White Daffodils

Run you goddamn son of a bitch!

Hughes' body was slow. He had sat in the Investigations office for far too long and that had left him so out of shape. He huffed and puffed as he set his pace even faster, pushing his body against its narrow limits, watching his legs sprint and feet pound against the cobbled ground. His glasses had slipped off his nose and smashed somewhere far back. Thank goodness for the extra pair that he always carried handy in his bag...

Adrenaline coursed through his veins. He was back in Ishval. Running for his life. Running past the houses (running from his nightmares) that were pressing in around him even though they were in front of him all along-

Run!

The roads of Turinene were lost in a blur behind him; all of the colours of the streets muddled together in his peripheral vision. Maes mustered his deeply-buried stamina which pushed him forward, his heart beating faster and faster. Not enough oxygen getting to his head-

He turned left right left right left right so many times that he lost count. He was following the trail of blood Fuery's blood, innocent Fuery oh God-

Maes Hughes was a member of the Investigations Department in the Amestrian military and as a result he had to collect himself and remain calm and logical involved in a murder case. He usually controlled his erratic thoughts with:

"They're not suffering anymore."

"Their families can begin their journey to peace."

"Everyone will put in more effort to stop this from happening again."

But when the case affected him personally, it broke that wall he had built and fortified over the years of seeing the decay of corpses and smelling the ruin of genocide. First Ed...and Al…and seeing Fuery being shot. Seeing the broken expression on Roy's face was breaking him apart. Maes was one of these people who felt the pain of others more acutely than he felt his own goddamn pain.

It was shit.

With their CO knocked unconscious, it was his duty as the next highest-ranking officer to take charge, and that meant following this psychotic criminal – monster – to his lair, like a brave knight with sword and shield pillaging the dragon's den for loot.

Except he wasn't brave. He was not doing this because he wanted to. All human desires had left him; he was being driven on pure adrenaline and instinct to protect those who were part of his pack.

Maes stumbled. His glasses fell and smashed on the ground. Fucking hell he didn't have time for this!

"Shitting hell!"

He blamed the adrenaline on the incessant swearing.

He grabbed his glasses roughly and stuck them into his pocket, dragging out his spare pair from the back pocket. These made his face like twice its size and his eyes became as large as an owl's, but at that moment all he needed to do was run. And so he sucked in a huge breath, drawing in as much oxygen, and ploughed down to the next street on his left.

The hustle and bustle of the town had been left far behind him. Maes knew he was in dangerous territory (or the monster's territory more specifically). Turinene was quiet. The ground was no longer cobbled but replaced with a dry sand like the desert. The houses were desolate; there was no laundry billowing in the gardens; the windows were plastered over; doors were hanging from their hinges. This was the kind of place a mother wouldn't want to raise her children in. He had a fleeting thought of Gracia trying to spoon feed Elicia banoffee pie after she had been weaned. He shivered; his family wouldn't come anywhere near this place as long as he still had breath in his body.

Maes shivered once again, although the sun's rays were piercing through the clouds and landing like an arrow upon his face. He squinted. The blood spatters were more concentrated here, as if someone had stood here waiting for something holding an injured Fuery for some period of time. Usually Maes would have paused to think his options through and follow through on the most methodical course of action. However, he was desperate, his hazel eyes moving from side to side looking for some window or door…

He shifted on the spot, and felt the pressure below his feet change. It was as if he was sinking through the sand. Maes ducked to the side away from the strange sinking sand. He pressed his foot lightly against the spot again, and let his foot sink through a little. The sand ate at his foot until he felt solid ground. It creaked. It was wood!

This was his trapdoor, or his descent into Hell. He didn't even damn care. Now there had to be a way to open this door…

He fell to his knees, breaking his fall with his hands, and felt for a key, a press…and then. Perfect. A bright blue light shone, and the sand began to solidify into a harder stone. That left the trapdoor free for access. Maes stole a glance over his shoulder – nobody was there – and then he grit his teeth, opened the door and prepared to lower himself into the darkness-

"Wait!" a tall man rounded the corner, out of breath and he had to stop and let his body gasp for breath. That was what smoking did, a parental part of Maes' mind screamed silently.

Maes' eyes narrowed – what was Havoc doing here? "Lieutenant – go!" Maes hissed, lowering his voice to a barely audible pitch.

Havoc stepped back involuntarily to the change in attitude of the Lieutenant Colonel, although Maes did not care how he presented himself. They were wasting time and Havoc was only slowing him down!

"Sorry, Mustang's orders," Havoc shrugged, recovering from his exertion with a wipe of sweat from his forehead with one marine sleeve.

"Tell the Colonel to keep his nose out of this business! This is my-" Hughes stopped as Havoc pulled out a cigarette and barked with laughter.

Did the man honestly have no discretion at a time like this?

"We're all trained for fieldwork, Sir. And I have a good aim," Havoc fumbled about in his pockets, groaning in disgust, "Colonel, have a light? Oh, you're not him. Sorry, Sir. You remind me of each other."

"I am nothing like that seducing womaniser," Maes shook his head. He would only have eyes for Gracia.

"Pft, you're more alike than not. Uncannily so," Havoc snorted amusedly, adopting a far more sophisticated tone to his voice. This side of the Second Lieutenant caused Maes' eyes to widen in surprise, "for one, you are set on protecting everyone around you on your own."

The Lieutenant Colonel shifted his boot, hovering over the trapdoor. From a distance it looked like his leg had vanished into thin air. Jean had spoken the truth. Sometimes he gained an aura of protectiveness and deemed it his responsibility alone to protect the team. But here was Havoc, obeying his CO, and also wanting to help rescue his allies…friends…

That unspoken dedication sparked admiration in Maes. This was what true loyalty was about: actions over words.

"Alright, we had better go then," Maes said, and quickly began the descent down the ladder.

Havoc's voice reverted to its country boy tone immediately, "now we're talking! Why couldn't you use alchemy though, Sir? I really need a light right now…"

But Havoc was silenced when they reached the bottom of the short descent into the underground, for there was corridor after corridor of eerie artificial lighting shining ghostly through the gloom. Water dripped from the ceiling, stagnant and foul, and Maes gagged on the air. He knew this smell: it had been ingrained on him in Ishval.

Blood.

The screams of the children split the night. In the deserts of Ishval, there was no escape. A huge wall was erected around the city, glowing the bright blue of alchemy, preventing any Ishvalan from escaping. Gunshots echoed and followed, silencing those innocent screams…

Agony.

He held his murder weapon close to his chest. He marched across the sand towards the sound of the screams, few and far-between now. His heart was pounding and his grip on his rifle – Death he had named it – was not strong. His hands were too clammy. A faint moon shone, guarded by a veil of clouds. No stars were out tonight. The spirits of the dead didn't have a proper burial. They were shot and burnt and dragged to the ground like dogs. None of them would reach Heaven; they would remain in a hellish purgatory and haunt his soul until the end of time. With moonlight striking his black hair like a halo ring, he raised Death and rammed bullets into the guts of women and children, hoping to make the pain in his heart go away…

But oh how their silence was worse than their screams.

Torture.


Everything had become dark all of a sudden. However, his surroundings were beginning to brighten again, the world flashing white. As white as the daffodils that had been resting serenely on the table in the room of enlightenment…

He tried to blink to make the overwhelming haziness vanish, but it wouldn't. Panic began to rise in his chest. He had been to this place before, it was the lingering at the back of his mind locked tightly in a box. He dared not speak about it. The One. The All. The knowledge of alchemy was contained in the contents of that box. It was his Truth, and he looked around, or attempted to, to find nothing but blinding white, as if he was stuck suffocating in an avalanche.

His chest started to heave. He was so open. He was so exposed. Somebody could come up from behind and grab him. He was used to the protection of a wall to lean against, its pressing weight a reminder of where he was. However, he could feel nothing now. He was unprotected and he could be ended by a hot poker in the matter of a second-

All around him. Bright bright bright! It was a harsh brightness, like artificial lighting, or a sun flare. He cowered, trying to make himself smaller to make the dizzying white vortex around him disappear. There was no structure to this place…for all he knew he was falling. The vertigo surrounded him almost instantly and he closed his eyes trying to make it all go away.

Go away go away LEAVE ME ALONE!

Except it didn't.

And then he realized. His eyes were already closed. They were sealed tightly shut.

What had happened? Why was he this tense-

He tried to control his breathing, but he could hear and sense nothing. He couldn't even feel his own corporeal being; he was alone in the recesses of his mind…

Taking in a steadying breath, he opened his eyes…

And all he could see was white.

What the Hell was going on? Why was the world so damn white? Why did he feel like he was falling and there was no end to his vertigo?

Ring!

There was a high pitched ring (that sounded like a wailing) at the back of his mind. It was as if someone was tearing a hole through his brain, like the star being a chasm being Heaven and Earth, allowing sound to seep into his white vortex. He latched onto that sound as a child latches to their mother through the umbilical cord. He tried to reach out for any comfort and he had no damn idea why what was going on-

-Hello.-

Who are you?

-This is impressive. Were you really traumatised that much?-

Where are you?

-Here. There. Everywhere.-

I can't see you! I can only see this pulsing white place...where is this? The Portal?

-You remember the Portal?-

Yes…I think so. It contains all the knowledge of the Universe. The Truth.

-Correct. But what for?-

I'm not sure…that's quite hard…I swear that I'm meant to know…but I don't remember…

-Trauma on the brain has suppressed your memories it seems…-

That's not true!

-Then what is your name?-

It's…well…I-I don't actually know…I know who I am but I can't remember my name.

-Then what are you then?-

A dreamer. A catcher. A pursuer for Truth.

-Very vague.-

A theorist…a scientist…an alchemist, that is it!

-Well done. That is one minute part of the puzzle fitted together.-

If I'm an alchemist, then I must have seen the Gate. I lost something precious to me…

-What did you sacrifice?-

My body…oh goodness…I don't have an arm or leg…I did it for Mum…I did it for Al…Alphonse! My brother I've left him behind where is here I need to get to him right now…

-There is no point struggling. You will not be able to escape until you work out each piece of the puzzle.-

What is the puzzle, you bastard? Don't keep me here away from my brother! Are you that smug cocky git Truth?

-No, and do not assume all that you know is fact, little alchemist.-

Don't call me little. Wait. I remember! I was called a little alchemist by another smug cocky git…a bastard…Mustard or something. Colonel Bastard Mustang. That's who.

-Yes, your banter truly is…amusing.-

Are you being sarcastic? Oh Hell with it. I'm an alchemist I can beat a puny phony like you…I…metal limbs…what did that bastard call me? Fullmetal!

-Welcome back Fullmetal Alchemist, Edward Elric.-

Oh great. Now what am I doing stuck here? Where even is this damn place?

-You seem to have regained your courage rather rapidly. Tread with caution. Not all memories are…pleasant.-

What do you mean you vague git?

-Remember further. Be more specific. Search for the truth. Why are you here?-

Al…

We were seeking…a stone…the Stone…

And we found it…

Alphonse became flesh and blood again. We did it! Now why am I still here?

-More.-

I took him somewhere special. Turinene. Havoc said it had the country's best ice cream parlour. Al loves ice cream.

But then…everything became dark.

-Close. So close.-

Cold…biting cold…and the smell, I can't-

-Further.-

But that was only the start of it. Pain…and more pain. Reality became a dream.

And Al. They hurt Al.

-Yes, they did.-

They then took me. T-they…

-They tore you to pieces inside out. They used you like you were dirt and that is what you have become. Dust that can slip through a person's fingers. You are the grit stuck in their fingernails.-

Oh God…

-There's no point praying now, Elric. You're broken, so broken that not even the angels can stitch wings onto your back.-

I flew too close to the Sun. And then my wings melted. I fell. I crashed. I burnt.

-Here we go.-

And then he came to save me! He came to save me. FUERY TRIED TO SAVE MY PATHETIC EXCUSE OF A LIFE WHY DID HE DO THAT.

HE'S DEAD.

I KILLED HIM.

I AM A MURDERER.

I SHOULD NOT-

-What was the last thing that you saw?-

Brains. Flowers. White daffodils with their waxy white petals…

-Open your eyes.-

He tried. But once again, all he could see was a bright white. His vision suddenly darkened and he was pulled back into the ensnaring clutches of his memory. There was Fuery, pleading to save his life…

-That is the last thing you will see.-

-Him. Saving you. You tried to play God. And now you're trapped in the Devil's clutches.-

-Oh you silly pathetic golden boy. There is no Mummy or Daddy to save you now.-

Liar.

I can…just make out the light…a gap in this white…there…

Edward reached out towards the slice of grey in his vision, scarring the white landscape like a claw scratch. This was his way out of this hellish place. However, he knew he would be returning very soon.

-Do you know what the alchemic voltage did to you this time? Like how they permanently burst your brother's eardrums? Yes, that is the reason that he is deaf.-

-It burnt through your retinas. But instead of going blind instantly, the process is going to take several agonising days. Your body is fighting its effects even as we speak.-

Let me go back…please God…

-I'm not God. I am a figment of your imagination. The darker thoughts. The suicidal contemplations. Your shadow form if you would like a name for me. I am your Shadow.-

Get me out of here!

-There is no escape from your mind, sunshine. We'll speak soon.-

And then Edward became aware of sensations around him. The voice speaking in his head vanished like mist. He could feel his jaw, bleeding and hear the trickle of blood collapsing on the ground below him. He gagged at what he smelt: raw death. Recent.

He pushed the sickening image out of his head, trying his damn best to control his erratic breathing. He could feel his heart work overtime (when did it not at the moment) and his lungs bloating and pushing out against his ribcage with each raspy breath, threatening to break his delicate bones (or the ones that weren't broken yet). His whole body was sore beyond belief, as if he had been swimming in the frozen lakes of Drachma. Pain lanced throughout his skull, the pressure unbearable.

"Welcome back! Phase II is complete – excellent job, young alchemist! Your potential is absolutely incredible…" the voice of his nightmares. The voice in his head was a narcissistic bitch, but it was a part of him and it was bluntly honest. However, this snake spoke in riddles and twisted his words with exuberant lies, painting a fantasy into Edward's mind about all that could be and will be…

Edward opened his eyes.

He wanted to see his killer with his own eyes.

Because even though he hadn't been killed, the moment the trigger killing Fuery had been pulled, a part of him had died too.

The only reason he was here was for Al.

If it was just him, he would have surrendered to the darkness a long time ago.

His vision was blurry and faint like an unfocused camera lens. Gradually, the world began to shift less and the puddle of colours began to arrange themselves into a logical sequence of what he should be seeing. The white room…the blood-stained glass…the table…the daffodils…the nodes lying cluttered on the ground.

He bit back a laugh. How quickly was this happening to him?

Edward's right eye still saw a bright white light. He could tell his eye was open – he blinked and tried to work his eye muscles. However, he knew what it was. Gone! His right eye was gone – blinded and broken like the rest of his damn body and mind. His left eye's vision was tolerable, but the more he strained on making objects coming into focus, they became blurry and distorted once again. His vision was already slipping in that eye now.

It wouldn't be long before he was rendered completely defenceless.

Without his sight he would be able to discern between reality and nightmare.

Why did it matter? They were both the same thing to him now.

He realized he wasn't gagged. He could speak. He could plead and cry out for some justification why this was happening to him. Why this had happened to Fuery…

But he couldn't say anything. Tears spilt down his cheeks – the flow not wanting to stop. He silently wept, his one good eye blurring with the heartbreak of his soul. He didn't make a sound or weep. There was nothing left for him to give. Nothing!

"Oh, Ed? Why are you crying?" Kimblee moved swiftly and bent down so he could wipe the foamy tears from Edward's face. He recoiled to the touch but kept on crying and burnt with the raging hate he had seething throughout his body for Kimblee. He projected every thought and feeling of pain he had experienced, hoping it would make Kimblee fall dead in his tracks. If he had the strength to move his arms…he could end the monster here and now and get revenge for Fuery but he was so damn weak, he couldn't do it…

"You cannot surrender though. You wouldn't want your friend to have died in vain," Kimblee tutted as if he was scolding a school child who had said an incorrect answer. That caused anger to bubble within Edward. His automail arm was gone and his other arm was broken into a series of contorted shapes, like some sculpture on display in an art gallery, but he could still feel.

He could feel fucking pain.

A growl rose in his throat, rippling like a wave past his larynx. The air shivered and Kimblee had no time to step back as Edward lunged forward to bite at his face.

Edward's canines made contact with pink flesh, and he dug in. Hard. He tightened his grip and shook his head from side to side. Blood drops spat outwards in all directions, covering Ed's face. The taste of iron was strong in his mouth.

And Kimblee was laughing, "so much power!"

With that the doctor buried a fist into the ground, and Ed's teeth ripped a chunk of flesh from the man's face before losing contact. Yellow sparks of…alchemy…shot out of the ground, channelling an alchemic current far stronger than what Edward could transmute. And Kimblee didn't need a transmutation circle. Instead of relying upon souls of the Philosopher's Stone, extracted from a person's body, he had extracted and broken apart energy from the soul itself, while inside its vessel, Ed's body. The energy connecting a soul and body was far stronger than a soul detached and the pain and suffering that the soul had endured had hardened it, made it that much stronger.

Edward's energy store in his soul was massive, and now Kimblee was pooling that energy into himself by applying an alchemic current. And with the use of a radio, Edward suddenly understood where that energy was coming from. Kimblee had to use a specific frequency, like a radio.

Just like…

"Call me Ed."

Fuery…

He had never seen any alchemy like it before.

Edward was bound, and an invisible force clamped against his throat, restricting his airways so he was unable to breathe.

He couldn't save one.

What about the others?

Alphonse…

Kimblee seemed to be able to read his thoughts, for he said, "you let an innocent man die. How would your brother feel about you now? Monster."

The last word was spat as if he was an abominable creature from nightmares.

Simply, he was.

Alphonse wouldn't want to be anywhere near him. The younger Elric didn't deserve to have an older brother that couldn't protect either of them. Edward has been searching for five helpless years just to get Al back in his original body, from failed transmutation that had been his fault. And as soon as that neglected and abused body had been brought back from the other side of the Gate, Edward couldn't keep his promise. Again. Al's body had become neglected and abused.

Again.

Worthless.

Ed had also succeeded in making one of the world's most crazed scientists infinitely more powerful. And here he was sitting in his own vomit and blood, shivering and cowering like a frightened kitten doing nothing to protect the people that he had vowed to protect, whether they shared his blood or not. It had been his fault for being ignorant about Turinene.

-You were unconscious for nearly a month. Think about what Alphonse endured then.-

-Mustang's team. Why would they care for you? They nearly drove themselves beyond the point of no return for them. Picture the bloody paint that would spray the walls…-

-And Winry. Didn't you promise never to make her cry again?-

-This is your punishment for trying to keep your word. You were dead the day you performed what was forbidden. You, just like your brother's body, have been on borrowed time most likely. It took a little longer for your debts to catch back up with you though.-

He glanced up, like a beaten dog submitting to its master. There on the table was the vase of white daffodils. The glass had shattered in places, but the waxy petals were still blossoming lazily, greedily sucking up sunlight for photosynthesis, struggling to keep themselves alive. It was ironic –their stems had been cut off and without roots, the plants had no chance of surviving in the long-term. However, they were "alive".

Much like Edward.

That was the last thing he had ever seen with his right eye. The white petals…possessing more strength to stay alive than the Fullmetal Alchemist did. And the pink deposits of brain matter…

Death clung close to him, but it wouldn't come for him. He was an observer to the deaths of those around him, while he suffered, half-alive in this insufferable reality.

Alphonse wouldn't be able to look at him after this.

"I understand your pain," Kimblee started, "my brother despised me. Mummy and Daddy never seemed to notice my existence. He was their shining star…but I was nothing. Dust to them for my brother to trample over. I had to learn to make it through this world on my own. Just like you will have to…"

"D-don't drag Al-" Edward protested, his lips hoarse, amazed that there was still fire in his soul…somewhere, when everywhere else at every other moment day and night he felt horribly numb. He was interrupted when the force pushed against his throat again.

"Do not interrupt. You are a bad boy," Kimblee flicked some of the blood out of his black hair.

Bad. "N-no…"

"Bad boy," Kimblee tutted again.

"P-please n-no…s-sorry sorry so-rr-rr-y…" Edward muttered, fearing what was going to come. More voltage to make his brains explode? Would it make him deaf like Al this time? Would he finally pass through the void and sit in Hell and finally feel warmth again? Because this in-between, it was worse than both Heaven and Hell.

There was nothing here.

A foot stamped on his broken leg, snapping it in a series of places. Edward always thought that he had grown accustomed to the pain, however, he realized that he never would be as he screamed.

He cried out for the physical pain, mourning the loss of the strength that he once possessed, mourned the loss of his beautiful golden hair and the loss of his eyes and everything that was being ripped away from him at once. And he was crying for a deeper loss to his pride, dignity and all the feelings that he had locked away that had been unhinged from their chest at the back of his mind and trampled upon the day that the men had come for their 'sunshine'. But worse of all was for the people he had lost. He couldn't look at them again. He couldn't…they wouldn't…not after Fuery….

Oh God…

It hurt.

"Where are your wings, my golden angel?" Kimblee cooed, and with a wave of his wrist the force pressed deeper into his neck, making his airways tighten, and he felt himself slipping into unconsciousness.

Nothing went black; everything went white.


He shuddered. He breathed. He waited in the gloom for somebody to come and get him.

Nobody came. Not even Brother.

He had struggled to get out of the chain's hold, but it was impossible. Alphonse Elric in the armour would have been able to snap the metal chain in two like it was a pencil if he didn't have this pathetic body to contend with. He had been searching for this lump of skin and bones for years and years, forcing his brother to accompany him through countless struggles. They had altered history looking for Al's body, but when they had finally found it, Ed hadn't managed to come through the transmutation with his real limbs back. Stuck with automail.

Stuck with Al.

The younger Elric had reassured himself that his brother wanted to be by his side forever because he loved him. Al knew that was true. But he also knew what a burden he had become through his rehabilitation.

And his new body needed to sleep. Who would be there to guard Brother at night?

His new body needed to regain its strength. How could he protect anyone while he was helpless through months of rehabilitation?

After those months, when he was starting to gain some muscle on his feeble bones, they were captured, and he had become useless over those three weeks.

If Edward had been left awake and Al was the one who was put in the deep unconscious sleep for those endless weeks, he would have found a way out of the facility. They would be shocked, scared, but alright, likely to be back at home in Resembool munching on honey-glazed apples or Winry's homemade ice cream. He would take a wrench to his head every minute of every day if events could have turned out that smoothly.

Because sitting in the darkness, he could see through the gloom, but he didn't know what was happening.

He was traumatised.

The constant noise in his head, ringing like a bell, was like a pickaxe being bashed against his skull. He didn't know if he had been left in the darkness until he died and rotted away, or if someone would come back for him.

They had dragged Edward with them.

Al closed his eyes, breathed in deeply, and tugged at the restraints again. No luck. Keep trying…like Brother…

-Look down at your shorts.-

The voices in his head had become the only voices he could hear. Their sounds were discordant and twisted, like he was forgetting what voices were meant to sound like, allowing his imagination to become creative.

He looked.

On his lap were several strands of wispy golden hair.

He choked back a scream, holding onto the remnants of his brother, wondering when they would ever see the Sun again.


I promised an update by July! And I'm sorry poor Elrics...one blind, one deaf and both very broken :/

The next one is called One Down - the title says it all. But more on that next time. :)