Time really flies when you're not on the computer all day! Actually, entire days sometimes get swallowed up by the internet... Okay, so time flies in general. WHATEVER! The point is, I'm back (again) and yes, Kate and Barry are still running around Amestris trying to sort out their lives. And after three years (has it REALLY been that long?!) in real time (and goodness knows how long in story time), they've finally reached their destination, Liore.
I realize it's been a little over two years since the previous installment in the series, Here Comes a Candle. My apologies! I honestly didn't realize it had been that long; I really could have sworn that Halloween special belonged to last year's October. Oh well.
This fic was actually supposed to be another Halloween special, but alas, life got in the way (as always), and things didn't go quite according to plan. I almost decided to postpone it for Christmas, but now I'm getting ready for a big move and can't entirely depend on the stability of my living situation come December. Sooo, as a very special treat (or perhaps a trick?), consider this a Thanksgiving special. Every good [American] series gets one eventually!
Sort of like the previous fic, once again we're going to have some author's notes at the end of the chapters - but unlike the ones from last time, these notes are going to be pretty sparse, and generally quite brief. Partly this is because there simply isn't as much to explain here, and party because I just don't have the time. Besides, some things are better left to the imagination, no?
Anyway, here it is, the latest (and quite possibly, though not entirely certainly) last Kate & Barry adventure. Which, as it turns out, is not as much of an adventure as it is a rather revealing and sometimes even rather awkward unfortunate happenstance. Enjoy! And please remember to drop me a line if you enjoyed it; feedback is the spice of life! Or something. Anyway, enjoy!
Disclaimer: Aha. I actually own a lot of this. Like Kate and the Walkers (which, oddly enough, sounds like a decent band). I do not, however, own Barry and Liore. Which is unfortunate, until you think about it.
Chapter One: Old Acquaintances
"Is it break-time yet?"
"We just took a break. Ten minutes ago."
"But it's so hot out."
"Stop whining, you big baby."
"Oh yeah, like YOU'RE one to talk. All you do is walk around clapping and drawing. I'm the one who does the heavy lifting around here. You know, if you wanted me to be a pack animal, YOU SHOULD HAVE GIVEN ME A STRONGER BODY!"
"Oh, hush." Wiping the sweat from her eyes with the back of her hand, Kate leaned against the shaded side of the house with a sigh. Barry was right about one thing; Liore was a damned hot place. "How many times do I have to tell you? Don't shout about stuff like that. One day, someone might actually listen to you. And then where would we be?"
Tossing aside the plank of wood in his hands, Barry joined her in the shade. His body dripped with sweat, his fair skin ruddy with sun and heat. "So what? If anyone hears, I'll just kill them. Simple." He didn't bother launching into his usual rant; he lacked the energy.
"Yeah, yeah. You wish."
He closed his eyes. "You've got no idea."
They had arrived in Liore – thankfully avoiding any more unplanned detours following the misadventure they referred to only as That Night – a little over two weeks ago. A kind young woman named Rose helped them find lodging, food, and work, the latter of which seemed particularly abundant in the small desert town. The rumors of destruction were not as far-fetched as Kate assumed; the town, though still standing, required massive reconstruction, and with no alchemists of any real skill on-site, progress was steady but slow.
Kate, though sympathetic to the cause, couldn't help feeling just a little relieved to have found work. Fixing things was, of course, her expertise. More to the point, they needed the money. Even when customers couldn't pay – the citizens of Liore weren't exactly affluent – free food and lodging worked just as well as cash. Kate and Barry moved from house to house, rebuilding and repairing as they went, and for a time, their lives stabilized.
Kate enjoyed the reprieve from their usual turbulence, and even Barry seemed to quiet down (relatively speaking) for a while. She knew, however, that it couldn't last. She took a long draught of water, and nudged him with her elbow. "Hey. I never said you could take a break yet, buster. We've still got a couple hours before sunset."
"Screw you. I'm beat."
It wasn't a fair work load, of course; their skill sets being what they were, Kate drew the diagrams and crafted the proper alchemical circles, while Barry got the special privilege of carrying most of the heavy materials and positioning things properly pre-alchemy. But it kept him busy, and more importantly, under her supervision. And he was getting stronger – though she wasn't sure if that was really a good thing.
Kate yawned. "Come on. Just a little more and we'll be done." Taking out her chalk, she began adding to the transmutation circle on the half-repaired porch. She decided to add a new swing as a surprise to the couple inside. They'd been nothing but gracious to Kate and Barry, and they deserved a few more nice things.
"Tell me something, sweetheart. Why do you look so tired when I'm the one doing all the work, huh?" Barry lifted the wood again with a grimace, the muscles in his lean arms bulging with exertion. He shot her a sideways look. "Stay up late last night thinking about my cleaver?"
She made a gagging noise. "Please. Don't be disgusting."
"What are you saying?" He positioned the planks with a grunt and reached for the next few boards. "You didn't look disgusted the last time I saw you holding it. In fact, I think you liked—OW!" He rubbed the pink splotch forming on his cheek as a result of a well-aimed pebble. "What was that for?!"
"Idiot." She kept her head down, her copper hair just long enough to hide the hint of a grin on her lips. "Let's get this porch finished before dinner."
. . .
Mr. and Mrs. Walker's house smelled of fresh linen, cedar wood, and apple pie. Kate wouldn't have been surprised to see a wardrobe full of gingham gowns in Mrs. Walker's room and a hand-woven basket with a red and white checked tablecloth waiting in the pantry, though as of yet she'd seen evidence of neither. It was just that sort of place – warm, almost country, despite the desert landscape outside. A happy home for a happy family.
But something felt missing; Kate noticed it almost the moment they'd walked in the door. Though Mr. and Mrs. Walker appeared to be in their late sixties or so, they never mentioned children, or even grandchildren. Yet traces of a former occupant lay like a layer of dust over the guest room they kindly offered their tenants. Empty, off-colored spaces indicated framed pictures once hung on the walls; a dark purple stain on the wooden desk by the window suggested spilled ink, or perhaps nail polish.
And in one of the photographs sitting on the mantel in the living room, Kate noticed one in which a slightly younger version of the Walkers stood alongside a younger couple, a man and woman just barely in their twenties. They held hands, and smiled real smiles. Kate thought, or perhaps only imagined, that the woman, with her curly dark hair and almond eyes, looked a little like Mrs. Walker.
Kate decided not to mention it. Her job entailed fixing the house – only the house. Family secrets belonged to the family; they were no business of hers. But the night she and Barry finished the porch, Mrs. Walker caught Kate glancing curiously in the direction of the mantle.
"Wondering who they are?" Mrs. Walker chuckled and waved off Kate's immediate apology. "No need, dear, it's only natural. You probably wondered why we haven't been going on about our grandkids like other old people."
"Er – yeah, I did wonder. But I thought it'd be impolite to ask." Kate pushed the food around on her plate, grateful for what little distraction it offered her.
Barry, too hungry to care for conversation, seemed to ignore the exchange entirely, his attention solely focused on the meat on the plate in front of him. Mr. Walker, who resembled something of a walrus with his massive frame and impressively long moustache, glanced at Barry with distaste, his walrus-whiskers twitching.
"It's no secret around here. We used to have a daughter," said Mrs. Walker. She tapped her fork into a bite of baked potato, but her hand hovered over the plate, and she made no move to eat. "Mary-Ann. That's her husband, Will, next to her in the photo. He was such a nice young man. I wish he'd visit sometime." She sighed.
Mr. Walker's moustache twitched again, the mouth beneath it bowing as he scowled. "He doesn't have any business 'round here. And we got no business bothering him, either."
Mrs. Walker looked at him sadly, but didn't argue. "Well. At any rate, dear," she said, turning back to Kate, "she—she passed away, not long after they were married. But that was years ago, now." She put the fork and the piece of potato down on her plate with a tiny clink. "Well, I'm stuffed. Anyone for seconds?"
"Yes, please," said Barry cheerfully, handing over his plate like a child waiting to be served.
"I'm sorry," said Kate to Mrs. Walker, shooting Barry a dark look. "I didn't know. Is – did Will move away?"
Mr. Walker narrowed his eyes at her. "He doesn't visit because he doesn't want to."
Mrs. Walker patted Kate's shoulder. "They both moved to Central City after they got married. After she died, we heard he moved again – I'm afraid we're not sure where. I do hope he's doing well, wherever he is." She swallowed, and gave Kate a little squeeze. "Anyway, dear, would you like some more?"
"No, no thank you." She let Mrs. Walker take her empty dish, and glared at Barry again once she left. He shrugged, as if ignorant of his offence. Kate turned to Mr. Walker, just as he rose to take his own plate into the kitchen. "Mr. Walker?"
He looked down at her, gruff but benign. "What, child?"
"I apologize if this is prying too much, but—" Prying, indeed. She was about to go too far, and she knew it. But she plunged ahead anyway. "May I ask how she died?"
If Mr. Walker noticed the tremor in her voice, his face didn't show it. "She was murdered. Wasn't the only one. They caught the bastard who did it, though. Thank God." With a sigh he lumbered away, leaving his guests alone in the sudden, frozen silence.
Kate stared at Barry across the table. Motionless, he met her gaze blankly, waiting for her to make the first move.
Mrs. Walker's arm broke their line of sight. She set down a second plateful of food in front of Barry. "There you go, dear. I'm glad you like it. Would either of you like anything else? If not, I'm afraid I'll have to leave you to it for tonight – Mr. Walker is feeling a bit worn out, so we'll be going to bed a bit early if you don't mind."
"We're fine, thanks," Kate said, cutting off whatever Barry's response might have been. "Dinner was delicious, by the way." Without thinking, she took the older woman's hand. It felt so light in her palm, the skin delicate and paper-thin. She pressed it, gently, in her own. "Mrs. Walker, I – I really am sorry."
"Oh, I didn't mean to upset you, dear – don't worry about it." Her fingers tightened around Kate's. "It's good to remember, now and then. Mary-Ann really was a very dear girl – you remind me of her, a little. You both have the same kindness in your eyes." With one final pat, she released Kate's hand and headed for the door. "Don't worry about the dishes; we'll get them in the morning. Good night, you two. Sleep well!"
Kate's lip trembled, her hand balling around the warmth in her palm where Mrs. Walker's hand had been.
"What? Don't tell me you're upset." Barry asked, his mouth working to get the words around a mouthful of steak. "You're not gonna cry or anything, are you?"
"Don't." Her voice stayed low, but the effect was the same as a shout. "We'll talk in your room."
"Ooo—"
"Don't."
Barry fell silent. His eyes glinted as he glanced up at her from his plate. For the first time in weeks, she thought of the name they used to call him, back when he still prowled the dark streets of Central City, an urban legend searching for his next hapless victim.
COMMENTARY
They had arrived in Liore – thankfully avoiding any more unplanned detours following the misadventure they referred to only as That Night . . .
Yep. That Night in Silent Hill (in Here Comes a Candle) left a few mental scars which have yet to fully heal.
A kind young woman named Rose . . .
Yes, THAT Rose. The annoying one with the dead boyfriend or something.
The rumors of destruction were not as far-fetched as Kate assumed; the town, though still standing, required massive reconstruction . . .
Remember when Ed Elric broke Liore in the process of defeating Father Cornello? Liore's still recovering.
"Mary-Ann. That's her husband, Will, next to her in the photo. . ."
Fun fact: Mary Ann Nichols, wife of William Nichols, was a Whitechapel murder victim, the first of the canonical five Jack the Ripper killings. Yes, that makes two different characters I've named after her. (Barry's wife, who I dubbed Ann, being the first.) But hey, who's counting? Also, Mary's maiden name was Walker, so... yeah.
". . . They caught the bastard who did it, though. Thank God."
Like pretty much everyone in Amestris (outside of the Mustang gang and the creeps who transmuted Barry's soul onto a suit of armor), the Walkers are blissfully unaware that Barry's "execution" didn't actually kill him.
For now.