DA: Well hello there! I'm still seminew to this fandom, but some of you might know me from my oneshot "Surface Appearances". I got this idea at the start of last semester and the ideas kept coming, with the amazing help of my best friend Sunny. This is my first major project for this fandom so I'm a little nervous.
Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, which is probably a good thing. Hehe
Anyways, without any further ado, I unveil the first chapter of my newest creation: Darkness to Dawn!
Darkness to Dawn
Chapter 1
Ed walked down the path, seemingly proud, confident, and full of energy, but the people who knew him best could see the barely perceptible slouch to his shoulders, the slight stumble to his step. His eyes, normally a bright and cheerful gold, were dulled and exhausted. Colonel Roy Mustang stood, waiting for the boy, at the entrance to the camp, immaculately dressed as always, though he emitted waves of the same exhaustion that the teen was feeling. First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye was positioned at his right shoulder, her hand never straying too far from the grey handgun holstered on her belt. At Ed's back, Havoc and Breda were arguing, their eyes strangely looking everywhere but at each other.
The younger alchemist sighed, making a pained effort to pull himself up straighter in front of his commanding officer. Placing his hands heavily onto his hips, he glared at Mustang, but not before doing a quick sweep over the man. The dark-haired man caught himself preforming the same act, his eyes narrowing suspiciously out of habit. Worry, however, churned in his gut at the boy's appearance. His trademark red cloak was torn and stained a darker shade of scarlet in several places, the black clothing under it not faring much better. The white gloves were missing, the metal of the automail flashing in the weak sunlight whenever his hand moved. Ed's visage was pale and bruised, splotches of black and purple splashing across the visible skin. "Fullmetal," the Colonel greeted, forcing some false amusement into his voice. At the title, Edward scowled furiously, formerly deep and dark eyes igniting with annoyance.
"Bastard," he replied, copying Mustang's tone. The older man resisted the urge to roll his eyes in exasperation, internally glad at the semblance of normalcy. "It seems your day was better than mine as usual. Did you set yourself up with the cushy job on purpose because you're useless?" He sighed, unable to keep his lips from twitching.
"You know as well as I do, Fullmetal, that the higher ups assign orders to soldiers who would best suit the job. It's not my fault you excel at destruction."
"Well, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that you slack off just so you don't get assigned the tough jobs. Are they getting to be too much for you, old man?" The 'old man' was suddenly struck with an eye spasm, his mouth forming a warning scowl. But it was already too late. The first blow had been struck. "You really should start watching what you do. Your body can't handle missions like you used to, what with aging and all. So perhaps it's best if I take all the hard missions. Wouldn't want you to break something."
"For your information, Fullmetal, the jobs I'm given require a certain amount of finesse, not like I'd expect someone of your stature to understand. You would be simply overlooked on one of these jobs." The spectators winced internally at the throbbing vein in Ed's forehead. It would only escalate from here.
"WHO'RE YOU CALLING SO SHORT THAT YOU'D NEED A MAGNIFYING GLASS TO SEE?!" came the enraged roar that everyone was waiting for. "I'd do your jobs a hundred times better than you ever would. And you know it. Who's the prodigy here?" An automail finger jabbed the older man in the chest, golden eyes glaring into dark orbs. Mustang opened his mouth to voice his opinion on the matter when someone cleared their throat.
"Excuse me, Edward, but the Colonel has somewhere to be. And you look like you could use a change of clothes," Hawkeye interrupted politely, though her chestnut eyes were hard with warning. It was a look they all knew well, a look that promised pain via her gun if people didn't do exactly what she wanted. The members of the argument and viewers alike swallowed at the expression, eyes widening ever so slightly.
"Y-yes, ma'am," Ed stammered, rushing off in the direction of his tent. Nobody would see him for a few hours after he entered the tent. He had a schedule. Once he got back from battle, he changed clothes, called his brother, and took a rather long nap. It was hard to blame the kid for he wasn't lying when he claimed that his missions were tough. This war with Creta was hard on him. Havoc and Breda saluted and ran off to the mess tent for some food. Mustang watched them leave, faint traces of a smile left on his face.
"You know, you could just always have a straight conversation with him rather than masking everything with an argument," she murmured, her face impassive, though there was a tenderness to her eyes as she watched the teen's retreating back. The grin solidified some, Mustang's dark eyes shining with something similar to affection.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Lieutenant," he responded, glancing towards her. The blond copied his practically patented imperceptible grin, sighing quietly.
"Of course not, sir." Riza tracked Ed's movements until she vanished into his tent, expression softening further. "He's tired."
"In more ways than one..." Mustang let his shoulders relax from his perfect military posture, turning sharply away from his position. "Well, come on, Lieutenant. You weren't lying for once about the meeting I have to attend."
FMAFMA
Ed jerked, startled out of his dozing state, at a sudden knock on one of the structure poles of his tent. "Can I come in?" Mustang asked, his silhouette shadowing the entrance flap. Slightly confused, Ed sat up, rubbing his face to chase away any signs of fatigue.
"Do what you want, bastard," he answered, hoping he didn't look too terrible. The flap opened to admit Roy Mustang, who was clearly off duty with his coat slung over his shoulder. The man scanned his surroundings before claiming custody of a nearby chair, plopping into it gratefully. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Mustang?" And then those dark eyes were on him, flicking up and down his form to analyze his condition. Finally, he sighed, sitting back, though gaze never left the teen, lingering on a dark bruise on his temple.
"Just got out of that damned meeting. Apparently the enemy's preparing a surprise attack for us come morning." An apologetic expression danced across his face, regret lacing the edges. Ed read the hidden meaning, bolting into a standing position in anger.
"WHAT?! But tomorrow was supposed to be my resting day! I've been going non-stop for days, Mustang, and you know it! You can't just throw me back in there when I'm working on practically no sleep!" At each sentence full of acidic fury and frustration, the dark-haired man wanted nothing more than to sink further into his chair and disappear. It was wrong, dammit! But orders were orders.
"There's nothing I can do about it, Fullmetal. The orders came directly from the top." The look of betrayal on Ed's face struck directly at his heart and he sighed, looking the boy in the eyes. "It's the price you paid for being a dog of the military. It's time for us to sit down and bark for our masters." The anger slowly leeched away from Ed's golden eyes, a saddened acceptance taking its place. He sat back down, huffing in annoyance.
"Yea... Not the first time I've paid a price for doing something stupid," he remarked with a rueful grin. "So why're you really here? You could have told me my orders tomorrow morning." Mustang resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The kid was too smart for his own good sometimes.
"Lieutenant Hawkeye asked me to check up on you. She said you hadn't called your brother today." The blond's eyes deepened once more and he averted his gaze to the floor.
"I told Al yesterday that I wouldn't call him today. I told him I had a day to myself and I'd call him then. Looks like I'm going to have to go back on that promise..." Silence fell over them like a heavy blanket, each unsure of what to say. Finally, Mustang stood, clapping a hand on Ed's shoulder.
"Well, you look alright to me. I'll inform the Lieutenant and get some rest for myself. Tomorrow already sounds like a tiring day. Fullmetal." He nodded at his subordinate and excused himself, leaving the boy completely confounded at his words.
"Did he just...apologize?" he asked himself, raising an eyebrow at the flap he called a door.
FMAFMA
Roy sat at his desk, staring at the roster in front of him. He had to split up his team. He couldn't accompany Ed into battle like he'd like to, so the least he could do is send some of his most trusted men with the younger alchemist. The question was, who? Havoc and Breda worked well together as a team, but could they cover Ed when he needed it? And Falman was smart and pretty handy with a gun, but his battle skills were somewhat lacking. Feury was a genius with technology, but in a battlefield, his only use was as a telephone operator.
And Hawkeye. Roy knew for a fact that he could trust her with just about anything, including his own life. But why was it so hard to even think about letting her go with Ed?
This was a lot tougher than any of the previous battle assignment he'd had to complete. Sighing, he placed his pen down on the hardwood, replacing it with his head. He needed to relax; it was just a dream, a graphic dream, but a dream nonetheless.
A hand reached out to him, dripping with blood. He couldn't move, frozen at the image in front of him. The sounds of battle echoed around, bouncing off the alchemy-created walls. No... NO! Small puddles were forming beneath the trembling appendage, tiny scarlet pools in the dirt.
"Why... Why didn't you help me...?"
Mustang jerked upright, once again in his tent. His dark eyes were wide, something eating away at his insides. He just couldn't shake this feeling of dread that had taken residence in his stomach, filling it to the brim. It's why this decision had suddenly become so hard; to make one mistake would make the dream become a reality. He couldn't let that happen.
So if he were to put Falman and Havoc together, Havoc would be able to cover for Falman's weaknesses and-
An eye bore into his own, the other complete shrouded in thick scarlet liquid as it slid in a continuous river down the young face. Perhaps it wasn't even there any more. "Please Colonel... Help me..."
That grouping was a no. What about if he put Falman and Feury with Breda...? Surely with both Falman and Breda paired nothing ba-
Golden hair was dyed red, matted with the blood that dripped idly from the back of his skull. One arm was completely missing, metal fragments sticking out from a mangled port on his shoulder. Liquid rust lined each crevice, slipping down onto his already drenched chest.
What had he been even thinking with that? Alright, Havoc, Feury, and Breda. He'd already said that Havoc and Breda were a good team, adding Feury would put a telephone-
A mechanical leg was torn up almost beyond recognition, dangling uselessly from yet another port. What looked like one of the toes was jammed into the calf of the flesh leg, blood spilling out in surprising amounts from around the edges of the false appendage. Stark white bone stuck through the thigh, the edge pointed. A hunk of flesh was impaled on the edge, torn directly from the thigh where it used to be. It still was soaked in scarlet, slipping in individual streams down the bone.
Also a no... Dammit, why was this so hard? Groaning, he massaged his temples to try and ease the ache that was forming as a result of this problem. His pale face was forming stress marks along his forehead, bruise-like bags hanging under his eyes. Black hair was unkempt from the amount of times his hands had combed through it in frustration. How about Falman and Feury-
The torso was torn up, ripped from several blades tearing through the soft flesh. Burns trailed up the boy's side, blisters dripping clear pus onto the dark red ground. A pole was embedded in the boy's stomach, pining him to the ground below. Tearing along the edges of the wound showed that he'd already tried to get free. A small hole tore through the black shirt on his right breast, blood flowering out from the bullet's entrance point.
No. No. Absolutely fucking not. That was dumb to even consider. If he put Havoc and Hawkeye together, no harm would come to the boy he was trying to protect. He knew that for certain. But he couldn't put Hawkeye's name down for the assignment, his pen halting before he could even press it into the paper. She'd been at his side since he joined the military, watching his back when he couldn't. Mustang was unsure he even knew how to watch his own back anymore, which worried him to no end. Without her by his side when he went into battle, he would feel naked, exposed. He needed her. So that left one option...
FMAFMA
"Alright!" Mustang said, watching the members of his group, with one noticeable exception, stand at attention. Ed stood off to the side; the bags beneath his eyes had only worsened since the night before. But he still exhibited an air of confidence that was only halfway forced. Roy knew he looked just as bad, his hair still slightly messy despite the efforts he had taken this morning to calm it and his face just as drawn and tired. "Havoc, Breda, and Falman. You're with Ed today." The men in question straightened further and jerked a hand to their brows, a sharp "sir!" leaving their throats. The dark-haired man nearly smirked. "Hawkeye, Fuery. You're with me."
He scanned the small group, his gaze resting on the teen for a moment, catching his raised eyebrow. "At ease," the colonel caught himself saying. "You will meet us at the entrance in exactly one hour." Another salute and they all left, with the exception of Hawkeye, who discreetly hung around to keep an eye on her superior.
"Something wrong, bastard?" Ed asked, smirking at the man. Mustang raised his own eyebrow in question.
"No, why would something be wrong?" Blood, so much blood. How could one person produce this much?
"You never call me Ed." At that, he stared, realizing his mistake. Shit, he must have tipped off his entire group that something was wrong.
"Well that is your name... Would you rather me refer to you as shorty?" The short joke didn't have its intended effect, the boy as impassive as before. The familiar smell of burning flesh reached his nose, mingling with the metallic scent of blood that stained his gloves. Shit he couldn't get a spark going with them like this. He couldn't protect him. Mustang had to leave, before he lost his lunch in front of Ed. The kid beat him to it.
"I'm gonna go call Al before I leave. Y'know. Let him know what's going on. I'll see you in an hour." He turned, the black serpent's cross staring at him from the back of the once again flawless coat.
"Ed." The boy paused, cluing him in that he was listening. "Be careful out there." The blond snorted, smirking at the colonel.
"I think you should worry about yourself, old man."
DA: And that ends Chapter 1! You guys will have to tell me what you think. I'm not entirely sure about characterization, but I think I did a good enough job. And I promise that it gets a lot better from here. I hope you enjoyed!
May your hearts stay strong,
DarkAngel555
