FIC: Fullmetal's Company - PG13, gen
TITLE: Fullmetal's Company
AUTHOR: roseveare
RATING: PG-13
GENRE: Gen/Adventure
LENGTH: 17,500 words
SUMMARY: Ed should never have flashed the silver pocket watch in a war zone.
WARNINGS: Language & violence.
NOTES: With thanks to gure126 for beta reading. Written for fmabigbang 2011 -- and because this is for FMA Big Bang, this was a collaboration with two incredibly talented artists, yuukihikari (art post here) and Dracaena Akira (DeviantArt), so I'm really excited to be posting fic with their artwork!
DISCLAIMER: FMA belongs to Hiromu Arakawa and various other people who are not me. Not mine, no profit, yadda, yadda, yadda.
Art by Dracaena-Akira. Click to view on Deviantart!
Fullmetal's Company
Chapter 1
There were altogether too many hills in this part of the South, Ed thought, as they trudged down another slope, picking their way more slowly down the most sheer sections. He walked carefully behind Al. Armour didn’t have much traction on the loose, rocky path, and he'd almost been squashed once already. The terrain wasn't giving his automail leg much joy, either. The metal had sensors connecting to his nerves, and he was getting used to them, but it still wasn't as good at feeling its way and managing fine balance as his flesh-and-blood right.
The sun crept high, making him sweat and giving off an uncomfortable glare, made more so because it reflected off Al, occasionally flaring in his eyes. He tried to keep his mouth shut on this particular complaint. It wasn't Al's fault, and it would only upset his brother. Fortunately, there was no shortage of other things to complain about. The ground was poor, and the vegetation that grew in it only the hardiest, most of which seemed to have prickles and spikes, abrasive leaves or sticky pods that stabbed through his clothes then stuck tenaciously when he tried to pull away.
He was beginning to understand why so few people lived in this part of the South. Even without a war raging at the borders.
With a breathless call to Al, he flopped down on a boulder, at a point where the slope was relatively shallow. He dragged his sleeve over his face. "After all this, I hope this place really exists. But I'm beginning to doubt it."
"I know what you mean," Al said. "These hills seem endless. But really, I don't think we've gone far enough yet. I think we'll get there soon. If it is there."
"I should've known it would be this tedious, trying to get to see a bunch of monks. This is one more illustration of how God feels about me," Ed said flippantly, waving a hand.
"Don't be dramatic, brother." Al couldn't frown, but Ed could hear it there in his voice. "If we do find them, I hope you're not going to say things like that. Remember, we want their help."
"I thought religious folks were supposed to help anyhow, out of the pureness of their spirit and the goodness of their hearts," Ed mocked. Al didn't dignify it with further reply, just exuded disapproval.
They'd heard tales of the old monastery in the hills, which housed an ancient library of sacred texts including, it was said, a number of books that touched on ancient alchemy and even the subject of the philosophers' stone. Ed thought it was a pretty long shot they'd have anything useful, suspecting to find only religious mumbo-jumbo, but it was still the best lead they'd had in a while, and he could be cautiously hopeful.
"I hope the monks have food," he sighed. His stomach agreed with him audibly.
"I told you to save something, and not just eat it all..."
"...Nag, nag, nag..." He looked around at the plants, but none of them were remotely edible. The cross thought that Al kept acting more like a mother than a brother contained associations that were far too painful to voice. "...Hey." He paused, listened hard, looked up at Al warily, and whispered, "I hear something."
Something pinged off Al's armoured back and he yelped. A seven foot suit of armour yelping and jumping off the ground in fright was an incongruous sight. Not that Ed cared about that, right now! "Some bastard's shooting at us!"
Al turned and planted his metal body like a shield. Ed ducked down behind his rock. Al... despite his swift actions to protect the one of them who still had vulnerable flesh, Al was muttering a steady, "Can't be shot, doesn't hurt, can't be shot..." He wasn't completely used to the idea of being nigh invulnerable to normal physical attacks. Ed grit his teeth. He waved his automail hand out of hiding furiously and yelled, "Who the hell is it, shooting at a couple of kids?! QUIT THAT, ALREADY!!!"
The new flurry of shots silenced, but Ed thought it was probably more because hitting Al was useless and they didn't have an angle on himself. He hissed at his brother, "Can you see where they're shooting from?"
"I can't see anyone at all." Al turned around a full circuit, scanning their surroundings. He jumped slightly as a bullet penetrated the more vulnerable leather on the side of the armour, leaving a hole, and rattling inside him. "Ugh! So creepy!" It didn't do Al any harm that couldn't be fixed, though the sniper must have thought they'd made a key shot.
"Bastards!" Ed yelled. "Show yourselves!" It did about as much good as he'd expected.
"Brother," Al said urgently, "I think we need to give ourselves up. We're pinned down here! You can't use alchemy against a sniper you can't see. Bullets will hurt you."
"Screw that!" Ed snarled. "We can't know what they'd do if we gave ourselves up. I can't see them, but I can still defend myself!" He clapped his hands and slapped his palms to the ground. A curved wall rose up in front of them. Ed crouched down, leaning his back against the alchemised surface, twitching. People were shooting at him.
Schematics and mechanics ran through his mind, his thoughts seeming slow and sluggish in the fraught circumstances. Winry would kill him if he used her automail as materials to transmute some kind of projectile weapon, but using Al's armour was out of the question and, well, he would use the automail if he had to. The loose, sandy soil here lacked for useful mineral content and was just inviting a rebound. He tried to think of anything else that would work from a distance.
"I'll deal with this," said Al, suddenly, a forced brightness to his voice, and Ed realised too late that he'd also been thinking hard. Al stood up and broke into a heavy, clanking run for the scrubby cover surrounding them, where somewhere the gunman or gunmen lay in wait. Ed wasn't fast enough to do anything about it, automail fingers clutching and missing by miles.
"Damn it, Al!" Of all the times to come to terms with being impervious to bullets... Of course, you could probably still smash the armour apart, with heavy duty or explosive rounds. Ed tried not to think about that as he waited, crouched behind his transmuted mini-fort and feeling useless. If they had explosives, he told himself, they'd have used them already, surely? And he'd definitely hear it. All he could pick out were a few noises that might've been very distant shots, or snapping twigs, or anything, really.
After it had been quiet for too long, he craned carefully up, and moved to look over the wall.
The crunch of a footfall turned him sharply around. He wasn't the only one surprised, though. The large, rather raggedly-dressed man's mouth fell open in surprise. "A kid...?"
He was too close -- his mistake. Ed launched himself up off the ground, pushing with the mechanical strength of his left leg, and was inside the range of the rifle before the weapon could be brought to bear. He clapped, and the blade formed from his automail sheared the gun in half.
A shot rang out, though Ed had been sure he'd destroyed too much of the mechanism for the weapon to fire. He hadn't been shot, and diverting attention from the enemy in front of him seemed a good way to get himself killed. In a continuation of his movement, he grabbed the large man's arm, propelling his own smaller form into the air, legs snapping around the man's neck and using the momentum to slam him backwards onto the ground.
There was something eerie about the silence and lack of resistance as the body went down. No grunt, no laboured breathing... no noise at all, not even when Ed flipped and landed on his chest. He rolled aside, confused, and it was then he saw the red stain. It was his opponent who'd been shot.
For a moment, the realisation rendered Edward frozen and speechless. The last and only human being to die in front of him had been his mother, and the painful memories weighted his tongue in his mouth and locked his limbs. This death... was Ed's fault, in a way. Wasn't it? If he hadn't been distracting the man, would he have been killed?
His brain finally kicked into gear again... Shit, that meant someone else was shooting! He scooted backwards frantically, thinking he'd left himself wide open for more than enough time already, thinking he was an idiot... Who'd fix Al, if he got himself killed?
No shot came, and waiting in those desperate seconds for it, his vision narrowed upon the pistol still holstered at the dead man's side. A quick dive forward, and it'd be within reach. That thought was still blazing in his mind when a figure broke cover some fifty yards away and sped, hunched, toward Ed's own position. Ed yelped and raised his hands to transmute -- what, he wasn't sure yet -- but his eyes registered the Amestris military uniform. As well as the fact this soldier's gun was not pointed his way, and his free hand held forward, open and empty, in a 'hold fire' gesture.
Blinking, Ed watched as the soldier threw his larger body down next to him, using the cover of his transmuted wall. "What--?"
"So they're waylaying kids, now," the man said, grim eyes running over Ed's form in a manner that was assessing, but gave away nothing of any conclusions that were drawn. "That's a new low."
"Who are they?" Ed found his voice. "I didn't think the rebels were this far South!"
"Easterner, huh? No rebels. Aerugeans. A bit of property disagreement with Amestris. You should have heard of it; it's been going on for a while now."
"The Aerugeans are this far into Amestris?" Ed asked, horrified. They weren't anywhere near the border, and he'd not for one moment dreamed they were walking right into the conflict.
The soldier grimaced. "Not usually. It's been a bitch of a week. Maybe news hasn't gotten to you, if you've been travelling and out of touch. We'll have it all back under control soon, kid. They say the Fuhrer himself is coming down with the reinforcements, and no battle he took part in was ever lost." His teeth glinted in a grin of sheer hero-worship. "Until then, we're a bit scattered, trying to pick off the units that broke through the lines. The only godsend is how few people live out here."
Art by Yuukihikari. Click to go to full size version!
"Huh... that guy. Shit," muttered Ed, scrubbing at his face left-handed in tired dismay.
The soldier laughed. "No kidding, kid. Hey, what's your name?"
"Ed. Look, my brother's out there." He pointed in the direction Al had run off. "He's -- he's a big guy in armour, but he's really only a kid, too. I need to--"
"Don't fret." He was cut off genially. "Guy in armour, right? I've people over that way, we'll pick up your brother, too. And it's Corporal Kessel, here, since you asked."
"Uh, thanks," Ed said. "I didn't know we were walking into the middle of a war zone. Guess that's a pretty big screw-up of my planning." He studied Kessel: a big man, but he'd folded up small to sit down, agile despite his size. He had a scruffy half-inch of blond beard that didn't look like it was there by choice, a slightly longer scrub of blond hair and a recent scar above one side of his mouth. Eyes the grey of rainclouds. His uniform was stained, torn and ragged, and the stain on his left arm was definitely blood. Ed could see the proof of how desperate and cut-off the solders here were, though this guy was cool and professional, with his body and voice, at least, not giving the desperation sway.
The wide mouth crooked into a grin. "Finished staring?"
"You remind me of this other guy I know. There's not a chainsmoking beanpole around here somewhere, as well?"
The fellow gave him an odd look, then abruptly his hand slapped down on Ed's shoulder. "Hey, that's the all clear. Look lively." The hand lingered a surprised moment, fingers prodding into the automail joint.
Ed hadn't seen or heard any signal, but Kessel seemed trustworthy, within reason, so he let himself be urged up to his feet and followed in a sort of running crouch across the open ground. Relief flooded through him when they broke through a line of trees and there, in a slight dip in the land beyond, was Al. Three more soldiers in Amestris uniform were with him, but Ed had focus only for his brother. There was blood on Al's hands and his aura of expression was sort of shocked.
The soldiers, when he gave himself a moment to note it, looked sort of shocked too.
"AL! Are you alright?"
"...Um..."
"The big guy took out four of them," a female soldier announced, gleefully slapping the back of the armour with a resounding clang.
"T-they were shooting at my brother," Al stuttered. "Not even for any reason!"
"Well, you sure do a good job of protecting your little brother," one of the men cut in, a thin man with a nervous smile and a bandage on his right hand.
"HEY! I'm NOT little! What the hell makes you think you can just--"
Kessel's fist struck the back of Ed's head hard enough to make his eyes water. "Ease up on shouting off our position to the enemy, dumbass," he growled.
"Ed's the older brother," Al squeaked hurriedly (and quietly). "I'm twelve. Brother's thirteen. We're both alchemists. I'm sorry, he always starts yelling about his height." Flustered, he ignored Ed's accusing glower at this treachery.
"Twelve?" The revelation met with the usual blank stares, and Al would've been blushing if he could. "...Well," the soldier said quickly, moving on, "alchemists at thirteen and twelve... Pretty impressive kids..." His voice dried up, and his already nervous face sort of dropped. His stare was fixed on something...
Ed forgot his wrath and followed the gaze down. He twined his fingers around the watch chain affixed to his belt and slowly lifted his hand, drawing the chain out. From beneath narrowed eyelids, he watched the soldier's expression sag further into utter astonishment as the watch peeped into view and then slowly emerged in its entire, the Amestris crest glittering in silver. It was like the man watched him perform a particularly spectacular magic trick.
Okay, so the title of State Alchemist was a stigma, a consequence of his own foolhardy acts, part of the sacrifice he made in the hopes of restoring himself and Al to their bodies, and a ball and chain that tied him to a regime representing everything he despised, but there were times when Ed couldn't get enough of this reaction from strangers.
Al prodded him painfully. "Brother, you're smirking."
"S-s-sir..." the soldier stammered, finally tearing his eyes from Ed's watch to lift them to his face. "S-sir?"
Kessel swore the air an impressive streak of blue. Ed's smugness had become a casualty of confusion by now. He protested, "It's not that big a deal," to the ring of faces whose expressions he couldn't fathom. "I--"
"State Alchemist," Kessel said without any inflection. He shook his head, silencing Ed. The thin soldier twitched nervously. "We'll talk about this later. Right now, we need to get you boys back to base, to Lieutenant Vine." His hand came down on Ed's shoulder, overly rough but probably not intentionally. Then Kessel moved past Ed and spoke with the others in low voices augmented by swift, curt hand signals as the small group began to break apart. The soldiers fanned out across the ground, and Kessel gestured for Ed and Al to keep down and follow him.
Ed was locked into muteness not just by the need to keep their position from the enemy. He had been so stupid. That damned watch! It had been a mistake to let them see it. He'd just announced himself as a State Alchemist in the middle of a war zone. Of course they'd looked at him like that, a so-called 'human weapon' landing unexpectedly in their lap. They could mean to ask anything of him... anything... There were too many things he couldn't possibly do.
He grit his teeth and followed Kessel. Al rattled faintly at his back, having put the facts together, too -- probably before Ed himself had done so. Ed fumed. Well, right now they were out of their depth. For the time being they'd just have to let themselves be led by Kessel and hear these people out.
As for what might happen after that, all bets were off.
Chapter 2
They had found their monastery.
"No," Ed said numbly, when he saw the wreckage of the interior. Piles of books lay rotting and disintegrating in the stagnant water pools from the leaking roof, tumbled and abandoned on the floor. "No." His protest turned to anger, "What the fuck did you people do?!" he demanded, grabbing the front of Kessel's jacket (he couldn't quite reach the collar) with his automail hand. "This is supposed to be some quiet religious place, a bunch of monks and books and some decent fucking food!"
"Ed!" Al was trying to pull him away, but not this time, he thought, seeing white.
Kessel ignored the automail in favour of catching his left arm by the wrist and twisting until Ed was forced to release the metal grip with a yelp. "War happened. We think the monks got out. At least, we didn't find any bodies."
Ed fell back, rubbing at his living arm with the fingers he couldn't feel. He seethed. "This is where we were trying to get to. There was supposed to be stuff here that we could use. Look at this mess! Everything's ruined!"
"It might not be, brother." Al's hand on his shoulder was nervous, almost pleading. "There are books around. Some of them might be salvageable, or at least still readable. We might still find a useful lead here."
Kessel's face settled into a grimace. He looked down at Ed, who promptly stopped rubbing his arm, straightening both arms at his sides and bunching his fists. "Books, huh? I guess it didn't occur to anyone they were valuable. We've been using this place as a base, but the Aerugeans trashed most of it before we ever get here. If the books are what you're interested in, better salvage what you can. I'm pretty sure nobody will mind. The monks might even thank you, if they ever come back."
"Thank you," Al said politely. "We'd like to do that."
"First things first," Ed said. He'd much rather explore the place and search through the books, but the unhappy roiling of his stomach had returned to override thoughts for his own mission. "I need to speak to this lieutenant of yours, remember? He's the one in charge here, you said?" I need to know where I stand.
Kessel sighed. "I'm pretty sure he'll want to speak to you." Something in his manner when he spoke of his commanding officer was odd. Uncertain, even nervous. "Come with me, then."
Ed stopped Al's move to follow with a palm on his breastplate, the clang of metal meeting metal distinct even through the glove. "No, Al. You should stay here. Make a start on the books. I'm the only one who's in the military, after all."
"Brother..."
Al was rightly suspicious. This was going to be a conversation he didn't want his younger brother to be in on. Being tied to the state was his bed of nails. If they were going to ask of him what he feared they would... "It's not going to help if you're there," Ed admitted, half under his breath. "Just find us something to make walking into this mess worthwhile, okay?"
Al nodded unhappily, and his big form creaked as he knelt down to delicately pick up a book. It dripped and the spine sagged and bent. Ed winced.
He turned back to Kessel with a curt nod. The soldier raised his eyebrows and led the way. They traipsed through countless more of the monastery's narrow corridors and up an even narrower spiral staircase. About halfway up what was surely one of the three towers he'd observed from outside, Kessel rapped on a wooden door then pushed it open. He waited for Ed to go in before him, then shut it after them with a final sort of click.
"Lieutenant Vine, sir. We -- ran into someone, outside," he offered, slowly. There was a wariness in his voice and stance.
Ed couldn't fathom why. He'd figured these folk were scared of their commanding officer: had expected someone even worse than the Bastard: only a thin, almost sickly pale man waited within the small, round tower room. Seated at the one chair near the window, the daylight fell full onto him, and there was nothing about him to inspire any sort of fear. He turned to face them, moving far too slowly for a solider in a battle zone. His eyes were red-rimmed, though his face was a shaven contrast to the rest of the men. He was sweating. At first, Ed thought he was injured, but he couldn't see any obvious signs of injury or bandaging.
"A child," Vine said slowly. The movement of his lips seemed clumsy, the words blurred. The man's voice and hands shook. "Kessel, why--"
"I'm... Edward Elric," Ed said, swallowing hard. He had to stand his ground. He produced the silver watch. "A state alchemist. I'm thirteen," he added for good measure. "I was the youngest..."
"Yes, I've heard of you." Vine sounded dazed, and Ed wondered suddenly, Is he drunk? He fell a step back, startled, as Vine jerked to his feet. The lieutenant scooped the watch up, letting it lie in his palm while Edward's hovering fingers remained wrapped around the end of its chain. "It was... Fullmetal, wasn't it? Is that right... sir?"
"Uh." Ed dropped the chain, leaving his symbol of office at Vine's mercy. "You really don't have to call me that." There was something wrong with Vine, badly wrong, and whatever it was frightened him more than even the thought of being ordered to use his alchemy to kill. He edged a bit further into the room, trying to sidle subtly away from Vine. He looked to Kessel for help, but found no comfort in the soldier's fixed countenance.
Vine corrected, "But as a State Alchemist, you are the equivalent to a Major, and -- if I may say so, your arrival is timed to match our need perfectly." Edward really didn't want to touch the sweating palm extended toward him to take back his watch. Not even with his gloves on. Not even with the automail. Maybe if he made a really quick grab...
"I'm thirteen." His voice cracked out more assertively than he'd maybe intended. He could feel his heart pounding as he clutched the silver watch to his chest. "You can't send me into battle." Mustang said so. Then again, what he actually said WAS that they wouldn't SEND me into battle, and nothing about what would happen if I idiotically managed to send myself there. "There's a bunch of other stuff I can do to shore up the defences, though," he added, with forced brightness. "I'm good at stonework. This place -- I can fix it, improve fortifications--" I'm not killing people for you.
Vine looked confused. Enough so, Ed almost convinced himself he'd misread the situation and began to feel the first stirrings of relief. He wouldn't be expected to use his alchemy to create a field of slaughter, like the State Alchemists at Ishbal... Then the Lieutenant said, "Of course, the decision of how to proceed would be yours, sir. I'm sure you know the best ways to apply your skills."
...What?
Ed's watch hit the floor, falling from his nerveless fingers. Kessel made an inarticulate noise. "Vine!" he barked, respect of rank all forgotten. "Corwin. You can't put this kid in command! You can't be thinking to--"
Art by Yuukihikari. Click to go to full size version!
"Major Elric might outrank any Amestris officer within fifty miles, after last week's losses." Vine blinked in a not-quite-focused way. "So you see, I'm sure that this is the right thing to do." He earnestly patted Kessel's shoulder. "We must respect the chain of command. Central know what they're doing when they assign rank. You need to have more faith."
Kessel stared at the arm and stared at him.
"Bullshit!" Ed yelped, scrabbling on the floor for his watch, hearing the chain links crunch as he grabbed it. "I'm not taking over, you lazy bastard! That's not my job. I'm an alchemist! I make stuff, I fix stuff, I chase about the country after shit missions that I swear that bastard Colonel in Eastern makes up on the spot! I don't lead soldiers!"
Kessel scrubbed a hand over his face. "Thank fuck the kid's at least smart enough to recognise this is so much bullshit. Corwi-- Lt Vine, sir, what the hell?"
"It's a technicality," Ed said, his anger rising. The guy could just out and ask that of him, and think it okay? "Nobody was ever gonna cash in on the rank. Not before I reached sixteen. No way. Y'know, because of the part where that would be freakin' NUTS?"
"But it's true," Vine said, with helpless bewilderment. "So you must. You must." The way he said it seemed almost like he couldn't contemplate anything else.
"I must not," Ed snarled back. "For one thing, Mustang -- that's Colonel Mustang -- would kill me, and for once, that bastard would actually be right."
"Far be it for me to tell you how to do your duty, sir," Vine murmured indistinctly, turning aside so that his greasy, overlong hair hid his face. The statement made Ed all the more livid. He couldn't deny a cheap thrill from adults calling him 'sir', but this guy didn't know when to leave it alone. Something about the subdued appearance of the man stopped him from erupting again, though. Instead, he looked nervously at Kessel, letting the silence and his expression ask the question.
Kessel made an effort to rise to the occasion. "Sir, we need to talk about this. I think you're not well." The Lieutenant stared out of the narrow window as though he'd not heard at all. "Take a few minutes," Kessel urged, with a touch of desperation. "Get it together. I'm gonna take the kid outside. Corwin?" The name still elicited no reaction. Kessel's released breath was sharp, and he grabbed Ed's shoulder and shoved him out of the room, slamming the door. They made it up half a flight of stairs and into a box room before the soldier slumped down heavily onto a broken bench and put his head in his hands, knuckles showing white as his fingers twisted into his hair.
Ed un-grit his teeth and rubbed circulation back into his shoulder. After a moment, he ducked down and peered into the shadows of Kessel's bowed face, then poked him in the knee with an automail finger when he didn't react. "Do you guys have any doctors here?"
"No doctors." But at least the man sat up. "He's right. He's right, fuck... He's not fit for command. I knew it. I could see it. I should've done something before now. I should've..."
"Hey!" Ed barely had time to start the protest before Kessel had grabbed his extended hand, shoved the sleeve back to bare the steel wrist, then just as swiftly let him go with a grunt, the question satisfied. Apparently Kessel had gone beyond the mood to engage in niceties. "Fine. So is the leg, bastard, in case you were about to make a grab for that, too." He placed himself out of Kessel's reach just in case.
"'Fullmetal'," Kessel muttered. "So you are no stranger to war. I suppose that's something."
Mustang, and common sense besides (which Mustang seemed to think he didn't have), had advised him not to contradict the general assumption that his limbs had been lost in the East's civil war, but Ed might've done so if he'd not had more important assumptions to check, right then and there. "I'm not doing it, and if you still think I am, you're as crazy as he is."
"He's not--" Kessel stopped, and stared beyond him into nothing. Slowly, softer words dragged from his lips, so quiet Ed could barely hear them. "I know. I've known it for days. I just... I never thought he'd snap. We've been out here together three years. They said that back at the academy, he was some kind of tactical genius. An officer who was going to do great things. Damned if he didn't live up to it, too... he did. Not just a good officer, but a half-decent human being, and there's not too many of those among the ranks. But these past weeks..." His eyes were seeing horrors from those weeks, and only half in the present -- if even that much, Ed thought, as the disturbing gaze zeroed in on him. "It was a slaughter, when they broke through. We hadn't been expecting it. Shit, they were smart... We were cut off, scattered... It was three days before Vine had chance to clean the Captain's blood and brains off his uniform. Do you know how many of us there were? How many there are now? ...Why am I telling you all this?"
"You're the one still suggesting I take his place," Ed hissed. "Isn't that a pretty good reason I should hear how your academy-trained Lieutenant Vine couldn't hack it and you want to dump it on a thirteen year old kid?"
"You outrank everyone else here."
Ed snapped, "You didn't hesitate to call him on his crap in there, when he said it! What's changed?"
Kessel's eyes sparked a dark, desperate fire, and he said flatly, "It's Vine or you. There aren't any other officers left."
Ed gulped. He ground his human hand into his forehead, shut his eyes and tried to level panic. He paced back and forth over the same few feet of floor, needing to be moving, at least. What the hell was he supposed to do? He could almost hear Mustang laughing at him. If he did what they wanted, Mustang wouldn't laugh, he'd set him on fire. "Look. Forget this crazy shit for a second, and -- and let's try looking at this another way. What if you're getting ahead of yourself? You guys haven't been sleeping, and you've probably been eating like shit, too. Hunger, exhaustion, stress... Maybe all your Lieutenant Vine needs is a rest. Put him to bed. Find something to sedate him if you have to! I can probably alchemise that if you don't have it. Food, too, though I can't promise it won't taste awful. We'll do this, and you guys -- you keep going as you have been. When he wakes up, there might not even be a problem anymore. Maybe you won't need to make any important decisions in that time."
Kessel was looking at him with a peculiar expression.
"What?"
"That's... that makes sense." The big soldier rose to his feet, slow and almost as dazed as Vine had looked, before. Then, his freakin' hand rose in a half-salute that couldn't quite make its mind up whether it really, really wanted to be a salute, but was still fucking there. "Major Elric..."
"Forget 'Major Elric'!" Ed roared, temper finally snapping entirely. "I didn't come up with that plan so you can use it to justify your insanity, you military freak! Get out of here and take care of your Lieutenant!"
Kessel dodged his flailed automail punch with a grimace, but as the soldier ducked out of the room to go and obey his orders, Ed had the distinct feeling the plan still wasn't at all working in the way he'd intended.
Chapter 3
"They want me in charge," he growled to Al. Brother had begun delicately examining and cataloguing the books from the monastery, making his base of operations a huge antique desk, which he'd fixed from its splintered state and set upright in one corner of the room. So Ed stomped around gathering up armfuls of the now neatly-stacked books off the floor, bringing them over to the desk in batches. The pages slopped wetly and some of them seemed just a slimy mass, and these were those Al had deemed salvageable? "Can you believe that?!"
"Not really," Al said. Then hurriedly added, "Maybe it's better that way. At least the person in charge won't make you kill people for the military... brother?"
Ed hoisted his soggy armful of books up onto the desk -- which was absurdly and unusually high, and he thoroughly resented the way its top was level with his eyes -- and flailed his arms to articulate his feelings on the matter. Yeah. That should make things perfectly clear.
He pulled himself up onto one of the tall stools and hunched over the desktop, folding his arms around his middle. He looked intently down at the stained wood. "I'm not Mustang," he muttered. "I can't put my alchemy to uses like that." He shuddered at the memory of the man killed while fighting him, dropping dead under his touch.
"I'm glad," Al ventured. "I don't want you to have to do that, either, Ed. So I'm glad they have to listen to what you say."
"They don't," Ed snapped, then groaned in disgust. He would have sunk his head into his hands, but his hands were coated in decaying-book-slime. Maybe he should've just let his gloves get ruined, because now he was going to have to clean out the automail. He leaned forward over the table and, with a quick glance around and a moment's listen in case any of the soldiers should be passing, or lurking, nearby, hissed to Al over the books, "If it comes to that, we'll get the hell out of here. So we need to get as much as we can from these books here now. If we do have to run, there might not be time--
"Right," he said, louder, decisively, scrubbing his hands on his pants and reaching for Al's list, pulling it over to his side of the desk, while Al just looked at him worriedly. "Let's take a look at what we've got here."
They buried themselves in a denial consisting of ancient, soggy texts for a good hour. By the time Kessel banged on the door then walked straight through, they'd found two potentially useful volumes and had turned their energies to working on ideas for a transmutation circle that would dry out the books with the least possible damage to the pages.
The soldier with Kessel was the thin man who'd practically swallowed his tongue after spying Ed's silver watch. It was a minor struggle to remember his name, but eventually Ed dredged up the memory of the others referring to him as Duggan. He was taller but thinner than Kessel, and had more the look of a clerk than a soldier. In fact, there were even faint marks indicating a long-time wearer of spectacles on the sides of his nose. Kessel's jaw was tight and unhappy, lines bunching around the corner of his mouth. Ed eyed them both, hoping they weren't waiting for him to either speak or give them permission to.
"We've got Vine sedated upstairs," Kessel said after a brief silence. "So I guess it's a waiting game, now. I see you got started on your books." He eyed Ed with a mixed expression. Some of the things mixed into it, Ed was pretty sure shouldn't be directed at someone you perceived as a commanding officer. Since he couldn't comment as much without appearing to accept the role, Ed gave him a dirty look right back. "I'm just a soldier," the big man said. "I follow orders. But since there's no-one to give them, I'd suggest it might be a good idea if you go with Daniel and let him show you around. Maybe you can figure out some ways to shore up the defences, as you were talking about. This place is as secure as a garden shed right now."
"Uh." Ed looked at Al, and reluctantly slid off the stool. While it was a good idea, and probably something he should have been doing sooner, he couldn't get away from feeling he was being nudged towards playing Vine's -- and now apparently Kessel's -- game, and that after this he'd end up being nudged into something more. The silver watch felt heavier than usual by his hip. "Sorry," he said to Al. "I'd better go help."
"I'll handle the books, brother," Al reassured him. "Please go and do what you can." He didn't say it, but the concern still exuded from him in waves. Damn it, Ed thought. He was supposed to be helping Al get his body back, not getting dragged into Amestris' wars. How had he been so stupid as to land them in this situation? This was even worse than going back to Eastern and being doled out another mission from the Bastard! At least the Bastard didn't expect him to commit wholesale slaughter or command grown men!
"Fine," he snapped at Duggan. "Lead the way."
Duggan looked cowed. The guy was in awe of the watch. Why was it, Ed thought crossly, that people didn't take him seriously whenever he wanted to be, but were completely unreasonable about things when he tried to insist that he was just a kid?
He turned back to the door, pointing at Kessel. "You leave my brother out of this while I'm gone! Al's not even a member of the military, just a civilian alchemist. And a minor!" There. He still wasn't easy with leaving the two together, though, and kept looking back at them as he followed Duggan into the hall.
He saw quickly why they'd wanted to push this exercise. The place was a wreck. The leaking ceilings of the lower floors were caused by a couple of big holes in the roof where someone had used some kind of heavy weaponry. Pretty big guns to pull out against a bunch of monks.
One of the towers was crumbling from being hit at the top, and some leaking pipes and neglect had pretty much done for the cellars, kitchens and laundry rooms on the lower and basement levels. Anything ornamental that looked like it might be worth something had been stripped from the place. Some of the damage to wooden furnishings and fabrics seemed to be for the hell of it. The same impulse, he figured, that had wrecked the books, tipping them from shelves without a thought that the writings within the old pages might be worth infinitely more than a few silver candlestick holders and crosses.
His ire increased as he was shown around the devastation. He fixed what he could, even the stuff that the soldiers didn't give a damn about like old box-chests and curtains. Maybe the monks who'd lived here would come back; they didn't have to come back to that. Even though he didn't believe in their god, and didn't think it'd win him any favours anyhow, he fixed the small chapel, too. Someone was still going to have to go around the whole place with a mop and bucket. Evaporating the puddles would only put the moisture into the air. The kitchens and cellars needed cleaning out to make them sanitary and he couldn't do anything about that, either. Unless he was stuck here long enough that he actually got out the mop and bucket. Maybe Al could come up with something -- not only was his brother better at ideas involving precision, he was better at all that domestic shit, too.
"Well, we're all fixed up inside," he told the gaping Duggan. "I'll need to get outside to look at giving this place some decent defences from another attack."
Duggan swallowed a few times and managed to gulp, "Yes... yes, sir." That made Ed want to kick him, and since he wasn't in the best of moods for controlling volatile impulses, his automail foot clunked loudly off the back of the man's knee.
Ten minutes later, they were admiring the fruits of his alchemical labour.
Ed didn't think anyone could deny that the place looked seriously cool with the new gargoyles and the moat. Duggan seemed lost for words, standing there stuttering as Ed tested the controls of the drawbridge he'd knocked together in an inspired moment. The moat was more like a ditch, really, since he didn't have much water to put in it. Maybe he could make channels to drain the flooding and rainwater out through the walls? He'd look into it later. In the meantime, it was deep, and he'd smoothed the sides so anyone who tried to cross it would have their work cut out to climb up. Since he'd narrowed the windows from the outside, good luck them finding somewhere to climb to.
"If they do get in," he said, wringing his hands with glee -- okay, so he was getting kind of into this as a project, now he'd started. "Or if they set fire to the place, or bombard it again, or whatever, then I can make tunnels to come out behind the bastards. Then we can show 'em what they get for messing with Edward Elric!"
Duggan was giving him a disturbed look.
"You haven't even seen the best part, yet," Ed crowed, and dragged him back inside to demonstrate how the canons in the gargoyles' mouths worked.
Art by Yuukihikari. Click to go to full size version!
"You've been busy," Kessel remarked sourly, catching up to them while Ed was showing off the gargoyle at the top of the west tower to half a dozen soldiers, and prominently the blonde woman who just couldn't wait to get her hands all over it. She frankly scared him, but it was she who piped up instantly in his defence.
"Thing is, it might all look like some kid's idea of playing soldiers, but it all works," she said excitedly. "We have a decent fucking shot of fighting off an attack now, even if they get reinforcements."
"That so, Mandy?" Kessel's black look was coming down to one of interest. He was leaning over the cannon and the pile of transmuted cannonballs when the commotion elsewhere drew all their attention.
"--That's the sound of that damn drawbridge!" Kessel snapped, as the resonating clang and thud punctuated the shouts from downstairs. Despite being the one who had to rise from his knees, he was the first out of the door. Ed managed to squeeze in after, though it was a narrow thing and he was almost stepped on several times by the soldiers behind as they poured down the narrow stairs. "What the hell's going on?!"
"Lt. Vine... he's gone," gasped a hapless soldier with one leg in bloodied bandages, hanging off a door frame. He pointed with his free hand. "I couldn't stop him. He was ranting... crazy stuff. I mean, crazy. Was that the sedative? I tried... Minton and Jeffries went after him. Maybe some of the other guys, but I couldn't see from here."
It was clear there was nothing the injured man could have done. Ed felt sorry for him as they left him behind. It was a pretty lousy experience watching the world go charging past you when you couldn't walk.
"Al!" he yelled, as they passed the room where he'd left Alphonse, but there was no response. When they got outside, Ed could see the evening sunlight glittering off the large armour in the distance far more easily than he could pick out the blue uniforms of the soldiers.
Kessel swore.
Then, they heard the gunshots.
"AL!" Ed yelped, charging ahead of Kessel towards the distant figures. He got overtaken again quickly, because Kessel's legs were longer, and the woman - Mandy - and Duggan joined him, the former reaching behind herself to grab Ed's shoulder and shove him back, trying to shield his body with hers. The soldiers were drawing guns as they ran.
"Fuck!" Kessel's foot had almost come down on a blue-uniformed body, and the big man skidded, managing to catch himself before he fell. Ed craned around Mandy's waist -- his nose-level -- and felt a bitter taste rise in the back of his mouth at the sight of the dead man; a bullet had taken a chunk out of his skull. He'd seen worse things, but this man -- somebody had done this on purpose. Mandy planted a hand over his face and shoved him back again.
"Damn it, Minton, you idiot!" Kessel said explosively to the dead man, then jerked away with a visible resolve and ran on.
"Kid, go back," Mandy grit. "There's not a thing here that you want to see."
"My little brother's out here!" Ed yelled back, following anyway, ducking another swipe as she half turned around. "And you don't know what I've already seen! And that's 'Mister Kid SIR', to you!"
"Down!" There was a dizzying moment as he ran through a deep thicket and, as the voice whipped out, the whole world was spiralling downwards in a kind of slow motion. Then his face hit the undergrowth and he realised that Kessel, hunched down in the bushes, had grabbed his automail ankle as he ran past. "Damn!" the big man gasped, his voice hoarse and hushed. "Vine thought they'd called for the fucking reinforcements, but--"
Ed lifted his head, mouth half open to swear at the corporal, and froze with his lips still agape. In front of them, it looked like half an army was advancing out of the trees.
Before the army, ran Alphonse. His sprint was a great, clanking cacophony. He had a wounded man over one shoulder and another man in his arms who... well, looked less wounded than frantically shielded. Because shots were rattling off Al's back like raindrops in a downpour as he charged towards them.
Ed grunted sharply, feeling something bruise his forehead, and gawped at the sight of the ball of metal that fell into his open palm when he automatically reached up.
"We're at the limit of effective range," Mandy said, smacking him on the back of the head and, incidentally, shoving his face down again. "Not for long. Come on, you morons, we need to get back in that fucking toy fort now." She glared around them. "Vine's screwed. It's his own fault, and even if he was a decent sort before he was a loon, there's nothing we can do for him now."
If it was harsh, it snapped Kessel back to action. "Back!" he yelled. "Back! Get over the -- the bloody moat!"
There were so many Aerugeans rising up into view from the slope now that nobody needed extra encouragement. Ed certainly didn't need the not-so-helpful tugs and shoves on his shoulders. He couldn't help it if everyone else had freakish long legs, or that one of his was metal!
He was outdistancing them anyway, as they were flagging by the time they fell across the drawbridge and through the door. He bounced off the stonework and turned back, to see where Al was.
The running armour was closer than he'd expected, but the Aerugeans were coming on behind, even though Al had widened the gap. Bullets sent chips flying from the stonework and informed him that they were close enough to do damage with their shots, now, but Ed ignored them, shouting and waving Al onwards. His companions didn't try drag him from the door because they were busy doing the same. A bullet bounced off his hand, leaving a scratch in the metal that Winry would probably wrench him for.
They started to lift the drawbridge even as Al was running toward it, obeying his frantic gestures, and he vaulted the widening space onto the wood, tumbling down the other side still clutching his two burdens. Then the gate was up, and they were sealed inside the fortress Ed had made of the monastery. It was a suddenly terrifying thought -- had he done everything right? What if he'd made some mistake that would give them a route inside? He might cause them all to die...
"Al!" He pounded his brother's metal shoulder in relief.
"He's hurt!" Al squeaked, oblivious, frantically lowering the man from his shoulder. Ed recognised him as the one called Jeffries, a balding fellow older than most of the other soldiers. The man Al had carried in his arms scrabbled free looking acutely embarrassed, uninjured although Alphonse had certainly saved his life. His fellow, though, was copiously bloody around the midriff.
Ed swallowed uncomfortably as he watched his brother lay Jeffries out on the ground. He reached for the soldier's throat to feel for a pulse, suspicious at the unnatural pallor and stillness he already demonstrated, then let his hand fall back. There was a small, neat hole in Jeffries' balding scalp. It had hardly bled at all.
"No!" Al protested, and covered his face with his gauntlet hands, because the man he'd tried so hard to save was already dead.
CONTINUE
AUTHOR: roseveare
RATING: PG-13
GENRE: Gen/Adventure
LENGTH: 17,500 words
SUMMARY: Ed should never have flashed the silver pocket watch in a war zone.
WARNINGS: Language & violence.
NOTES: With thanks to gure126 for beta reading. Written for fmabigbang 2011 -- and because this is for FMA Big Bang, this was a collaboration with two incredibly talented artists, yuukihikari (art post here) and Dracaena Akira (DeviantArt), so I'm really excited to be posting fic with their artwork!
DISCLAIMER: FMA belongs to Hiromu Arakawa and various other people who are not me. Not mine, no profit, yadda, yadda, yadda.
Art by Dracaena-Akira. Click to view on Deviantart!
Fullmetal's Company
Chapter 1
There were altogether too many hills in this part of the South, Ed thought, as they trudged down another slope, picking their way more slowly down the most sheer sections. He walked carefully behind Al. Armour didn’t have much traction on the loose, rocky path, and he'd almost been squashed once already. The terrain wasn't giving his automail leg much joy, either. The metal had sensors connecting to his nerves, and he was getting used to them, but it still wasn't as good at feeling its way and managing fine balance as his flesh-and-blood right.
The sun crept high, making him sweat and giving off an uncomfortable glare, made more so because it reflected off Al, occasionally flaring in his eyes. He tried to keep his mouth shut on this particular complaint. It wasn't Al's fault, and it would only upset his brother. Fortunately, there was no shortage of other things to complain about. The ground was poor, and the vegetation that grew in it only the hardiest, most of which seemed to have prickles and spikes, abrasive leaves or sticky pods that stabbed through his clothes then stuck tenaciously when he tried to pull away.
He was beginning to understand why so few people lived in this part of the South. Even without a war raging at the borders.
With a breathless call to Al, he flopped down on a boulder, at a point where the slope was relatively shallow. He dragged his sleeve over his face. "After all this, I hope this place really exists. But I'm beginning to doubt it."
"I know what you mean," Al said. "These hills seem endless. But really, I don't think we've gone far enough yet. I think we'll get there soon. If it is there."
"I should've known it would be this tedious, trying to get to see a bunch of monks. This is one more illustration of how God feels about me," Ed said flippantly, waving a hand.
"Don't be dramatic, brother." Al couldn't frown, but Ed could hear it there in his voice. "If we do find them, I hope you're not going to say things like that. Remember, we want their help."
"I thought religious folks were supposed to help anyhow, out of the pureness of their spirit and the goodness of their hearts," Ed mocked. Al didn't dignify it with further reply, just exuded disapproval.
They'd heard tales of the old monastery in the hills, which housed an ancient library of sacred texts including, it was said, a number of books that touched on ancient alchemy and even the subject of the philosophers' stone. Ed thought it was a pretty long shot they'd have anything useful, suspecting to find only religious mumbo-jumbo, but it was still the best lead they'd had in a while, and he could be cautiously hopeful.
"I hope the monks have food," he sighed. His stomach agreed with him audibly.
"I told you to save something, and not just eat it all..."
"...Nag, nag, nag..." He looked around at the plants, but none of them were remotely edible. The cross thought that Al kept acting more like a mother than a brother contained associations that were far too painful to voice. "...Hey." He paused, listened hard, looked up at Al warily, and whispered, "I hear something."
Something pinged off Al's armoured back and he yelped. A seven foot suit of armour yelping and jumping off the ground in fright was an incongruous sight. Not that Ed cared about that, right now! "Some bastard's shooting at us!"
Al turned and planted his metal body like a shield. Ed ducked down behind his rock. Al... despite his swift actions to protect the one of them who still had vulnerable flesh, Al was muttering a steady, "Can't be shot, doesn't hurt, can't be shot..." He wasn't completely used to the idea of being nigh invulnerable to normal physical attacks. Ed grit his teeth. He waved his automail hand out of hiding furiously and yelled, "Who the hell is it, shooting at a couple of kids?! QUIT THAT, ALREADY!!!"
The new flurry of shots silenced, but Ed thought it was probably more because hitting Al was useless and they didn't have an angle on himself. He hissed at his brother, "Can you see where they're shooting from?"
"I can't see anyone at all." Al turned around a full circuit, scanning their surroundings. He jumped slightly as a bullet penetrated the more vulnerable leather on the side of the armour, leaving a hole, and rattling inside him. "Ugh! So creepy!" It didn't do Al any harm that couldn't be fixed, though the sniper must have thought they'd made a key shot.
"Bastards!" Ed yelled. "Show yourselves!" It did about as much good as he'd expected.
"Brother," Al said urgently, "I think we need to give ourselves up. We're pinned down here! You can't use alchemy against a sniper you can't see. Bullets will hurt you."
"Screw that!" Ed snarled. "We can't know what they'd do if we gave ourselves up. I can't see them, but I can still defend myself!" He clapped his hands and slapped his palms to the ground. A curved wall rose up in front of them. Ed crouched down, leaning his back against the alchemised surface, twitching. People were shooting at him.
Schematics and mechanics ran through his mind, his thoughts seeming slow and sluggish in the fraught circumstances. Winry would kill him if he used her automail as materials to transmute some kind of projectile weapon, but using Al's armour was out of the question and, well, he would use the automail if he had to. The loose, sandy soil here lacked for useful mineral content and was just inviting a rebound. He tried to think of anything else that would work from a distance.
"I'll deal with this," said Al, suddenly, a forced brightness to his voice, and Ed realised too late that he'd also been thinking hard. Al stood up and broke into a heavy, clanking run for the scrubby cover surrounding them, where somewhere the gunman or gunmen lay in wait. Ed wasn't fast enough to do anything about it, automail fingers clutching and missing by miles.
"Damn it, Al!" Of all the times to come to terms with being impervious to bullets... Of course, you could probably still smash the armour apart, with heavy duty or explosive rounds. Ed tried not to think about that as he waited, crouched behind his transmuted mini-fort and feeling useless. If they had explosives, he told himself, they'd have used them already, surely? And he'd definitely hear it. All he could pick out were a few noises that might've been very distant shots, or snapping twigs, or anything, really.
After it had been quiet for too long, he craned carefully up, and moved to look over the wall.
The crunch of a footfall turned him sharply around. He wasn't the only one surprised, though. The large, rather raggedly-dressed man's mouth fell open in surprise. "A kid...?"
He was too close -- his mistake. Ed launched himself up off the ground, pushing with the mechanical strength of his left leg, and was inside the range of the rifle before the weapon could be brought to bear. He clapped, and the blade formed from his automail sheared the gun in half.
A shot rang out, though Ed had been sure he'd destroyed too much of the mechanism for the weapon to fire. He hadn't been shot, and diverting attention from the enemy in front of him seemed a good way to get himself killed. In a continuation of his movement, he grabbed the large man's arm, propelling his own smaller form into the air, legs snapping around the man's neck and using the momentum to slam him backwards onto the ground.
There was something eerie about the silence and lack of resistance as the body went down. No grunt, no laboured breathing... no noise at all, not even when Ed flipped and landed on his chest. He rolled aside, confused, and it was then he saw the red stain. It was his opponent who'd been shot.
For a moment, the realisation rendered Edward frozen and speechless. The last and only human being to die in front of him had been his mother, and the painful memories weighted his tongue in his mouth and locked his limbs. This death... was Ed's fault, in a way. Wasn't it? If he hadn't been distracting the man, would he have been killed?
His brain finally kicked into gear again... Shit, that meant someone else was shooting! He scooted backwards frantically, thinking he'd left himself wide open for more than enough time already, thinking he was an idiot... Who'd fix Al, if he got himself killed?
No shot came, and waiting in those desperate seconds for it, his vision narrowed upon the pistol still holstered at the dead man's side. A quick dive forward, and it'd be within reach. That thought was still blazing in his mind when a figure broke cover some fifty yards away and sped, hunched, toward Ed's own position. Ed yelped and raised his hands to transmute -- what, he wasn't sure yet -- but his eyes registered the Amestris military uniform. As well as the fact this soldier's gun was not pointed his way, and his free hand held forward, open and empty, in a 'hold fire' gesture.
Blinking, Ed watched as the soldier threw his larger body down next to him, using the cover of his transmuted wall. "What--?"
"So they're waylaying kids, now," the man said, grim eyes running over Ed's form in a manner that was assessing, but gave away nothing of any conclusions that were drawn. "That's a new low."
"Who are they?" Ed found his voice. "I didn't think the rebels were this far South!"
"Easterner, huh? No rebels. Aerugeans. A bit of property disagreement with Amestris. You should have heard of it; it's been going on for a while now."
"The Aerugeans are this far into Amestris?" Ed asked, horrified. They weren't anywhere near the border, and he'd not for one moment dreamed they were walking right into the conflict.
The soldier grimaced. "Not usually. It's been a bitch of a week. Maybe news hasn't gotten to you, if you've been travelling and out of touch. We'll have it all back under control soon, kid. They say the Fuhrer himself is coming down with the reinforcements, and no battle he took part in was ever lost." His teeth glinted in a grin of sheer hero-worship. "Until then, we're a bit scattered, trying to pick off the units that broke through the lines. The only godsend is how few people live out here."
Art by Yuukihikari. Click to go to full size version!
"Huh... that guy. Shit," muttered Ed, scrubbing at his face left-handed in tired dismay.
The soldier laughed. "No kidding, kid. Hey, what's your name?"
"Ed. Look, my brother's out there." He pointed in the direction Al had run off. "He's -- he's a big guy in armour, but he's really only a kid, too. I need to--"
"Don't fret." He was cut off genially. "Guy in armour, right? I've people over that way, we'll pick up your brother, too. And it's Corporal Kessel, here, since you asked."
"Uh, thanks," Ed said. "I didn't know we were walking into the middle of a war zone. Guess that's a pretty big screw-up of my planning." He studied Kessel: a big man, but he'd folded up small to sit down, agile despite his size. He had a scruffy half-inch of blond beard that didn't look like it was there by choice, a slightly longer scrub of blond hair and a recent scar above one side of his mouth. Eyes the grey of rainclouds. His uniform was stained, torn and ragged, and the stain on his left arm was definitely blood. Ed could see the proof of how desperate and cut-off the solders here were, though this guy was cool and professional, with his body and voice, at least, not giving the desperation sway.
The wide mouth crooked into a grin. "Finished staring?"
"You remind me of this other guy I know. There's not a chainsmoking beanpole around here somewhere, as well?"
The fellow gave him an odd look, then abruptly his hand slapped down on Ed's shoulder. "Hey, that's the all clear. Look lively." The hand lingered a surprised moment, fingers prodding into the automail joint.
Ed hadn't seen or heard any signal, but Kessel seemed trustworthy, within reason, so he let himself be urged up to his feet and followed in a sort of running crouch across the open ground. Relief flooded through him when they broke through a line of trees and there, in a slight dip in the land beyond, was Al. Three more soldiers in Amestris uniform were with him, but Ed had focus only for his brother. There was blood on Al's hands and his aura of expression was sort of shocked.
The soldiers, when he gave himself a moment to note it, looked sort of shocked too.
"AL! Are you alright?"
"...Um..."
"The big guy took out four of them," a female soldier announced, gleefully slapping the back of the armour with a resounding clang.
"T-they were shooting at my brother," Al stuttered. "Not even for any reason!"
"Well, you sure do a good job of protecting your little brother," one of the men cut in, a thin man with a nervous smile and a bandage on his right hand.
"HEY! I'm NOT little! What the hell makes you think you can just--"
Kessel's fist struck the back of Ed's head hard enough to make his eyes water. "Ease up on shouting off our position to the enemy, dumbass," he growled.
"Ed's the older brother," Al squeaked hurriedly (and quietly). "I'm twelve. Brother's thirteen. We're both alchemists. I'm sorry, he always starts yelling about his height." Flustered, he ignored Ed's accusing glower at this treachery.
"Twelve?" The revelation met with the usual blank stares, and Al would've been blushing if he could. "...Well," the soldier said quickly, moving on, "alchemists at thirteen and twelve... Pretty impressive kids..." His voice dried up, and his already nervous face sort of dropped. His stare was fixed on something...
Ed forgot his wrath and followed the gaze down. He twined his fingers around the watch chain affixed to his belt and slowly lifted his hand, drawing the chain out. From beneath narrowed eyelids, he watched the soldier's expression sag further into utter astonishment as the watch peeped into view and then slowly emerged in its entire, the Amestris crest glittering in silver. It was like the man watched him perform a particularly spectacular magic trick.
Okay, so the title of State Alchemist was a stigma, a consequence of his own foolhardy acts, part of the sacrifice he made in the hopes of restoring himself and Al to their bodies, and a ball and chain that tied him to a regime representing everything he despised, but there were times when Ed couldn't get enough of this reaction from strangers.
Al prodded him painfully. "Brother, you're smirking."
"S-s-sir..." the soldier stammered, finally tearing his eyes from Ed's watch to lift them to his face. "S-sir?"
Kessel swore the air an impressive streak of blue. Ed's smugness had become a casualty of confusion by now. He protested, "It's not that big a deal," to the ring of faces whose expressions he couldn't fathom. "I--"
"State Alchemist," Kessel said without any inflection. He shook his head, silencing Ed. The thin soldier twitched nervously. "We'll talk about this later. Right now, we need to get you boys back to base, to Lieutenant Vine." His hand came down on Ed's shoulder, overly rough but probably not intentionally. Then Kessel moved past Ed and spoke with the others in low voices augmented by swift, curt hand signals as the small group began to break apart. The soldiers fanned out across the ground, and Kessel gestured for Ed and Al to keep down and follow him.
Ed was locked into muteness not just by the need to keep their position from the enemy. He had been so stupid. That damned watch! It had been a mistake to let them see it. He'd just announced himself as a State Alchemist in the middle of a war zone. Of course they'd looked at him like that, a so-called 'human weapon' landing unexpectedly in their lap. They could mean to ask anything of him... anything... There were too many things he couldn't possibly do.
He grit his teeth and followed Kessel. Al rattled faintly at his back, having put the facts together, too -- probably before Ed himself had done so. Ed fumed. Well, right now they were out of their depth. For the time being they'd just have to let themselves be led by Kessel and hear these people out.
As for what might happen after that, all bets were off.
Chapter 2
They had found their monastery.
"No," Ed said numbly, when he saw the wreckage of the interior. Piles of books lay rotting and disintegrating in the stagnant water pools from the leaking roof, tumbled and abandoned on the floor. "No." His protest turned to anger, "What the fuck did you people do?!" he demanded, grabbing the front of Kessel's jacket (he couldn't quite reach the collar) with his automail hand. "This is supposed to be some quiet religious place, a bunch of monks and books and some decent fucking food!"
"Ed!" Al was trying to pull him away, but not this time, he thought, seeing white.
Kessel ignored the automail in favour of catching his left arm by the wrist and twisting until Ed was forced to release the metal grip with a yelp. "War happened. We think the monks got out. At least, we didn't find any bodies."
Ed fell back, rubbing at his living arm with the fingers he couldn't feel. He seethed. "This is where we were trying to get to. There was supposed to be stuff here that we could use. Look at this mess! Everything's ruined!"
"It might not be, brother." Al's hand on his shoulder was nervous, almost pleading. "There are books around. Some of them might be salvageable, or at least still readable. We might still find a useful lead here."
Kessel's face settled into a grimace. He looked down at Ed, who promptly stopped rubbing his arm, straightening both arms at his sides and bunching his fists. "Books, huh? I guess it didn't occur to anyone they were valuable. We've been using this place as a base, but the Aerugeans trashed most of it before we ever get here. If the books are what you're interested in, better salvage what you can. I'm pretty sure nobody will mind. The monks might even thank you, if they ever come back."
"Thank you," Al said politely. "We'd like to do that."
"First things first," Ed said. He'd much rather explore the place and search through the books, but the unhappy roiling of his stomach had returned to override thoughts for his own mission. "I need to speak to this lieutenant of yours, remember? He's the one in charge here, you said?" I need to know where I stand.
Kessel sighed. "I'm pretty sure he'll want to speak to you." Something in his manner when he spoke of his commanding officer was odd. Uncertain, even nervous. "Come with me, then."
Ed stopped Al's move to follow with a palm on his breastplate, the clang of metal meeting metal distinct even through the glove. "No, Al. You should stay here. Make a start on the books. I'm the only one who's in the military, after all."
"Brother..."
Al was rightly suspicious. This was going to be a conversation he didn't want his younger brother to be in on. Being tied to the state was his bed of nails. If they were going to ask of him what he feared they would... "It's not going to help if you're there," Ed admitted, half under his breath. "Just find us something to make walking into this mess worthwhile, okay?"
Al nodded unhappily, and his big form creaked as he knelt down to delicately pick up a book. It dripped and the spine sagged and bent. Ed winced.
He turned back to Kessel with a curt nod. The soldier raised his eyebrows and led the way. They traipsed through countless more of the monastery's narrow corridors and up an even narrower spiral staircase. About halfway up what was surely one of the three towers he'd observed from outside, Kessel rapped on a wooden door then pushed it open. He waited for Ed to go in before him, then shut it after them with a final sort of click.
"Lieutenant Vine, sir. We -- ran into someone, outside," he offered, slowly. There was a wariness in his voice and stance.
Ed couldn't fathom why. He'd figured these folk were scared of their commanding officer: had expected someone even worse than the Bastard: only a thin, almost sickly pale man waited within the small, round tower room. Seated at the one chair near the window, the daylight fell full onto him, and there was nothing about him to inspire any sort of fear. He turned to face them, moving far too slowly for a solider in a battle zone. His eyes were red-rimmed, though his face was a shaven contrast to the rest of the men. He was sweating. At first, Ed thought he was injured, but he couldn't see any obvious signs of injury or bandaging.
"A child," Vine said slowly. The movement of his lips seemed clumsy, the words blurred. The man's voice and hands shook. "Kessel, why--"
"I'm... Edward Elric," Ed said, swallowing hard. He had to stand his ground. He produced the silver watch. "A state alchemist. I'm thirteen," he added for good measure. "I was the youngest..."
"Yes, I've heard of you." Vine sounded dazed, and Ed wondered suddenly, Is he drunk? He fell a step back, startled, as Vine jerked to his feet. The lieutenant scooped the watch up, letting it lie in his palm while Edward's hovering fingers remained wrapped around the end of its chain. "It was... Fullmetal, wasn't it? Is that right... sir?"
"Uh." Ed dropped the chain, leaving his symbol of office at Vine's mercy. "You really don't have to call me that." There was something wrong with Vine, badly wrong, and whatever it was frightened him more than even the thought of being ordered to use his alchemy to kill. He edged a bit further into the room, trying to sidle subtly away from Vine. He looked to Kessel for help, but found no comfort in the soldier's fixed countenance.
Vine corrected, "But as a State Alchemist, you are the equivalent to a Major, and -- if I may say so, your arrival is timed to match our need perfectly." Edward really didn't want to touch the sweating palm extended toward him to take back his watch. Not even with his gloves on. Not even with the automail. Maybe if he made a really quick grab...
"I'm thirteen." His voice cracked out more assertively than he'd maybe intended. He could feel his heart pounding as he clutched the silver watch to his chest. "You can't send me into battle." Mustang said so. Then again, what he actually said WAS that they wouldn't SEND me into battle, and nothing about what would happen if I idiotically managed to send myself there. "There's a bunch of other stuff I can do to shore up the defences, though," he added, with forced brightness. "I'm good at stonework. This place -- I can fix it, improve fortifications--" I'm not killing people for you.
Vine looked confused. Enough so, Ed almost convinced himself he'd misread the situation and began to feel the first stirrings of relief. He wouldn't be expected to use his alchemy to create a field of slaughter, like the State Alchemists at Ishbal... Then the Lieutenant said, "Of course, the decision of how to proceed would be yours, sir. I'm sure you know the best ways to apply your skills."
...What?
Ed's watch hit the floor, falling from his nerveless fingers. Kessel made an inarticulate noise. "Vine!" he barked, respect of rank all forgotten. "Corwin. You can't put this kid in command! You can't be thinking to--"
Art by Yuukihikari. Click to go to full size version!
"Major Elric might outrank any Amestris officer within fifty miles, after last week's losses." Vine blinked in a not-quite-focused way. "So you see, I'm sure that this is the right thing to do." He earnestly patted Kessel's shoulder. "We must respect the chain of command. Central know what they're doing when they assign rank. You need to have more faith."
Kessel stared at the arm and stared at him.
"Bullshit!" Ed yelped, scrabbling on the floor for his watch, hearing the chain links crunch as he grabbed it. "I'm not taking over, you lazy bastard! That's not my job. I'm an alchemist! I make stuff, I fix stuff, I chase about the country after shit missions that I swear that bastard Colonel in Eastern makes up on the spot! I don't lead soldiers!"
Kessel scrubbed a hand over his face. "Thank fuck the kid's at least smart enough to recognise this is so much bullshit. Corwi-- Lt Vine, sir, what the hell?"
"It's a technicality," Ed said, his anger rising. The guy could just out and ask that of him, and think it okay? "Nobody was ever gonna cash in on the rank. Not before I reached sixteen. No way. Y'know, because of the part where that would be freakin' NUTS?"
"But it's true," Vine said, with helpless bewilderment. "So you must. You must." The way he said it seemed almost like he couldn't contemplate anything else.
"I must not," Ed snarled back. "For one thing, Mustang -- that's Colonel Mustang -- would kill me, and for once, that bastard would actually be right."
"Far be it for me to tell you how to do your duty, sir," Vine murmured indistinctly, turning aside so that his greasy, overlong hair hid his face. The statement made Ed all the more livid. He couldn't deny a cheap thrill from adults calling him 'sir', but this guy didn't know when to leave it alone. Something about the subdued appearance of the man stopped him from erupting again, though. Instead, he looked nervously at Kessel, letting the silence and his expression ask the question.
Kessel made an effort to rise to the occasion. "Sir, we need to talk about this. I think you're not well." The Lieutenant stared out of the narrow window as though he'd not heard at all. "Take a few minutes," Kessel urged, with a touch of desperation. "Get it together. I'm gonna take the kid outside. Corwin?" The name still elicited no reaction. Kessel's released breath was sharp, and he grabbed Ed's shoulder and shoved him out of the room, slamming the door. They made it up half a flight of stairs and into a box room before the soldier slumped down heavily onto a broken bench and put his head in his hands, knuckles showing white as his fingers twisted into his hair.
Ed un-grit his teeth and rubbed circulation back into his shoulder. After a moment, he ducked down and peered into the shadows of Kessel's bowed face, then poked him in the knee with an automail finger when he didn't react. "Do you guys have any doctors here?"
"No doctors." But at least the man sat up. "He's right. He's right, fuck... He's not fit for command. I knew it. I could see it. I should've done something before now. I should've..."
"Hey!" Ed barely had time to start the protest before Kessel had grabbed his extended hand, shoved the sleeve back to bare the steel wrist, then just as swiftly let him go with a grunt, the question satisfied. Apparently Kessel had gone beyond the mood to engage in niceties. "Fine. So is the leg, bastard, in case you were about to make a grab for that, too." He placed himself out of Kessel's reach just in case.
"'Fullmetal'," Kessel muttered. "So you are no stranger to war. I suppose that's something."
Mustang, and common sense besides (which Mustang seemed to think he didn't have), had advised him not to contradict the general assumption that his limbs had been lost in the East's civil war, but Ed might've done so if he'd not had more important assumptions to check, right then and there. "I'm not doing it, and if you still think I am, you're as crazy as he is."
"He's not--" Kessel stopped, and stared beyond him into nothing. Slowly, softer words dragged from his lips, so quiet Ed could barely hear them. "I know. I've known it for days. I just... I never thought he'd snap. We've been out here together three years. They said that back at the academy, he was some kind of tactical genius. An officer who was going to do great things. Damned if he didn't live up to it, too... he did. Not just a good officer, but a half-decent human being, and there's not too many of those among the ranks. But these past weeks..." His eyes were seeing horrors from those weeks, and only half in the present -- if even that much, Ed thought, as the disturbing gaze zeroed in on him. "It was a slaughter, when they broke through. We hadn't been expecting it. Shit, they were smart... We were cut off, scattered... It was three days before Vine had chance to clean the Captain's blood and brains off his uniform. Do you know how many of us there were? How many there are now? ...Why am I telling you all this?"
"You're the one still suggesting I take his place," Ed hissed. "Isn't that a pretty good reason I should hear how your academy-trained Lieutenant Vine couldn't hack it and you want to dump it on a thirteen year old kid?"
"You outrank everyone else here."
Ed snapped, "You didn't hesitate to call him on his crap in there, when he said it! What's changed?"
Kessel's eyes sparked a dark, desperate fire, and he said flatly, "It's Vine or you. There aren't any other officers left."
Ed gulped. He ground his human hand into his forehead, shut his eyes and tried to level panic. He paced back and forth over the same few feet of floor, needing to be moving, at least. What the hell was he supposed to do? He could almost hear Mustang laughing at him. If he did what they wanted, Mustang wouldn't laugh, he'd set him on fire. "Look. Forget this crazy shit for a second, and -- and let's try looking at this another way. What if you're getting ahead of yourself? You guys haven't been sleeping, and you've probably been eating like shit, too. Hunger, exhaustion, stress... Maybe all your Lieutenant Vine needs is a rest. Put him to bed. Find something to sedate him if you have to! I can probably alchemise that if you don't have it. Food, too, though I can't promise it won't taste awful. We'll do this, and you guys -- you keep going as you have been. When he wakes up, there might not even be a problem anymore. Maybe you won't need to make any important decisions in that time."
Kessel was looking at him with a peculiar expression.
"What?"
"That's... that makes sense." The big soldier rose to his feet, slow and almost as dazed as Vine had looked, before. Then, his freakin' hand rose in a half-salute that couldn't quite make its mind up whether it really, really wanted to be a salute, but was still fucking there. "Major Elric..."
"Forget 'Major Elric'!" Ed roared, temper finally snapping entirely. "I didn't come up with that plan so you can use it to justify your insanity, you military freak! Get out of here and take care of your Lieutenant!"
Kessel dodged his flailed automail punch with a grimace, but as the soldier ducked out of the room to go and obey his orders, Ed had the distinct feeling the plan still wasn't at all working in the way he'd intended.
Chapter 3
"They want me in charge," he growled to Al. Brother had begun delicately examining and cataloguing the books from the monastery, making his base of operations a huge antique desk, which he'd fixed from its splintered state and set upright in one corner of the room. So Ed stomped around gathering up armfuls of the now neatly-stacked books off the floor, bringing them over to the desk in batches. The pages slopped wetly and some of them seemed just a slimy mass, and these were those Al had deemed salvageable? "Can you believe that?!"
"Not really," Al said. Then hurriedly added, "Maybe it's better that way. At least the person in charge won't make you kill people for the military... brother?"
Ed hoisted his soggy armful of books up onto the desk -- which was absurdly and unusually high, and he thoroughly resented the way its top was level with his eyes -- and flailed his arms to articulate his feelings on the matter. Yeah. That should make things perfectly clear.
He pulled himself up onto one of the tall stools and hunched over the desktop, folding his arms around his middle. He looked intently down at the stained wood. "I'm not Mustang," he muttered. "I can't put my alchemy to uses like that." He shuddered at the memory of the man killed while fighting him, dropping dead under his touch.
"I'm glad," Al ventured. "I don't want you to have to do that, either, Ed. So I'm glad they have to listen to what you say."
"They don't," Ed snapped, then groaned in disgust. He would have sunk his head into his hands, but his hands were coated in decaying-book-slime. Maybe he should've just let his gloves get ruined, because now he was going to have to clean out the automail. He leaned forward over the table and, with a quick glance around and a moment's listen in case any of the soldiers should be passing, or lurking, nearby, hissed to Al over the books, "If it comes to that, we'll get the hell out of here. So we need to get as much as we can from these books here now. If we do have to run, there might not be time--
"Right," he said, louder, decisively, scrubbing his hands on his pants and reaching for Al's list, pulling it over to his side of the desk, while Al just looked at him worriedly. "Let's take a look at what we've got here."
They buried themselves in a denial consisting of ancient, soggy texts for a good hour. By the time Kessel banged on the door then walked straight through, they'd found two potentially useful volumes and had turned their energies to working on ideas for a transmutation circle that would dry out the books with the least possible damage to the pages.
The soldier with Kessel was the thin man who'd practically swallowed his tongue after spying Ed's silver watch. It was a minor struggle to remember his name, but eventually Ed dredged up the memory of the others referring to him as Duggan. He was taller but thinner than Kessel, and had more the look of a clerk than a soldier. In fact, there were even faint marks indicating a long-time wearer of spectacles on the sides of his nose. Kessel's jaw was tight and unhappy, lines bunching around the corner of his mouth. Ed eyed them both, hoping they weren't waiting for him to either speak or give them permission to.
"We've got Vine sedated upstairs," Kessel said after a brief silence. "So I guess it's a waiting game, now. I see you got started on your books." He eyed Ed with a mixed expression. Some of the things mixed into it, Ed was pretty sure shouldn't be directed at someone you perceived as a commanding officer. Since he couldn't comment as much without appearing to accept the role, Ed gave him a dirty look right back. "I'm just a soldier," the big man said. "I follow orders. But since there's no-one to give them, I'd suggest it might be a good idea if you go with Daniel and let him show you around. Maybe you can figure out some ways to shore up the defences, as you were talking about. This place is as secure as a garden shed right now."
"Uh." Ed looked at Al, and reluctantly slid off the stool. While it was a good idea, and probably something he should have been doing sooner, he couldn't get away from feeling he was being nudged towards playing Vine's -- and now apparently Kessel's -- game, and that after this he'd end up being nudged into something more. The silver watch felt heavier than usual by his hip. "Sorry," he said to Al. "I'd better go help."
"I'll handle the books, brother," Al reassured him. "Please go and do what you can." He didn't say it, but the concern still exuded from him in waves. Damn it, Ed thought. He was supposed to be helping Al get his body back, not getting dragged into Amestris' wars. How had he been so stupid as to land them in this situation? This was even worse than going back to Eastern and being doled out another mission from the Bastard! At least the Bastard didn't expect him to commit wholesale slaughter or command grown men!
"Fine," he snapped at Duggan. "Lead the way."
Duggan looked cowed. The guy was in awe of the watch. Why was it, Ed thought crossly, that people didn't take him seriously whenever he wanted to be, but were completely unreasonable about things when he tried to insist that he was just a kid?
He turned back to the door, pointing at Kessel. "You leave my brother out of this while I'm gone! Al's not even a member of the military, just a civilian alchemist. And a minor!" There. He still wasn't easy with leaving the two together, though, and kept looking back at them as he followed Duggan into the hall.
He saw quickly why they'd wanted to push this exercise. The place was a wreck. The leaking ceilings of the lower floors were caused by a couple of big holes in the roof where someone had used some kind of heavy weaponry. Pretty big guns to pull out against a bunch of monks.
One of the towers was crumbling from being hit at the top, and some leaking pipes and neglect had pretty much done for the cellars, kitchens and laundry rooms on the lower and basement levels. Anything ornamental that looked like it might be worth something had been stripped from the place. Some of the damage to wooden furnishings and fabrics seemed to be for the hell of it. The same impulse, he figured, that had wrecked the books, tipping them from shelves without a thought that the writings within the old pages might be worth infinitely more than a few silver candlestick holders and crosses.
His ire increased as he was shown around the devastation. He fixed what he could, even the stuff that the soldiers didn't give a damn about like old box-chests and curtains. Maybe the monks who'd lived here would come back; they didn't have to come back to that. Even though he didn't believe in their god, and didn't think it'd win him any favours anyhow, he fixed the small chapel, too. Someone was still going to have to go around the whole place with a mop and bucket. Evaporating the puddles would only put the moisture into the air. The kitchens and cellars needed cleaning out to make them sanitary and he couldn't do anything about that, either. Unless he was stuck here long enough that he actually got out the mop and bucket. Maybe Al could come up with something -- not only was his brother better at ideas involving precision, he was better at all that domestic shit, too.
"Well, we're all fixed up inside," he told the gaping Duggan. "I'll need to get outside to look at giving this place some decent defences from another attack."
Duggan swallowed a few times and managed to gulp, "Yes... yes, sir." That made Ed want to kick him, and since he wasn't in the best of moods for controlling volatile impulses, his automail foot clunked loudly off the back of the man's knee.
Ten minutes later, they were admiring the fruits of his alchemical labour.
Ed didn't think anyone could deny that the place looked seriously cool with the new gargoyles and the moat. Duggan seemed lost for words, standing there stuttering as Ed tested the controls of the drawbridge he'd knocked together in an inspired moment. The moat was more like a ditch, really, since he didn't have much water to put in it. Maybe he could make channels to drain the flooding and rainwater out through the walls? He'd look into it later. In the meantime, it was deep, and he'd smoothed the sides so anyone who tried to cross it would have their work cut out to climb up. Since he'd narrowed the windows from the outside, good luck them finding somewhere to climb to.
"If they do get in," he said, wringing his hands with glee -- okay, so he was getting kind of into this as a project, now he'd started. "Or if they set fire to the place, or bombard it again, or whatever, then I can make tunnels to come out behind the bastards. Then we can show 'em what they get for messing with Edward Elric!"
Duggan was giving him a disturbed look.
"You haven't even seen the best part, yet," Ed crowed, and dragged him back inside to demonstrate how the canons in the gargoyles' mouths worked.
Art by Yuukihikari. Click to go to full size version!
"You've been busy," Kessel remarked sourly, catching up to them while Ed was showing off the gargoyle at the top of the west tower to half a dozen soldiers, and prominently the blonde woman who just couldn't wait to get her hands all over it. She frankly scared him, but it was she who piped up instantly in his defence.
"Thing is, it might all look like some kid's idea of playing soldiers, but it all works," she said excitedly. "We have a decent fucking shot of fighting off an attack now, even if they get reinforcements."
"That so, Mandy?" Kessel's black look was coming down to one of interest. He was leaning over the cannon and the pile of transmuted cannonballs when the commotion elsewhere drew all their attention.
"--That's the sound of that damn drawbridge!" Kessel snapped, as the resonating clang and thud punctuated the shouts from downstairs. Despite being the one who had to rise from his knees, he was the first out of the door. Ed managed to squeeze in after, though it was a narrow thing and he was almost stepped on several times by the soldiers behind as they poured down the narrow stairs. "What the hell's going on?!"
"Lt. Vine... he's gone," gasped a hapless soldier with one leg in bloodied bandages, hanging off a door frame. He pointed with his free hand. "I couldn't stop him. He was ranting... crazy stuff. I mean, crazy. Was that the sedative? I tried... Minton and Jeffries went after him. Maybe some of the other guys, but I couldn't see from here."
It was clear there was nothing the injured man could have done. Ed felt sorry for him as they left him behind. It was a pretty lousy experience watching the world go charging past you when you couldn't walk.
"Al!" he yelled, as they passed the room where he'd left Alphonse, but there was no response. When they got outside, Ed could see the evening sunlight glittering off the large armour in the distance far more easily than he could pick out the blue uniforms of the soldiers.
Kessel swore.
Then, they heard the gunshots.
"AL!" Ed yelped, charging ahead of Kessel towards the distant figures. He got overtaken again quickly, because Kessel's legs were longer, and the woman - Mandy - and Duggan joined him, the former reaching behind herself to grab Ed's shoulder and shove him back, trying to shield his body with hers. The soldiers were drawing guns as they ran.
"Fuck!" Kessel's foot had almost come down on a blue-uniformed body, and the big man skidded, managing to catch himself before he fell. Ed craned around Mandy's waist -- his nose-level -- and felt a bitter taste rise in the back of his mouth at the sight of the dead man; a bullet had taken a chunk out of his skull. He'd seen worse things, but this man -- somebody had done this on purpose. Mandy planted a hand over his face and shoved him back again.
"Damn it, Minton, you idiot!" Kessel said explosively to the dead man, then jerked away with a visible resolve and ran on.
"Kid, go back," Mandy grit. "There's not a thing here that you want to see."
"My little brother's out here!" Ed yelled back, following anyway, ducking another swipe as she half turned around. "And you don't know what I've already seen! And that's 'Mister Kid SIR', to you!"
"Down!" There was a dizzying moment as he ran through a deep thicket and, as the voice whipped out, the whole world was spiralling downwards in a kind of slow motion. Then his face hit the undergrowth and he realised that Kessel, hunched down in the bushes, had grabbed his automail ankle as he ran past. "Damn!" the big man gasped, his voice hoarse and hushed. "Vine thought they'd called for the fucking reinforcements, but--"
Ed lifted his head, mouth half open to swear at the corporal, and froze with his lips still agape. In front of them, it looked like half an army was advancing out of the trees.
Before the army, ran Alphonse. His sprint was a great, clanking cacophony. He had a wounded man over one shoulder and another man in his arms who... well, looked less wounded than frantically shielded. Because shots were rattling off Al's back like raindrops in a downpour as he charged towards them.
Ed grunted sharply, feeling something bruise his forehead, and gawped at the sight of the ball of metal that fell into his open palm when he automatically reached up.
"We're at the limit of effective range," Mandy said, smacking him on the back of the head and, incidentally, shoving his face down again. "Not for long. Come on, you morons, we need to get back in that fucking toy fort now." She glared around them. "Vine's screwed. It's his own fault, and even if he was a decent sort before he was a loon, there's nothing we can do for him now."
If it was harsh, it snapped Kessel back to action. "Back!" he yelled. "Back! Get over the -- the bloody moat!"
There were so many Aerugeans rising up into view from the slope now that nobody needed extra encouragement. Ed certainly didn't need the not-so-helpful tugs and shoves on his shoulders. He couldn't help it if everyone else had freakish long legs, or that one of his was metal!
He was outdistancing them anyway, as they were flagging by the time they fell across the drawbridge and through the door. He bounced off the stonework and turned back, to see where Al was.
The running armour was closer than he'd expected, but the Aerugeans were coming on behind, even though Al had widened the gap. Bullets sent chips flying from the stonework and informed him that they were close enough to do damage with their shots, now, but Ed ignored them, shouting and waving Al onwards. His companions didn't try drag him from the door because they were busy doing the same. A bullet bounced off his hand, leaving a scratch in the metal that Winry would probably wrench him for.
They started to lift the drawbridge even as Al was running toward it, obeying his frantic gestures, and he vaulted the widening space onto the wood, tumbling down the other side still clutching his two burdens. Then the gate was up, and they were sealed inside the fortress Ed had made of the monastery. It was a suddenly terrifying thought -- had he done everything right? What if he'd made some mistake that would give them a route inside? He might cause them all to die...
"Al!" He pounded his brother's metal shoulder in relief.
"He's hurt!" Al squeaked, oblivious, frantically lowering the man from his shoulder. Ed recognised him as the one called Jeffries, a balding fellow older than most of the other soldiers. The man Al had carried in his arms scrabbled free looking acutely embarrassed, uninjured although Alphonse had certainly saved his life. His fellow, though, was copiously bloody around the midriff.
Ed swallowed uncomfortably as he watched his brother lay Jeffries out on the ground. He reached for the soldier's throat to feel for a pulse, suspicious at the unnatural pallor and stillness he already demonstrated, then let his hand fall back. There was a small, neat hole in Jeffries' balding scalp. It had hardly bled at all.
"No!" Al protested, and covered his face with his gauntlet hands, because the man he'd tried so hard to save was already dead.
CONTINUE