Chapter Nine
Roy didn't come back.
He'd left me in the room with nothing more than a hollow assurance that he knew what he was doing and a charming smirk, topping off all of his bullshit with an infuriating wink. Never mind that he'd given obscure answers to my questions or that I'd been temporarily blinded by my desires to placate my own baser needs- no what mattered was that he knew what he was doing.
Colonel Roy Mustang always knew what he was doing.
I couldn't help the sarcastic sneer that followed that train of thought.
He knew what he was doing when he'd greeted me that night, knowing how volatile I'd been, choosing to use his considerable talents and tattooing his desires on my heart and psyche. With a remorseful silence shattered by strained echoes of taboo and pleasures, he had played at giving me what I wanted, what I needed.
He knew what he was doing when he'd left his idiotic puzzles and clues like bread crumbs, knowing that my curiosity would best any spurts of anger and get me moving.
He knew what he was doing when he'd purposefully withheld pertinent information, placing my loyalty, my trust in the same lot as the rest of his subordinates. He knew what he was doing when he held me, when he gazed into my eyes, his hazy with equal parts of sensual pleasure and reticence, leaving his doubts solidly about my shoulders, purposefully setting his plan into motion.
I'd surmised that he knew what he was doing when he'd marshaled his brother into action, apparently with orders to watch my back. A brother that I'd no idea existed days before but decidedly knew everything about me. Having me follow his vague instructions, luring me with his phantom platitudes and encouragements, having me traverse hundreds of miles into the east with nothing more than a rudimentary map and a distinct desire to put my foot up his ass- yes, he knew what he was doing.
And he wasn't doing me any favors by leaving me to my wits in this truth forsaken room.
As much as Roy thought he knew what he was doing, there was no way he could account for the unpredictable. There were so many variables, so many tangents that he couldn't predict. Yet he moved as if he knew what the next second held, as if he'd predetermined the path through sheer resolve alone.
Although incensed and still in the dying throes of a hangover, I couldn't dissuade the residual concern that hovered just below the surface of the anger his flippant dismissal had catalyzed. Pacing no longer held its sway and only served to intensify the churning in my stomach and the dull pounding in my head. I opted to wait out Castor's return in repose, positioning with the hopes that it would calm the anxious tittering dancing along my nerves. Perched on the sill, I reached to raise it, allowing the crisp breeze of a fall day wash over me. The foul stench of vomit had been doused with an ample amount of disinfectant and coupled with the cool whisper of the wind; my mind was rapidly clearing of the rampant thoughts of missed calculations and oblivious acts. The nervous tremors that I'd previously attributed to the hangover had finally dissipated as I gazed outwardly, taking in the sights and sounds of a town returning to normal, watching the people as they milled about their lives, blissfully unaware of the machinations of a flamboyant alchemist and his audacious, misplaced pride.
Roy, although brilliant, had this nasty habit of functioning under the presumption of self-sacrifice. Never mind that we were an able lot, never mind that we'd proven our mettle mission after mission or that we'd proven time and again how our loyalty and trust ran concurrent with his vision. He'd been remiss not to include us, the ones he held close, the ones he cherished, in his plan.
Something as inconsequential as protection, protection we didn't need- that I didn't want- had been the catalyst for his horrible decisions. Yet he'd taken on that mantle and easily placed that target squarely on his back, willing to forgo his own safety.
"He's a damned fool," I groused as I leaned against the still. I wrapped my arms about my waist in an effort to quell the uneasiness that had built up once more, its restless tendrils searching for an outlet. I couldn't help but feel as if there was something happening, that even though the bustle of the town denoted normality, there was a sort of disquiet waiting, skirting the shadows. My throat tightened as the tension fused my body rigid as if in preparation for what was coming.
The roar of an engine caught my attention and I leaned forward to get a better look, watching as the caravan of four military trucks sped through the streets, coming to rest right in front of the hotel. The occupants emptied into the street quickly from the back of the trucks, their hands filled with armaments, their faces stoic and focused as they formed a perfect phalanx, awaiting their orders.
It was just as Roy had said, they were coming for him and they were rolling out the red carpet.
A sedan came to a smooth stop just behind the last truck and its doors opened quickly thereafter, revealing one shiny boot then another. I gasped when the blond hair came into view and pulled away from the window when her whiskey brown eyes cast upwards. I closed my eyes and held my breath, the violent pounding of my heart against my chest loud in my ears. It wasn't surprising that they'd sent Riza; she was the epitome of staunch reliability and keen instincts. The upper echelon wanted a job done, and they couldn't have done any better than the Hawk's Eye.
"Squad one and three, take the south, Squad two and four, take the east." She issued orders with ease, firing off directives smoothly, her tone brokering no argument. Although she'd taken point on this, I knew that Riza wouldn't have wanted this job, there were too many unanswered questions and she was pragmatic in her process. She understood the tangible, the truth unvarnished and raw. I suppose it is why she'd come, to be there when they apprehended Roy, to face him, ask the questions that had cloaked her beliefs. We were of two minds on that notion and I suddenly didn't blame her for taking the assignment.
"If you find Colonel Mustang, do not engage," she continued stonily, "we must treat him as any other threat to the state. Exercise extreme caution." The troops gave a rallying cry and the sounds of their boots striking against the street in perfect precision. This was a mission of search and capture; trigger happy peons and an overconfident alchemist rarely made a good mix. The hope for minimal collateral damage dwindled exponentially. I groaned as inched away from the window, its offering of a peaceful lull no longer viable. The streets were about to come alive with fire and destruction and I had to move quickly to avoid the inevitable outcome.
"Dammit, Castor, where are you?" I bit out as I finally stood, preparing myself to move. In response, the clock chimed on the hour, reminding me of what little time I had at my disposal. Deciding to act, I snatched up my suitcase and made for the door just as a deafening blast filled the air. I stopped and turned, pausing for a moment as the cacophony grew shouts and screams followed by the sporadic spray of gunfire filling the air.
Surely he hadn't…
"Take cover! Avoid the flames at all costs!" Another blast sounded and I pelted toward the window, hoping that he wouldn't have acted rashly. I leaned out of the window again only to find the streets filled with billowing smoke, the high pitched screams of terror amplifying the cacophony of chaos and confusion. I traced my gaze from one end of the street to the other, willing the black tendrils of smoke away.
And just like a phantom appearing out of the ether of darkness, he surfaced, his arm outstretched, his fingers poised to snap, and his gaze resolute.
"Call them to stand down, Lieutenant!" I cringed at the familiar, confident timbre, my chest aching at his misplaced sureness. He had the advantage of the shroud of smoke at the moment but it was dissipating quickly. I didn't- couldn't- wait any longer.
I fled the room quickly, slamming the door as I ran for the stairwell, unwilling to wait for a lift. Roy and his crazy ideas… How could he possibly stand against an Army and believe he was going to emerge unscathed?
"You're going to take me back to Central and you're going to kick my ass in the process…"
I groaned as I took the stairs by two, nearly launching myself into the air in a rush to get to the battlefield. The more I thought about his asinine ideas and his sickening boldness, the more I was keen on giving him exactly what he wanted. I was going to kick his ass and quite possibly enjoy it to the fullest.
Swarms of people flooded the hotel in an effort to escape the erupting battle on the street, many of the men, women and children pressing forward to safety, effectively pushing me further away from my intended target. Among the terrified tears and whimpers, the anger intensified and I pushed my way through the surge of citizens, my teeth clenching tighter every passing second. The deafening booms continued in succession, each echoing the dull pounding in my head. Although the hangover was subsiding quickly, I still hadn't reached a level of clarity that I'd feel comfortable with, especially considering I was about to face a most formidable opponent.
Finally free of the cluster of people, I slammed my suitcase down and shoved the jacket off of my shoulders as I focused on the hellish scene beyond the doors. Flashes of yellow, burnished light mingled with hurried, angry orders, the sporadic, infantile report of gunfire easily swallowed by the successive explosions that filled the air. The infantry was no match for the famed Flame Alchemist, practically dooming the untried ranks of the state. If I didn't hurry, Mustang would add another distinction to an already growing list of infamous accomplishments.
"What a fucking mess," I bit out as I burst through the doors. Quickening my steps, I looked both right and left, the black smoke making it hard to distinguish positions. Taking a chance, I turned to my left and started walking, peering through the clouds of smoke and debris, encountering a smattering of soldiers as they maneuvered blindly.
"You should find cover," one solider offered as I passed. We were close enough that I could see his face the cautious, almost timid expression nearly overcome with terror. He held his rifle perpendicular to his body as he stared ahead into the imposing wall of smoke. He was petrified and with every reason; Roy's accomplishments as well as his intimidating demeanor were legendary and every story had the same ending- his triumph and the complete destruction of his enemies.
"I suppose that idiot's up there then." I turned on my heel and passed him again, only stopping when his shaky hand clapped my shoulder in an effort to pull me back. I tossed a searing glare over my shoulder as I shook him off, turning my attention forward, "I think I'll be alright."
"That's Colonel Roy Mustang up there," he pitched back, the strength in his voice wavering even as he caught up to me. "Don't you know who he is?!"
"A bastard but you didn't hear that from—
A sudden, crisp snap filled the air and I pushed the solider away from me as an explosion erupted behind me the blast wave pushing me to the ground. The debris rained down in sheets and I coughed as I glanced over toward the solider. He rocked back and forth on his side before turning toward me and rising, resuming his stance. I had to give it to him, he was a brave soul for not turning tail and running but I couldn't linger on that thought.
"That was fucking close, Mustang!" I bellowed, "Watch your aim, you asshole!"
Silence echoed back as I got to my feet, my eyes steady on his approaching form. He emerged out of the curling smoke, his expression a visage of wrathful determination. His hair swayed in the gentle wind, revealing his darkened blue eyes. There was no levity in his gaze, only silent vehemence as we stared at each other.
A shiver coursed through my body as I repositioned myself, cognizant of the disquiet that ran in tandem with the chaos of his attack. It was eerie how he stared at me, how the traces of his alluring smiles were cloaked with deep creases of disappointment as if I were the offending party. My heart cracked at his relentless scrutiny at how even though he'd planned this, this moment between us was real and it was frightening.
It took everything not to tremble in front of him, to stand my ground and square my shoulders, and face him head on despite the inevitable result. Brief images of his last night in Central played against the shadows of what was to come, the memory of each caress, of the passion that fused us together constricting my breathing. Tears welled as he approached and I turned my lips inward to stave the cry that clawed its way up my throat. I didn't want to hurt him but I needed to hurt him.
I swiped my hair away from my eyes, watching every step closely. I'd sparred with him, watched him strategize, and knew the power behind his alchemy. I didn't kid myself into thinking that this would be easy- it would be damn near impossible.
Yet, it was something I had to do.
I clenched my fists together tightly and exhaled, making every effort to cap my anxiety. This could go wrong twenty million different ways.
"Once again, I'm here to clean up your mess, Mustang." A tuft of dismissive laughter followed, his brow arching cleverly. I inwardly cringed but remained passive, his haughtiness a suitable wick to my growing fury. "Glad to see that you're entertained. Wouldn't want to take you into custody with all frowns, would we?"
"You speak as if you're going to walk away from this, Fullmetal." His lips morphed into yet another form of a smirk, the one I'd rarely seen but fully loathed: Conniving and completely remorseless. He took another step and extended his arm fully. I glanced quickly to my right and moved only to be slammed back by the force of a small explosion. Landing on my back, I coughed, ever mindful of the ominous crunch of his boots as he approached slowly, yet confident through the wall of smoke. "Got a sense of deja vu, Elric? I distinctly remember telling you that you're too slow."
Although my lungs burned, I didn't give him much time to gloat. I flipped up into a perfect somersault out of danger, landing on the balls of my feet, quickly gaining my bearings and catching a glimpse of his form out of the corner of my eye. Thankful for the cloaking smoke, I moved in silently, throwing a well-placed punch to his left cheek. When he listed to the right, I caught him with a round house kick, sending him spinning into the air before he fell with a heavy thud on the hard concrete. He coughed roughly and I couldn't help the smile that emerged as I stalked toward him. Despite my desire not to hurt him, it actually felt good to expend the welled up energy and frustration.
"I've got your too slow right here, Mustang." Careful not to get too close, I watched as he got up slowly, a dull groan issuing from his lips. The trickle of blood out of his mouth caught my eye and for a brief moment, I relented, hating the position he'd put me in. I turned my hip toward him and held my hands up, readying for his attack, "Make this easier for us, Colonel. Stand down."
Us.
A sense of dread funneled through my body at that single word, its meaning etching itself into my soul. I was a part of something passionate, something volatile...something I needed. And I was about to shatter all of that in short order.
He spat out the blood, his cold blue eyes seething with unmitigated fury, "Cute, you telling me to stand down, Major." He corrected his form and held his hands up, with one palm upward. He flipped his fingers as an invite, his deceitful smile seguing into a despicable smirk, "You got that one for free, Elric. But you'll have only one."
"Keep counting, Colonel Bastard."
From there, it was a battle of wills and preservation. We struck out at each other, our lunges and dodges forming a complicated but deadly dance. Every punch landed, every kick that connected cracked our crumbling façade further, the stress and physicality wearing us down. We were a tempest of sound and fury, a spectacle that had garnered the attention of the soldiers still left standing. And I heard their cheers when a particularly vicious upper cut sent Roy into the air, his bruised and battered body flipping once before it landed face down. I watched through the blood that seeped through my scalp, my ribs and limbs aching as he moved once before giving in.
Congratulatory slaps on the back coupled with the rousing victorious cheer echoed hollowly in my ear as a couple of soldiers bound and bagged his hands behind him, roughly lifting him to his feet. I ignored the repulsive merriment, the boisterous voices sending sharp pains through my chest. My eyes stayed on him, on his marred face, the dark purplish hue taking over much of the right side, its eye swollen shut. I clapped my hands against my mouth in a frantic dash to swallow the grief that welled, disgusted and destroyed by my hand in his downfall.
Once a decorated hero, his attributes and accomplishments diminished was nothing more than fodder now. Nothing more than a condemned man defeated.
Nausea gripped my throat tightly and I listed to the right and then left before falling forward. There was nothing left for me to do except hope and wait to see if Roy truly knew what he was doing.
Drifting away, I heard Riza's muffled voice above me, "Rest now, Edaline. You've done well."
Bullshit, I thought as I turned to face the sky. The smoke was clearing rapidly, revealing a perfect blue sky, a mocking sight considering the darkness that was descending.
We were an us before, now it was just...me.
So, no I didn't deserve rest and I hadn't done well at all. I'd failed the most important part of me.
My heart.
TBC