Hey," Paninya called. She was standing beside a tall stack of crates, looking at the one on top. "These ones here are in bottles, like the ones you used to have."

Lan Fan walked over to her, and found the other crate housing several layers of bottles padded with styrofoam. The sight of so many bottles lined up and stacked together filled her with such longing and loathing. It was something that months ago she would have given up her other arm for.

Knowing that Henry Chu had this much and still found it in himself to be stingy with her, withholding what was scarce to her yet abundant to him... she felt even more hatred for him with an intensity she didn't know she could still muster.

"You think they're the same?" Paninya asked.

"Yeah, I'd bet on it," Lan Fan answered. She could see the appeal of a solid medicine. They were easier to transport and hide. Henry Chu would have seen their advantages.

She shook her head. "Let's go. Round it all up."

Lan Fan and Paninya spent the next hour or so stacking as many sacks of Red Stones as they could fit in the Jeep. There were half a dozen that were left behind, and Lan Fan looked at them dejectedly. If the ones in the vehicle somehow weren't enough to save the people in Xing, they would have to make the treacherous and time-consuming journey back here just to get these ones.

She cast her concerns aside. If the ones in the jeep weren't enough, the ones left behind would hardly make a dent in the seriousness of the situation. It would mean that too many people were in trouble, and there were not enough stones to go around. She nodded to Paninya, and they climbed back into the jeep.

"It's so sad," Paninya stated.

"What is?"

"Haven't you thought about it? The people of Creta needed this years ago. And now we actually have a cure, and we're taking it all away. How unfortunate that of all the people who managed to create the Red Stone, it had to be someone who is greedy and selfish, who would not share it with the people who really needed it."

The words sunk in Lan Fan's mind like a heavy anchor. She could not imagine how angry and hurt Cretans would feel knowing their neighbours locked them out, then created a cure right under their nose, and still refused to share it with them. And even then, Lan Fan couldn't bring herself to view what she was doing as wrong – the people of Xing needed the cure too. If they were unable to contain the plague in Xing, it would signify catastrophe, not only for Xing itself but also for Amestris who would undeniably bear the blame.

Winry had related to her that the Red Stone project was initiated in response to the Cretan Plague, so the Red Stone had been meant to help out the Cretans. But the dilemma lied in the process of creating the medicine. Was the pain of hundreds of human guinea pigs worth the pain of those succumbing under the plague? And who was the arbiter of that pain? Who got to say which suffering mattered more, which was more noble, which one was worth the sacrifice?

She turned back to Paninya, and answered her question. "Unfortunately, I don't think anyone with a heart would have been able to create the Red Stone." This miraculous cure had only been possible because one man had the exact right amount of greed and selfishness to be able to pursue the experimentation required in developing it. Her left shoulder tingled with memories.

They spent the majority of the ride in silence, the guide driving them north-east towards the wider passage that Auto-Mail occasionally used to illegally cross into Creta. When the sun reached the zenith of the sky, the guide passed around some sandwiches for all three of them, but continued to drive.

About an hour after their meager lunch, Lan Fan was about to doze off when a loud bang shot all the lethargy out of her system. Blood splattered on the window of the passenger door beside the guide, who keeled over and lost control of the wheel. Before Lan Fan could fully react, a series of gunshots peppered the driver's side of the jeep. She and Paninya crouched, to avoid being ran through with bullets.

When the car began to slow without the guide driving it, Paninya took advantage of a moment's reprieve from the gunshots to hop out of the backseat and into the driver's seat. She shoved the guide out of the way, moving him to the passenger side, then took hold of the wheel and began to steer.

"There's an automated launcher behind your backrest!" Paninya told her. "You can use it to fire at them, even with one hand!"

Lan Fan jumped out of the seat, turned around and pulled the padded backrest forward. It dislodged, revealing a storage space filled with weapons.

"What, you didn't think we'd come here unprepared, did you?" Paninya called.

Lan Fan pulled the backrest from where the other girl had been sitting beside her and found a similar sight. She took a weapon that looked like a gun but was sleeker and made of smooth, shiny metal. There was no trigger; just a handle and a barrel, but etched onto the barrel were digital buttons that glowed dark blue. She'd heard about these new technology launchers – they'd been developed to help the war effort in Aerugo, and each one was supposed to cost as much as a house in downtown Central Area.

Their jeep rattled, as Paninya tried to speed out of bullet range. But behind them, Lan Fan could already make out a couple of pursuers; there were two speeding cars chasing them. One had a man leaning out the window aiming his gun at them.

Lan Fan looked back at the launcher. These things were reputed to be intuitive to improve training among new soldiers. She scanned the buttons on the side, and pressed whichever one looked like it would make things shoot out of the barrel. A timer began to count down, and she leaned out the window to aim it at one of the cars. She was afraid she was going to catch a bullet of her own, but before she was able to complete that thought, the launcher released its load with a speed so fast that before she could even blink, the car she'd aimed at flipped over with a blast.

She pulled back the weapon, shocked.

Even the companions of those she shot down seemed to feel the same thing. They had fallen back with reduced speed, hesitating.

Lan Fan swallowed, and raised the launcher again. She fired at them, aiming many feet away, hoping it would deter them from continuing their pursuit. When an eruption of rocks and dust clouded the path in front of it, the car rolled to a stop.

She waited for a few more minutes to ensure that the bandits wouldn't start following them again, and when they didn't, she began to pull herself back into the car.

That was when she noticed it.

There were several holes at the side of the trunk. And one was leaking red liquid.

"Dammit!" Lan Fan cursed. She moved back inside the jeep, and began to rummage through the sacks and containers accessible from the backseat. There was nothing she could do about the broken bottles and the lost medicine now. But there was still something else that needed to be taken care of. She opened one of the sacks and took out one of the crystal stones.

"How is the guide doing?" she asked Paninya.

"Uh... bleeding. That's all I can tell."

Lan Fan broke off a small portion of the crystal near the tip. She moved between the passenger seat and the driver's seat, and studied the man. The bullet didn't seem to have lodged itself in him. Instead, it made a painfully deep graze across his chest, just below the collar bones. He was clutching his chest in a valiant effort against the pain.

"Here, take this," Lan Fan ordered, and she slipped the piece of stone into his mouth. He gagged, trying to swallow it, and she was worried he might choke. But he managed to do it, and he laid back again, eyes questioning her what she was up to.

Lan Fan moved one of his hands away from his chest. She watched, entranced as she saw the familiar twitches of flesh as the Red Stone sped up the natural healing process of the body, stitching flesh and skin back together. After a minute, the wound had completely disappeared.

"Wow," she heard Paninya whisper. Lan Fan looked back at her to find the girl peering over her shoulder.

"Shouldn't you be watching the road?" Lan Fan asked.

"Watch what?" Paninya asked, shrugging her shoulders. "It's empty and bare out there! Besides, that is fascinating! Damn!"

As if finally understanding what Paninya was saying, and perhaps also feeling that his own pain was abating, the guide pushed himself on his elbows and glanced down at his chest.

A surprised scream came out of him, followed by panicked ventilating. "W-what happened? What did you do? What the hell is going on here?"

Lan Fan covered his mouth to shush him.

"I'm going to tell you this, and I'm going to tell you only once. Whatever happened here, whatever you saw, whatever you experienced, you must not tell anyone."

He nodded numbly.

"If you have questions, go to Auto-Mail, not anyone else, or else..." Lan Fan gave a meaningful nod to her left shoulder. "You might end up like me."

Lan Fan gave a piece of the stone to Paninya as well, telling her it would prevent the plague from manifesting should Paninya be infected.

Paninya drove the rest of the way, allowing their guide to regain his wits and his strength. He did, however, help as much as he could in navigating them through the border, where some patrols were posted. When they had safely crossed into Amestris, Lan Fan's smart phone began to receive signal once again. She called Winry to ask about their state of affairs.

"Head back to Youswell," Winry instructed her. "Colonel Mustang has readied several groups of people who would help distribute the Red Stones to affected areas in Xing."

"Have you heard word from Ling?" Lan Fan asked.

"Er, no. At least not Ling," Winry said, and Lan Fan felt a spark of worry. "The Ambassador was able to make contact earlier on, saying he's on his way to the City Hall. As for Ling, he said that they'd gotten separated. There's been no news of Ling yet."

"Oh, okay." Lan Fan hung up, and told Paninya to make their way to Youswell. She sat back in the car, feeling the nips of anxiety begin to gnaw at her.

-o-

Ling woke up with the smell of mustiness and anesthetic in the air. The ceiling above him was an unfamiliar dark gray cement. Across his body were several aches that jolted him awake. Ling pushed himself up from the thin, saggy futon to look around him.

Everywhere were bodies.

Lying in their own respective futons. Most seemed to be asleep, but many were fitful and mumbling incoherently. Ling shuddered. He moved aside the ragged blanket covering him, and stood up; his world spun momentarily, and there was a dizziness he couldn't quite shake off. At the end of one wall was a door with a glass window. He walked to it, and turned the knob.

It was locked.

Ling peered through the window, trying to see through to the other side. While the room he was in was dark and unlit, the opposite side was drenched in bright fluorescent light. There were people in medical gear moving about; some of them were covered in protective suits from head to toe. The door itself was walled in by glass panes with another door on one side.

Ling's heart hammered in his chest as he tried to turn the knob again. It didn't work, and he was starting to formulate an idea of what was going on. He looked back behind him, observing the other people; while there were some Xingese, many were Amestrians. Ling pounded on the door to try to get someone's attention. After a minute of knocking, someone finally glanced into the glass panes and opened up the outer set of doors. Ling noticed that it was operated digitally, with the person entering some kind of passcode. The person was wearing a full-body suit, complete with a head gear that resembled an astronaut's.

He opened the second door and came into the infirmary.

"I see you're up. My name is Dr. Tan. You have to wait a few more hours until your tests come back," the person explained.

Ling frowned. "Look, whatever's happening, I really need to talk to King Xiao right away."

Dr. Tan looked at him, surprised. "Um... well, that sure is an odd request." He placed a gloved hand on Ling's forehead. "You don't seem to have a fever."

Ling swatted the hand away. "I'm not ill! My name is Ling Yao, and I came to the country with the Ambassador of Amestris. We've been requested by King Xiao. I am not lying." Ling fished for the identification card he kept with him in his wallet. He pulled it out and showed it to the doctor. It was an official citizenship card that marked him as someone from one of the old, major Families.

The doctor rubbed his chin. "Alright, this looks legit." He handed it back to Ling. "Unfortunately, you cannot leave this place."

Ling stared at him dumbfounded. "What do you mean? You can't even take me to a room to talk with the king in private even through the web?"

The doctor pointed helplessly at the label stuck to the glass panes. It was written in Xingese, the symbols for 'quarantine'. "I cannot allow you to leave, since you might be infected."

"Well, now I might be infected! Of course! After spending, what... hours with these people? Why did you put me in here with them anyway?"

"You were delivered here unconscious."

Ling rolled his eyes. "I fainted at the scene of the wreckage because I have gone almost two days without food!"

"Still, we cannot risk it!" the doctor exclaimed. "Reports said you had approached the truck. We would have had to include you in the quarantine whether or not you lost consciousness."

Ling forced himself to pause and take a deep breath. He didn't know whether he was angrier because his meeting with the king would be delayed or because he was forced to stay within the same vicinity as those who had already succumbed to the plague. Was it not criminal practice to do that when his results were still unconfirmed?

He felt about him, and found his phone still intact in his pocket. But when he turned it on and was welcomed with the notification that his service provider has been blocked, Ling half expected it. Knowing what he now knew about the few Families who botched the quarantine operation so that they could free their own relatives from the lockdown, the facility most likely disabled communication between those inside the quarantine and those who weren't.

"Look, could you at least find someone for me?" Ling asked, turning back to Dr. Tan. "If I can't talk to King Xiao, I at least need to get in contact with the Ambassador of Amestris."

"I will try," the doctor replied.

"Thank you."

Dr. Tan left him then, and Ling hesitated in going back into the infirmary. What if he wasn't infected with the plague yet? If he spent more time with the ill, he might just catch it. On the other hand, if he was susceptible to the virus, he would have caught it by now anyway.

And the dizziness he felt had now transformed into a dull, constant pounding at his temples. Ling rubbed his forehead, and decided to lie back down on his futon. He pulled up his scarf to cover his mouth and nose, though he didn't know what good that would do. Crouching against the wall, he lay his heads against his knees, trying to quell his headache.

He wondered how Lan Fan was faring. He sincerely hoped she was able to acquire the Red Stones that his father had hidden – at this point, he didn't know if he could handle any more lies or surprises. Perhaps it was the throbbing in his head, but Ling felt much more weary and stretched thin than he thought he'd be when the operation launched. And part of his weariness was due to feeling weary and stretched thin every time he dared to face his father.

This has to be the last time.

He was tired. Exhausted. And quite frankly, he was climbing higher on the pessimism scale by the minute. If things didn't work out again this time around... well, he'd have a lot more things to worry about than his father. There would be an epidemic, and maybe a war.

He snickered. Maybe he'd be dead.

Which in theory didn't sound as bad as the other options – at least he'd have nothing to worry about.

Ling shook himself from his morbid reverie, remembering Lan Fan and what she went through under his father's hands. What he was going through right now was nothing compared to that. This pain in his head, his laboured breathing, they were not comparable to the torture she'd been administered. It was almost cruelly unfair for him to remotely think about becoming hopeless. At the very least, he could not give up because Lan Fan deserved a better fruit to her labour than this.

He must have dosed off because the next thing he knew, Dr. Tan was shaking him awake. Ling looked up at him drowsily, finding the protective gear so out of place in the otherwise lackluster room.

"The Ambassador is here to see you," Dr. Tan said.

Ling pushed himself out of the bed as quickly as he could. Through the window of the door, he saw the Ambassador waiting for him, also dressed in a suit identical to the doctor's. Dr. Tan led him out of the first set of doors, and left them to converse by themselves within the little glass room.

"Any news?" Ling asked eagerly. "Were you able to see the king?"

"Yes, I was."

Those three words loosened the knots of apprehension in Ling, and he took a deep sigh of relief.

"Well, how did it go?"

The Ambassador made a move as if to scratch the back of his neck, but found himself unable to do so due to the suit. He gave a slightly uncomfortable grimace.

"He's not pleased," he stated. "I mean, you were correct that King Xiao would readily believe the explanation we prepared. Regardless, he holds the Amestrian government responsible for allowing Chu to operate that kind of business in the first place.

"There will be no war," the Ambassador assured him. "But King Xiao demands heavy reparations for the damages and the risks and the deaths – several of which have already occurred."

That did not sound good. With enough pressure, it could result in a forced resignation from the president.

Still. It was better than another war.

"What kind of reparations?" Ling asked.

"Monetary mostly, from what I gathered. Still, this is something that King Xiao and President Grumman would have to work out among themselves and their respective parliaments," the Ambassador explained. "The King also wants a heavy sentence against Chu, which is understandable. Since Henry has ceased to be a citizen of Xing since the revolution, it is up to us to give justice to what he's done. The King, on the other hand, states that he will take care of the Chu clan himself, since they seem to attract more trouble than they are worth."

Ling pondered over that answer for a while. If Xing required monetary compensation, that might not bode well for the nation of Amestris, which is still recovering from the ramifications of the coup-d'etat against Bradley and the war with Aerugo. Already, Amestris has made little improvements in terms of economic recovery; they've been hoping that the Fair Trade Agreement would act as a leverage in spurring economic activity again. But financial recompense would stunt the growth they'd been looking forward to. And that was considering that Xing would still go through with the free-trade. No doubt many of the citizens have already lost their trust in Amestris. Unless the situation is salvaged quickly and they are able to save face, many Xingese would bear a grudge against Amestris, and might even pressure Xiao to abandon all ideas of trading with them.

He was still rolling these thoughts in his mind when the last portion of the ambassador's explanation belatedly interrupted them.

"Wait, what did you say? About the Chu clan?" Ling asked.

"King Xiao would deal with them, so it seems."

"Deal with them? How?"

The Ambassador shrugged. "He did not tell me. His exact words were 'These mongrels need to be taken care of.' But it was more as if he was muttering to himself by that point. I don't know if we should take that as an indication of anything official."

Ling's eyes narrowed, as he tried desperately not to remember the stories of tribes and clans culled from existence by Xing's reigning power throughout its history; stories of people deemed too problematic, too subversive that they were better of gone; stories he'd been forced to learn during lessons mandatory for someone born into the Yao clan even though he called Amestris his home.

He tried not to think of them because honestly if the weight of the guilt already on his shoulders could manifest in the physical world, it would detach his arms right out of their sockets. He didn't know if he could handle more.

"Ling, child, are you alright?" the ambassador asked.

King Xiao wouldn't do anything like that in the stories, right? Those had been archaic and medieval times... well, up till fifty years ago, at least. The last of that kind of atrocities had happened during the Oblique Era. It had no place in a modern, humanity-centric civilization. King Xiao would never...

Ling shook his head. "Yes, I'm alright. Is there any other news?"

"I have heard from the Colonel that he has received the supply of Red Stones. They should be here soon."

Ling released a long sigh of relief. At least that part was going well. It meant that Lan Fan made it. She was okay. And if they made haste, hopefully the outbreak would be averted totally.

With nothing left to talk about, the Ambassador left him in the infirmary. He assured Ling that he'd stay in the hospital unless summoned again by someone from the government, until the Red Stones come. Mildly comforted, Ling searched for his futon in the dark, and lay in it to wait out the hours. A few times, he compulsively opened his phone, hoping against futility that perhaps he'd be able to catch a stream of signal somehow, but he never did.

His headache and hunger competed for the title of worst bodily affliction as the night wore on. When the tightness of his stomach had outdone the splitting ache in his head by just a bit, Ling threw the sheets from his body and shakily made his way to the glass room. He got the attention of a nurse, whom he asked for a small snack and some ibuprofen. She was kind enough to give him a freshly baked red bean pastry and a couple pills of liquid gel painkiller.

He settled back on his bed as he forced himself to munch on the pastry; hungry though he was, the aches in his body and the dizziness in his head made him nauseous, which made eating a bit of a challenge. After he'd downed the pastry, he popped the pills in his mouth, gagged a little when he tried to swallow them without water. After working his throat a bit, he was able to swallow them whole.

And hurled them back out, along with the snack he just ate, by the side of his bed. Retching, he curled at the side of the thin mattress, half-bracing himself against the wall. When his body had finished playing traitor, Ling pulled himself back, exhausted.

Great. This was just great.

This was punishment, he thought. Punishment for being greedy. That notion felt like a certainty, even as rationality caught up and told him not to be silly. He caught the plague. He caught it because he was surrounded by those who were infected with the plague. Simple as that. There need not be any more explanation for it.

But with heaviness clouding his head, it was hard to remain rational. Ling slumped against the wall, mind helplessly reliving the tales of barbarity and ruthlessness ordered by emperors long gone. He didn't know why that particular bit of news bothered him so much. He didn't even know if it really was the king's intention.

Ling knew and understood that the Chu clan should never have to carry the blame of his father's actions. Henry Chu was the one who conspired, the one who bribed and tortured and cheated and killed. The rest of his people were starving in a piece of coveted land without hardly a bright future of their own. But the Family-centric culture of Xing was still alive and well – the same cohesiveness that allowed Ling to share the protection of the Yao with Lan Fan also gave the sense of a monolithic mass of people with one mindset, one goal and one intention. It used to be that a crime of one member would be a crime of the entire Family; one little prank by a little noble boy a malicious start of war. The saying had been together through bounty, together through storm. A Family member could not expect protection and care, and then turn their backs when things got ugly.

No doubt King Xiao saw Henry Chu's actions as the action of the entire Chu clan. He could no longer punish Henry Chu himself, but the clan on the other hand was something he could control.

Ling couldn't help but wonder. Would King Xiao still find the Chu clan responsible if Ling hadn't interfered with his father's plans? If Henry felt a little less desperate, perhaps he would never have used biological weapons to force Grumman's hand against the trade agreement. And if Ling hadn't blackmailed his father into giving up his plan, perhaps Henry would never have released the infected Amestrians.

Ling turned around on his bed, another wave of nausea hitting him. He pushed back against it with the little strength he could muster.

He went from endangering a few people involved in his operation, to risking a continent-wide epidemic and the extermination of an entire clan. All in the name of trying to get his father to stop operating a sleazy business. Ling felt so pathetic thinking of the possibility that he managed to risk the lives of more people in the past month than his own father had in his entire career.

Slipping further into morbid self-pity, Ling curled in his bed and tried to sleep.

-o-

Henry Chu had been alone in the interrogation room for hours now. The swelling of his left cheek would not abate for days yet, but at least he was getting used to the feeling now. His lip was split, and the tips of his fingers were black and blue. His wrists, which were tied to the interrogating chair tightly by bands, were reddened and chaffed.

Henry didn't care. Well, not much anyway. He was the least of their concerns now. Evident by the hours alone. The Colonel and two of his men had left a while back, along with the interrogator they used, expert in multiple instruments so it seemed.

There was a hidden pocket on his left shoulder. It was sewn directly onto the matching straps that decorated the shoulders of his suit. Leaning his head forward, he used teeth and tongue to pry the small, slender pocket open, and it took only one well-done shrug to push the slab of Red Stone into his waiting mouth.

The minutes that ticked by were the only other ingredient in his quick-fix, and by the time five of it passed, his fingers returned to their normal, healthy colour, and he could feel his cheek return to its ordinary state. From here, easing his hands out of the straps were not difficult; he had noted that when they had thrown him in this seat, they were more concerned about fishing answers out of him than his chances of escaping. And at that time, he couldn't have possibly escaped, not with so many people in the room. When they left, they had made sure his hands were useless.

They didn't count on him having a Red Stone. It was little mistakes like those that Henry banked on; they were the opportunities he needed to make a headway. Like now.

He knew there would be guards outside. Most likely, he was also monitored by a camera. Whoever was watching him would know that he could now escape. But he didn't get to where he was if several guards could hinder him too much.

Bracing himself, he strode towards the door. As he reached for it, he heard the tumblers gearing into place, and he jumped a few paces back, readying himself against whoever was sent to deal with him.

The door opened, and he'd be lying slightly if he said he wasn't caught off guard by the person who met his gaze.

"Hello, Henry," the smooth, oily voice said. "Long time no see."

Yuna Yao. Henry frowned. Why in the world was she here?

Another voice, an unfamiliar one, came from behind him. "Man, these straps are poorly manufactured! I always say, never let another person do a job you can do better."

Henry spun around to find another woman inspecting the interrogating chair he'd been sitting on moments ago. Her black hair was tied up in a pony tail, but the locks were clumped together like dreadlocks. She looked back at him, then cracked her knuckles as if he looked like a good sport. How did she get there, in the center of the room without him noticing? Was there another door?

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded.

"Forget her," Yuna said, adding an eye-roll that almost indicated how boring this all was to her. "I'm here to make you a proposition."

AN: Woot, woot, two more chapters! A conclusion and an epilogue! Thank you so much for sticking with this story, you guys! As promised, I'd start working on the next chapter asap, since you guys left so many wonderful reviews last chapter and I'd still be able to make my 3 review-per-chapter goal. That said, I do appreciate comments in general, so don't be shy!

I hope you guys have a happy holidays!