Pawns Chapter 35
I'm soooooo close to the end. Sooo close. Thanks again for betaing circe67
FLAME
Midnight flipped through the pages of reports, some type written, some in the various scrawls of Roy, Al and Ed. He stopped when he found the array. He'd drawn that array dozens of times now, but he'd never draw it again. In a little bit he wouldn't even remember it.
He felt a compulsion to trace it out one last time, just for the sensual feel of it. He placed his index finger on the outermost circle and started sweeping around. The array was almost pretty.
His finger traced the last line and it felt like completion, like he could move on now knowing the job was done. My brainchild, he thought, though honestly he had little to do with the way it turned out. Still it was a big accomplishment.
Time to put it away.
He flipped the file closed and patted the blank manila folder, then with a whole lot more care than he needed to he placed it in the metal trash can.
Roy seemed almost amused. "Saying goodbye?"
"Seven months of my life. It's a lot to give up."
Roy hesitated. "It's not necessary that you give it up. We can let you keep your memories. We can make it so you can't reproduce the actual design."
Midnight shook his head. "No. I'd like my innocence back, thank you. I've talked it over with Al about what I'll remember and what I won't. I've got it all scripted out." Midnight took a deep breath. "I'm the Midnight Alchemist after all, not the Mind Controller."
Roy laughed. "Yes, and I'm Flame, not Puppet Master."
Midnight raised an eyebrow. "Are you going to erase your own memories?"
Roy's smile abruptly faded. "No. I don't have that luxury. I will get to wrestle with my conscience the old fashioned way." He looked at the files in the trash. "Is that everything? That was quick."
Midnight nodded. "The nice thing about top secret projects is that they don't leave a lot of copies around. The Fuhrer received all his reports orally; he was too paranoid of his own people to keep a paper trail. By the way, how is he doing? Busy, I see. I saw the paper today."
Roy cleared his voice. "He's one of those things I'm going to have to wrestle with."
"Mmm." Midnight picked up the trashcan and moved it away from the desk. "Well, would you like to do the honors?"
Roy put on the gloves, slowly, Midnight noticed, as though he were still getting used to the idea of wearing them. He hesitated a moment and then snapped.
There was a whoosh and the trash can flared up dramatically. A spike of flame 6 feet tall lit the room.
Both men jumped back instinctively, then laughed at the sheer spectacle of it.
"Put it out before it burns the ceiling!" said Midnight, half scared, half delighted.
"I'm working on it."
The fire immediately died down to a more manageable roar. The two alchemists watched it burn. "Should have gotten marshmallows," Roy said.
"Yeah. Was that the first thing you've burned?"
"In almost 16 months, yes."
"Not shabby."
"My control needs some work."
Smoke billowed off the ceiling and began to make them both cough. Roy waved his hand and the fire abruptly went out. Midnight opened the windows and started up the fans. There was nothing but blackened ashes left in the trash.
"Well, you did the job." Midnight breathed, coughing just a little. He felt lighter having unburdened himself of the files. It was over. All but one tough part and he wasn't backing out of that. "So has everyone else's arrays been removed?"
"Yours is the last," said Roy
"I suppose that's fitting since I was the first as well." Midnight leaned against the wall and looked out at the building across the street. He then let out one last choppy laugh. "Looks like I'm never going to collect on that debt you owe me. I won't remember it."
"You might not," said Roy, and then he put a hand on Midnights shoulder. "But I will. I'm not going to forget."
Midnight smiled. "Well then, I guess I'm just going to have to trust that you'll do right by me."
FUHRER
When Roy returned to his apartment, he noticed Ed sitting on the couch reading the paper. The young man was frowning and Roy knew exactly why. "I'm guessing you didn't know what he was going to do, " Ed said.
"Of course not. I'll have to talk with him about it. I don't want a repeat of this sort of thing. It was taking my interests too far."
"Yeah," said Ed, sighing. "I suppose that's the way he's used to operating. Get rid of those who oppose him. I shouldn't be surprised, but it caught me off guard." He put the paper on the coffee table and Roy read the headline again.
MUSTANG INVESTIGATION REOPENED IN LIGHT OF INFORMANT'S SUICIDE.
"He was the guy who ratted you out," said Ed.
Roy looked at the picture of the underling he'd once trusted enough to let in on his ambitions. It had been a poor choice, but at the time the man seemed earnest and trustworthy enough. He'd been found in a public park, shot in the head, with the gun still in his hand. The suicide note had been long, claiming jealousy over a stolen girlfriend had lead the young man to plant evidence of treason in Roy's apartment.
A trade. Defamation of one sort for defamation of another. His patriotism would be restored at the price of his character.
"I don't suppose you stole his girlfriend, did you?"
Roy shook his head. "I only stole Havoc's, and I only did that because he was such a good sport about it. No, that's not true. I did it because I was a jerk and I could. But this guy… I didn't even know this man had a girlfriend. It's possible he didn't."
"So it's all nonsense."
"Well, except in that he did plant evidence of treason in my apartment, yes." It had annoyed him for months that the evidence he'd been convicted on wasn't even the truth. It had depressed him for longer that the man who he'd been so SURE was a friend, turned out to have been a spy. And everyone had suffered for it.
Ed thoughtfully rubbed his chin. "Could it have been a real suicide?"
Roy shook his head. He pushed the paper away. "No. But it's done. I talked with the Fuhrer earlier today, he seems to think in another month or so they can close the investigation again. I can have a public apology and my rank back. Repairing my image will take longer than that, though. I doubt I'll ever be promoted again."
Ed sighed. "Until you become Fuhrer."
Until I become Fuhrer, Roy thought. He sat down next to Ed on the couch and pulled him close. Ed was right. Unless a miracle happened, Ed would never be the proper host at parties that a Fuhrer required. Ed would remain headstrong and loud and far too smart for his own good, and really all the things that Roy loved about him in the first place. He would be, in short, a public embarrassment.
But perhaps the problem wasn't as intractable as it seemed. He squeezed Ed. "Hmmm."
PHOENIX
"Andrew, are you completely sure about this?" asked Al. It was dim in the room, and late. The older alchemist was already in his pajamas, ready for the night. It was all just as they had planned. But then Midnight had gotten up, fetched a beer, and asked for a few moments before they began. Al could wait as long as Midnight needed… into tomorrow if necessary.
Midnight… Andrew.
Midnight took another swig of his beer. "Yes, I'm completely sure." Al hoped he was as resolute as he sounded. Still, he worried. He owed it to Midnight to restore him as well as he could.
"I can go get my brother…"
Midnight shook his head. "No! Please," He raised a hand. "I know this is kind of paranoid of me, but considering your brother's orientation, I'd rather not have him touching my naked butt."
Al giggled. "Ok, but it's just, I can't completely get rid of the tattoo," Al said apologetically "Not the way he could. I mean, I can get rid of the ink, but there will be a scar in the shape of the array, and that would be just as bad. I just don't trust myself to mess with altering living flesh. I might leave you disfigured."
"It's ok," said Midnight. "Turn it into a different tattoo. At least, unlike your brother, you are a decent artist."
"Ed's not that bad," said Al. "He's just too lazy to do more than crude stick figures… and this is off the point." He didn't need Midnight thinking Ed was a great artist. As long as Midnight had that array on, Al had to be careful about making declarative statements. Al sucked in a breath and let it go. "You ready to start?"
"One moment, let me finish my beer. I think I want a little courage before we go on."
Al looked at the painting on Midnight's wall. It was an original abstract. Nice. Not really Al's taste, but nice. It was part of Midnight's personality that he'd never had a chance to know, and now he'd never get to. This was the first time he'd been in the man's apartment. It would be the last time, too.
They had both agreed that Midnight take an immediate reassignment somewhere else. Somewhere where he could get a fresh start away from Al. Like his flesh, there would be scars left on Midnight's mind, even after the array was removed. He'd never be truly free of its effects - though maybe, with time, his mind would compensate, and Midnight would move on. So long as Al wasn't there to reopen the wounds, that is.
"I'm sorry, you know," said Al. "I've never regretted anything as much as I've regretted what I've done to you. I'm not sure if I can ever make up for it."
"Don't beat yourself up, Al," said Midnight. "Do you honestly think I'd be happier traveling around the countryside arraying the Fuhrer's enemies for him? No, ironic as it is, you saved my soul. You saved me from myself." Midnight took one last swig. "I think I'm ready now."
"Ok."
Midnight put the empty bottle in the trash and then lay down on his stomach in bed. Al pulled a chair up close and then pulled out the script Midnight had written up himself. It was almost three pages long, and it took a while to get through. Some memories Midnight had chosen to keep. He wanted to remember working with Ed and Roy and Al. He even wanted to remember what they were working on. But then the fiction came in. The rats had not responded as well as they should have, and the dogs had been disastrous. In the end they'd come to the conclusion that not only was the array unworkable, but it was fundamentally so flawed that there was no point in ever pursuing it. He'd remember nothing of being arrayed, or arraying others.
Al reached the last words and put the paper down on the bed. He had to work fast, while Midnight processed the new information.
"When I leave this room, you will forget I was ever here. You will go to sleep and when you wake up tomorrow, you will remember only that it was an ordinary, unremarkable night."
He then grabbed Midnight's waistband and pulled the pajama bottoms down to his thighs. Placing a paper with a predrawn array strategically over the alchemist, he concentrated and imagined how he wanted the tattoo to go. He then removed the paper and inspected the results.
In place of the array on Midnight's left buttock was a bird, gracefully arched over with flames emitting from its feathers and beak. A phoenix. Rebirth and a new start. Al admired his work, knowing he'd never see it again. Then he pulled up the man's pants.
"Goodnight Andrew," he said, and grabbed all the papers and evidence of the deed.
Andrew was already asleep and didn't stir when Al turned off the light and closed the door.
Back to Chapter 34
On to Chapter 36
FLAME
Midnight flipped through the pages of reports, some type written, some in the various scrawls of Roy, Al and Ed. He stopped when he found the array. He'd drawn that array dozens of times now, but he'd never draw it again. In a little bit he wouldn't even remember it.
He felt a compulsion to trace it out one last time, just for the sensual feel of it. He placed his index finger on the outermost circle and started sweeping around. The array was almost pretty.
His finger traced the last line and it felt like completion, like he could move on now knowing the job was done. My brainchild, he thought, though honestly he had little to do with the way it turned out. Still it was a big accomplishment.
Time to put it away.
He flipped the file closed and patted the blank manila folder, then with a whole lot more care than he needed to he placed it in the metal trash can.
Roy seemed almost amused. "Saying goodbye?"
"Seven months of my life. It's a lot to give up."
Roy hesitated. "It's not necessary that you give it up. We can let you keep your memories. We can make it so you can't reproduce the actual design."
Midnight shook his head. "No. I'd like my innocence back, thank you. I've talked it over with Al about what I'll remember and what I won't. I've got it all scripted out." Midnight took a deep breath. "I'm the Midnight Alchemist after all, not the Mind Controller."
Roy laughed. "Yes, and I'm Flame, not Puppet Master."
Midnight raised an eyebrow. "Are you going to erase your own memories?"
Roy's smile abruptly faded. "No. I don't have that luxury. I will get to wrestle with my conscience the old fashioned way." He looked at the files in the trash. "Is that everything? That was quick."
Midnight nodded. "The nice thing about top secret projects is that they don't leave a lot of copies around. The Fuhrer received all his reports orally; he was too paranoid of his own people to keep a paper trail. By the way, how is he doing? Busy, I see. I saw the paper today."
Roy cleared his voice. "He's one of those things I'm going to have to wrestle with."
"Mmm." Midnight picked up the trashcan and moved it away from the desk. "Well, would you like to do the honors?"
Roy put on the gloves, slowly, Midnight noticed, as though he were still getting used to the idea of wearing them. He hesitated a moment and then snapped.
There was a whoosh and the trash can flared up dramatically. A spike of flame 6 feet tall lit the room.
Both men jumped back instinctively, then laughed at the sheer spectacle of it.
"Put it out before it burns the ceiling!" said Midnight, half scared, half delighted.
"I'm working on it."
The fire immediately died down to a more manageable roar. The two alchemists watched it burn. "Should have gotten marshmallows," Roy said.
"Yeah. Was that the first thing you've burned?"
"In almost 16 months, yes."
"Not shabby."
"My control needs some work."
Smoke billowed off the ceiling and began to make them both cough. Roy waved his hand and the fire abruptly went out. Midnight opened the windows and started up the fans. There was nothing but blackened ashes left in the trash.
"Well, you did the job." Midnight breathed, coughing just a little. He felt lighter having unburdened himself of the files. It was over. All but one tough part and he wasn't backing out of that. "So has everyone else's arrays been removed?"
"Yours is the last," said Roy
"I suppose that's fitting since I was the first as well." Midnight leaned against the wall and looked out at the building across the street. He then let out one last choppy laugh. "Looks like I'm never going to collect on that debt you owe me. I won't remember it."
"You might not," said Roy, and then he put a hand on Midnights shoulder. "But I will. I'm not going to forget."
Midnight smiled. "Well then, I guess I'm just going to have to trust that you'll do right by me."
FUHRER
When Roy returned to his apartment, he noticed Ed sitting on the couch reading the paper. The young man was frowning and Roy knew exactly why. "I'm guessing you didn't know what he was going to do, " Ed said.
"Of course not. I'll have to talk with him about it. I don't want a repeat of this sort of thing. It was taking my interests too far."
"Yeah," said Ed, sighing. "I suppose that's the way he's used to operating. Get rid of those who oppose him. I shouldn't be surprised, but it caught me off guard." He put the paper on the coffee table and Roy read the headline again.
MUSTANG INVESTIGATION REOPENED IN LIGHT OF INFORMANT'S SUICIDE.
"He was the guy who ratted you out," said Ed.
Roy looked at the picture of the underling he'd once trusted enough to let in on his ambitions. It had been a poor choice, but at the time the man seemed earnest and trustworthy enough. He'd been found in a public park, shot in the head, with the gun still in his hand. The suicide note had been long, claiming jealousy over a stolen girlfriend had lead the young man to plant evidence of treason in Roy's apartment.
A trade. Defamation of one sort for defamation of another. His patriotism would be restored at the price of his character.
"I don't suppose you stole his girlfriend, did you?"
Roy shook his head. "I only stole Havoc's, and I only did that because he was such a good sport about it. No, that's not true. I did it because I was a jerk and I could. But this guy… I didn't even know this man had a girlfriend. It's possible he didn't."
"So it's all nonsense."
"Well, except in that he did plant evidence of treason in my apartment, yes." It had annoyed him for months that the evidence he'd been convicted on wasn't even the truth. It had depressed him for longer that the man who he'd been so SURE was a friend, turned out to have been a spy. And everyone had suffered for it.
Ed thoughtfully rubbed his chin. "Could it have been a real suicide?"
Roy shook his head. He pushed the paper away. "No. But it's done. I talked with the Fuhrer earlier today, he seems to think in another month or so they can close the investigation again. I can have a public apology and my rank back. Repairing my image will take longer than that, though. I doubt I'll ever be promoted again."
Ed sighed. "Until you become Fuhrer."
Until I become Fuhrer, Roy thought. He sat down next to Ed on the couch and pulled him close. Ed was right. Unless a miracle happened, Ed would never be the proper host at parties that a Fuhrer required. Ed would remain headstrong and loud and far too smart for his own good, and really all the things that Roy loved about him in the first place. He would be, in short, a public embarrassment.
But perhaps the problem wasn't as intractable as it seemed. He squeezed Ed. "Hmmm."
PHOENIX
"Andrew, are you completely sure about this?" asked Al. It was dim in the room, and late. The older alchemist was already in his pajamas, ready for the night. It was all just as they had planned. But then Midnight had gotten up, fetched a beer, and asked for a few moments before they began. Al could wait as long as Midnight needed… into tomorrow if necessary.
Midnight… Andrew.
Midnight took another swig of his beer. "Yes, I'm completely sure." Al hoped he was as resolute as he sounded. Still, he worried. He owed it to Midnight to restore him as well as he could.
"I can go get my brother…"
Midnight shook his head. "No! Please," He raised a hand. "I know this is kind of paranoid of me, but considering your brother's orientation, I'd rather not have him touching my naked butt."
Al giggled. "Ok, but it's just, I can't completely get rid of the tattoo," Al said apologetically "Not the way he could. I mean, I can get rid of the ink, but there will be a scar in the shape of the array, and that would be just as bad. I just don't trust myself to mess with altering living flesh. I might leave you disfigured."
"It's ok," said Midnight. "Turn it into a different tattoo. At least, unlike your brother, you are a decent artist."
"Ed's not that bad," said Al. "He's just too lazy to do more than crude stick figures… and this is off the point." He didn't need Midnight thinking Ed was a great artist. As long as Midnight had that array on, Al had to be careful about making declarative statements. Al sucked in a breath and let it go. "You ready to start?"
"One moment, let me finish my beer. I think I want a little courage before we go on."
Al looked at the painting on Midnight's wall. It was an original abstract. Nice. Not really Al's taste, but nice. It was part of Midnight's personality that he'd never had a chance to know, and now he'd never get to. This was the first time he'd been in the man's apartment. It would be the last time, too.
They had both agreed that Midnight take an immediate reassignment somewhere else. Somewhere where he could get a fresh start away from Al. Like his flesh, there would be scars left on Midnight's mind, even after the array was removed. He'd never be truly free of its effects - though maybe, with time, his mind would compensate, and Midnight would move on. So long as Al wasn't there to reopen the wounds, that is.
"I'm sorry, you know," said Al. "I've never regretted anything as much as I've regretted what I've done to you. I'm not sure if I can ever make up for it."
"Don't beat yourself up, Al," said Midnight. "Do you honestly think I'd be happier traveling around the countryside arraying the Fuhrer's enemies for him? No, ironic as it is, you saved my soul. You saved me from myself." Midnight took one last swig. "I think I'm ready now."
"Ok."
Midnight put the empty bottle in the trash and then lay down on his stomach in bed. Al pulled a chair up close and then pulled out the script Midnight had written up himself. It was almost three pages long, and it took a while to get through. Some memories Midnight had chosen to keep. He wanted to remember working with Ed and Roy and Al. He even wanted to remember what they were working on. But then the fiction came in. The rats had not responded as well as they should have, and the dogs had been disastrous. In the end they'd come to the conclusion that not only was the array unworkable, but it was fundamentally so flawed that there was no point in ever pursuing it. He'd remember nothing of being arrayed, or arraying others.
Al reached the last words and put the paper down on the bed. He had to work fast, while Midnight processed the new information.
"When I leave this room, you will forget I was ever here. You will go to sleep and when you wake up tomorrow, you will remember only that it was an ordinary, unremarkable night."
He then grabbed Midnight's waistband and pulled the pajama bottoms down to his thighs. Placing a paper with a predrawn array strategically over the alchemist, he concentrated and imagined how he wanted the tattoo to go. He then removed the paper and inspected the results.
In place of the array on Midnight's left buttock was a bird, gracefully arched over with flames emitting from its feathers and beak. A phoenix. Rebirth and a new start. Al admired his work, knowing he'd never see it again. Then he pulled up the man's pants.
"Goodnight Andrew," he said, and grabbed all the papers and evidence of the deed.
Andrew was already asleep and didn't stir when Al turned off the light and closed the door.
Back to Chapter 34
On to Chapter 36