A/N: Lots of quick updates lately. I've been in sort of a writing mood. Anyway, I've estimated each chapter to be about five pages in length, so that I can pace the story arc better. This chapter focuses more on our OC character, and the tight spot she's currently found herself in.
Disclaimer: I do not own FullMetal Alchemist or any of its characters.
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It had been a week since the incident in Rachel's kitchen. Her daily trips to the well had been significantly less eventful, now that no one was there to chatter idly alongside her. She had grown more aware of the weight of her bucket, but other than that, Rachel was relieved. Deep down, she had always dreaded that Elias would make some sort of advance on her, and now that it had finally happened she was glad it did. It wasn't so much that she had feared she wouldn't be able to fight him off, because she knew that if it ever came to that (unlikely, knowing the nature of Elias), she would be more than able to defend herself. It was the deepest, darkest part of her that whispered that when the time came, she wouldn't want to break away. That she would be too weak to not give in.
She was deeply glad that was not the case.
Living in a small area, with people as close together and with as tight-knit a community as this village, there was no such thing as being discreet. Even though Rachel never mentioned what had happened to anyone, she eventually felt her weekly shopping trips pricked with the jealous stares of younger girls, the kind that congregated in front of the fruit carts at the village marketplace. Even though she harbored no romantic feelings for Elias, she couldn't help but take a small bit of delight in the sharp whispers that came from clumps of far more attractive women, ones plump with breasts and curves and creamy, perfect skin. But as the whispers traveled from the soft lips of the village virgins to the old, withered ones of the elders, Rachel began to grow worried. Open sexuality was looked down upon by the community, and it didn't look good that Angelus's own son was succumbing to such a taboo.
Rachel held no resentment towards the man. Elias had come onto her of nowhere, but at this point she had found the resolve to forgive his sudden advance. She had said no, and he had got the hint. That was good enough for her, but in the eyes of the elders, she was worried there would be slightly more dire consequences.
Therefore, when she was about to take Den for a walk one day and opened her door to find none other than Angelus himself, she felt herself filled with enough anxiety for both her and her blonde suitor.
"Would you like anything to drink?" She asked the older man, seating him in a chair at her table. "Tea, maybe?" She quickly remembered she didn't actually have any tea. The chamomile that grew at the edge of the forest had already dried up for the fall.
Angelus smiled softly and shook his head. "No, thank you. This will be quick." He smoothed out the dark crimson robe he always wore, a symbol of power and status that Rachel had learned during her first few days at the village to respect immediately. "I assume you already know why I'm here."
Rachel sat down across from him, clutching one hand on the edge of her seat. Her left eyebrow had furrowed rather oddly into the bridge of her nose, in a desperate attempt to appear as stoic as possible. "I assure you, Angelus, Elias did nothing terrible. I know he's had a crush on me for ages, and I anticipated some sort of move coming from him. He was very respectful and left immediately after I refused him."
Angelus chuckled suddenly. Rachel's hands relaxed but her brow did not. "I-is everything alright, Angelus?"
"Oh, yes, things are quite fine. You just seem to have mixed up exactly who I'm here for."
Rachel blinked. She knew that, being Elias's father, the older man was more than likely to give his son the benefit of the doubt, but this behavior was not only inappropriate. It was strange. "I...I'm sorry, Angelus. I'm confused. I thought you came to talk to me about your son's advance upon me, within my own home."
"Indeed I have, Rachel. But you see, I'm not here to discuss my son's actions in this situation. I'm here to discuss yours."
"I'm not quite sure I understand."
The tension in Rachel's shoulders had increased until every muscle in her arms was taught with dread and anticipation. She briefly worried her arms would snap from the strain.
"You see, we as a community value certain things very much, collectively." Angelus's smooth, oaken voice softened Rachel's nerves, a special gift of older man. "It's part of who we are, as members of village. As members of The Church."
Rachel was not oblivious to The Red Church. She stayed inside on holy days, and in five years she had never once entered the giant Chapel that sat in the center of the marketplace. She accepted the kindness that came from the Church elders and followers, who comprised the entire village, but always politely declined to imitate their ways. Seeing her for an outsider, Angelus had gently asked the community never push the obscure religion on Rachel, but she still felt uneasy walking by a red robe or even catching a glimpse of the dark, scarlet windows that covered every wall of the Chapel. The way the sunlight glinted off the crimson glass sent shudders through every bone in her body.
"Obviously, many were appalled to hear about my son's forwardness towards you. But we are understanding that our strict attitudes might be slightly outdated for the times. And I know from personal experience that Elias's actions were not driven solely by lust, but instead came from a place of deep, true affection for you." Angelus's long, worn index finger began tracing the lines in the wood. "The likes of which you mentioned not long after I sat down here."
"Elias is thirty years old, as of this May. He is a studious and quiet man, but even so, I never expected him to have such little luck with finding a mate. It is very important to our community, as you know, that one eventually finds a partner with whom they can work, grow old, and eventually with whom they can walk into the next life."
"I know that your decision is your own, but my son has proven himself to be devoted to you. You know that he has not even entertained the possibility of being with anyone else since he fell for you five years ago?"
Rachel felt her stomach drop. Angelus did not come her to comfort her. He came here to negotiate.
"I know what you are proposing, Angelus, but you have to understand that I just can't be with Elias."
Something stilled in the older man's expression, and Rachel was suddenly reminded of the dark red windows of the Chapel. "Forgive me, Rachel, but I cannot understand. This seems nothing more than stubbornness. You two get along quite well."
Rachel felt something nudge her leg under the table and she looked down to see Den, growling slightly. She met Angelus's gaze and place a hand on the dog's back, passing it off as affection but actually trying to draw from some of the strength within the golden. "I know that, and I don't mean to direct any insult towards your son, really. He is an incredibly kind and loving man, and I don't doubt he will make a great partner for some girl someday." Rachel's breath was quick and short, and she had to pause in order to prevent herself from hyperventilating. "I'm telling you though, I just can't be that girl for him."
"You mean, you won't be that girl for him."
Rachel felt her temper flare a bit as Den grew louder under the table. She had never seen Angelus act like this. He was far more demanding, far more controlling than in any interaction with Rachel before. "So what if I won't? I don't see the problem with that. I'm not technically a part of the village, and I'm certainly not a part of the Church. I don't see why I should be forced to participate in this weird, life-long mate endeavour with a man I don't actually reciprocate any feelings for."
Angelus's face immediately softened in response to Rachel's sharp tone. She noticed he didn't move his hands any farther away. "I don't intend to force you, Rachel. I'm merely trying to persuade you towards a decision that would be beneficial to the both of us. I won't be the head of the Church for much longer. Even though I do have an heir, I would prefer he would not have to lead alone, and without the promise of succession." The creases around his eyes deepened as he cocked his head to the side, a simple gesture that would appear nonchalant normally but was, in this situation, deeply unsettling. "As for you, the village loves you deeply. We've longed for quite a while to make you an official member of our large family, to accept you as one of our own."
Rachel felt the tips of her fingers go cold against Den's fur. "You want me to join the Church."
"I don't see why not. After all, the Church is full of many good things, and many good people. You remember how it was the Church that helped you when you were sick and delirious? It was also the Church that allowed you this home, this dog, and your current position with our resident apothecary." Angelus finally reached a hand towards Rachel, trying to grasp one of her own. It was an action that was met with staunch reproach, as the brunette quietly but definitively leaned away, brimming with barely-restrained anger and slight fear.
"With initiation, you are already guaranteed a husband, a community, a faith. Think of the many other good things the Church could give you."
Rachel stood up suddenly and backed away from the table, trying not to let her panic show on her face. It was clear at this point that she needed Angelus out. This visit had already gone way too far. He was scaring her, with his talk of indoctrination, of a husband, of children.
Rachel had already realized that compliance meant she would be tied to this village, that she'd never be able to leave. It would put her back in the middle of the forest eleven years ago, alone and in agony and afraid, helpless to fend for herself.
"Angelus, I have the highest of respect for you. But I cannot fulfill your request. Please leave."
She had never seen a mask fall so fast. Gone was the face of the sweet, caring old man she knew, and in its place was an expression that she didn't quite recognize.
"Tell me, Rachel. What did your previous husband look like?"
A slight pause. "Excuse me?"
"Your previous husband. The father of the child you gave birth to, before being stranded for six years in impenetrable wilderness. What did he look like? Can you even remember anything about him? His face? His name?"
Rachel pressed her lips together as she felt the vein in her cheek fill with blood and pulse violently. Angelus had never dared ask her about her child. In fact, in all five years, he hadn't even so much as mentioned the c-section scar that took up the lower half of her abdomen, although he had certainly seen it several times when treating her. It had simply been a topic that both he and Rachel inherently knew would be too personal, something understood to cause too much pain for the brunnette.
Besides that, she knew she did not remember the father whatsoever, and she had a sinking feeling that Angelus knew she didn't either. She even doubted he was her husband. Her memories of even just before the village were increasingly fuzzy, and she barely had anything beyond the strong feelings of familiarity in the fall and the repulsion she felt when Elias had touched her. There was also that strange feeling of sadness, the draining sensation that followed her all throughout the beginning of spring; it was the gouging, exhausting feeling of loss, of tragedy, of death.
These emotions weren't much more than gut intuition, but Rachel clung to them, knowing they were the only keys she had to the locks buried within her brain. But even though she couldn't fathom the barest semblance of the person that kept her from Elias, she couldn't admit that to Angelus, no matter how transparent her lie would be. After five years of silence, it was not an accident that Angelus chose this moment to begin asking her about her past. It was a threat.
"He had dark hair. And dark eyes," She added, trying her best to eliminate any resemblance in her false description to Elias. She didn't need to give Angelus an incentive to manipulate her into thinking his son could be a suitable replacement. "He was short, but taller than me. And his hair was long," she inhaled sharply, fighting the urge to stutter. "And his name was William."
Angelus raised an eyebrow, staring directly into Rachel's face with eyes colder than the sweat currently wracking her entire body. "I see. And you loved him?"
"I-Yes," Rachel blurted. "I did. Now, please leave."
The tension in the room coiled and thrived within the brief moment of awkward silence that followed, before the old leader finally rose. "Reconsider your emotions, Rachel. I assure you, it is in your best interests to do so."
"And if I decide otherwise?"
Angelus smiled one final time, once again assuming the kind, gentle mask from before, but it was no longer comforting. It was terrifying.
"Then you might not find a sanctuary within this village for much longer."