Title: Fetch
Author: jordannamorgan
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Characters: Edward, Alphonse, Hawkeye, Black Hayate.
Setting: General.
Rating: G.
Length: 411 words.
Summary: Edward can't hide for long.



“Shouldn’t you report to Colonel Mustang first?” Alphonse asked timorously, watching his brother tear into a roasted chicken. It was a house specialty of the obscure little restaurant Edward had ducked into, after insisting on disappearing into the back streets of East City immediately upon their arrival.

Ed made a growling noise around the drumstick he was gnawing on. “After that last mission? He’s just gonna yell at me and send me straight out to walk into some other disaster. At least let me face that on a full stomach.”

Al sighed, but he didn’t protest any further, leaving Ed to enjoy his meal… until five minutes later, when something black-and-white streaked under the table. The young alchemist felt a bump against his automail leg, and then a high-pitched yip sounded from beneath the tablecloth.

“Hey, what the—?”

Black Hayate popped back out into the aisle between the tables, prancing and whining loudly, as if trying to attract attention. Ed tore his gaze from the dog and looked up in anxiety. He was suddenly struck by the thought that if Hayate was running around in a restaurant, it could only be in the company of…

“Good afternoon, boys,” Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye said coolly, looming over Al’s shoulder in a space that had been unoccupied a second before.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Ed gaped, his shoulders sagging. “Did Mustang really send you looking for us?”

“Actually, he didn’t. But I knew which train you were supposed to be on this morning. When you were late showing up at Eastern Command, I decided to track you down myself.”

“In the whole city, how did you find us here?” Al queried, looking up from where he leaned down to scratch Hayate’s back.

For answer, Hawkeye pulled a scrap of torn white fabric from beneath her jacket—and Ed was dumbfounded when he recognized it.

“But that’s—!”

“One of your gloves,” Hawkeye replied, with the faintest trace of a complacent little grin. “Specifically, the one you tore when you transmuted your blade in our little fight with those smugglers last month. You threw it away—but I thought it might come in handy if I needed to track you down.” She lowered it for the inspection of Hayate, who sniffed it, and then butted his head against Ed’s leg. “As you can see, it has enough of your scent on it.”

Ed dropped his face into his automail hand with a groan.

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2017 Jordanna Morgan