Ed's heart was pounding. His hands shook and sweat rolled down his nose. Oh, how he wished he could use alchemy. He was so useless! Berating himself didn't get him anywhere, however, and he needed to focus on the situation. The darkness around him offered little to no protection. His breath was heavy and it made too much noise. Every time he moved, his clothes made a soft squishing noise because of the water he was drenched in. He was filthy, blood trickling down his face, from somewhere under his hair, where he had earlier received a blow to his head.
His red coat was nowhere to be seen and his leather jacket was on the ground beside him. He pressed his back against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut. Nothing could save him now. Slowly, as not to make too much noise, he patted his body down. He pulled out a knife from his boot, and realized with dismay that that was his only weapon left.
He opened his eyes to reassess the situation. The General Bastard was unconscious on the floor five feet away, out in the open. The water on the floor was soaking Ed's pants, so he entered a crouching position. His flesh arm was limp and dislocated at his side. He still had his automail, so he could use his artificial limbs for defense if he really needed to.
No one seemed to be around, but he knew that as soon as he stepped into the light to help the General, who was bleeding all over the filthy stone floor, someone or something would attack him. He felt eyes on his back, despite the fact he was up against the cold, moldy wall. He closed his eyes again. Sitting here doing nothing wouldn't get him anywhere and Mustang was dying only five feet away from him. He had one option and he didn't like it. He was exhausted and useless and sore, and he only had one weapon. What else was there to do?
He steeled himself for worst case scenario and sprinted to the General's side. On cue, there was a low growl and a long, loud laugh that sent shivers down Ed's spine. He turned around to face the alchemist and the frightening chimera at his side. All he could see of his enemy was a large, maniacal grin and flashing glasses. The only visible parts of the chimera were its large sandy paws and long canines. What frightened Ed the most, however, were the strange green human eyes it stared at him with.
The snarling mouth of the chimera opened, and the alchemist's voice echoed through the stone labyrinth about them. "Kill him." The alchemist's human body stepped forward, and Ed gripped his knife hard about the handle. The man lunged forward, and their dance began. Not willing to let the man get past him and to the General, Ed stepped forward and ducked, ramming his head into the man's gut. There was a disgusting heaving sound and Ed felt the warmth of vomit on his back.
There was no time to think about it, however, and he pushed the man off of him. The man was tall, a clear head taller than Mustang, and he was lanky. His nose was thin and his glasses slid off his nose and hit the floor. Ed's grip tightened on the knife and he swiped for the man's neck, only to have him lean back and avoid the lethal blade. The man's nose was lobbed off, however, and he was bleeding heavily.
This didn't faze him, and he lunged for Ed again. It was obvious, to Ed anyway, that his opponent was unskilled and didn't know how to fight. The only reason the man wasn't incapacitated by then was Ed's waning strength. Still, he took the opportunity and his knife sunk into the juncture between the alchemist's collarbone and neck. The slice continued across the man's neck and blood spurted all over Ed and Mustang.
The alchemist's human body fell to the ground, dead, while the chimera in the shadows howled in anger.
The sharp canines separated as the mouth of the chimera opened and he spoke, "Fool. How do you intend to fight me? Your metal limbs are useless. I can tear them from your flesh easily!" The chimera took one step forward, revealing a pink wolfish nose, and sandy fur around its muzzle. Ed took a step back, his expression set in determination and anger. He and Mustang would both get out of this alive. We have to, he thought, his eyes never leaving the threatening presence. But what could he do? Suddenly, the alchemist-turned-chimera froze. Ed followed its gaze reluctantly and his heart hammered at the sight of the gun at his hip. He didn't hesitate to point the sleek black weapon at the sandy chimera.
It snarled at him and shouted, "You don't even know how to use it, do you?" Ed swallowed and cocked the semiautomatic. He had to do this or he wouldn't get out alive. He wanted to be there on Al's bittersweet wedding day. He wanted to congratulate Riza and Havoc when they had their first child. He still hadn't confessed… to Mustang. Ed's hesitation to pull the trigger did not go unnoticed by the chimera.
Ed could almost see it grinning when it realized he was reluctant to use the gun and he turned a shade paler. He had to do it! His hand trembled, and he couldn't help but imagine the sound of gunshots at Ishval. This wasn't Edward's weapon. He couldn't make himself pull the trigger.
"You won't do it," the chimera said, confidence radiating in his voice. It stepped forward again and Ed flinched. Laughter echoed in the dark hall and Ed couldn't help but step backward again. His heel nudged Mustang's head, and Ed's golden eyes darted down to the unconscious man. He stepped to the right, after all this time not wanting to step on the dark hair encompassing the older man's head.
Ed steadied his hand and glared at the chimera. "You're wrong." With a flash and a loud bang, Ed pulled the trigger. He missed, however, having overestimated the recoil. The chimera laughed again and steadily approached Ed. The blond went to step back, but he nudged Mustang's arm, making him freeze. He pulled the trigger again. Again. A fourth time. This one hit the chimera's shoulder and it snarled, but it didn't relent, still grinning. A fifth shot. This caught the chimera's paw, and it limped while it stalked closer to him. Before Ed knew it, he was out of bullets and the chimera was standing not two feet from him.
It was still grinning and Ed didn't know what to do. "I will enjoy killing you and your comrade," the chimera growled, lunging for Ed's throat. In reflex, Ed reached up and they fell backward, Ed's feet on Mustang's chest and his automail arm jammed in the chimera's mouth. It snarled, pressing its paw harder on Ed's chest. Ed attempted to push the offending fangs away, but only succeeded in convincing the chimera that it needed to remove Ed's arm, as it had proclaimed it could do easily.
The scream that pierced the air could have easily woken the dead. The chimera was intent on pulling off Ed's automail arm. Ed stifled his scream, not wanting to give the chimera the satisfaction of his screams anymore, and grabbed a stone nearby with his flesh hand. The chimera pulled harder on the automail. Several snaps and electric fizzles made Ed see stars. Still, he focused on his dislocated flesh arm and hit the chimera as hard as he could in the head.
It yelped and jumped away, staggering. Ed forced himself to sit up, wincing as he did so. He regarded the chimera through a narrow gaze and pushed himself to his feet. He could feel the bruises all around his body, and he wanted to kick himself for being so stupid earlier for not realizing who it was that was controlling the chimeras. Then again, it had been an unexpected turn of events.
Still, as he stood over the stumbling chimera, which seemed to be temporarily blind, he realized he didn't know how to finish it off. He didn't know if he could finish it off with those eyes… so human…
He turned and knelt next to Mustang, keeping a cautious eye on the chimera. It seemed it couldn't see and was walking around aimlessly, calling out, "Come out and fight me, brat! Turn the light back on!"
Ed ignored the shouts and examined Mustang's wound. The fatal one, anyway. His pulse was steady, although growing feint. His breath was short and sporadic. He had a deep gash cutting from his hip to his navel. He was bleeding steadily, although it wasn't at the quick rate Ed had assumed at first. Ed grimaced and rammed his shoulder into the wall, locking the joint back together. He looked around, his eyes narrowed in pain, and hesitantly removed his shirt. He tore off a relatively clean part. After all, the back was covered in slimy, disgusting vomit. He used every part of the cloth that he could to stop the bleeding and applied as much pressure to the wound as he could.
Suddenly, the shouting stopped and Ed glanced around, looking for the chimera. It wasn't anywhere in sight. Feeling rather paranoid, Ed looked up and behind him, unable to spot the blind creature. A snarl brought his attention to the corner he'd been hiding in before and he tensed when he saw its nose stuck in the air, sniffing. What could Ed do? It would easily be able to find them once it caught their scent.
He did the only thing he could think of. He leaned forward and shook Mustang. There was no way he could carry the older man with one arm whose shoulder could give out again at any second. He shook Mustang, trying desperately to think of something – anything – that would get them out of this mess.
Mustang wasn't waking up and Ed didn't want to make any noise, lest he bring the creature closer faster. Unable to think of much else, Ed grabbed the gun that he had earlier dropped without a thought. What could he do with it, though? It had no bullets. He saw the chimera approaching them again, its grin back in place.
He didn't think before lunging forward and jamming the handle of the gun as far as he could into the back of the chimera's head, where the head and neck met. It fell forward, obviously unconscious. Ed didn't want to be around when it woke up and he shook Mustang as hard as he could, gripping the gun hard in his hand.
"Bastard!" he hissed, "Wake up!" Mustang's obsidian eyes opened blearily and Ed felt a wave of relief. "Can you walk?" Mustang blinked a few times and pushed himself into a sitting position, clutching at his wound on his abdomen.
He looked around and asked, "Where are we?"
"Underground," Ed answered, "We need to get out of here – can you walk?" He stood and held out a hand, glancing over his shoulder at the still unconscious chimera. How longer did they have until it woke up? Mustang grabbed his hand and pulled himself up, wincing along the way. He placed a great deal of his weight on Ed, panting heavily in the blond's ear.
Ed took the weight, not in any mental condition to protest. After spending all night in the dark, wet, afraid of being caught, and fighting strange monsters, he just wanted to get out and get his automail fixed. The idea made him grimace; Winry would not be happy to see his automail banged up again. She treated him even worse now that he didn't have alchemy to back him up; even she realized how much more vulnerable he was without it.
Ed spotted stairs and immediately went for them. Anything going up was a good sign, just like how anything going down lead to their target when the chase had first started. Then again, when the hunt began, Ed and Mustang were the hunters.
Climbing the stairs was not a pleasant experience. First of all, their movements did not correspond perfectly, so even walking was somewhat awkward. Going up the stairs was more jostling than walking. On top of Ed's own pain, his throbbing head and sore body, and the sharp pain that occasionally sparked through his automail shoulder, he also had to deal with Mustang's weight on his shoulder. His balance was a little off, and with the extra weight, occasionally he would stumble or fall on his ass.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, they reached the top of the stairs. Ed was panting heavily and Mustang's wound was bleeding profusely, covering Ed in the red liquid. Ed placed Mustang on the floor of the old wooden house they were in, as oppose to under, like they were earlier. Angrily, he slammed the trap door shut.
Like a practiced medic, Ed ripped Mustang's sleeve with his teeth and used it to slow the blood flow. Mustang was getting paler and Ed didn't like that. What could he do to close the wound? He looked around, finding nothing in particular that could help. He returned his gaze to the blood staining the cloth in his hands. What should he do?
Then, the worst noise Ed could imagine sounded behind him. He slowly turned his gaze to the trap door, which had burst open and the corpse of the alchemist's human body stood in the opening. Ed blinked a few times, his breath hitched. Why wasn't it dead? How could he kill it? He realized the gun was still in his hand. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. This calmed him, and for a moment, he was at peace.
Yet it was only a moment. His eyes snapped open and he lunged at the corpse, set on keeping it away from his comrade behind him. Time slowed down. Ed was poised to bash the corpse's skull in from his left, and behind the dead man, he spotted glistening canines. His eyes widened as he realized all the chimera-alchemist had to do was leap and clamp its jaws around Ed's neck and it would all be over with. He realized too late that he was about to die.
And just as that moment of dread ended, time sped up, and there was a snap and a blinding light. A flash of heat. Two simultaneous squeals of pain. Suddenly, the danger was gone. Ed sunk down to his knees and dropped the useless gun. It clattered and fell down the stone steps and into the darkness below.
In front of him were two black things. Ed didn't know how long he sat there, staring at the burnt charcoal. He didn't know what they were, those things in front of him. Black and mangled. All that was left of the alchemist and his chimera were oversized pieces of burnt toast. Or was it the chimera and his alchemist?
"Fullmetal!" The shout brought Ed back to life and he turned his head to see Mustang sitting up, his hand over his wound. "Are we going to leave or what? I'm not going to last much longer and I doubt," he paused, took a deep breath and winced before continuing, "that you can lift me with one arm."
In a daze, Ed found himself walking out of the wooden house, an unconscious General on his shoulder. It wasn't fifteen minutes after they left the house that he found a doctor and they were in safe, unfamiliar hands.
Ed stared out the hospital window. He hated hospitals. Almost as much as he hated milk. His scowl had softened into a stare at noon. Now his expression was blank, and it didn't help anyone interpret how he was feeling. He couldn't be too upset, though, since Mustang sat in the bed next to his own. He was lost in his thoughts. When they were in the tunnels, under the Mind Alchemist's house, he had thought about all the things he would have missed out on if he had died. Al's wedding and Riza's first child he had to wait for, but admitting his feelings to the General Bastard next to him? That was under his control. Whether or not they had a relationship was up to the General Bastard. Ed could always hope…
"Fuhmajor," the baritone voice called. Ed turned his head from the window and stared blankly at Mustang. Even banged up and in a hospital bed, the man managed to look good. He was sitting up, papers in his lap and a pen in his hand. Their gazes locked and Ed wondered what would have happened if Mustang hadn't been there. "I must thank you," Mustang said, his tone one of deep sincerity, "because of our mission, the date of my," his mouth twisted in a smirk, "promotion has been moved up. I'll be Fuhrer in two months."
Ed looked away, not giving any verbal response. They probably wouldn't have a relationship. Mustang would choose his position as Fuhrer over Ed any day. He probably didn't even have feelings for Ed anyway. What was the point in hoping?
"I should be the one thanking you," Ed muttered, "I almost died." A heavy silence enveloped them after the comment. It had been close, but they made it out alive. "My life," Ed whispered, "That's what I owe you. And I unfortunately can't give it to you."
Mustang chuckled and replied good-naturedly, "Well, a country is good enough for me." His humor fell away when Ed didn't respond. "Besides, didn't I promise I'd be there when it got dangerous?" Ed's eyes flickered to Mustang for a moment before looking out the window again.
He muttered lowly, "I'm so useless."
Almost immediately after the utterance left Ed's lips, Mustang asked sharply, "If you're so God damn useless, then why didn't that fucking chimera eat me while I was unconscious?" To this, Ed had no response and his mouth clicked shut. His eyes bore holes into the window and into the sunset that decorated Central in red and orange. "Besides," Mustang added, gentler this time, "we got out alive, didn't we?" Ed didn't answer this either, so Mustang went on, "Trust is a two-way street, Fuhmajor. I trusted you to watch my back, and you trusted me to watch your back. We both did our parts. Sounds fair to me."
"Where is a God damn desk when I need something to slam my fists on?" Ed muttered, crossing his arms in annoyance. The question took Mustang by surprise and his trademark smirk played across his face. It was something he'd noticed before; Ed always slammed his fists on Mustang's desk when he had a point to make or was just plain angry. Ed turned his irritated glare to Mustang's face and spat, "It isn't fair because we aren't – we aren't equals anymore!"
This outburst caught Mustang by surprise and it showed on his face. Equals? Mustang was a General and Ed was a Major! How were they equal? The shock slowly slid off of Mustang's face while he tried to puzzle it out. Was that why it didn't feel like he was degrading himself by working with Ed? They were equal? Perhaps their ranks had nothing to do with it, and their personalities did. They'd always been equals. The only problem was that Mustang had permission to boss Ed around. Ed's defiance and anger had been his way of keeping himself at Mustang's level.
"Why aren't we equal anymore?" The question left Mustang's lips without him realizing it until Ed's stare hardened on him.
"As if you don't understand, bastard," Ed muttered, but answered louder, "I can't use alchemy. I'm…" Here, words failed him. How could he explain how much more power Mustang had? How could he describe how incompetent he felt? Or how vulnerable he was, while Mustang didn't have those weaknesses? How were they still equal when Mustang was on a completely different level of capability? "I… You…"
Mustang watched Ed struggle for words, unable to understand what it was that made the blond so flustered. Finally, Ed threw his hands in the air exasperatedly and shouted, "I'm just incompetent and you're not!"
Mustang rolled his eyes and sighed. "This again?" he asked tiredly, "I already told you – I saved you, but you also saved me. I was unconscious for most of the-!"
"But you killed them!" Ed shouted, his voice overriding Mustang's in volume. Mustang leaned back after the outburst, surprise on his face yet again. Ed looked down at his hands and shook his head. "You killed them when it was impossible for me to do so."
Mustang's eyebrows pulled together in confusion as he asked, "Why does that matter? How does that make us… unequal?" Ed just shook his head in response and turned his head to look out the window. It was too difficult to explain when he was feeling so inarticulate.
A nurse entered the room at that moment and checked Mustang first. She checked his pulse and everything vital and then poked at his wound for a few minutes. He didn't complain and let her do her job. Then she moved to Ed, who gave her a death glare as she approached. After all, she had tried to feed him milk. She checked his vitals, the wound on his head, and his flesh shoulder. Apparently he'd torn several vital somethings in his shoulder, and the wound on his head was where he'd received a concussion.
After she concluded his head was okay, she took a step back and informed them pleasantly, "You have some visitors. Do you mind if they come in now or…?" Normally, she wouldn't have asked, except when she'd walked in, there was that heavy atmosphere that indicated she'd interrupted something.
"I don't care," Ed grumbled, "It's probably some pompous bastard patting this bastard's ass anyway." The nurse nodded and left the room, taking her time. Maybe if she waited as long as she possibly could, they'd settle whatever she interrupted before their guests came in.
A/N: So what do you guys think? Is it crap or should I continue, hmm?