A/N: Sorry about the wait! But, hey, quality over quantity, I say!

Valentine
By Hyperthia

Chapter II
"In the Soil"

Once in town, Edward found a place to stay at a small inn. He hung out in his room for a while until it was finally time for him to go meet up with some guy named Doctor Baker. Edward did a double take when he read their meeting place: Shady Oakes Funeral Home.

What kind of mission did Mustang send me on? Edward thought, perplexed by this little twist. Though, he had to admit that it sounded interesting. He had never been to a funeral home before, and in a town as old as this one, it had potential to be a pretty cool experience. With his hopes high, he walked to the home, which was on the other side of town.

When he finally got to his destination, he stared at the house in awe. It dated far back—that much was certain—and it was beginning to fall apart in some places. It looked like something out of a horror story with its foggy windows, sunken roofs, cobwebs, and underlying Victorian charm. Creeping ivy wound its way up the grey, paneled walls and around the windows, and Edward could see little mice scampering around the base of the home.

"Whoa." Edward, deciding to put off his meeting for a few minutes, walked around the house, fascinated by the style of the architecture. He came to a halt and grinned widely as his attention went directly to a wall fountain on the side of the house. It depicted a vicious-looking demon that vomited rusty water into a deep basin.

"Oooh…" Edward, wide-eyed and smiling, poked one of the demon's horns. "Whoever designed this place had some very good taste."

"Like what you see?"

Edward yelped and jumped at the sound of the old, haggard voice. He turned to see an old man standing behind him, grinning. He looked to be in his late sixties—at the youngest—and wore a floor-length, black cloak. His hair, grey and long, clung to his neck in stringy, oily pieces. His teeth reminded Edward of rotting bananas, all yellow and brown like they had never been brushed before. His shoulders were hunched, and he held onto a cane, which looked like it could barely hold him up. Edward also noticed that the man's right eye was made of glass, while the other, real eye scanned Ed several times.

"You Edward Elric?" he asked. "The alchemist?"

"Y-yeah," Edward stammered, backing up a pace from the old man, feeling slightly put-off by his appearance.

"I'm Doctor Baker," said the old man, reaching out a withered and wrinkly hand to shake Edward's. Ed hesitated before he remembered his manners and shook the doctor's hand.

"Shall we?" asked the doctor, gesturing toward a car, parked in the roundabout driveway.

Edward tried to ignore the fact that it was a hearse.

"Sure," Edward said, quickly taking shotgun—there was no way he was sitting in the back—while Doctor Baker slowly got in and started the car.

The frost-coated leaves crunched under Edward's boots as he followed Doctor Baker toward the tall, wrought iron gates. Why the old man had brought him to a graveyard was beyond him. The guy hadn't said a whole lot since Edward met him at the funeral home. During the drive to the graveyard, Edward had read more of his case file, and as far as he knew, he was only supposed to investigate what had been described as "a disturbance in the soil." Something he chalked up to be a chemical problem; after all, this was primarily a mining town. A graveyard seemed irrelevant. Even so, he kept his trap shut and stayed close behind the doctor, who had remained deadly silent during the car ride over.

The gates squealed in protest when Doctor Baker pushed them open and motioned for Edward to follow him in. Once Edward crossed over, he noticed that the air smelled stale and heavy; typical of a graveyard as old as this one, but rather uncomfortable for Ed. He looked around at the hundreds of trees, all of which appeared to be just as dead as all the people buried under them. Their branches clawed outward and encased the burial ground in a protective cage.

"You're a lot younger than I thought you'd be," said Doctor Baker, giving Edward a disapproving one-over. His glass eye remained unmoving in its socket.

"Not to say that I question your abilities," he added. "Do you have a strong stomach?" Edward looked up at the doctor, the wheels turning in his head as he wondered what this guy had in store for him.

"More or less," he answered. "It takes a lot to gross me out." Okay, that was a bit of a lie, but Edward was certain that he could take whatever this guy threw at him.

"Very well," Doctor Baker said, turning and beckoning Edward with one finger. "Follow me."

The doctor led Edward through the many isles of tombstones, many of which were marked with a name and date, others marked simply as "Unknown" or "Baby." They climbed up a short hill, and Edward looked at each headstone as he passed by. He was no stranger to cemeteries like this one, and yet each tombstone still caught his interest. He couldn't help but wonder what those people's lives were like, how they had died, or if it was cold down there…

His thoughts came to an abrupt halt when a wall of stench slammed into him. The odor was meaty, rotten, and so potent he could almost taste the flavor of decay on his tongue. He hastily brought the corner of his coat up to cover his mouth and nose, and he gagged once, eyes flying wide open in disgust and shock. Doctor Baker noticed this and began to chuckle.

"The hell is that?" Edward half-yelled, his voice muffled by his coat.

"Come over here and take a look for yourself," said the doctor.

Edward kept his eyes trained suspiciously on the doctor, who only grinned, while he climbed up the rest of the short hill. Once he made it to the top, he immediately wanted to turn around and head home. One look out into the wide expanse of dug-up graves and dislodged tombstones, and he suddenly knew what "a disturbance in the soil" meant. Though, he couldn't exactly say that this was in the job description.

I am going to kill Mustang when I get back to Central!

"So…" Edward began, swallowing back some of the vomit that threatened to spew out. He chuckled, trying to cover up his absolute disgust at what was in front of him. "Grave robbers, I take it. That's what I came all the way out here for?"

"Ah, but these aren't your average grave robbers, kid," said the doctor, taking out a cigar and lighting it—most likely to mask the smell. "Most grave robbers dig up bodies to steal things like the jewelry that the dead have been buried with. Whoever dug up these graves, though…"

He paused to take a puff on his cigar before he spoke again. "Whoever dug up these graves wasn't after the jewelry. In fact," the doctor put his foot in front of him and kicked a small, pearl earring to make his point, "it appears that all the jewelry got left behind."

"So what did they take then?"

"Look at the damn bodies, kid," the doctor growled. "Do you see a single body that's been left intact?" Edward looked, for as long as he could bear to, before he finally shook his head, and the doctor spoke again. "They were after the body parts. Fresh body parts. These people all died quite recently, and the oldest was only twenty-six."

"How?"

"What?"

"How did they all die?"

"Well," Doctor Baker took another puff on his cigar, "most of them committed suicide; the others were murdered."

"Has there been a pattern at all?" asked Edward, scowling when the doctor began to laugh again.

"You trying to play cop now?" he asked "That's for our own sheriff to worry about. You get to help me put all these bodies back where they belong."

"What?" Edward turned to face the doctor, eyes narrowed in anger. "I came all the way out to the middle of nowhere to do the dirty work?" The doctor grinned and nodded, and Edward kicked at the leaves below him. "Mustang is so gonna get it next time I see him!"

"I'll go get the shovels," Doctor Baker cheerfully announced, leaving Edward to stare at the disarray of bodies before him.

Edward managed to make it back to his room, at the inn, before he finally leaned over the toilet and vomited. He hoped that Mustang would be very pleased with himself for making Edward do something as horrible as that! Sure, it was for the good and safety of the townspeople, as well as respect for the dead, but that was not what Edward had been expecting on his way to the town. A little warning would have been nice! Of course, he probably would have put up a big fight if Mustang had told him exactly what he was going to do.

He had ended up using alchemy for most of the work, using the earth to move the various body parts back to their respective graves. There really wasn't any telling who the body parts had belonged to, thus many did not make it back to their own graves and were probably sharing with someone else. Grave buddies, as Doctor Baker had said. He was a strange fellow; not entirely there. He seemed almost excited about the vandalism committed in the graveyard that his family had run for two centuries.

Once Edward was certain that he had finished throwing up, he immediately peeled off his clothes and turned the water in the shower on as hot as it would go. He jumped in and yelped slightly when the scorching water hit his skin. He ignored it, however, and began to scrub furiously at his skin with some lavender soap.

"Ew! Ew ew ew!"

Edward scrubbed until every inch of his body stung. Once the water began to run cold, Edward finally turned the shower off, patting his reddened skin dry with a towel. He opted out of picking up his clothing from the day; there was no way he'd be able to wear it again after that. He had other, identical clothing anyways.

He left his still-smelly pile of clothes on the bathroom floor, dancing around it to get back out into the bedroom. He groaned and rubbed his eyes. The day had been upsetting, and he was sure that he had been scarred for life by what he had seen. He put on some fresh boxers and a tank top and pulled back the covers on the bed, feeling ready to pass out from exhaustion.

Then something caught his eye.

Dusk had begun to cast a dark shadow over the town, but there was still just enough light for Edward to see through the window. Outside, the rooftops glistened with patches of snow and icicles, but Edward had his eyes set on the window itself. On the glass, in what appeared to be red lipstick, someone had drawn a big heart.

Edward got a bit closer and swiped at it, some of it smudging onto his fingers. It was on the inside of the window, which meant that whoever put it there had to have been in the room.

"Maybe some kid got in while room maintenance was here," Edward said to himself. He could picture that: some little kid got away from her parents and decided to draw hearts with lipstick. Kids did that; Edward could vaguely recall going through a phase where he drew on the walls.

Edward touched the heart again with his lipstick-reddened fingers. He sensed something ominous about the drawing; it almost seemed like a threat. He couldn't put his finger on it, though. Actually, the heart reminded him a bit of that secret admirer note he got on Valentines.

As the image of that note went through Edward's mind, the little hairs on the back of his neck rose, and his heart thrummed almost painfully fast. He felt a surge of adrenaline when he thought he heard a high-pitched squeaking right behind him.

He whirled around and transmuted his automail into a blade, ready to defend himself. But there was no one else in the room with him.

He sighed and transmuted his arm back to normal, rubbing his head afterward. It must have been all the dead bodies that he'd seen earlier; they had creeped him out, and now his mind was just playing tricks on him. What he needed was a good night's sleep. Edward rolled his shoulders around, trying to shake off the creepy feeling so he could relax. He gave the heart on the window one last glance before he reached up and shut the curtains.

Edward deeply inhaled the train fumes and pollution, welcoming the familiar scent of the Central train station.

"Home, sweet home," he said, stretching his sore limbs, which had nearly lost all feeling on the four-hour train ride.

He considered using a payphone and calling Havoc to drive him home, but he opted out. He had had enough of sitting for one day, and it was nice enough weather outside to walk home. At least for the winter, it was nice weather. Though snow still blanketed the entire town, the sun was out. Edward estimated that the temperature was somewhere in the forties.

Perfect weather for a sandwich! Edward thought. Perhaps he could grab some cash at his dorm and head to the deli afterward.

Edward hurried home and burst through the door, happier than ever to get back into the tiny apartment. He couldn't get into the shower fast enough, eager to wash the train smell off so he could go to the deli.

After his shower, Edward got dressed quickly and headed out the door. It was then that he noticed that he had some mail, and quite a bit of it.

"Crap," he muttered. "Did I miss another payment?"Usually, when he got this much mail, it meant that he either missed his rent, or he had an overdue library book.

Edward hesitated before he finally lifted the metal flap on the overflowing mailbox, pulling out each envelope. Surprisingly, though, he had only one bill; the rest were all brightly colored envelopes, decorated with hearts and flower stickers. One by one, he opened each letter, surprised to find a different romantic poem in each one.

"Weird…" he said, but he couldn't help the small smile on his face. Each letter had different handwriting, so they had to be from more than one person, and that must mean…

"I'm hot," Edward said, grinning widely as he tossed the letters inside his apartment.

Really, it was the only possible explanation. It was no secret that Edward was the youngest state alchemist ever, and for that reason, he was quite the celebrity. Being a state alchemist definitely had its perks, and the ladies love a man in uniform.

Well, Ed had never actually worn the uniform, but still…

"Sandwich." Edward's stomach reminded him of his current mission by emitting a loud growl, and he knew that he could not put off his hunger for much longer.

The bells on the door jingled when Edward walked into the small shop, which smelled of freshly cut meat. The best smell in the world, according to Edward. The deli got all of their meat from the butcher shop, located just next door, and they boasted—rightfully so—that their meat was the freshest in all of Central.

Edward inhaled the intoxicating aroma of tasty animals as he walked toward the cashier. He stopped, though, when he saw an elderly man sitting alone at one of the tables.

"Hi, Tom!" he greeted, and the old man looked up and in Edward's general direction and waved. Tom, who was completely blind and mute, had been a regular customer at Amelia's Deli for over thirty years, even though he had hardly enough money to buy himself a sandwich; he usually relied on the charity of customers in order to get food.

Edward stepped up to the counter, which was raised high and came all the way up to his chin, and tapped the small bell. A few seconds later, a tall, slightly frumpy old woman hustled through the door and upon seeing Edward, smiled.

"The usual?" she asked, also noticing Tom, who sat still at his table.

"Yes, the usual," Edward chirped with a smile, pushing a few notes across the counter.

The woman, Amelia, got to work on two sandwiches right away, piling on three types of meat, along with pickles, lettuce, tomato, and a thick layer of mayo. She wrapped both sandwiches up and put them into separate bags before handing them to Edward.

"Thanks!" he said, turning and walking toward Tom. He set one bag down in front of the old man, who recognized the sound of paper hitting the table. He looked in Ed's direction, through his dark sunglasses, and nodded once in thanks.

"I'll probably be back tomorrow," said Edward, turning to leave the shop. "Bye!"

Edward sat at a table outside, happily munching away on his sandwich and kicking at a small mound of snow with the toe of his boot. While he ate, he made a mental list of everything that he needed to do once he finished his lunch. Unfortunately, at the top of that list was 'update the Colonel.' Mustang had wanted Edward to come in as soon as he had gotten off the train, but the jerk could wait. Edward's stomach was much more important anyways.

Edward also made a mental note to call Alphonse and tell him that he was back in Central. Surely Alphonse had had his fill of trying to court Winry, and Edward knew that he really had no chance with her. Actually, neither of them had a chance; Winry didn't like guys who were shorter than her, and the same went for guys who were younger than her. Not that Edward really minded, at the moment; it seemed that the ladies here liked him plenty, and those letters were proof enough!

"Hey, Chief!" Edward paused, with the giant sandwich still jammed halfway down his throat, and looked up to see Havoc walking down the sidewalk toward him. It must have been his day off, because he was dressed in civilian clothing. Actually, he looked quite sharp in his light coat and blue jeans, Edward mused. It was a wonder why he had been unable to score a female—

Oh… that's probably why.

"Nice purse, Havoc," said Edward, grinning devilishly and proceeding to inhale more sandwich. Havoc's smile disappeared, and his expression took on a severely offended look.

"It's not a purse," he said, clutching the tan strap on his shoulder. "It's a satchel."

Havoc took the seat across from Ed, hanging his "satchel" on the back of the chair.

"I'm just saying, Havoc, because I care so much," Edward smirked when Havoc scowled at him, "that 'satchel' of yours will not improve your love life." It was Edward's turn to scowl when Havoc doubled over in laughter.

"I am not receiving romantic advice from a thirteen-year-old!" Jean laughed some more, wiping a tear from his eye. "Besides, I've got some real important shit in here," he added, patting the large bag. "First aid kit, handheld radios… you won't be laughing when the day comes that I save your ass."

"Why do you bother hauling that crap around when you're already killing yourself," Edward said, reaching forward and grabbing the white cylinder out of Havoc's mouth and putting it out in the ashtray that was on the table.

"And I'll have you know," Edward added, swallowing a bit of sandwich that was still in his mouth, "I've gotten ten more letters from my admirers. You should probably take my romantic advice a bit more seriously."

"More love letters, eh?" said Havoc, grinning. "From who? The Babysitters Club?"

"You smell like an ashtray."

"You're short."

"Purse!"

"Okay, you win this time," Havoc sighed and stretched in his chair, making his back pop a few times. "But, seriously Ed, don't let your ego get as big as Mustang's." Edward cringed.

"I will not let that happen," he replied.

"Speaking of Mustang," said Havoc, "Have you gone to give him an update yet? He's been pretty anxious to hear from you." Edward let out an exasperated grunt as he finished off the last of his sandwich.

"I'm actually going to go and see him now," Edward said, pushing his chair out and hopping off. "Don't want to keep the jerk waiting for too long. I'll see you later, Havoc."

"See ya 'round, kid," said Havoc, turning around in his chair and waving at Edward who returned the gesture and continued his walk toward headquarters.

Havoc smiled and sighed, turning back around, ready to just sit and enjoy the cool, yet sunny weather. He was about to go inside to order some coffee, when he noticed a young man—perhaps in his mid-twenties—standing by the doorway to the deli, dressed in a long, white apron and holding a box with a meat label on it. He was on the tall side and had greasy, black, slicked-back hair, and Havoc recognized him as one of the butcher shop employees. What really caught Jean's attention, though, was that the man was staring straight ahead in Edward's direction.

Havoc turned in his chair and saw Edward, blissfully ignorant and kicking at the snow as he sauntered down the sidewalk, and Havoc knew that this strange guy was watching Ed. He did not like it at all. Havoc turned and glared at the man, who continued to stare at Edward and hadn't even noticed Jean.

"Hey, Dude," he said, capturing the man's attention and getting a look at the guy's nametag. "Jayden…"

Jayden looked down at Havoc and glared but didn't say anything. Havoc stood up, easily towering over him.

"That's my little brother you're staring at," Havoc said; it was a lie, sure, but it seemed to work because Jayden cowered back a bit. "I suggest you get a move on, or else that girly apron of yours will be around your neck."

Jayden opened his mouth as if to yell something back, but then he closed it, and hurried into the deli shop, but not without sparing one last angry look in Havoc's direction.

"What a creep," Havoc muttered to himself, bending down to pick up his purse—satchel! It was a satchel.

He felt a little self-conscious when he settled the strap over his shoulder. Maybe Edward really was right about that…

"Stupid kid," Havoc said, sounding annoyed, though he couldn't help but smile as he walked home.

To be continued…

A/N: There is some artwork for this chapter. The link is on my profile. :D