.:Nine:.
Ed's New, Improved, and Completely Not-Suicidal Plan
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Ed wasn't sure whether his nerves came from the thoughts racing through his head or the faint glimmer of alchemy somewhere off in the distance, lingering like a threat, but by the time Al finally woke the next morning, Ed was more than ready to get the hell out of the hospital.
"Brother," Al said, exasperated, "I thought we went through this yesterday." He was once more picking at the hospital food absently, stirring the mashed potatoes around the way that he had when their mother was still alive and he'd wanted to make it look like he'd eaten something. Bandages looped around his forehead and wound around his arm in testament to yesterday's injuries.
"I know," Ed said, "but this is different." For his part, Ed had only new bruises, which was nothing he wasn't used to. His strength was slowly returning, and he was finding that his lungs weren't acting as though air was a foreign substance anymore. The doctor had informed him that he was extremely lucky that the stunt he'd pulled hadn't resulted in further complications.
"How is it different?" His brother asked skeptically.
"Because what we learned yesterday might mean that we can stop all of this," he said, not bothering to explain what this was. They'd both been listening to the shouting in the hallway, the lists of injuries, the news broadcasts detailing each new wave of Beasts. "We have the array…and I think we have the alchemy, too."
Al looked up in interest. Ed knew his brother hadn't been fully conscious yesterday—Al had explained that everything that had happened after the Mirkworm attacked seemed vague and fuzzy—and Al probably wouldn't have realized the gravity of what Ed had learned.
But the thought of Al's concussion brought Ed's eyes to the bandages again, to his brother's weary movements, and to the paleness of his skin. "We're not due for release until the afternoon," he said slowly, "so maybe you should stay while I go talk to Mustang. You'll probably miss the shouting match, though," he added to himself.
"I'm not staying, Brother."
Ed hesitated. "Look, Al. You're just coming back from a concussion, and your arm's still bandaged. I think you've been hurt enough over these last few days." And it's been mostly my fault.
"No," Al said firmly. "I'll be fine. I'm coming with you." His little brother swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, swaying a lot less than Ed might have imagined. His glare might have been more forceful had he not still been clad in the hospital gown.
"Al, you should really stay for longer," he began, and was surprised when Al interrupted.
"No. Brother, if you'd been injured like I was, you wouldn't be giving yourself any time to recover. So don't make a special case for me." Al looked uncharacteristically offended.
"But that's what I do, Al," Ed said quietly. "I look out for you."
"I can handle myself," Al said, eyes flashing. Then, he seemed to realize his position—glaring at Ed, with his hands on his hips—and sat down on the bed, mouth pressed in a thin line.
"I know you can handle yourself," Ed said before Al could speak up again. "And it's not that I don't think you're up to it exactly. I'm just worrying. It's what I do," he said with a slight smile, hoping to receive one in return, but Al was still frowning.
With a sudden jolt, Ed remembered the conversation he'd shared with Hawkeye the evening before, and he sighed. "Also…I don't think I'm used to you being like this yet," he admitted. Al tilted his head in confusion. "You know," Ed said evasively. "Not metal, I guess. Flesh and blood."
Al blinked, taking a moment to process the last bit of information. "Oh," he said to himself. "But—Brother, I may be human, but I'm just as human as you are. And besides that, I can probably still kick your butt in a real fight."
Ed snorted, but grinned. "I guess we'll have to find out sometime."
"I feel like Winry right now," Al continued, folding his arms. "How we're always trying to leave her behind so she won't be hurt. She says that we don't let her all the way in, and I didn't get it at first. But I do now."
Ed frowned. "I'm not trying to leave you behind, Al. I'm just trying to protect you."
"No," Al argued, "you're trying to overprotect me."
"Al—" Ed began again, frustrated.
The door clicked open, and the shouting and clamor from the hallway spilled into their room. They turned to find the doctor standing there, smiling in spite of everything.
"Well," he said good-naturedly, oblivious to the tenseness in the air. "Aren't the two of you looking better? How do you feel?" The question was directed at Al.
"I'm fine," Al said, relaxing. "My head doesn't hurt anymore."
"Good, good," the doctor said, scribbling something onto his charts. "I'm glad the two of you agreed to stay overnight this time," he added mildly.
"We did," Ed said, looking at Al, who was half-leaning against the headboard, whether for support or not Ed couldn't be sure. No matter. Al was right—they needed to stay together. Both of them had just come out badly from an encounter with the Beasts, and that they would both need to watch each other's backs so that they wouldn't have another one quite so soon. He looked back at the doctor. "But now, we'll be leaving."
"Both of you?" The doctor said as Al looked at his brother in surprise.
"Both of us," Ed said firmly. "Where do we sign?"
.
They changed into their street clothes, Ed once again missing his trademark red coat. (If for no other reason, they needed to get crush these Beasts and get alchemy back so he could make a new one. Al's clothes weren't really his style.) He seriously doubted that Mustang would agree to send over a car to pick them up after they'd signed out early—again—and decided that he'd rather put off that screaming match until the brothers reached Mustang's office. He wished he had enough money to call a cab, but headquarters wasn't too far away—ten minutes at a brisk walk. Which meant fifteen or twenty today, allowing for their injuries and the general damage and debris of the streets.
There were few Beasts around, as Ed had suspected. With his new-found ability to sense alchemy, he'd recognized only tiny flickers here and there—Gatekeepers, they'd discovered—and a strange, threatening energy that rolled in thick waves from somewhere far off in the distance. What that meant, Ed wasn't sure, but it made his skin crawl and prickle, as though the air around him crackled with electricity. He shook himself, wishing to be rid of the distracting sensation.
"You said that we had the alchemy too," Al said abruptly, drawing his attention. "What did you mean by that?" There had been no further discussion of the conversation that the doctor had interrupted.
"Mustang was able to create a set of stairs using the dead Mirkworm," Ed informed him. "After drawing the array, with the Mirkworm just touching it, he was able to use alchemy."
Al was quiet for a moment. "Which means that the Beasts possess some sort of alchemy. That makes sense for some of them, like the Angler," he said. "But the Mirkworm didn't seem to have any special…talent."
Ed was shaking his head. "No, I think it's more than that. I think the Beasts are made of alchemy. It would kind of explain why I can feel them sometimes…I think maybe I spent so much time in the Gate, surrounded by alchemy, that I can tell when I'm around it again. When I landed in Aquaroya for the first time…I just remember feeling like there was something missing. It was weird not being surrounded by alchemy anymore…"
Al was studying him with an odd expression on his face. "Okay," he allowed finally. "Okay, well then, we'll have to…what? Use the Beasts to get the alchemy for the Gate?"
"Dead Beasts," Ed corrected.
"Dead Beasts," Al echoed, frowning.
"It gets better," Ed added. "I think the kinds of Beasts we need are the powerful ones. The ones that can actually perform alchemy themselves. Like the Angler. And with the amount of alchemy needed for the Gate…we'll need a lot of alchemy. And a lot of Beasts."
Al's eyebrows crept upwards. "This sounds really risky, Brother," he said. "You're planning on killing multiple Beasts close enough to a drawn array? Beasts that can perform alchemy, while we're practically defenseless? It sounds…suicidal."
"It does," Ed readily agreed. "But it's the only plan we've got." A flicker of alchemy distracted him, and the brothers watched as a Gatekeeper raced across the street, thin arms waving in the air as it screeched at the top of its lungs.
The flickers of alchemy became bursts as more Gatekeepers darted across the street, clambering over crushed cars and sooty rubble. They whooped and screeched, their large eyes wider than normal as they rushed eastward.
"That's…odd," Al said over the din. He must have murmured something else, but Ed couldn't quite hear him. He instinctively pulled his little brother flat against the wall of a half-demolished shop as he stared with wide eyes in the direction the Keepers had come from.
A storm rolled in the distance, thick grey clouds just visible over the tops of the buildings that had escaped the Pyro's rampage. It was almost too far away to make out, but Ed thought he could just see brief flickers of lightning in the dark western sky.
"Shit," he breathed in realization. There was only one Beast he knew of with that amount of energy.
"What?" Al asked, craning his head to see what Ed was looking at. The Keepers had all fled, and the street before them was empty.
"It's the Leviathan."
"Is that…another Beast?"
"Yeah," Ed said, not sure why he was being so quiet. He could feel the waves of alchemy that flowed from the storm. It was moving slower than honey, lazily wandering in their general direction.
"Should we turn back?" Al whispered, adopting his brother's tense mood.
Ed shook his head. "No, it's too slow. Not close enough for worry yet, but…that thing's got more than enough alchemy for the array," he murmured suddenly. "It's massive, and capable of all sorts of elemental alchemy—earthquakes, fires, storms—we wouldn't have to kill a ton of Beasts at once."
"But that makes it more dangerous, right? Brother?"
Ed tore his eyes away from the distant storm, dragging his brother toward headquarters, pressing both of them close to the walls of the buildings as though it might help him to escape the sensation that crawled down his back. Al pulled away gently, and Ed slowed, remembering that his brother couldn't move quite so fast today. Al watched him expectantly as his thoughts whirled around in his mind.
"Well, this plan just keeps getting better and better. I'm not sure which is worse: trying to kill a bunch of Beasts, or trying to kill the mother of all Beasts." He stuffed his hands into his pockets, leading Al onwards more slowly this time. "It's like someone up there in the universe just loves me."
.
The frantic activity of Mustang's office, so characteristic of almost everywhere Edward had been since the Gate had been opened, stopped gradually as the officers within looked up to recognize the intruders. Hawkeye was shaking her head wearily, though Edward couldn't be sure whether she was doing so in exasperation or whether she might really try to stop them.
"Ed. Al." Havoc said quietly, eyes flickering to the wooden door behind him that hid their commanding officer. "You really should go before the chief sees you."
Al made some kind of apologetic sound, but Ed crossed over the piles of paperwork and to the door before anyone could stop him. It swung open slowly, hesitantly, to reveal Mustang, whose surprise only lasted a second before his face began to darken.
"Fullmetal," he growled, a low, dark sound that betrayed his annoyance. "Wasn't it enough that you and your brother were nearly killed yesterday? Didn't you learn your lesson the last time you left the hospital early?" He rose to his feet, walking around to meet them at the front of the desk. "I almost can't believe that you find it so difficult to obey the same order, twice—"
Maybe it was Hawkeye's persuasion from yesterday—it was hard to be sure—but somehow Ed only heard an echo as if from far away that yelled, "Now, why the hell did you two run away without asking for my help first?"
"I'm sorry." Ed said loudly, entertained despite himself at the way Mustang's face opened up in disbelief. He thought he might have heard a low whistle from behind him. "Yeah, I know—who'd have thought I'd ever say it?" he added. "You're probably just as surprised as I am."
Mustang looked flummoxed, so Ed pushed on. "And you're right. And we need your help."
"Help?" Mustang asked, having finally gotten his words to work again. "Don't tell me you've got another of your stunts in the works," he said suspiciously.
"You could say something like that," Ed murmured.
"Edward," Hawkeye said, and Ed turned to see all of Mustang's subordinates gathered close to the office door, presumably there to catch whatever fireworks were to be had. "We're happy that you've come to us for help, of course," she said, shooting a look in Mustang's general direction, "but you and Alphonse have already been badly hurt. I don't think we can risk anything of your normal dangerous caliber," she finished firmly.
"But Brother thinks this might really stop everything," Al said quietly. "You should hear him out."
After a beat, Hawkeye hummed in agreement, and Mustang sighed and nodded, sitting down on the edge of the desk. "What, really?" Ed asked, looking around. "That's all it takes? Al has to back me up?"
"Well, boss," Havoc began with his easy grin, "Al's a bit more, ah—" Breda and Fuery chimed in as he fumbled for the right word.
"Responsible."
"Levelheaded."
"Alright! I get the picture," Ed grumbled as Al shot him a sweet smile. "Anyway. Even with all of the fuss, we actually learned a lot by going to the caves. Some of the caverns include the plans that were supposed to have been the foundations of the Gate. They were basically designed to create the Gate thousands of years ago. With these, we can recreate the array and reconstruct the Gate—of course, the designs might have to be tweaked a bit, because the separate plane is already there and so we wouldn't need any additional sigils to ground it, and we should only need to fill in a few extra tiers in order to seal off the alchemy itself…" He trailed off, registering that several stares were becoming glossy. Mustang alone was looking at him intently, hopefully, his head tilted to one side as though processing all of the information.
"At any rate, the Mirkworm may have complicated things a bit," he admitted, finding no small pleasure in watching Mustang grimace at the understatement, "but we've got what we need now." He held out the pair of notebooks they'd salvaged. The edges of the pages were slightly damp, and the ink spilled over into places it shouldn't. Hawkeye and Mustang flipped through the pages slowly, looking more and more focused. Hawkeye glanced meaningfully at Mustang, who grimaced again.
Finally: "The details are a bit hard to make out," Mustang said diplomatically. This was very kind, considering that the ink on the page he was staring at had bled so badly that the lettering was unrecognizable.
Hawkeye cleared her throat, then added, "I'm obviously not very practiced in alchemy, but it seems like a very big design, and there aren't very many pages…"
"We're aware," Al said easily.
"Then your trip wasn't very helpful," Mustang grumbled. "You have maybe half of the array. So it's not much help to us now, is it?"
Ed was staring at them blankly. "Al and I can remember the rest. We just have to piece it together."
Mustang blinked, confused, and then snorted. "Right," he said. "Genii."
"So you're thinking you can just draw out this…array, and then we find a Beast for you to use? Like in the caves at Senna?" Havoc asked.
"Oh, it gets better," Al said, looking at Ed out of the corner of his eye. "Brother thinks we'll need to kill a Beast alright, but not just any Beast. A powerful one."
"The more power, the more alchemy," Ed said defensively, raising his shoulders.
"Wait, wait—" Mustang said, waving his hands in the air. "Think about how this is going to work out. You'd have to draw the array in advance, of course, because it's too complicated to do quickly…And it would have to be somewhere with a lot of room, because it's huge, correct? After that, how were you planning on killing the Beast in the precise location of the array? I'm assuming the Beast needs to be touching the array in order to keep to the circuit."
"That's the thing," Ed said. "I think I know the Beast we need. And I think it's heading this way, sort of. Other than that, we'll have to find some way of steering it where we need it."
"What kind of Beast?" Breda asked.
"And does it have to be dead? These things haven't exactly been easy to kill," Havoc added.
"I know, I know," Ed said. "Just hear me out, though. You're not going to like this any more than I do."
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They didn't.
While Ed slowly begun to detail his plan, frantic reports interrupted him with alarming frequency as the military struggled to deal with approaching Leviathan, which had settled itself in the business district with no indication that it was inclined to leave anytime soon. Its control of multiple forms of elemental alchemy meant that it was creating catastrophes so quickly that it was nearly impossible to keep up: an earthquake rattled buildings, a typhoon pelted the earth, fires engulfed the area, and sandstorms buried alive any citizens foolish enough to remain in the area.
As the Elrics argued a few points, Ed paused to answer questions from the phone lines. The worst of them concerned the feeling of energy, of electricity—alchemy, Ed had informed Hawkeye as she relayed the information from the telephone—that grew more powerful the closer you were to the Beast. One touch induced seizures and unconsciousness. The few that had been exposed for longer than a few seconds had died.
"And—it doesn't seem to slow down for bullets," Havoc added, listening intently to another phone.
"It wouldn't," Ed said grimly. "It's a lot like the homunculi. It just pushes things out of its body."
"Brother," Al said, picking up one of their arguments as though the previous conversation hadn't happened, "I don't understand why you have to put yourself in danger for this. How do you think you're going to even get close to it?"
"Because I'm your best bet," Ed said instantly, registering the doubt and worry in everyone's faces. "Anyone else who gets too close, who touches it—they're out. But me, I was in the Gate for a year, consistently exposed to pure alchemy. If it didn't kill me then, it won't now. I'm the only one who's got half a chance."
"'Half a chance'…" Fuery echoed.
"You know what I mean. Besides, it's not like we have a choice," Ed argued exasperatedly. "What was the body count so far again? In the last half hour?"
Mustang's grimaced. "Alright," he agreed. "Something needs to be done. But it needs to be smart. You may be able to get close to the Beast, Fullmetal, but how were you planning on killing it? And don't forget that it doesn't need to touch you to attack you. Its control of the elements is enough."
"Well, I'm pretty good at dodging," Ed said easily, half-laughing, but the tension in the air only thickened as the others stared at him grimly. "Okay, okay," he said seriously, backpedaling. "No joking around. Look, everything's got a weakness, and for the Leviathan, it's the heart. All I need to do is get rid of it."
Mustang eyed him as though he was insane, but Breda was nodding thoughtfully. "Makes sense," he agreed slowly. "All the other things—the smaller ones, anyway—they die when you pierce their heart. It's only the bigger ones with thick hides or shells that have too much protection for a bullet to take them out."
"And the Leviathan's basically made up of a lot of plasma. It slows even heavy bullets down enough that it can push them out. But I think I can get in there and take the heart out myself."
The office was quiet. Al's face was somber, his hands clenched on the table. Mustang paced slowly behind the desk.
"No offense, boss," said Havoc, whose stress seemed to have gotten high enough for him to ignore headquarters' smoking ban, "but this sounds easier said than done."
"Nobody said it would be easy," Ed said roughly. "But I don't see any other way."
He turned to his younger brother, half-regretting his next words, but knowing that they were necessary. "Al needs to be there, too. Someone needs to draw the array. It'll take time, and it'll have to be laid out completely by the time I'm finished. And the quicker we finish everything, the quicker all of the damage stops. The flooding, sandstorms, fires—all that will disappear once it dies, so we need to work quickly before this thing takes out half of Central's population."
Al nodded, a soft look in his eyes. "Okay. Where are we going to do this? The array needs a lot of space."
"The plaza in front of Central Bank," Mustang said instantly. "It's near enough to the destruction, and it seems large enough for the design. We might have to figure out how to herd the Leviathan toward it, though."
"It shouldn't be too hard," Breda said. "From the reports we've been getting, it doesn't like heavy artillery—takes a while to push the bullets back out. As long as we keep pounding it in the direction we want it to go, we can keep it in the right area."
"And you'll have to," Ed added firmly. "The elemental alchemy won't stop when it dies, and if it dies anywhere else, it will take even longer for all of the chaos to stop—we'll have to find a way to move the body or somewhere to redraw the entire array. And I'm not exactly going to be in a position to watch what's going on."
"Why's that?"
"Well," Ed said slowly, "the Leviathan's made of this dark, thick plasma, right? When you look at it, you can usually just make out the heart. It glows a little in the center. So—well, you're not going to like this either—I've got to get through the plasma and pull the thing out."
"No," Mustang said instantly. "Inside the Beast, Ed? It does enough damage from the outside. It'll kill you."
"You may be the only one who can touch it, Boss," Havoc added, "but there's gotta be something else we can do."
"There's nothing," Ed snarled. "And if we don't do something, people are just going to keep dying," he spat. Their faces hardened in response to the vehemence in his voice, and he paused. "You're going to have to trust me with this. I've done this before. I can do it again. Besides," he added, "you'll probably be in more danger than I am. The Beast can't really hurt me while I'm inside of it. It'll just be trying to push me out."
The officers looked slightly mollified by that, but Al was watching him too carefully.
"Are you even sure that there will be enough alchemy to power the array?" Mustang asked wearily.
"We think so," Al offered hesitantly, as Ed nodded. "But there's no way of telling for sure. It's hard to calculate how much alchemy the Beast has."
"So. We're banking on Ed possibly being able to pull the heart out of the Leviathan, so that we can power an array that might work, and the alchemy that we have might be able to reconstruct the Gate, all while trying not to be killed by a huge monster with alchemic power we currently have no access to," Mustang summarized.
"Correct," Ed said instantly.
"It's practically a fifty-fifty suicide mission," said Al, turning back to Ed.
"I know," Ed admitted. "But we have to try. If we don't do something, the Beasts are going to keep destroying everything. If we don't do reconstruct the Gate…"
"…things will only get worse," Mustang allowed. "Right."
"We don't really have much time for other plans," Hawkeye added. "Half of the market district and the entire east division of headquarters are in ruins because of the fires, flooding has destroyed much of the suburbs, and with the Leviathan wreaking havoc in the business district…there won't be much left of Central. Not to mention that the body count is rising. I'm not sure how much longer we can keep this up. We're running out of resources."
There was a tense pause as everyone considered her words.
"Boss," Havoc said suddenly, "You said you'd done this before?"
"Not exactly," Ed said sheepishly. "I was inside the Leviathan once before, on accident," he admitted. "That's how I realized what the heart was, and that it was there in the first place. But I know this will work."
His statement was met only with frowns and silence. The phone was ringing again, drawing them into the next disaster. The Beast's alchemy might destroy half the city before it moved on, and they couldn't sit around while it happened.
Ed folded his arms across his chest. "We're running out of time," he said firmly. "Are we doing this or not?"
Surprisingly, it was Mustang who spoke first. "Alright," he said tiredly, pulling his coat over his shoulders. "The suicidal plan it is."
A few eyebrows rose at that, and Ed knew his face must have borne a similar look of surprise. Mustang shrugged them off, his face stony in the way that it usually was before a fight, the way it had been the last time Ed saw him before Mustang attacked the late Fuhrer King Bradley. "Have General Burns and Major Pierce pull their men back," he barked in his no-nonsense tone, eyes on Breda. "Tell them what's going on and make sure they stop pushing that Beast in the wrong direction. We'll need to head it off and turn it toward the plaza." The redhead snapped off a salute, instantly businesslike, and hurried off.
"Get General Arkene on the line," Mustang continued, speaking to Hawkeye. "I'll speak with him. The rest of you, get placements on the other men. We'll have to coordinate this attack, or it's worthless."
One thing you had to appreciate about Mustang, Ed mused as the man walked off, was that he could get things rolling quickly, and he ran a tight ship. Within seconds, everyone was back at work, worries and emotions slipping from of their faces as they aimed for their tasks.
A sharp tug on his shirt made Ed turn around; Al was dragging him aside. "Brother," he hissed, stopping near the window, "you're not telling us everything."
"What do you mean?"
Al crossed his arms, eyes narrowed. It was a pose that had looked odd when he was in the suit of armor. Now, it reminded Ed of their childhood, when an expression like that meant an uncharacteristic yelling spat. "Don't," Al said in a hushed voice. "I know you too well."
"Fine," Ed grumbled, wanting to get this over with before Al drew too much attention to them. Already, Havoc was glancing their way intermittently while attending to his phone call. Ed kept his voice low. "I may have downplayed some things."
"Like?"
"Like the fact that the plasma in the Leviathan might not kill me, but it'll still hurt like hell," he admitted quietly. "I'll probably have a hard time getting in and out, and I won't be much help afterward. But I'll help with the alchemy even if it kills me," he added fiercely, "because you're not doing that alone."
Al looked frightened. Ed couldn't have that, so he hurried on. "And you'll have to take care of yourself, because I won't be there to watch your back while you're doing the array. Don't get sucked in—keep an eye on your surroundings."
There. Now his brother looked slightly offended, but the expression morphed into a smile. "Who do you take me for, Brother?" he asked. "I think this time you'll just have to trust me."
"I can do that," Ed said quietly, but there must have been a Beast around, because something in the pit of his stomach was turning to lead.
.
.
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A/N: So the plan actually seems pretty suicidal, just saying. I don't think Ed clarified that enough. BUT things are getting really interesting around here, and we'll have to see how much poor Ed can take before the end! :-) Tune in next time to find out! See you then, and please drop me a review!
~ket
Next Chapter: Things Only Get Worse from Here
