I thought I'd better get on with these last 2 chapters before I forgot my ending.
Edward had heard, in his time on Earth, that across the big stretch of sea called the Atlantic there was a place called America where it was warm in September.
But in central Europe, it was not. It was very cold. And Edward was feeling it.
He'd forgotten to pick up his coat, but he wasn't going back for it. If Alfons wanted him gone, then that was how it would be. Edward was feeling a lot of things at that time, and along with the cold, there was still that pride. He'd be fine on his own, thanks.
But on with that was a kind of shame that he had no idea of the origins, and then a hurt that was like a knife wound to the gut and he knew exactly where that had come from.
There was a sort of empty sorrow that came with being banished from what had become a home when he hadn't been watching by the man who had become an elder brother and roll model when his back had been turned.
It was raining now.
The autumnal colours which had been swirling around him until now were suddenly much less pretty when they were soggy with rain and decomposing in the cracks between the cobbles.
Edward found a tavern that, judging by the flickering lights in the windows, was being warmed by welcoming open fires. He didn't go in though. Even though he'd turned seventeen while in Germany, he had no intention to drown his sorrows in drink, and he had absolutely no wants to end up in some kind of conversation with anyone.
Edward looked to either side of the pub. To the right was a red brick bay windowed house stuck to its side, to the left was a narrow alleyway in which were a bin full of glass bottles and a few empty metal kegs. Edward slipped in the narrow dark space and sat on the keg. It was damp from the drizzling rain and cold seeped into his thighs. He leant his head against the wall of the pub, the noise of loud German accents making it through the plaster, insulation and bricks.
He thought over what had happened.
Alfons was a person who disliked confrontation and was generally quite passive. Edward had often been rude to him in the past, and he'd not really reacted like Edward was used to people reacting to rudeness in his world. Alfons was a very well-mannered person, and therefore, he must have said something to hurt him.
What was consumption?
Edward couldn't even translate the world into English, which he had a better understanding of root words and formation.
Verbrauch.
There was nothing else for it but to ask someone.
Edward jumped down from his make-shift seat and exited the alley into the narrow streets. He wandered further from the flat, looking to pass someone who didn't look drunk or too scary.
Finally, he came across a young man wrapped up for the cold, though his pale face was still sporting a nose that was bright red.
"Excuse me?" Edward asked the man, who couldn't have been older than twenty. The man jumped and opened his mouth as if to protest. Upon seeing who had called to him, he relaxed.
"Sorry, but can you tell me what 'consumption' is?" Edward asked, suddenly very aware that even though his German was good, his accent was still noticeable.
The man seemed surprised at such a random question, but answered anyway.
"Do you not speak German as your first language?" the man asked, confused. Edward shook his head, nervously. Pointing out his differences in Nazi-Germany was not a clever thing to do. The man laughed quietly at his fearful expression.
"It's okay," he said, smiling. He moved his scarf to show a yellow Star of David attached to the collar of his coat. "You have more on me than I can ever have on you."
Oddly comforted, Edward nodded. "Consumption. My friend said consumption. And told me to leave."
The Jewish man looked at him sadly. "If your friend has consumption, he was probably right to ask you to leave."
"And why is that?" Asked Edward, feeling a little nervous.
"Sir, I don't even know you, and even still I hate to tell you that if your friend has consumption, he has tuberculosis, do you know what that is?"
Edward shook his head.
"Tuberculosis is a fatal lung disease that is also very contagious." The man explained gravely. "It is nicknamed consumption because it is said that the disease eats away at a person – since one of the most prominent symptoms is to lose a lot of weight."
"I see." Edward muttered. "What else can you tell me about it, just so I know."
The man thought for a moment, seeming to realise that a lot rested on his answer, and therefore wanting to answer it properly.
"Well it almost always comes with a chronic cough," he said, scratching his chin. "And a tiredness and loss of appetite, and if I told you anything else, it could be wrong."
Edward was left with a very hard decision which he answered very quickly.
"Thank you!" he said, and ran back the way he came.
For a second, the man was startled, before calling after him in surprise.
"Hey! Don't go back there! Don't go back there if he's got consumption you idiot!" he shouted, and (rather startling himself) began to run after Edward.
The two of them didn't get far, however, before out of nowhere, a hand knocked Edward off his feet. The Jew managed to stop before he stepped on the younger man, but was too late to catch him.
Edward sat up and rubbed the back of his head with his real hand where it had smacked hard on the wet cobbles. He could see a massive headache coming on in a few minutes. He looked up to see a stocky man in a sickly dark green, but undeniably smart uniform looking down at him.
"Papers." Said the soldier in a commanding tone. Edward stood slowly, glancing at the red band on the man's arm that told everyone of his cause and his alliance.
Out of his coat, Edward pulled a piece of paper that was getting rather battered looking that showed his picture, and a variation of his name that he wasn't very happy with. He handed them to the soldier.
"Edward Hohenheim-Elric?"
Edward nodded.
"You're British." Said the soldier, flicking the paper where it said this false information. Edward nodded again.
"Your father is German?"
"Yes." Edward replied, trying to feel defiant, but truly, people in this world scared him more than people in his own. He couldn't fight his way out of what this man might do to him if his 'heritage' didn't meet up with his standards.
The Nazi solder thrust the papers back at Edward after he finished reading them with an oddly threatening glance and held his hand out for the Jew's, who gave a shaky sigh and handed them over. The Nazi soldier read over them, glancing from the star on his coat to the large red word 'JUDE' stamped across his papers.
"What are you two doing together?" asked the soldier, practically sneering at them both. Edward hated that he would never have taken this shit back in his world, but in this world, he was boarding on terrified.
"We just met in the street. About five minutes ago."
The soldier frowned. "Your forgetting something," he said to Edward, back-handing him across the cheek. Edward was furious, somewhere deep in his stomach, but all he said was; 'Sir.'
"Better. What was this about 'consumption' that I heard?" He asked. Edward noticed that there was a small crowd gathering. Edward felt sick.
"I- I – I was just going to tell my friend that he mustn't have consumption after the information from this good doctor I crossed paths with," Edward made up, trying to show both himself, the Jew and Alfons in a good light. However the effect wasn't really the one desired.
"This man is a doctor?" asked the soldier, pointing at the Jewish man, who didn't contradict Edward.
He was going to be killed by this soldier anyway, he thought, and so he might as well save two more lives. This boy didn't deserve to die.
The Jew nodded. The Nazi pulled a gun from what had seemed to Edward like nowhere, and fired.
~*~Charismatich~*~
Alfons was at a loss of what to do. He couldn't just stay here and leave Edward, but then, he couldn't really ask for him to come back and apologise, because it was only putting him in more danger. What he would love to do would be to switch places with Edward and give him the flat, but even then he knew it was the same. When he died, all of his possessions would be burnt.
In the end, he concluded that the longer he stood debating about it, the further away Edward could be, so he went to his room and quickly changed into the clothes he'd been wearing yesterday, neglecting his braces and to brush his hair. He didn't even bother switching off the lights as he got his coat and yanked the door open, though on second thought, he stopped and took Edward's too. He'd be freezing.
Edward had never been more than a mile out of Munich while Alfons had known him, so he probably hadn't gone very far, and taken a path that he knew, so in an attempt to think like Edward's subconscious, he headed, at a run, in the general direction of the library.
After running around fruitlessly for about ten minutes with no sign of Edward and wheezing quite noticeably, Alfons slowed down, trying to think of another place Edward might have gone. Maybe towards the park.
Just as the thought entered his mind, the sharp crack that was unmistakably a gunshot rang out, startlingly loud, through the blackness. Alfons jumped, and then felt the cold creep into his lungs.
He was willing to bet more marks than he had that that had been something to do with Edward.
Without a second thought, he ran towards the sound of the shot. Edward could not be dead. He wouldn't allow it.
"Edward!" Alfons called, his voice cracking through the night about as effectively as the gunshot.
Alfons caught sight of Edward's unmistakable strawberry-blonde hair down the cobbled road that they'd seen Hitler make his speech on. Relief flooded through him and he staggered to a halt, hands on his knees, trying not to cough too loudly. Edward was standing. Edward was fine.
Of course, then Alfons saw the rest of the scene. The Nazi soldier holding a gun and the man lying on the cobbles on his side, his blood mixing with the rain on the pavement as it flowed from the gunshot wound in his head as he lay at Edward's feet and Edward's white faced expression as he stared, wide-eyed, at the man he'd just met minutes ago, but none-the-less had left a hole in his heart.
"Edward!" Alfons shouted - his mind seemed jammed on the scene that had met his eyes and all he could think was that he had the get Edward out of there, though he could barely speak for coughing.
Edward finally snapped out of his trance as he heard Alfons' unmistakable voice calling his name. He raised his head shakily and so did the soldier, his gun moving in the direction of his gaze.
"Thank God," Alfons panted, holding his stomach to try and stop the convulsions of his diaphragm. Despite his efforts, and to his horror, what seemed like a ton of blood inside of his mouth made it past his lips and trickled down his chin.
Alfons froze, his gaze resting on Edward's ashen face, his yellow eyes watching Alfons, full of guilt and fear.
Making good use of the lack of attention on him, the Nazi soldier cocked his gun again, the barrel lined up to Alfons' stomach.
A second shot broke the silence of the night.
This wasn't meant to happen at the beginning but…
I nearly cried writing this. And I feel sorry for my lovely Jewish man who died so soon after his introduction.
Jews were not allowed to be doctors in Nazi Germany. It was against the law. They were also not allowed to be out at night. My soldier probably would have let him off for the curfew if Edward hadn't have told such a stupid lie.
I don't usually write such dark stories, but this story became steadily darker while I wasn't watching. Like how Alfons crept into Ed's heart. *Smile*
Last chapter was a bit stingy for reviews. I'd really like it if you just dropped by after here and said your bit. We have one more chapter to go before the end; I just kind of want to know who's still following and what you think about how things have moved on.
So yeah…
See you next chapter.
~BS