Warning: Graphic content in this chapter. Reader discretion is advised.
Disclaimer: As much as I wish it were true, I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or its characters. However, I do own any OCs created.
Now, back to Chapter 2: Crimson.
Only the sound of boots pounding on the uneven cobblestone floors could be heard as two uniformed men navigated the decaying ruins of the former military command center. Every attempt by the blond at breaking the silence between the two had been in vain. In a last ditch effort, Havoc removed the unlit cigarette from his mouth and cleared his throat. "Hey, boss, mind if I ask you something?"
He waited. With each passing second, the blond grew anxious, desperately wanting a reply. He was about to give up on trying when he heard a small sigh from his superior, whom was four steps ahead of him.
"What is it," the black-haired alchemist asked sharply.
"Well, uh…" Havoc began, trying to find the right words. "Uh… the guys and I were wondering… uhmm..." He reached up and behind his head with his free hand to massage an imaginary kink in his neck, casting his eyes downward. "We were wondering why…"
Havoc jumped as Roy Mustang whirled around to face him, his midnight eyes narrowed with annoyance. "Just spit it out, Havoc."
Gulping nervously, Havoc managed to muster up the courage he needed to continue. "We were just wondering… Why are you being so hard on the chief?"
"We don't have time for this, Havoc," Mustang snapped as he began to turn away.
Havoc walked forward, closing the distance between them. He reached up and caught his superior's shoulder. "Look, sir, sometimes I think you forget that he's still just a kid. He's-"
"He is just a kid… a kid that can't follow some simple fucking orders," Mustang snapped, shrugging Havoc's hand off his shoulder. He turned and began walking back down the long, narrow hallway, leaving the blond lieutenant standing alone, utterly defeated.
"Sir, please-" He was interrupted by the sound of boots pounding on the floor behind them. The two men spun around and raised their guns, pointing them into the darkness. The footsteps then slowed to a quick jog. Their guns remained raised until a large, heavyset form emerged from the blackness. As he stepped forward, Mustang and Havoc lowered their weapons, eyeing the man with concern.
Lieutenant Breda stopped in front of them, his hands on his knees, desperately trying to catch his breath. Havoc rushed forward and patted the man's back, helping him regain his composure. Finally managing to take a deep breath, Breda stammered, "Ed-Edward… h-he… !"
Mustang strode forward and crouched in front of his wheezing subordinate, his face inches from the lieutenant's. "Where is he?" he demanded, his voice surprisingly sprinkled with concern.
Breda slowly raised his head. "H-he… he took off! D-downs-stairs!"
"What sector?"
"We were… were in the eastern-"
Before Breda finished, the Brigadier General had already pushed past the two men, making his way toward the eastern part of the abandoned headquarters.
Havoc and a still-wheezing Breda desperately jogged after their superior, trying to match his pace. The raven-haired alchemist holstered his gun and pulled his ignition gloves from his pocket. As he slipped them on, the two officers heard him mutter, "Simple. Fucking. Orders..."
Moments after he had thrust open the steel door; Edward Elric was hit with the putrid scents of decay, iron, and mildew. His eyes watered and burned from the sudden sensory overload. He coughed and gagged, wiping the water from his eyes.
He opened his eyes slowly and looked down, realizing what he had just stumbled upon. Edward's knees buckled, and he sank to the ground. Despite the blurred vision caused by his stinging eyes, Edward refused to take his eyes off of her. Am I… too late…?
She was lying motionlessly on her right side, her back facing him. Riza's right arm was wrapped around herself, feebly grasping a fresh, seeping wound that had been inflicted on her left side. Crimson blood dripped from her tattered military jacket, forming a dark red puddle beneath her. Aside from the constant drip he could hear from the small droplets making contact with the small pool of blood, Edward could not hear or see any movement. No signs of life.
Nothing.
Still, he reached forward, right hand trembling. He was terrified. Terrified that his hand would be met with the cold, stiff sensation of death. Terrified that his golden eyes would inevitably lock with lifeless mahogany ones. Terrified knowing that Mustang's heart would shatter…
His hand now hovered just centimeters above her shoulder. Suddenly, he stopped. Something out of the corner of his eye glistened, catching his attention. His eyes darted over to it. A small, barbed metal pole was protruding from the ground and leaning against her. Golden eyes narrowed, trying to make sense of the random, misplaced object. He leaned closer, eyes running down the length of it.
His eyes widened as curiosity turned to horror. The long, metallic object had been driven through her arm, jutting out at her elbow, running parallel to the bone. Through the tattered fabric he could see necrotic, black flesh surrounding the area it protruded from. That gangrenous scent he had been hit with earlier was… Decaying flesh…
Suddenly, a wave of nausea washed over him. Edward retched, struggling to keep from getting sick. His stomach lurched and his vision began to blur. He needed something, anything, to support himself. He blindly brought his hand down, finding her shoulder for support. The sudden contact caused her shoulder to tense, forcing the boy to yelp and jump back in surprise.
She was alive.
He moved forward again, gently pressing his hand to her shoulder once more. Again, her body tensed upon contact.
"H-Hawkeye!" He could feel tears well up in his golden eyes. The boy waited for a reply. "Hawkeye…?" His grip on her shoulder tightened, causing her to shudder.
Without wasting another moment, the boy gently gathered her in his arms and held her tightly to his body. She was so cold. He could feel his warmth escaping his body and finding refuge in hers. This only caused him to tighten his grip.
They'd done it… They'd found her.
Blinking his tears away, he looked down at Riza, his face twisted with concern. She looked almost corpselike. The only color that existed on her pallid face came from the large, dark circles under her eyes, which were firmly shut. Her lips were parted slightly, allowing her to take rapid, shallow breaths. Her hair, more brown than blonde at this point, clung to the perspiration on her face. The lantern flickering behind them cast shadows on her, highlighting every imperfection. She was too thin, too pale. He needed to get her out of there now.
He tried to stand, only to find that in the process of breaking the lock, he had somehow severed a connection in his automail leg. He crumpled to the ground, his leg completely useless.
He cringed as Riza audibly gasped and gritted her teeth. The fall had unexpectedly jostled her, no doubt shooting pain throughout her entire body. After apologizing profusely, the boy lifted his head and strained his ears, hoping to hear any other signs of life. When he didn't hear any, he began to panic. He needed someone… anyone…
No… he needed Roy Mustang.
Finding his voice, the boy stuttered, "M-Mustang…" Silence. He tried again, raising his voice, "Please! Is someone there?!" His cries, again, were only met with silence. He gritted his teeth as he felt hot tears stream down his cheeks. "DAMN IT! SOMEONE… MUSTANG! PLEASE… HELP!" His screams echoed throughout the cold, lifeless dungeon, reaching every corner of the structure. "Please… help us…"
Mustang, Havoc, and Breda had paused at the top of the stairs. Straining to listen, they heard it again; a small, desperate cry for help. Without a second thought, the three men rushed down the stairs, sprinting toward the direction of the cries, racing past the dozens of former prison cells. Upon reaching a concrete wall, they turned to the right and froze in their tracks.
They saw the young, blond-haired boy sitting on the floor, his back to them, cradling something in his arms.
The men slowly advanced forward, unsure of what they would find once they'd reached him.
Hearing the echoes of their footsteps, the young blond turned his head and stammered, "M-Mustang, p-please help!" Red-rimmed, glistening golden eyes watched them, silently pleading for them to come closer.
Roy Mustang stopped and felt his gaze soften. His eyes met those of the young former alchemist's. He realized that he wasn't looking into the eyes of the fearless, confident sixteen-year-old young man that had saved them all. No… He was looking into the wide, quivering, uncertain eyes of the eleven-year-old he had met in Resembool long ago. He felt a lump form in his throat.Maybe I have forgotten that he's still just a kid…
After watching Edward for a few moments, Roy tore his eyes away from the boy's and focused on what was in his arms. He felt his heart sink. Roy could recognize that mess of long, dirty blonde hair anywhere.
After a few moments, he willed himself to move forward. Slowly kneeling next to Edward, Roy delicately took his lieutenant from the boy's arms. He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her, her body conforming to his. It felt so natural holding her.
Lips trembling, he managed to stutter, "L-lieutenant?"
No response.
"Riza?" He waited, secretly hoping that she would open her eyes and scowl, scolding him for being informal. When no lecture came, he tried again; this time he said it more forcefully, like an order. She won't refuse an order…
Still no response.
Roy began to grow desperate. He gently rocked her back and forth, this time pleading her name over and over like a broken record. After a minute of pleading, he stopped rocking her and grew silent. Please, he inwardly begged, open your eyes.
Then, as if she had read his mind, Riza slowly opened her eyes. Roy looked into them, feeling his heart pounding frantically in his chest. Her mahogany eyes seemed to pierce straight through him, her stare cold and unrecognizing. His heart skipped a beat.
"Lieutenant?" Roy desperately tried to catch her gaze, only to have her take a deep, weary breath in reply. She closed her eyes as her head lolled into his shoulder, exhaling softly as she did so. He watched her intently, hoping that she would open her eyes again. He tried to push back his feelings of dread. Her stare had unnerved him. It was as if she hadn't really seen him…
He quickly shoved that thought to the back of his head. Right now, they had to finish the task at hand: returning her home. With that rationalization firmly planted in his mind, Roy slowly stood. When the sudden change in position caused Riza to gasp, the General looked down, alarmed. He watched as she gritted her teeth in pain, keeping her eyes clenched shut.
Without his eyes leaving her, Roy shakingly murmured, "Let's go."
Breda and Havoc nodded solemnly and stepped out of the way to allow the general and his lieutenant past them. After he passed them, they turned to follow.
Noticing that the young blonde was not getting up Havoc turned back, causing the other two to stop. "Coming, Chief?"
Roy only heard Edward mumble, but he caught the words "automail" and "broken."
He watched as Havoc rushed forward and scooped up the younger blond.
Together, the five quickly made their way up the stairs and out of the crumbling, old building.
By that time, darkness had fallen and the desert wind had picked up, making it difficult to see out the front windshield of the desert vehicle. The sudden onset of the desert storm did not seem to dissuade Falman, Havoc, and Fuery as they muttered to each other, trying to make sense of the compass and map laid out in front of them.
Edward turned his attention away from the quietly bickering trio to focus on Lieutenant Breda, Mustang, and Hawkeye. Mustang was sitting cross-legged on the floor of the vehicle, Riza's head cradled in his lap. Breda had pulled out a small first aid kit and was applying pressure to the wound on Riza's left side. He noticed that the lieutenant was careful to not touch her left arm, as doing so, they'd noticed, caused her hiss in pain. The reddened gauze pads made Edward's stomach churn. He had always been fine with the sight of blood, but his memories regarding the wound were accompanied by the smells of rot and decay. The very thought forced him to wrinkle his nose in disgust.
Unable to watch anymore, Edward turned his attention toward Mustang, whom he saw raise his weary, dark eyes and look toward the front of the vehicle. "Have you called ahead," he asked, breaking the silence.
"Yes, sir," Sergeant Fuery replied. "We should be arriving in about five minutes."
Edward saw Mustang drop his shoulders and looked away. "Thank you," he quietly replied back.
After a few minutes of continued silence, Edward saw a light out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head slightly, realizing that they were once again back in the Ishvalan town of Invens, the temporary headquarters of the Amestrian military. He watched as the red-eyed, tan-skinned residents of the small town milled around the vehicle, which had slowed to a crawl.
Hearing an audible, exasperated sigh, Edward turned to face the noise's source. With one of his hands freed, Mustang was impatiently drumming his fingertips on the floor, glaring anxiously outside the vehicle. Edward frowned, watching as anger again clouded the General's eyes. Edward cleared his throat. The sudden sound seemed to snap the superior officer out of it as Edward watched him glance around uneasily before looking back down at Riza.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the vehicle came to a stop in front of the town's small military clinic. They saw the doors fly open as a few nurses rush outside with a gurney. Edward watched from inside vehicle as they urged Mustang, whom had just stepped out, to relinquish his lieutenant into their care. Reluctantly, the superior officer handed her over, his face twisted in distress and slight annoyance.
After the rest of the men had filed out of the vehicle, Edward staggered over to the edge, steadying himself as he tried to jump out. Seeing the young blond's plight, Falman rushed over and gently guided Edward down to the ground. He flashed a quick glance of gratitude toward the older, gray-haired man before he had turned away. After he steadied himself, he realized that the rest of the men were already ahead of him, making their way into the building. He huffed and quickly limped after Mustang, Havoc, Breda, Fuery, and Falman as the men trailed behind the attending nurses. They were stopped, however, when the nurses blocked them from entering the room the gurney, and their lieutenant, disappeared into.
Edward watched as Mustang stood, arms folded, as a remaining nurse tried to explain why he couldn't enter the surgical suite. The animosity radiating off of the superior officer was palpable.
As if on cue, Dr. Marcoh appeared around a corner, quickly tying a smock around his chest and waist. Before making his way into the suite, he stopped and grasped Mustang's shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze.
Mustang turned and looked at the doctor, the irritation in his dark eyes replaced with fear and despair. The two watched each other for a moment, as if conversing telepathically.
Dr. Marcoh squeezed Roy's shoulder again before releasing his grip and allowing his hand to drop to his side. He flashed the Flame Alchemist a faint reassuring smile before disappeared through the doors to the surgical suite.
Edward and the other men collapsed onto the closest benches they could find. He looked up, expecting Mustang to do the same. Instead, he watched as the raven-haired man paced anxiously back and forth in front of them, hands behind his back, lost in a deep trance.
Edward let out a long, tired sigh and leaned back against the wall. All they could do now was wait and hope.