The Heist

AN: Hey guys! Sorry for the late update again. I missed my monthly mark again, didn't I? But last month, I published a one-shot that I worked very hard on. That took more time to write than a chapter for this story. If you haven't checked it out, perhaps you'd like to take a look. It's set in the canon timeline of FMA, and it explores some ways in which Ling and Lan Fan can end up together officially.

I sincerely hope you guys are still interested in this story. I'm not getting a lot of feedback, so I'm not sure if I'm on the right track, or if you guys are losing interest. Let me know; I'm open to any kind of response! This is the first time I really planned out a story, and I am following an outline. In the grand scheme of things, the outline might look good to me, but on the chapter-level, I'm not exactly sure how things are turning out for you guys. I know what needs to happen to get me from point A to point B, but I don't know if getting there is a fun ride for my readers.

So yeah, let me know!

Henry Chu glanced at his watch, shifting his position to get a better look at the moon. There was one illicit pass to Creta, and it didn't have any street lamps, mainly for the sake of inconspicuousness, and secondly for the lack of an actual street. The pass was littered with nocturnal bandits, Cretan citizens who have formed a treacherous alliance to smuggle people and goods in and out of the country. They trusted very few.

Henry managed to bribe the passage authorities – at least, what passed for "authorities" as far as something illegal went – to allow him sole access to the passage for one night. He paid a hefty bribe, but all things considered, he didn't think it was too bad. Not any worse than other investments he made.

He would have preferred if his load was transferred via a truck. There was quite a lot of it, but alas, the terrain was not fit for anything with wheels. Instead he took fifteen of his men, packed them with camping gear, and filled their bags with the stones. Lots of them. His entire hoard.

"We're losing the moon," he declared over the queue of men and women walking on the skinny, rocky patch of land through the canyon that marked the border of Amestris and Creta. "If you don't want to walk through the complete dark, I suggest you speed up."

One of them stumbled, releasing a small cry of exhaustion.

"Careful with that!" he barked. "Half an inch of a rock in that bag costs more than your life. Probably more than your entire family's life!" Henry turned back to the path, swallowing his irritation. He sped up his pace, glancing with a wary eye at the Cretan brokers ahead of them, leading them safely through the passage. They didn't know what the bags contained; however, his insistence to monopolize the pass had probably already hinted at the value of their load. He would have to take care of the smugglers after they get to their appointed location.

Several more hours passed, and the clouds eclipsed the light of the moon just as soon as they exited the canyon. Waiting for them at the mouth of the passage were three vehicles, just as he ordered.

"Get in the cars," he told his men. "We've wasted too much time as it is."

Their destination was an abandoned warehouse tucked into the recesses of a particularly ragged hillside, many miles from the Amestris border. It once posed as a storage for a thriving business back when the plague hadn't crippled the Cretan economy yet. Now, the warehouse stood halfway to rotting, mirroring the rest of the countryside. Nowadays, only the richest of Cretans could afford some semblance of what used to be a decent lifestyle. Others, at least those who hadn't succumbed to the plague yet, were debilitated by the economic siege imposed by Creta's neighbours.

When they parked in front of the warehouse, Henry instructed his men to deposit their heavy burdens inside the crates in the rickety shed, and then to head up to the upper floor of the warehouse where he had some refreshments prepared. Glad to finally have some rest from their vigorous trip, the men and women eagerly followed his instructions. Which was just as well; Henry didn't want to have to pour the mugs of tainted soda down their throats himself.

After several moments, he followed them up the stairs to see if the work was done. A few bodies lay unmoving on the floor, and cracked mugs littered the wooden floorboards. Yet a few others were still conscious, grasping desperately to keep their pathetic lives. Henry sneered with indifference, pulled out his gun and shot them to help them along. Nobody liked hyperventilating, after all. He counted the bodies. Fifteen. Kneeling down, he inspected a few of them to ensure that their pulses were no longer there. When he was satisfied, he stood up and made his way back to the cars parked outside the warehouse.

Their Cretan guides were waiting for him, all of them tucked into a single car. They were mooning over the bag of cash he handed them at the beginning of their trip from the Amestrian border. It was the same bag he found in the apartment Manos informed him about. It contained the one and a half million sens that Auto-Mail hadn't used from what they borrowed. Here in Creta, that much Amestrian sens could feed three cities, so inflated was the value of their Cretan currency. No doubt that this was the largest amount of money any of them have seen in a while.

Henry headed for one of the now abandoned vehicles, and sat in the driver's seat. When one of the Cretans noticed that he was revving up the engine, he left his comrades for a moment to consult Henry.

"We're not waiting for the rest?" he asked in heavily accented Amestrian.

Henry barked a laugh. "You can wait for them, pal. You can wait for as long as you like."

The man narrowed his eyes and took a step back. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"I didn't ask the pass to be vacated for the sake of vanity," Henry smirked. If the man was smart, then he would connect the dots himself. Nobody was supposed to know where Henry went or what he did here.

It took a while, but Henry watched as understanding dawned on the Cretan, and his eyes widened at the same time his hand automatically reached for the gun by his belt. But Henry was faster. He pressed a triggering device sitting on top of the car's dashboard, and the other cars in the vicinity exploded. The man by his window slammed against the side of his car, unhurt but shocked. He spun around to watch as violent flames engulfed the remains of his companions.

"Wh... what..." he stammered. "But the money..."

Henry laughed. The money was what this man was worrying about? Heh, Cretans really had become so desperate. He, on the other hand, was lucky enough to be insured for any money he happened to 'lose' while on the job. The entire one and a half million would be reimbursed by his insurance company.

In a moment of clarity, the man spun back around to face Henry, gun now gripped tightly on his hand.

He was too late, of course. Henry was waiting for that reaction, and had already pulled and aimed his own gun by the time the man faced him again. With one pull of his finger, the man fell motionlessly on the ground.

It was always good to be prepared.

Not like anyone from Amestris would dare cross the border, for fear of contamination. Which was why Creta was the safest place to hide his bargaining chip. No one would find it here; no one would think he would travel into this country willingly, but that was because very few knew about what he hid there in the first place.

From his pocket, Henry fingered a bottle of Red Stone, the only one he would be bringing back to Amestris for himself. It didn't matter if he became infected with the plague. He knew that the medicine would cure it. He made sure of that two years ago.

The trip back to Amestris would not be difficult. He had learned long ago, when he still lived in Xing, how to commit things to memory the first time he was exposed to them. He only needed the guides to lead him through the pass once.

-o-

Winry Rockbell turned off her computer, finishing the first batch of matches she ritually worked on every morning. Sighing profoundly, she allowed her head to fall on top of her desk, imagining that all the heaviness she felt inside of her would be carried along with her breath. She barely got any sleep the night before, much to the consternation of her tired mind and aching body. Sometimes, she still reeled from the events of the previous day, unable to imagine how horribly wrong things went.

"Winry!" she heard Garfiel's voice from the living room. "There's a fancy letter for you!"

Fancy? Well, this better not be one of Edward's skull-figure-laced atrocities. Not that she didn't appreciate the sentiment, but the visuals... eh, Edward's taste in art certainly didn't align with hers. She stood up from her desk and made her way to the living room, where Garfiel was waving a slim, brown package. Curious, she retrieved the parcel from him.

Her heart thudded suddenly when she was who it was from. XYZ Limited.

She ripped open the wrapper, and found out that it was a document. Termination of their contract. She grabbed a seat, and pored over the sheets.

Henry Chu was demanding immediate dissolution of their agreement. There would be no penalty. All they had to do was return the amount they borrowed plus the compounded interest accrued in the duration of their loan. Because he already acquired the remaining 1.575M sens from the borrowed sum, they only needed to worry about the other 2.425M and the interest.

Wait... what?

Winry's eyes retracted their steps and began again at the top of the paragraph. Slowly, she tried to digest what she just read.

One million and five hundred seventy five sens were in his possession. Already. It only confirmed one thing: Chu really was behind their downfall yesterday. He had orchestrated their failure. He already had the missing money in his possession.

However... he said remaining 1.575 million. That didn't make sense. There were over three million still untouched. She was sure of it, because she helped keep track of their expenses.

Winry swallowed. Where was the other two million?

She rushed back to her workroom, and dialed Edward's number.

"Ed, you need to come over really quickly," she said even before he finished saying hello.

"This isn't another one of your mushy-"

"Get over here now, or I'll credit two million from your bank account!"

"What the hell, Winry?" Edward shouted from the other end, but Winry could already hear the tell-tale signs of the boy flying out of bed and readying himself to leave.

It took about an hour for Ed to arrive, and by that time, Winry was violently pacing Garfiel's living room. She heard Garfiel moan quietly about the state of his carpets once or twice, but all her energy went into studying the document in her hands. It seemed almost too good. Chu would have no reason to retrieve the money unless he knew about their intention to frame him. She would have bet outright hostility from the man now that he knew what they were up to. And yet here he was, offering her no penalty. All they had to do was to return everything they borrowed with some interest. It sounded reasonable.

And that made her uneasy. Henry Chu didn't make his name by being reasonable.

Edward burst through the door, panting visibly. Before he had a chance to complain at being dragged out of bed so early, Winry thrust the document toward him. He reluctantly took it out of her hands, and began to read.

He seemed to calm down after browsing through the sheets, but he did so in a dreading, contemplative manner.

"Have you told Ling about this?" he asked.

Winry shook her head. "He hasn't picked up his phone or responded to any of my messages since we departed from the hideout yesterday." She sighed, adding, "I don't think he's taking any of this well. I'm not sure how he'll respond to this news."

"It's unlike him to just hole up somewhere and pout!" Ed said. "C'mon, let's pay the shifty-eyed punk a little visit. He doesn't exactly have a choice. You know that we have to inform him."

Winry shrugged. Although this turn of events did mean that they no longer have to to scratch up four million sens to return to Chu, it did give an additional layer of fog, yet another piece of the puzzle they didn't know where to put. Part of her had hoped that they would find the missing money in its entirety.

They encountered Ling alone in his mansion.

He was busy rummaging through Lan Fan's room, pulling apart her drawers, setting aside whatever she had left behind. She didn't have many possessions, but he'd combined her belongings with the things he'd gathered from her grandfather's room.

"What are you doing?" Winry asked, as she sat down on what used to be Lan Fan's bed.

Ling sighed, running a hand through his bangs. "I was hoping to find a clue. If she really does work for my father, there had to have been a clue. Maybe one that can even help us figure out where the money went and what my father might be planning."

"She doesn't have a lot," Ed pointed out the obvious. "I don't know what you're going to deduce from any of this. Which is why you should be thankful that we're here. We have actual proof of what your damned father wants."

Ling paused, head snapping up to look at them expectantly.

Ed produced the mail from inside his sling bag. "Daddeo wants the money back. Apparently he already has some of it. He wants the rest immediately."

He handed the mail to Ling, who regarded it with one eyebrow raised, curious. He was silent as he read over the papers, but when he finished the last page, he heaved a loud, irritated sigh and plopped himself on Lan Fan's bed.

"You know what I want?" he said, stretching his arms out across the length of the bed. "I want one of those cheap mystery novels where you could just flip to the back of the book and read that one chapter near the end where the hero would explain everything. Every damn thing. And you feel so good, because it all makes sense, and that's where the real satisfaction comes from! You trudge through three hundred pages of guesswork, but that's okay, because you know that in the end, things would be clear."

"Ling..." Winry said, patting his hand near where she was sitting.

"Did anything come up from the cab investigation yesterday?" Ed asked. "Riza said they'd look into it."

Ling scrunched up his nose. "The cab that Lan Fan took was seen heading to Tobha near midnight." He took a pillow and covered his head with it. Winry knew the implication of what he had just said. She was aware that XYZ Ltd. had an office there and how Ling frequented it from time to time. If Lan Fan was heading to Tobha, that just implicated her involvement with Henry Chu even more.

"And then what happened?"

"The driver got back to his company shortly after. None of the cab drivers interviewed from Tobha during the rest of the night and the early morning saw a girl with one arm. The only thing of interest was that the local fire department responded to alarms from the office at 6:50 am yesterday. They found many of the furniture in the basement burned. Most of the employees were knocked out, and a couple of those coming to their senses reported an intruder."

"And your father?"

"Apparently, he shooed them away. Didn't even make a follow-up statement for the police."

"I'm not surprised," Winry commented. "You Dad usually takes care of his own issues. The only time he gets involved with the police is when he needs to cover up his own tracks."

"You think the intruder might be Lan Fan?"

Ling shrugged. "I honestly don't know what to think about her anymore."

"Anything about those guys who took Fu?" Ed asked. "Did the Colonel say anything about that?"

"No, not yet. I'm expecting a call from him today."

Ling stood up, running his hand again through his hair. Winry knew he only ever let his hair down this messily when he was too distracted to care about seeing clearly. Which was not a good sign. And for the first time, she didn't smell the tell-tale signs of lingering food in the mansion, which was always a constant presence at his house. To be fair, his mother left early, and they still didn't have any maids, but there was usually something – take out or instant noodle soup or a bad attempt at pasta. But there weren't any.

His eyes were rimmed with dark rings. He didn't wear his usual smile and his nonchalant ease.

"What are we going to do now, Ling?" she asked.

"For once, I wish somebody would tell me."

His cellphone rang. Lazily, Ling pushed himself off the bed and checked the number.

"Oh, so you do check your phone! I guess you were purposely ignoring me then, huh?" Winry jibed. Ling gave her a tired, apologetic shrug, but answered his phone.

"Havoc! What do you have for me?" he asked. His already exhausted expression turned even more morose when he listened to what the man was saying on the other side. "Wait... I don't understand! He's dead?"

Winry's heart dropped when she heard that. Ling continued to listen intently to the second lieutenant. She looked at Edward whose mood dipped as well.

When Ling hung up the phone, he looked at the two them somberly. "Hunter Manos died last night."

Dumbstruck, Winry was glad she was sitting down.

"His body was found in his cell. Cause of death was a fatal stab. The security cameras were compromised, because there was a gap of ten minutes, where Manos was alive before and then dead after. But nobody knows how or by whom it got bugged. The Colonel suspects that somebody from the inside is involved, but at this point in time, they're still investigating," Ling explained. "Several militants also changed their positions in the roster last minute for some urgent errands, so everyone is a little disorganized right now. That's why they couldn't tell us earlier."

Winry exhaled and placed her head in her hands. This was crazy. All of it.

What had she gotten herself into?

Edward's words, asking her if she was willing to put herself and Auto-Mail at risk to undermine Henry Chu, echoed in her memory. But at that time, she didn't think it was going to be this difficult, this... messed up. The plan had been so simple. It had had to be. How did they even manage to lose track of it like this? Things got way out of hand way too quickly, and now they were all reeling from it.

She looked up, and found Ling staring at the floor, Ed looking out the window.

"How do we get back on track?" she asked. "Nothing makes sense anymore."

Ling shook his head. "No, there is no getting back on track anymore. We end this," he said, looking both disappointed and desperate at the same time. "You said my father wants the rest of your debt and the interest? I'll give it to you. I'll borrow some money from Ma, and you can pay him. That's how we'll end this."

"But the operation-" Edward began, but Ling cut him off.

"There's no more operation. It's clear that we're treading on places we have no knowledge about. It's too risky to continue. I failed," he sighed, looking squarely in their eyes. "I admit it. I failed again, and I'm so, so sorry. But this isn't the time for a pity-party. I'm cleaning up this mess."

"But XYZ Ltd. will continue to run its damn business!" Edward protested. "The whole point of this thing is to stop it."

"And it's obvious that we can't!" Ling said. "Not without incurring more casualties in the short-term. Guys, we're freaking eighteen! The more I involve myself in these stupid little hero daydreams the more I realize that we are not ready for something like this. Let's not risk anymore people's lives for this."

"And how about the lives that will continue to be at risk just for the sole reason that 7-11 exists?"

Ling shook his head. "Honestly, I don't know anymore. I don't think I ever did! But hasn't it ever occurred to you that maybe we're not the right people to take care of the problem? That maybe we're just making things worse?"

Edward didn't respond to that. Winry found that she couldn't either. She had no answer.

"I know that I used to think it was better for me to take action than to do nothing," Ling continued. "Because I thought that everyone else was just afraid. I thought that because I had all these privileges, that maybe I am more immune to my father's wiles. That maybe it was up to me."

"So now we're going to do nothing?" Ed asked.

"Now we're going to stop acting like idiots," Ling answered. Almost as if to point out that he wasn't willing to argue right now, he turned around and began collecting Lan Fan's things into a bag. Winry had known Ling for many years now, and she knew that he wasn't the type of person to let his pride get in the way. She had an inkling that he was taking this failure on a different level than just nursing a bruised ego.

-o-

Lan Fan looked up at the old, dirty, shabby house. It tilted slightly to the left, as if keen to follow the westbound wind. The corrugated roofing sheets were rusty, some of them balancing precariously on top of the house, unmindful of their nail guards. The walls were yellowed and moldy, and there was a stench that wafted through the open windows.

"Welcome to your new house!" Major Xie exclaimed with an amused smirk.

Well.

Lan Fan sighed as she shifted her hold against her grandfather, who was little better than unconscious, leaning heavily against her right side. The house didn't look as bad as some of the things that she had had to live in back in Amestris, but who knew. First impressions were rarely correct.

An unkind push sent her stumbling up the steps, following Xie as he unlocked the door. Lan Fan frowned in severe distaste as the nauseating odour grew stronger, a sure sign that the place was not the healthy haven that her grandfather needed especially right now. What were they thinking of doing? Try to kill him as much fast as possible? And then what?

There were sad, well-used furniture littering the floor. A low couch with a flattened cushion and coarse coverings stood off by the left wall, right below a window that looked out into nothing but the brick wall of the next house. The floor was nothing but cement with occasional stains. There was a small gas stove near the back of the house, connected to a tank of gas. The furthest corner was covered by a curtain, hiding what she assumed was the bathroom.

Somehow she doubted that whoever built this had any intention to add any separate rooms. The entire house was just four large walls, plus a short one for the side of the bathroom. Funny how she lived for only a few short weeks in the opulence of Ling's mansion and already this seemed too bleak for her. She steeled herself, knowing that this wasn't the worse she'd had to endure before.

She spent the rest of the day cleaning and tidying the little house, so that her grandfather could lie down. The place was disgusting to say the least, and the only source of water was an indoor pump in the bathroom that gurgled out brown, murky water at first. As she kept on pumping, eventually the water cleared up, but she had no doubt that it was still contaminated. She boiled some water on the small range using a pot she found upturned in a corner. She briefly wondered who had occupied this place before, but put that thought out of her mind to concentrate on her tasks. When the water cooled down, she tried to freshen up Fu as much as she was able, but since they had no change of clothes, there wasn't much she could do.

When the sun was about to set, a group of Xingese entered the house. Lan Fan was startled to see them come in, surprised that the Major and his officers allowed them to pass through.

"These will be your babysitters," informed Major Xie in Xingese. Lan Fan had a distinct feeling that Xie didn't want the Amestrian militants to know exactly what he was saying. "As you know, Amestrian militants cannot prolong their stay here without piquing the suspicions of the local militia. But Henry Chu has arranged for your er... safekeeping with some of his loyal fellows here in the city. They'll make sure you have all the things you need."

As if on cue, one of them dropped a sack filled with cured meat and fresh vegetables. Lan Fan eyed it reluctantly. Although she hadn't eaten a full meal since the night of Operation Greed, she was wary to receive anything from any of these people.

One woman from the new group sauntered around the house, inspecting the place. "Ugh Xie, why did you have to pick the ugliest place in Yán city? This is no better than a sewer." She stopped in front of Lan Fan, and eyed the girl with mild interest. Lan Fan was only a few inches shorter than her. Lan Fan glared, to which the woman shrugged indifferently.

"How long do we have to stay here?" the woman asked Xie again.

"Until grandpa dearest breathes his last breath," he answered. "And then it's up to Chu to decide what he wants to do with the girl."

"I think we can speed things up a bit, don't you?" a portly, red-cheeked man in his prime suggested. Lan Fan turned around to face him, her fists curling with anger.

"His last, natural breath," Xie clarified. "Don't rile up the girl, too much."

"I have a name!" Lan Fan spat.

Xie smiled. "See what I mean?"

He then gathered up his things and told the rest of the Amestrian officers that it was time they head back to the west. The woman from earlier produced a set of documents that proved that the prisoners were to be left alone with them.

When they were gone, the woman turned lazily to Lan Fan. "My name is Mámù. I'm in charge here. It doesn't look as if you want to be here, and neither do I, so now we've established something we have in common. I hear that's usually a good place to start tolerable relationships, or so they say. I don't really care. Now, you can do whatever you want, so long as you don't leave this place, don't cause trouble, or do anything that is conducive to you leaving this place or causing trouble. Do you understand?"

Lan Fan looked at her while she was speaking. Her hair was a little frizzy and most of it was pulled back in a low ponytail. The rest acted like a bushy frame for her face, which did not look old, but had the telltale signs of aging spots across the bridge of her nose. She didn't look like she could cause too much trouble, but neither did Lan Fan, and she of all people knew what it was like not to look combative.

"Hello? Do... you... speak... Xingese?" Mámù asked in a low, punctuated tone as if she was speaking to a simpleton. Lan Fan blinked and nodded her head. "Good."

Lan Fan looked around and found three people standing guard by the door. Through the windows on one side of the house, she saw one woman and a man smoking, and she could feel the presence of two other people by the southern most wall. They didn't look like police or militants, not in the Amestrian way she was familiar with; they looked like ordinary people, which made Lan Fan wonder whether they were trying to be inconspicuous or they really were just normal people who were baited with money to keep an eye on her.

"That's for you," Mámù stated, indicating the bag of food.

"For dinner?" Lan Fan asked. There was a lot of it inside. Certainly more than she and her grandfather could eat in one meal.

"Yes, for dinner, and lunch, and dinner and lunch. All throughout the week. Make it last," Mámù answered, and Lan Fan's heart fell with the revelation. There was enough for two regular sized meals, but to stretch it for seven days? They would have very tiny portions!

Swallowing her disappointment, she took the bag from the floor and began rummaging through it to see how she would ration it. It wasn't like they haden't scrimped on food before; she knew how to do it. What she was more worried about was that her grandfather needed as much nourishment as possible if she were to try her best to keep him alive. At least before, they had the extra benefit of actually having the Red Stone to help him along.

Setting to work, she went to the kitchen area of the small house and began cleaning and preparing for their dinner. She could think of little to cook, besides some brothy mix of vegetables and small strips of meat. When she finished, she woke her grandfather to feed him some of the food.

"Where are we?" he grumbled in the local dialect of Tong Hua that he taught her.

Lan Fan shrugged. "Yan City, I heard. But I'm not certain where that is exactly." Even though she had been attentive during their travel to this place, the familiar landmarks and signs that Amestris used to distinguish cities and towns and districts were non-existent in Xing. She didn't know if they used something else that she wasn't looking out for, or perhaps they just didn't bother in the poorer parts of the country, which this place was undeniably part of.

Fu nodded weakly, and she spooned him some more soup. When he couldn't eat anymore, she began to eat the leftovers. It was about this time that a man came in carrying large paper bags of hot, fresh take-out, assaulting Lan Fan's nose with the scent of lemongrass and sesame oil and the aroma of authentic Xingese cuisine. Her stomach gurgled in protest as she watched the man and his comrades share the food between them. They noticed her watching, and laughed to themselves. Even Mámù took some of the food.

Lan Fan snorted. Whatever. It wasn't like she hadn't had lived more than half her life watching people more fortunate than her flaunt their flamboyant lifestyles while she and her grandfather scraped whatever they could find just to get by.

She finished her meal quickly. When she turned to begin cleaning up, some of the laughter got louder. She ignored them. She stowed the garbage in a bag, and made for the doorway until a man blocked her.

"No going outside, sweetie," he said in a low, gruff voice. He crossed his burly arms and stood right at the door.

"Then you take the trash out," Lan Fan grumbled, shoving the half-filled bag to his chest. He caught it.

"Sure," he said, shrugging. "And while I'm at it, I guess I should throw out any left-overs." And with that, he crammed into the bag some of the untouched food from their take-out that none of his comrades had claimed for themselves. Shocked, Lan Fan could only watch as the perfectly good, delicious food went into the bag to mix with the mess it already contained. She must have looked rather horrified, as the man and his peers burst out laughing.

Giving her a sympathetic look, he handed the bag back to her. "What, changed your mind? Don't feel like throwing it out anymore?"

He let out a wheezing laughter, and Lan Fan felt her face burn with a rush of indignation and disgust. Her fist flew out before she could stop herself, and it struck him on the jaw; the force of her punch launched him backwards, and he hit the door so hard it opened and he toppled out of the house. Suddenly everyone else quieted down, and before Lan Fan could prepare herself, she felt a foot hit her against her ribs. She crumpled to the ground, as the onslaught of attacks came raining down on her. She tried to get up, and managed to pull a punch or two, but with many of them and just one of her, as well as her disadvantageous start, she was quickly overcome.

She landed on a heap on the floor, and she felt the weight of a boot press against her temple. Amidst the melee she heard Mámù's voice call out for pause.

There was shifting among themselves, then she heard Mámù speak closely to her ear.

"I thought we understood each other a minute ago," she whispered. "Looks like we haven't. If you're going to be this difficult, I will assure you right here, right now, that we're going to be even moreso." The man lifted his foot from Lan Fan's face, and Mámù pulled Lan Fan up by her only arm. Lan Fan cried out, feeling pain spark along her midriff. Mámù settled her against the wall and crouched in front of her.

"Why don't you make it easy for yourself, alright?"

Lan Fan coughed a bit, feeling some constriction in her middle, and she spotted the red dots that fell on the skin of her arm. She gave Mámù a nasty look, hoping it was enough for the woman to realize exactly just what Lan Fan thought of her without her having to talk.

"Now, don't be like that. You'll save so much more of your precious energy if you just start licking your wounds." Mámù threw her a piece of rag that Lan Fan assumed she was supposed to use to clean herself up. Grunting, she made her way slowly and shakily to the bathroom.

-o-

Lan Fan couldn't sleep.

She had spread a thin blanket on the floor beside the only couch in the house on which her grandfather lay. Her body throbbed where she had taken the severest beating. And even though she was exhausted from the traveling and the worry and the cleaning, sleep still evaded her truest efforts to put herself to rest.

Something nagged at her. A restlessness tugged at the edge of her senses.

Lan Fan looked around and found Mámù also awake, sitting by the sill of the window near Fu's couch. She must have felt Lan Fan's gaze, because the woman turned to regard her with a neutral expression. It irked Lan Fan to feel so miserable while some person was just staring at her as if everything was okay – they were all watching her grandfather die, for goodness's sake!

"How much does Henry Chu pay you for this?" Lan Fan asked in a quiet, bitter voice.

"He doesn't," Mámù answered in the same nonchalance she had exhibited so far, making it appear as if working for the loan shark was as simple a matter as weather.

Lan Fan frowned. "Then why are you doing this?"

"Because I'm getting something better than money," she answered. "I'm getting the survival of my village."

Lan Fan's frown deepened. Blackmail, then? It was not unheard of; many of XYZ Ltd.'s employees were once Chu's adversaries whom he found useful to some level, and blackmailed into working for him. They usually had high stakes, because Chu would never want to risk them turning their backs against him, which was otherwise likely.

"It's not what you think," Mámù continued. "Henry and I are from the same village. Let me be blunt, because these games that he likes to play, I don't. To be honest, I don't really care much about what he does... with the exception of this one thing. I am a native of the Píngyuán area in the Chu province. The new leaders of the Xing Republic is trying to open up Xing's market to the entire continent, starting with Amestris. It could mean devastation to the poorer, humbler workers of Píngyuán who would be in direct competition with their Amestrian counterparts."

Lan Fan's confusion did not ease, but she tried to hide that as best as she could. Mámù was giving her some vital piece of information, something that she was sure Chu would not carelessly toss out even to his most trusted peers.

She remembered suddenly the night she spent with Rose and Ling back at his home, browsing through pages and pages of articles, trying to catch a glimpse of what his father was aiming for. There had been some news of the business man meeting with Amestris's Minister of Trade. President Grumman also was in the midst of drafting a free-trade agreement with Xing. Lan Fan was certain all these things were connected.

"I can hear the gears in your head turning," Mámù snickered. "So let me help you out a bit. Many Xingese is pushing for the free-trade agreement. It will benefit most of them. And those that don't... well, nobody cares about us to begin with, so why start now?"

Lan Fan didn't know why. As much as her grandfather had taught her about her Xingese roots and the political atmosphere during the time they escaped Tong Hua, there was still a lot she didn't know about Xingese history and culture.

"Henry wants to stop them. I want to stop them. But the problem with lowly people like me is that nobody will listen. So I sought Henry out. And he figured out a plan to pressure the leaders of both countries not to go through with it. Before you ask, no, he did not tell me his plan. But he has one. And it's not in my place to question it. All I know is that it will save our village and our province, because ever since he has come into prominence, all Henry ever tried to do was to save our stupid, little, forsaken piece of land."

"What are you talking about?" Lan Fan could almost laugh, if it weren't for the pain in her ribs. "All Henry Chu ever did ever since he came into prominence is make people's lives miserable."

"Oh?" Mámù arced an eyebrow, and the simple gesture made Lan Fan feel a little self-conscious. "He routes millions of sens to keep the Píngyuán municipality afloat. It's underground, of course, otherwise it will be liable to taxes. But since Xing became a Republic and the leader is no longer required to ensure that each major Family is appeased, the Chu province has degenerated. Henry is one of the reasons it is still alive."

Lan Fan shook her head. "I don't understand. What's so bad about the free trade? Why can't your people just find other work if they can't compete?"

Mámù snorted as if Lan Fan's question was so uneducated. She even chuckled a little. "Yeah, well the rest of Xing would certainly like that, wouldn't they? You would too, I think. It would be easier for you to believe that Henry is just being selfishly difficult, instead of trying to understand that he actually has a reason for doing the things he does."

Lan Fan didn't know if she felt insulted, or dumbfounded at how someone could be so blind to their atrocities. It seemed to her that it if Mámù was saying the truth, then Henry Chu was outrageously single-minded, caring only about so few people in expense of the hundreds, if not thousands, he'd injured while running his ludicrous operations.

But then...

She herself had jeopardized Ling's entire mission just for the sake of one person: her grandfather.

Disturbed, she turned around with difficulty, and tried to get some rest.

-o-

Ling didn't wallow. Not in self-pity at least. He wallowed in anything but that; there were house chores, maid-hunting, a bucket of homework, potato-couching...

He already sold some of his better stocks in an effort to get money to give to Edward and Winry. But other than that, he tried not to think too much about Operation Greed. Whenever he did, a lethargic ooze overcame him, draining him into an apathetic lump.

"You know, you might feel a little better if you go out for a bit," his mother urged him, placing a bowl of miso soup in front of him. At this point, only food could make him feel better.

"Go out where?" Ling asked. "I don't have anywhere to go to, or anything to do."

"Go to your campus, make some friends, visit your professors' office hours!" Yuna exclaimed. "Sometimes I think you forget, amidst you playing superhero, that you're still an eighteen year old boy who needs to get educated."

"Ugh, trust me Ma, if there's anything I got from all this, it's the fact that I need to get educated." Ling took a sip of his soup, allowing the warmth to stream down his throat. "How about you? I don't understand how you're so unaffected! You've always been!"

Yuna shrugged. "I'm not unaffected, Ling. I'm just... calmer."

The phone rang, and Yuna bent over the kitchen island to fetch it from the wall.

"Hello?" she spoke. "Ah, Falman! Is there any news?"

Ling looked at her, and she looked back with an eager expression. When she finished the phone call, she told him, "The Colonel wants us to meet Falman at the old hideout by the bluffs. He says he got some news."

Ling finished up his soup, and joined his mother to go to the bluff hideout. They found Falman waiting for them by the entrance, wearing something that looked like it came out of a fishing magazine. He waved them over when he saw them.

"Sorry for getting back so late," he began. "Things have been very busy at the precinct, and we've been scrambling to get back on top of things, much less sort out the fallout from two days before."

"Look, I'm really sorry-"

"Don't apologize," Falman interrupted Ling. "At least not yet. There's still a lot of pieces left falling into place."

The caught Ling off guard. "Into place?'

Falman nodded. "You already know about Hunter Manos's death, right? He was killed shortly after we brought him in for interrogation. Havoc couldn't tell you right away, because it was chaotic at the station – five high-ranked officers were pulled from their roster for an emergency errand. Several more from Central and East Area were routed to patrol the train route across the dessert to Xing."

"To Xing?" Yuna parroted.

"Yes, that's right. Lieutenant Hawkeye prodded and found out that they were assisting in a deportation. This morning, I managed to acquire the records for the warrant. It was for Lan Fan and Fu."

Ling narrowed his eyes. "Lan Fan mentioned that they never actually became naturalized citizens of Amestris. But they've been hiding here successfully for sixteen years. Who tipped in the officials?"

"It wasn't written," the warrant officer answered. "But let's think about this for a moment. If Lan Fan was conspiring with Chu, what reason is there for her to be evacuated? So soon after the failure of Operation Greed, no less. She needs medical aid for her grandfather, and if that's what she's after in Xing, why go through the guise of deportation?"

"But that's assuming that Lan Fan was working with Chu in the first place," Yuna butted in. "And it doesn't make sense. It is obvious that Chu handles the distribution of the Red Stone himself, so Lan Fan would never go to Xing to have her grandfather cured. She would stay here, because this is where her only hope is."

"That is exactly what I am thinking," Falman admitted. "The deportation warrant is real. It bears the Seal of the Immigration Bureau. In the eyes of the government, Lan Fan was an illegal immigrant for a decade and a half. She should have been severely penalized. Instead of being sent to prison or a work camp, she was sent back to Xing."

"What are you saying?" Ling asked, mind whirring with the different ramifications of the news.

"She had an arbitrator," Falman concluded. "Someone with enough power that the usual punishments got overturned."

"My father?" Ling asked. "Why would he do that?"

"I don't know the real reason, but whatever it is, it involves Lan Fan being away from here, away from Amestris."

"... and away from the Red Stone," Ling added after a while. Falman was right – there were pieces falling into place, but the image they construed was still nebulous and unexpected. Everything hinged on Lan Fan's relationship with his father. Had she really been his ally, her deportation made very little sense from a strategic perspective. Lan Fan made an incredible spy and she was manageable so long as his father had access to Fu. But he had sent both of them away. And if she really was working with Henry Chu, Lan Fan would never agree to leave her home to go back to a country she hardly knew. Chu wouldn't want that either – she would hardly be useful there.

Chu's maneuver implied that he wanted Lan Fan and Fu out of the way. It was possible that they had a falling out... or perhaps that they were never allies in the first place.

"But suppose they weren't working together. Why would Chu not kill Lan Fan and Fu like he often did with people who threatened him?" Ling asked.

"Well it's a good thing he didn't so we actually have a chance to ask her!" Yuna exclaimed, as if he was being particularly stupid. And maybe Ling was, but at the same time, he also didn't want to jump to conclusions anymore, no matter how easy it was to come to those.

"But that's a good question, Ling," Falman added. "Because we actually have exactly one dead body on our hands, so you have to wonder who really was a threat to Henry Chu. Here is Colonel Mustang's theory. Hunter Manos was the rat, and they wanted to frame Lan Fan for it. The reason she lives and he doesn't is so that we have a false trail to sniff, our hopes flamed alive with thoughts of revenge, while Chu can proceed smoothly without us on his back."

He allowed the two of them to let this hypothesis sink in. Yuna looked at Ling, but the Xingese boy returned it only with a hesitant shrug.

A loud vibration interrupted their conversation, and Falman reached into his breast pocket, then pulled out his phone. His expression turned grave as he listened to the other speaker. When he finished, he turned to them, as he began walking out to the parking lot.

"There's an incident at the LeCoulte's home," he told them. "A bunch of supposed delinquents drove by shooting at the house. The police are on the scene, and the paramedics are taking Ridel to the hospital."

"Delinquents, my ass!" Ling exclaimed, knowing full well that something like this would not have happened unless it was related to the operation. Goodness, it was starting to be a horrible week for phone calls.

He climbed into the passenger seat of his mother's car. She wasted no time starting and revving up the engine, and within minutes, they were out of the vicinity, climbing onto the bridge to the highway. She was concentrating on maneuvering them expertly around the vehicles littering the road. Ling felt the force of the acceleration pin him against the seat, and when they rounded a bend, the seat belt dug cruelly against his shoulder and ribs.

"Ma, I think you should slow down a bit," he called out to his mother. "It won't do us any good if we arrive there in pieces."

"I'm trying," she said.

"No really, Ma. Slow down," Ling said.

"And I really am trying!" she exclaimed, narrowly missing the trunk of a slower car ahead as she swerved into the adjacent lane. "I know I have a penchant for reckless driving but do you honestly think I'll do something like that at a time like this?" Yuna grunted, gripping the wheel so tightly her knuckles turned white.

"Then what are you doing? We're too fast!" Ling yelled, watching in horror as they quickly approached the rear of an eight-wheeler. He heard the brakes slapping the bottom of the car as his mother pounded the instrument with her foot. A horrific feeling washed over Ling as he realized what was going on.

"Our car is rigged!"

"Oh, you noticed now? God, give me some credit, son!" Yuna shifted in her seat, a look of determination and challenge coming over her face. "Well at least they picked the right wench for the job. Ha, it's almost like your father doesn't know how I drive!" She veered to the right so sharply, Ling's head almost hit the glass window. "But then again, he was always too afraid to get in the same car with me."

With a rather maniacal laughter, Yuna adjusted her grip on the steering wheel with one hand. With the other, she reached out for the parking brake, and began to pull on it. It gave way almost immediately, but their speed did not decrease at all. She frowned, but did not lose her composure. Ling heard the panicked and angry honks the other vehicles were sending their way, but each one disappeared from their earshot within seconds, so quickly the car was moving.

"It's ok. We have state-of-the-art airbags in this car. If we crash, we'll still be alright," she explained. "We just need to find a safe place to crash."

"What the? We have state-of-the-art airbags and you couldn't get us better brakes?" Ling shot back. "And there is no such thing as a safe place to crash!"

"Have we passed the exit to Bluffside Lake?" Yuna asked.

"You want to crash into a lake?"

"You want to crash into something else?" she yelled. "Now tell me if we've passed it."

"Uh.. no, not yet, but it's up there coming right at us, like right now!" Ling informed her, and Yuna steered sharply to the right, dangerously cutting off the cars in the next two lanes. They narrowly missed the exit, the bumper of their car scraping heavily against the edge of the metal gate separating the ramp from the highway. Ling covered his ears against the ear-piercing screech of metal against metal. He lurched forward as the car behind them couldn't quite slow down sufficiently before they had cut in and it crashed against the side of their trunk. But his mother couldn't slow down, and they sped through the ramp and out to the road.

Yuna left dust clouds in her trail. Their wheels rolled on white, dirty smoke, and Ling was afraid to look back and see the kind of chaos they had left behind. His mother switched lanes frequently, honking loudly to warn cars, and yelling a half-hearted apology as they passed by. Soon enough, Ling could finally see the outline of the small lake on the horizon, growing larger and larger with their fast approach.

"Roll down your window," Yuna said. "We can get out during the floating period."

They were reaching the bank of the lake, cultivated for picnic areas and BBQ spots for families. The people lounging there hurriedly left their spots, screaming for all they were worth; the car ran over plastic chairs and tables, toppled over grills and coolers. A hammock momentarily covered their windshield, and by the time it flew off, the car was coasting on the edge of the bank.

Ling felt a split-second of weightlessness, before the impact against the lake's water wreaked havoc on his senses. His inertia pushed him against his seat belt so tightly he thought he would rip it out from its base on the wall. For a few moments, all he could see through the windshield was the grayish, sediment-filled lake water, and it wasn't long after that the water crept through his open window and began to swallow up the bottom of the car.

He fiddled with his seat belt, and quickly tried to squeeze through the window. The lake was deep, but nothing about it was overly violent or dangerous. Ling had to spend only minimal effort to keep himself afloat. He swam to the edge of the lake, and crawled out, looking back only once to see if his mother was okay.

He stretched himself on the grassy patch of land by the side of the lake, and waited for his mother to follow him. She crawled up beside him to lie on the ground, panting heavily.

"I think... your father is trying to kill us," she said in between gasps.

"You think?" Ling said. He thought about the attempt on the LeCoultes, and now on them. For sure Edward and Winry would be next. He pushed himself up off of the ground. So much for his lethargic lounging. There was no way he could just patch this up like a quilt and forget about it. There was no back-pedaling anymore. It was clear that his operation had propelled them to a place where it was just as risky to go back than to go forward.

From the distance, he could hear the sirens of police cars and ambulance. He was suddenly afraid for all the people they might have hurt along their route to the lake. He turned around to look at the damage their trek had done. It was not pretty.

"Are you alright?" Yuna asked, as she stood up shakily.

"I'm fine, but..." Ling trailed off. "This is insane."

He was wrong. For the millionth time in a row. What he told Ed and Winry the previous day was motivated by fear, naivety and wishful thinking. The reality was that these – the threats, the murder attempts – would only continue if he didn't do anything. They would happen not only to himself, but to his friends, and even people he didn't know, ones that may not be as well-protected as he was. Those were the kinds of things that he wanted to stop in the first place, ever since he found out the truth about XYZ Ltd.

Yes, it was true that perhaps he was never the best person to tackle that problem initially. But now, it didn't matter. He had placed himself in a predicament where he could no longer extract his involvement. His father would never turn the other cheek anymore; Ling had made his mark, and his father would always be on the lookout. Nobody would be safe from this point on. The only way to truly save themselves was to uproot the source of the problem.

"Ling, I... I don't think you should stay here anymore," Yuna said after a minute.

"But the police would want to question me," he answered, looking at his mother.

"That's not what I meant. I think you should leave Amestris."

"What? Why?"

Yuna spread her arms to take in the entire scene. "I was hoping that all this would be a pretty big motivation."

"And leave my friends to that scum's wrath? I'll never do such a thing!"

"Ling, you're in danger. Yes, your friends might be too, but would you rather go to a place where you'll be able to device a plan to help them, or stay here where trying to watch out for others might mean a knife in the back? Because let's face it, it's a little hard to help your friends when you're dead."

"I'm not running away, Ma."

"It's not running away, if what you're running towards can help you even more than if you stay here," she said.

That caught his attention. "What are you saying I should do?"

"Go to Xing. Find Lan Fan."

Lan Fan. It was true that she would have the answer to everything. Well, at least to a lot more than they have access to, but he didn't know if he was willing to put his bets in her hands again. He didn't even know what kind of connection she had with his father.

"I will call your grandfather, and he can arrange for your stay. He will help you," his mother added. Ling only met his maternal grandfather once, and the old man was quirky enough to be influential, but Ling wasn't sure if he could stand up against Henry Chu. Lan Fan though could be kept in a leash if...

"Okay. But I will talk it over with Edward and Winry first. They've got more to worry about than anyone else," Ling said. "As for Lan Fan... do you remember the Colonel's contact who specializes in documentation and paperwork?"

"Sheska?"

"Yes. I need to talk to her too."

AN: Sorry again that this chapter was late! Whew, I'm really busy IRL. I was promoted to full-stack developer, and the learning curve eats up some of my otherwise free time. Also, my family and I are house-hunting. Finally, I am learning how to drive. So yeah, busy, busy, busy.

Oh, and if you guys didn't know, the previous week was LingFan week on Tumblr! I highly suggest you go to lingfanweek's blog to check out the amazing collection of fanworks that people created over the week. I made a couple of pieces there too.

I also have to apologize if this is a little choppy. Actually, I don't know if it's choppy. Does it seem so? Let me know how I'm doing! Even if it's just to tell me that Ling is boring in this chapter. Haha, I really found him boring. But I guess it's because I'm comparing him to how he'd appear next chapter, which would be... dashing and cool. Hopefully. Hehe.