I don't like this. Not at all.
My heart pounds rapidly in my chest as we walk, a spike of adrenaline buzzing in my veins with every new turn we take deeper into the heart of Central Command. Krane walks rapidly beside me, a firm hand gripping my shoulder as if to prevent me from making a run for it. As if I could. There're two besides us, large and intimidating soldiers with blank faces that I would never be able to get past. Not without seriously injuring myself.
Krane's clammy hand sends a shiver of foreboding down my spine at his unwanted touch on my person as he guides me like a misbehaving child. Another turn. Then another. As we continue to walk, I notice that there are fewer and fewer people about, and even less that take note of our presence. I have to wonder to myself just how commonplace a sight it is for a young, injured man to be frog marched like a criminal down the halls of Command. I cringe slightly at the implications.
Eventually, we pass into a completely blank hallway, much farther from anywhere I could think I might be rescued. I cast my thoughts about in some desperation. How would anyone know where I am? Anything could be done to me, anything, and not a soul would be able to find me. I glance once more at my detainer and wince at the perpetual pleased expression the man wears. We stop by an unmarked entrance and Krane opens it, pushing aside the heavy door and gesturing into the darkness beyond, giving my shoulder a firm nudge.
For a split second, I freeze as I stare into the complete darkness. My imagination runs away from me as my mind conjures images of torture chambers and dark, dungeon-like cells that one could disappear into and never be heard from again.
An annoyed sigh breaks me out of my rigid stare and I startle slightly. Krane is glaring at me with his dark eyes, but I refuse to budge, no matter how hard he squeezes my shoulder. "Oh for goodness sakes," he grumbles, shoving past me. "I'm not about to torture you, child." He walks a few paces into the room and a light flicks on, revealing the small space. I blink, letting out a subtle breath. Oh. I feel a bit silly.
Or maybe not so silly, I think, as apprehension begins to fill me with dread once again. An average conference room illuminated with fluorescent lights greets me through the open door as I step inside nervously. There are no torture instruments or any such thing, but the windowless and cold room, along with its obscure location, still have me on edge. Krane shuts the door behind me with a soft click, but it might as well have been a clash of thunder for the way I jump.
"My, you are a jumpy one," Krane chuckles, patting my back in a somewhat friendly manner. A spark of static stings my skin, nearly causing me to have a heart attack, but I hold back a flinch. Get ahold of yourself, Han. Hughes wouldn't have let you leave with this man if he thought he was going to torture you. Right?
The older man wanders casually around the small table in the center of the room and sits down at one of the few chairs. He looks at me expectantly from under his thick brows and gestures for me to take a seat as well.
I hesitate for a split second before seating myself in the chair opposite him. Discreetly I glance down at the arms of the chair. Completely normal. Not a restraining device in sight. I relax slightly. Perhaps I'm over reacting...maybe just a little. It also helps to calm my racing heart that the two escorts were left in the hall outside the door, so they aren't intimidating me any more. They are still there, so I can't run or anything, but at least they aren't looming over me like wolves.
"Right," Krane drawls. He places the folder he's been carrying on the table–the same folder he pulled Hughes' orders from–and flips it open. I glance down at it curiously, and immediately pale. Several pictures of me spread out over the table; my portrait from school, a photo of me smiling with a few of my friends, one of me with my family, and one of my unconscious form as it was when they brought me here. My gaze locks on the picture of me with my mother and sister. How...how did they get these photos? I'm fairly certain there is only one copy of this particular photo, and it sits on the dresser in my ma's room. Did they question her…? Krane silently takes in my shocked expression and smiles slowly, as if amused. "No need to be so shocked, my lad. This is merely...preliminary research. You aren't actually important enough for the military to take notice of."
I shake my head slightly. Preliminary research? I squint down at the folder more closely and spot my school records, my address, my interests, and even the name of my father. No, this is not preliminary research; this is a profile of my entire life. I glance up at Krane, who is studying my face with the utmost interest. A shiver rolls down my spine.
"Then why are you keeping me here?" I look away sullenly, trying my best to hold back my alarm. I get the distinct impression that it would be bad news to show too much weakness in front of this suspicious character.
Krane ignores my question and instead picks up a sheet of paper from the file, glancing down at it casually. "Hanson Silas, son of Diane and Argus Silas, brother to an Annalise…" He scans my face carefully, but this time I am able to control my reaction. "It says here that your father was killed in a crossfire between the military police and a gang...most unfortunate…"
I narrow my eyes, not entirely sure where he's going with this. Abruptly he changes the subject.
"You have been here for three weeks under the care of the military hospital staff, is this correct?" I nod slowly. "And in all of that time, you have been repeatedly visited by Investigations to provide your statement in regards to the case of the missing alchemists, is this also correct?" I didn't move this time, but it seems like he no longer needs my input. He drops the paper he is holding and laces his plump gloved fingers together, peering over them at my frozen face.
"Let me cut to the chase, young man. In this room, on this very day, you are going to tell me exactly what happened on the days between the fifth of February to the twentieth of February." His voice becomes exceptionally cold. "You are going to tell me everything, you will answer all of my questions, and you will leave nothing out. Am I understood." The last sentence was more of a demand for obedience than a question, and a bead of sweat rolls down my neck. Though I begin to shake, my lips remain stubbornly sealed, Hughes' final words to me echoing in my mind.
Unperturbed by my silence, Krane stands and begins to walk around the table slowly, setting my teeth on edge. Casually, he picks up a sheet from the file on the desk and holds it in front of him. For several seconds, he is silent. "Your father, Argus Silas...It must have been terribly hard for your family to lose him...and to those who were meant to protect you, no less…" He raises a brow. "Would you say that you hold a grudge for the military because of this incident?"
...What?
"This grudge, which I am sure you no doubt hold...you were so young after all, and I imagine that the incident must have made you so very angry...Angry enough to perhaps...do something about it?" He speaks slowly, as if choosing his words with the utmost care.
"What–" I manage to whisper, but he cuts me off.
"On the date of February the fifth, at approximately oh-seven-hundred, you were seen tailing Major Edward Elric to a small cafe in the West Shopping District while he was on assignment to patrol for clues to the missing alchemists." My face drains of color as what he is saying starts to dawn on me. He continues mercilessly. "A few moments later, as his guard is set to change...such convenient timing, I might add...you were seen pulling young Major Elric into an alleyway, away from the view of the street. Would you say this is so, Mr. Silas?"
"Now hold on a minute–" I croak in protest, but am ignored.
"Mr. Alphonse Elric reported this incident, and upon investigation of that very same alley, enough evidence suggested a struggle transpired, and Edward Elric was declared missing along with a certain young man; a young man we just happen to find in the valley where illegal actions by a government enemy were taking place. Would you say this is correct, Mr. Silas?"
"You–" my voice cracks, "You can't possibly believe that I was the one who kidnapped Edward."
A slow smile spreads over Krane's face and my stomach drops. "And why not?" he says softly, like a snake. "You were stalking him, were you not? You pulled him into the alley, did you not? You lead him right into that valley…"
"No," I choke. "Edward told you what happened–"
"Oh?" He looks back down to the paper in his hand. "According to this, Edward doesn't remember several hours leading up to the event, nor do any of the other alchemists."
"But Hughes–"
"–Did not arrive until after events began to unfold." A loud snap echoes through the room as he slams the documents back onto the table and leans forward, all traces of a smile gone. "Yet you somehow remember, while none of the criminals were detained, either destroyed by the circle or killed by our soldiers. And the collar didn't work on you, did it, Han? How convenient."
"B-but I'm not an alchemist–"
"Aren't you?" He hisses. Krane pulls back abruptly and pulls another sheet from the stack, waving it through the air lightly. "According to several eyewitness reports, you were seen at the edge of the unidentified circle, activating it."
No. No, no, no this is all so wrong. My breaths start to come in short gasps as all of this evidence is laid before me, condemning me inescapably. My shoulder gives a sharp throb and the room spins, blurred by my suddenly inadequate vision. The worst part is that I can see exactly how this conclusion was reached, perfectly follow this line of reasoning. I was the one who pulled Edward into that alleyway, who got him captured. I was the one who used alchemy, no matter how extraordinary the circumstances, and in a way, I did activate that circle. Is this really what the military thinks happened? Is my silence really the cause of this?
Several moments pass between us as Krane lets me absorb everything that he has said. He begins to walk around the table once more, but I'm too shocked to react. "Now Han...all of this can be cleared up, you know. No one really believes you were in league with those criminals…"
I look up nervously. "They don't…?"
He smiles and once more places a frigid hand on my shoulder, the cold digits feeling like an electric shock to my charged system, and my heart skips a beat, shortening my breath. "Of course not," he says gently, and his voice only becomes more insincere–and compelling–by the second. "But you must understand that the evidence is rather...conclusive. We simply had no alternative but to fill in the blanks, as it were. Your silence is making it a tad difficult to find out what really happened…"
I shiver violently as the room seems to drop in temperature and sway, but I'm too focused on his words to notice. His hand bites into my shoulder like ice as he leans forward to look in my eyes. In a sugary sweet tone, he says, "Perhaps we should start over, Mr. Silas. Now, you are going to tell me exactly what happened on the days between the fifth of February to the twentieth of February. After all, we wouldn't want this little misunderstanding to continue, would we?"
Tremors run up and down my body as I can't bring myself to look away from his eyes, head spinning. I know I'm trapped. I would have to tell this man everything. I would have to say why I could use alchemy, everything that I saw, no matter how insane. My eyes flickered over to the stack of evidence on the table, and all of the serious accusations associated. I take a shuddering breath, feeling a steel trap closing about me. The only hope I have left is that the answers Krane is looking for would save me, rather than condemn me further.
Somehow, I doubt it.
With a final breath, I nod in assent, shoulders slumping under his grip. A broad smile covers his features, looking too wide to be natural, and he pats my shoulder twice. This time I flinch, as every time his hand comes in contact with me I feel an electric shock, raising gooseflesh on my skin. "There now," he says, "That wasn't so hard, was it?"
He wanders back to his side of the table and my eyes struggle to track his movement, vision beginning to waver strangely. A ringing begins in my ears and I shake my head slowly in confusion as shivers wrack my entire frame. Just when had it gotten so cold in here…?
"Now then," Krane begins in a strangely slow voice, drawing my attention back to the fore. A predatory glint sparks in his eye. "How about we start from the beginning?"
I shake my head, but the haze doesn't pass. I relax fully back into the uncomfortable plastic chair and as if of its own accord my voice echoes in the small room. "There was this boy who always walked by my apartment…" My vision flickers once, twice, then I know no more.
-o0o-
A laugh, cruel and lifeless as the environment around me echoes in the whiteness, but I can't tell where it comes from. I stand alone in this place, so very alone, before a great door I remember vividly. Unlike the last time I saw it, there are no chains to hold it closed, nothing to keep whatever is inside locked away. I feel a terrible pressure in my head, as if something is trying to reach out from the inside. I groan clutch my temple but nothing eases the pain, why does it hurt so bad? An ominous creak echoes in the white and the door before me shudders and cracks open–
"Don't stand there and tell me that this happened without him noticing!"
Abruptly, I come to to the sound of muffled shouting. Slowly, I open my eyes, head throbbing immediately at the bright white light. For a moment, I believe that I am somehow still in that horrid place, but reason interjects itself. No,I feel much too corporeal, too much pain to be back there. For several seconds I clench my teeth, but the discomfort doesn't ease. With a groan, I ignore it and force my eyes to open. A familiar white ceiling greets me, though it is spinning around stubbornly, no matter how I try to focus my vision. With a surge of nausea I realize that I'm back in my thrice accursed hospital room. A piteous sound escapes my throat as another throb surges through my head. What happened…?
"–hunt that bastard down–" Edward's voice reaches me, his tone angry but muffled by the closed door.
"Edward, calm down," another unfamiliar voice commands, but my friend is having none of it.
"Don't tell me to calm down!"
The argument continues, but I can't make out much else. I look around blurrily, realizing that I'm alone in the room, and try to remember how I got here. A hazy conversation, a wide grin and hissing tones flick through my memory...A black gate in the white place, that demon's domain….I shake my head, trying to separate the recurring dream from reality. A file with pictures of me, pictures that should have not been so easy to obtain...a twisted series of events.
My heart sinks as the conversation comes back to me in full and I groan, this time loudly, as I massage my temple with my hand. "Krane…" I growl. What was I thinking? How could I have told that suspicious man everything like that, no matter how dire his supposed evidence was? Hughes told me to wait and I didn't, too scared to keep quiet. Am I really so weak!? I struggle to remember everything I foolishly revealed, but the tail end of that conversation is blurred, as if I dreamed it instead of lived it.
The door slams open with a sharp bang and I flinch badly at the loud noise, letting out a grunt of protest.
"Han!" My friend bursts into the room, red coattails snapping behind him in his haste, and I feel a flush of warmth within me at his presence, despite my current dark mood.
"Hey, Eddie," I croak, suddenly realizing I'm parched. "We really can't keep meeting like this." I smile weakly at his grunt of amusement and spot Al walking into the room at a slightly more sedate pace, though if I am reading him correctly, he is nearly as agitated as his brother. Another bluecoat enters the room, this one unfamiliar, and I frown darkly. It eases a moment later, though, when I recognize Hughes walk in behind the stranger. "What happened to me?" I ask Edward, trying to bring his pinched face into focus.
"That's what I'd like to know," he growls. "Last thing I see of you is that bastard Krane dragging you off somewhere, and the next thing I know you've been brought back to the hospital unconscious and with a dangerously high fever." He glares sharply over at Hughes, whose expression remains grim.
I struggle to sit up and Al hastens to my side, placing a calming hand against my back to guide me against my pillows. I smile at him faintly before turning to Hughes. "I'm sorry, Mr. Hughes. I think...I think I told him everything."
"You think?" The stranger speaks up in a deep tone. I flicker my eyes to him uncertainly, taking in his dark hair and vaguely Xingese features. Black eyes stare back at me, and I shiver, unable to help remembering the man I accidently cut with a knife weeks ago. I shake it off and give Hughes a questioning look.
Hughes nods, gesturing to his companion. "Han, this is Colonel Mustang, Edward's superior. You can trust him."
I frown, taking that statement with a grain of salt. Seeing as how the last person in that uniform I trusted was Hughes, who let me get taken by Krane, I'm understandably having a bit of a hard time believing that. I glance up at Edward, the only person in this crazy place I truly trust, and silently ask his opinion.
My friend glances back at the colonel and makes a face that I can't quite interpret before sighing and muttering, "Yeah, yeah, you can trust him. Probably."
"Gee thanks, Ed," Mustang says in a tone that could only be interpreted as sarcasm. Edward snorts in amusement, but doesn't take back his statement. I look back and forth between them in confusion, noticing the almost animosity between them, but Al's voice distracts me.
"Come on, brother. Yes, Han, you can trust him. Ed is just being obtuse."
"Hey!"
"Now, now boys, this really isn't the time," Hughes interjects longsufferingly before an argument begins. I couldn't help but feel mildly bemused in this situation. He's behaving like a man long used to such antics, and I could see a similar expression on Mustang's face. These four are acting more like family than military rank and file. "Han, what did you mean by you 'think' you told him everything."
My amusement slides away like so many suds on a wet plate. "I say that because I don't really remember everything I said. I was feeling...strange. Like I couldn't focus. It was freezing in there." Hughes and Mustang seem to share a significant look, but I continue before they could comment. "Hughes, he had a file. There were a lot of pictures of me and information–"
"A file you say?" Hughes interrupts, suddenly going rigid. "What was in it?"
I scoff. "Only my entire life's story along with some very convincing evidence that I was somehow responsible for kidnapping Edward in revenge for my dead father." I'm beginning to feel more lucid now, as if a haze is lifting from my person. And with lucidity comes the anger. "How exactly did he get that picture of my family that only has one copy, anyway? Have you people been harassing my mother, telling her I'm a criminal? Is that why she hasn't seen me at all in the past few weeks?!"
"Han, calm down," Al said gently. "I'm sure there's an explanation to all of this...right?" He directs his question to Hughes, who shifts uncomfortably, a deep frown lining his brow. Edward and Mustang are watching on with almost identical expressions of intensity.
Eventually Hughes answers, hand rubbing his chin in agitation. "Yes, we did interview your mother," I let out a sharp hiss, but he continues before I can interrupt, "but it was only to obtain some of your records to create a profile–"
"So you did investigate me!" I shout, a bit beside myself. "You think I'm a criminal too, don't you?" I can't believe this. Oh–yes I can. This is the military, after all. They're all crooks, just like my ma' said!
"Han," Edward interrupts me calmly, placing a warm hand on my arm. I snap my glare to him, but he doesn't look away. Golden eyes stare back, sincere in their concern, and I calm instantly, relaxing back into my pillows.
I glance reluctantly back at Hughes, his face blank, but his lips pinched. "Sorry, I didn't…" I trail off and look away.
"It's standard procedure to do a background check on anyone admitted to this hospital," Mustang interjects bluntly. "You were also remaining stubbornly silent as to any details regarding yourself or the events that took place a few weeks ago. What I don't understand," he says to Hughes and ignoring my abashed look, "Is how Major Krane got ahold of this information."
"Brigadier General Clemin," Hughes says grimly, and the others in the room seem to stiffen around me. "I received orders from him that Han be taken into questioning and all information passed on to Major Krane. It looks like he got ahold of it from my people before I received those orders and could do anything about it."
"He said I was the one who kidnapped Eddie," I repeat, staring down at my hand.
"Did he now?" Mustang frowns and I can feel his eyes boring into my scalp. "Did he say those exact words or did he merely imply?" I frown, shaking my head, but it's as if there is something blocking my memory. "This is important, Han. Remember."
"No...he didn't say that. Just that there were witnesses…" Now that I think about, he really didn't have any evidence of my guilt at all. But still...it sounded so compelling when he was saying all those things.
"Still, it could be dangerous if Clemin bypasses the investigation process. Your silence could be interpreted as a confession of guilt," Hughes says seriously, and I pale.
"This is bullshit!" Edward exclaims, making me jump. "It's over, the ones responsible are dead, the collars are no longer dangerous and there's no more reason to be harassing Han! Besides, you said you told him everything, right Han? Krane or Clemin or whoever has no case!"
Mustang lets out a long, irritated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Edward, how many times do I have to tell you not to be so damn naive?"
"What was that, bastard?!"
"No. Han was right to be cautious," Hughes says, heading off the confrontation. "Regardless of whether he is innocent or not, Han was seen performing alchemy, has a resistance to something that should by all accounts have turned him into a slave, and is the only one that remembers exactly what happened in a high profile crime scene."
My stomach sinks through the floor. When he says it like that, it does sound bad. "What exactly does that mean for me?"
"It means," Mustang said grimly, "that if you had told the truth to Hughes sooner, he might have been able to blow this over. Now that your case has been given over to someone else…"
"This might very well be out of our hands," Hughes finishes.
I swallow thickly. "I think it's worse than that. Because what really happened…" I trail off and fall silent, still not able to properly explain what it is I think I saw, not even sure how I was able to relate it to Krane in the first place.
"You saw it, didn't you…" Edward says softly when I can't bring myself to continue. Every expression in the room is the same, all grim, as if what Edward is implying something they have all been dreading. I can only stare in confusion as Edward's eyes leave mine to flicker between Hughes and Mustang. "The Gate."
"And now Krane knows it." Mustang adds grimly.
And suddenly all four pairs of eyes are on me, gold, red, black and green, all holding the same look that I can't quite interpret, but that sends a shudder of fear down my spine nonetheless.
I can't help but feel, as I stare between the four of them with trepidation, that I've made a grievous mistake in allowing Krane to manipulate me into talking. Once again I'm faced with the consequences of my own foolish decisions, stumbling around in the dark, always blind in this world so much stranger than my own. The only thing I can think, as I curl my only arm around my drawn knees and hide from the insanity of it all, is that whether I like it or not, I've been had.
And the only thing standing in between me and the manipulations of the military are the four in this room, all looking at me as if I have just signed my own death sentence.
-o0o-
AN:
Aw, Han, don't be so hard on yourself. This is at least seventy five percent not your fault. I love how that interrogation went. I feel like I'm channeling Anthony Horowitz with this story in general lol.
