Please note: This story's rating has now increased from K+ to M/MA. Please observe your own reader discretion. Some scenes may appear graphic.
The Silent Heart
Chapter Ten
Deja Vu
- mirage -
Ed was grabbing at Hohenhiem's shoulder and speaking, but Ed's voice sounded miles away.
"Hohenheim!" Ed cried, shaking Hohenheim's top half. "You! You!" Ed looked to the car looming over them with its engine still churning. "What the hell were you doing!" Ed screamed. "Didn't you see him! There was someone in the damn road!"
The driver door opened, and a tall man climbed out looking frantic. There was nothing special about his dress, and he wore the traditional browns and blacks of the German man's attire. Upon his head was a black Derby hat, and he ripped it off and hugged it to his chest looking scared. "Are you all right!" the man asked, leaving the driver's door open and running to Ed's side. "I didn't see him!" The man was tall, lanky, and blonde. From his talking mouth dangled a cigarette, and Ed stared up at the familiar face of an Amestris friend. There was no mistaking it. This was Jean Havoc, and he was smoking, even in this world. "I tried to stop! You saw me try to stop!" Havoc tossed an arm towards his car in his defense.
Ed's mouth slipped open in shock, and for a moment he forgot where he was and what was happening. Havoc came as forcefully as Mustang, and his presence felt dream like. The change in clothing, and slight change in accent gave the sense that Havoc was simply standing on the stage of a play, and any moment would break into his cocky military smile and solute.
Ed was mute with the assault of Havoc's sudden presence, and his silence agitated Havoc further. "Kid, you know I tried to stop! How injured is he?" Havoc pointed at Hohenheim's tossed body. "Do you need a ride some where?" Havoc grabbed his hat with both hands, crumbling it into a rag in his panic.
Hohenheim could see a blonde German man standing over him and talking to Ed. Faintly, he called Ed's name. His entire right side was burning and his lungs felt too tired to continue basic breathing.
"How could you not see him!" Ed yelled, suddenly coming to with his fear in an angry form of aggression. "He was right in the middle of the!" Hohenheim raised his hand the slightest bit and Ed silenced and looked down. Hohenheim wanted to tell Ed where his wallet was, where they were, and where they needed to go. He wanted to remind the boy to stay out of the snow and to eat a solid lunch with meat and bread, but he was becoming too tired to remember his name.
"Edward…my pocket…"
Looking terrified Ed watched Hohenheim's eyes roll back before looking at the man's coat. What pocket? About them the cars were honking in protest. Havoc's was consuming their entire lane and much of the second twisted at an odd angle with snow kicked about. Suddenly Ed was abandoned in Germany, without knowing anything, and without knowing anyone. An overwhelming sense of isolating desertion swept Ed's body and his throat tightened just as bile swam up the back.
"He passed out?" Havoc asked, stilling hugging his hat.
Ed was silent. He was trying to decide what to do, and where to go. He didn't know where he was. They seemed to be in a different city that was, the way all unidentifiable cities were, just the same as the last. Not knowing how fast blimps went, or how big Germany was, Ed couldn't be certain they were even still in the same country. Feeling pathetic, and frightened in a way he would never admit, he lifted his gaze to Havoc. Havoc looked confused with his lack of movement, and was staring down at him with a befuddled expression.
"Help me move him," Ed said, keeping a flat demanding tone. He didn't know if this world had police, or if he had rights that would now protect him, or where doctors were kept, or if Hohenheim could ever even become injured enough he'd need a human doctor. However, what he did know, was that he felt Havoc owed him something for running the good for nothing old man down, and he was going to get what was coming to him. "I need to get him out of the snow."
Havoc slipped his hat back on and helped Ed heft up Hohenheim's unconscious body.
For Hohenheim the entire world had slid away from him without any fight, and then suddenly, it was coming back just as fast. With returning sound, and the sensation of heat, he struggled to open his eyes. There was white above him and what he thought first was the winter sky, he realized was the dull base paint of a ceiling. He was no longer outside, he was in a small bedroom inside the first of two twin beds, and he had been peeled out of his coat.
He felt extremely fatigued, and he lifted his head slowly and looked down at himself. His shirt had been opened and ice as well as a few rags were on his side. He could feel the dull ache even with the ice, and he was curious as to what type of bruising might show. Unlike in Amestris, Europe, or better put, this world, had provided him with slow, but steady strength. He healed quickly, and already, with just his first breath, he could feel the fresh composure of two ribs. They must have been broken, but now already were not. His flesh felt cool and significantly clean because it was reforming. His cells were realigning and bonding to correct the damage. In many ways, the most burdensome thing which would come from the accident would be the dirt to his hair and clothes.
Hohenheim gave his fingers a testing wiggle. He suspected he had not been out long, because he was on top of the bed covers rather than inside them. To the right, a curtain window had the white glow of a noonday hour, and it was right to assume he had lost maybe an hour. It was likely they were still in Kempton, as Ed should have chosen the first available option to himself, knowing nothing about his surroundings. From where he laid the sounds of the street were still present, and they were ear level, so he knew them to be on the first floor. This was curious, and Hohenheim glanced about the room with greater inquiry. First floor room and board, so close to the street, implied a house and not an apartment, and he took new interest in the room. With Kempton being a domestically small location, it was unlikely Ed should have run into individuals with the finances to own a house as the result of a business trade, and not that of practical farming. While he was aware Kempton had winter attractions, and had one or two of what could be considered resort locations, the occupants with money would more appropriately be found in Kempton's hotels as they enjoyed their stay, and not in residential dwellings. For this reason, several things inside the small room stood out at once.
The furnishing was simple, that of a common German. Wooden beds, end table, dresser, and writing desk, but the décor and accessories were unmatched. There was the simple and bland lamp, but the small fancy and expensive clock upon the dresser. The walls were bare, but the desk held a silver flask, several well made leather bound books, and a lock box sitting proudly on silver feet with gold engraved detail about the key hole. The goods within the room were that of a fine gentleman, but the dwelling encasing it all, was that of the practical hard working class. Hohenheim felt this at odds, it gave the ring of a thief, or at the very lest, one with not entirely ethical business dealings.
"You know exactly what I am talking about." A voice drifted in from the open bedroom doorway. "You're just denying it." The voice sounded happy, conversationally teasing. "And what for? I am being honest with you." Hohenheim lifted his arm a few inches and replaced it. His body was not yet ready to move. He closed his eyes with exhaustion and listened to the sounds of the other room. "There's nothing wrong with it. It can be our little secret." There was the soft clank of a dish on a counter top, before heavy male footsteps approaching the room.
A tall blonde man wearing brown slacks and suspenders over a white dress shirt appeared holding a rag. He was slightly over six feet, very lanky, and with a puff of blond hair sprouting out from his forehead. "You know what I am talking about," Havoc said, entering the room and turning back to speak into the doorway. "…don't you?"
"That's not what this is about," Ed answered from the other room.
Havoc cocked a comfortable well knowing smile and skeptically spoke a sarcastic, "Oh?"
Ed's tone didn't change. It was flat, and fact based. "I am spoken for."
Havoc lifted his hands in a mocking gesture and fanned them outward. "Then where is he?"
Hohenheim opened one eye just enough it would not be noticeable. It was obvious he was coming to in the middle of something, and it seemed something he didn't understand. Part of him, a part becoming nervous with the curt jesting of the German man's voice, felt it best to see where this was going.
Ed entered the room and stopped at the foot of Hohenheim's bed with a heavy sigh. He was no longer wearing his outerwear, and slid his hands into his pockets thoughtfully. Hohenheim could see Ed critically analyzing his situation, and reminded himself to apologize to Ed for all of this later. Ed still looked presentable, but his body had a cold misting of perspiration that caused Hohenheim guilt. Be it the stress of the new situation, or perhaps the strain of having to move a much larger and unconscious person, Ed did not have the resources of a healthy person, and was depleting what bit he had stored up before their travel from Munich. Feeling foolishly annoyed Hohenheim had to admit it had not occurred to him something might happen to him and strand Ed temporarily on his own. He had been independent for so long, planning for dependency was difficult.
Ed looked mildly annoyed with his position and the silence in the room. Havoc had not taken his eyes off Ed, and was staring purposely so Ed would answer him. "Well?" Havoc asked.
Ed looked tired. His clothing cast him as thin and willowy, and somehow Ed's braid was becoming messy again.
"You're not used to talking about it," Havoc said, sounding certain, and almost sympathetic. Ed ignored this. His gaze was absently considering the side of Hohenheim's bed, as if lost in thought. "I understand, I am not trying to pry, but you realize it looks as it does from my perspective, that he should be here." With these words Ed's brow tightened, as if hearing this was painful. "Why isn't he?" Hohenheim could see, what looked to be painful reality seeping into Ed's face, and he suddenly felt the need to stand up and intervene. Ed's eyes dropped to the floor, almost with shame, and Havoc noticed this at once. "If he's not here, than you belong to no one," Havoc said quickly, sounding more intrigued with this than anything else. "You need to come to terms with it." Havoc walked quickly to Ed's side and looked down at him. Ed took his hands from his pockets with the sudden advance but didn't move. "You need to face facts." Havoc leaned closer, his body now socially inappropriate and closing what little space was left between Ed's shorter form and his own. "He's breaking it off." Havoc hooked a finger beneath Ed's chin. "He's not interested." Ed looked powerless hearing this. There was something of wild denial and overwhelming sadness breaking out in Ed's face, and Havoc could see it just as plainly as Hohenheim. "What a fool," Havoc whispered, closing the distance between them. In the slow consensual speed of romance, he planted a chaste kiss on Edward's motionless lips.
Hohenheim watched the kiss with a parental anger stirring. Edward did not look comfortable the way one would invite such advances, but like a grade school child being bullied by someone larger, and remaining passively stoic. "He is a fool to leave you," Havoc whispered, lowering the hand he had beneath Ed's chin to pet down Ed's chest. "I wouldn't have left you."
Edward didn't move and kept his apathetic expression. "Thank you for putting us up," Ed said, sounding only mildly annoyed. "But as soon as he comes to we're leaving."
Havoc lifted his eyes to Ed's with a bit of shock and Ed leveled his gaze. It said, understand what I am saying? Ed had found and chosen the best route to take in this situation, and it was calm indifference. We weren't starting a fight, and we weren't participating in one. We were taking the old man and getting the hell out of here. Germany was terrible.
Havoc dropped his hand to his side with insult. He gave Ed a quick scrutinizing glance from head to toe with bitter resentment. "Have you any money to pay for his doctor?" he spat, voice quickly going sour.
Hohenheim felt a sense of exasperation Ed called a doctor for him. He couldn't blame the boy, it was common in Amestris to call for doctors, but it was not common here in Germany.
"I wouldn't have called else wise," Ed said, reaching into his back pocket. Ed's hand slid in for Hohenheim's wallet and grasped air. For a moment he looked surprised before feeding his hand into his front right pocket, and then his left.
"What's the matter?" Havoc asked. With confusion Ed turned his front pockets inside out. "Did you lose it?" Havoc asked, and it was the way he pronounced the word lose, dragging it out sardonically, which explained exactly what happened. Ed no longer had the wallet, because someone had taken it.
Instantly Ed's head snapped up with accusing rage. He dropped the white sails of his pocket interiors and jumped at Havoc. It was an action of immediate fury, like a pouncing cougar. Ed threw himself forward and Hohenheim was so startled, he bolted up before he could stop himself. He managed only three inches, and then a sudden flare in his side knocked him flat. His ribs weren't the only things which were damaged, his organs were. They were not fully repaired and screamed with his movement as if a few of them had been broken into hunks and were in the process of sewing themselves back together.
Neither Ed, nor Germany's Havoc, noticed Hohenheim's movement. For the moment they were completely preoccupied. Ed threw a left hook, knocking Havoc back, and went to grab the man in a choke hold. Had Ed been healthy, he might have succeeded, but Havoc had the advantage of speed. He dodged and threw a harsh, but still much pulled, blow at Ed's stomach. Ed buckled critically, and Havoc shoved him back.
"Get off me!" Havoc snapped. His shove threw Ed into the writing desk, and Ed's lower back smacked the side of the table before Ed grabbed it to stabilize himself. The impact was extreme, Ed collided with the force of a wrecking ball tossing him aside, and Havoc was not done. He took one great step, stomping in front of Ed's recovering body and slapped Ed's face with so much force the sound went off like a fire cracker and Hohenheim was certain Ed would topple over.
Havoc scolded Ed mercilessly, and said "Starting something in your condition…" Ed pawed at the side of the desk to stay upright when his jaw was thrown to the side with enough force it tried to take the rest of his body with it. "You're sweating so hard I am surprised you can stand." Havoc grabbed Ed's lapels and jerked him forward, correcting his stance with cruel force. "Quite an arrogant nuisance you are, thinking you can take on someone like me while so ill. What's wrong with you?" Havoc sounded only mildly interested in the disease. "It's obviously not contagious or the old man would be sick as well, but I am really not certain you can leave in your condition." This was a threat, and it wasn't lost on any of them. "Or while you owe me money."
Ed struggled to regain his breath while Havoc was speaking. "Oh?" Ed rasped, lifting a hand and wiping at his mouth. Ed raised his gaze in a quick jump of his pupils. "Imagine that situation," Ed taunted sarcastically. He was still breathing heavily from the sudden exertion and stress. The tension in the room was mounting quickly. Hohenheim could sense the German man's intent to move. It was a clear hungry desire wafting toward Ed's building aggression. "Since I seemed to have…misplaced my wallet," Ed said, giving his lips a lick with his cheek growing a fat red swell. "…I wonder what I can do to pay?" Havoc snorted as if he were insulted, but the gaze in his eyes said otherwise. He was the one who initiated the kiss, and he was the only one who wanted it. "Perhaps…you have something in mind?" Ed said, picking himself up from the slumped way he was leaning into the desk and offering a vicious little smile. It was clear someone had something in mind.
"I don't," Havoc said angrily. It was an obvious lie, and Ed fell silent. He let the charade hang in the air, dangling between them with Havoc's discomfort building. Hohenheim understood the German man wanted something, and while the man's desire was building with prickling unease, Ed was entirely confident.
Ed's eyes were sinking into a dark cold solidarity of unwavering hate, and the German was disturbed. He seemed drawn to Ed with his quiet hungry stare, but also repulsed by him in some way. As if the Amestris inside Ed warned the man of danger the same way this German Havoc made Ed sick with deep loathing.
Havoc sniffed, tipping his chin up the smallest fraction of an inch. He was not giving up. He felt more than capable against Ed as an opponent, and with his desire clear, he was refusing to do any of the work. Havoc was going to get his way, the way he wanted it. "You're going to have to think of something," he said, lowering his voice.
Ed's eyes were blackened with disgust, but his facial expression remained calm. "I don't have any ideas either, isn't that funny?" Ed asked, lifting the automail to his collar and fiddling with the top button. "I simply have…" Ed popped the first button and slid his hand down to the second. "…no idea…" Ed popped the second and third button and spread the collar quickly before continuing. "…what I can do…" Ed's automail was slipping through his buttons and Hohenheim was scared with Ed's actions and the wide smile spreading up Havoc's face. "…to repay such a…serious…" The fourth and fifth button. "…serious…" Sixth and seventh. "…favor."
Ed was leaning on the writing desk the way Hohenheim was familiar with Ed leaning against any piece of furniture near him to ease the weight of his body. With Ed's shirt almost entirely open, Hohenheim suddenly noticed Ed's flesh hand. It had crawled along the top of the writing desk behind Ed's back and was curling tightly around the long and sharp letter opener.
"You know damn well what you can do," Havoc said, choking out his words in a single breath of intense arousal. The man dove at Ed's body, wrapping both arms around Ed and crushing Ed to his frame.
Ed shook, broken entirely from his concentration and assaulted with surprise Havoc possessed such speed and strength. Ed dropped the letter opener and brought both hands to Havoc's chest trying to separate them. "Yes," Havoc whispered, crushing his lips to Ed's. Ed balled a handful of Havoc's shirt and tried to squirm free, but Havoc grabbed Ed's head, fisting his hair, and held him in place.
With both boys distracted Hohenheim tested lifting his right arm and then his left. He didn't want them to notice him, but he wanted to make sure his body would work. With this man eating into Ed's face as if it were a pie, he tested his left leg and then his right before Ed managed to shove Havoc off. They jerked apart, both panting.
"What the fuck!" Ed snarled, emptying and filling his lungs as if he'd run miles. Havoc was undisturbed and grabbed Ed's shirt and untucked it from his pants in one yank. "Slow down!" Ed cried, reaching back for the letter opener with a bit of fright.
Havoc slid his hands up Ed's chest and began frantically unbuttoning Ed's exposed underwear. "You're amazing," Havoc whispered, voice urgent and uncontrolled. "I am sure you'll pay suitably."
Ed waved his hand across the writing desk in search of the letter opener. He knocked over the books, and smacked the lock box aside. With Havoc's groping Ed's expression was easily a grimace of severe discomfort, but the man didn't care. With rest, their travel to Kempton had been tiresome, but not overly so on Ed's body. He had regained the good color and coordination he was suddenly loosing. Havoc's attack was like a leach, exhausting Ed's strength rapidly. With adrenaline Ed's breath was short and panicky, and the state of heightened alert he was being forced into, and forced to operate within, was dwindling him back into illness. Hohenheim could see a blooming fever creeping into Ed's cheeks.
"Your skin is beautiful," Havoc said, ripping Ed's underwear open and pressing his face to Ed's chest. Ed was beginning to sweat heavily, and it was giving his skin a pale waxy appearance. Havoc didn't notice Ed's falling condition, and the force of his excitement shoved Ed sloppily to the right.
Ed used both hands to stabilize himself, and latched onto the writing desk for support. About its surface was a mess of papers and personal belongings. The letter opener, which was in easy sight minutes ago, was buried.
When Ed started this game he thought he could control it, but German Havoc seemed to be lustfully unpredictable, and his strength was immense. In Amestris Havoc was a soldier, and had a soldier's strength and skill. As a competing alchemist, this meant little to Ed, but here in Germany, Havoc's capable body brought real threat. With little strength to push Havoc off, Ed felt a rush of fear he had bitten off more than he could chew.
"What an absolute fool he is," Havoc said, speaking into Ed's stomach while basking in the feel of the boy's skin. "Such luck I am having. Finders-keepers, isn't that what they say?" Havoc lifted his face from Ed's torso. "I want you to show yourself to me." Ed's eyebrows shot up with disbelief. Amestris Havoc loved women more than anything. "I want to see you," he said impatiently.
"O-Okay," Ed croaked, trying to twist his body away from the pressure pinching him against the desk. He just needed a moment to get his bearings, or manage a stable grip on the table. Havoc was insistent and dropped his hands to the button of Ed's pants. "All right!" Ed cried, pressing a palm to Havoc's face and pushing it away. "Ease up!"
Havoc jerked erect angrily, and his height left him towering over Ed's sick body. "You started this." His voice was unpitying. He grabbed Ed's jaw in a fierce grip and jerked Ed's face up to his. "You started it, and you'll finish it." Havoc descended on the side of Ed's face, and kissed sloppily upward towards his temple. Ed broke into a yawn of disgust and tried to wiggle free. Pinned tight, the action gave the appearance of a shuffling dance, and Havoc laughed. "Relax, and enjoy it." Havoc dropped his hand to the crotch of Ed's pants and captured Ed in a tight grip.
The sudden invasion sent a fierce shudder upward through Ed's body, snapped his eyes open, and he began the fast and controlled breathing of a bull about to charge. For a moment Ed's vision blurred, and the lamp in the room seemed to grow an intense light.
"I am going to put you in my mouth," Havoc whispered, chuckling into Ed's neck between his kisses. "I'll suck you until you scream."
Ed saw the lamp blow outward with light, and everything became white when he heard this. Frantically, he tossed his hand behind him and slapped things off the desk until his grasp locked around the long silver letter opener. It had a sterling silver weighted handle with elegant detail. The blade was that of an elongated triangle, extremely thin with a piercing tip. Ed curled his fingers around it and drew it up in an aggressive fist grip. It was a military move if Hohenheim had ever seen one. With the automail, Ed grabbed Havoc's hair and jerked his grinning face up. In one swift, tightly controlled, and dangerous movement, Ed leveled the knife directly in front of Havoc's left eye and stabbed it forward. It was a plunging motion, as if Ed were preparing to stab it straight through Havoc's head. Instead, Ed stopped precisely one inch away from Havoc's white bulging sclera and left the blade hovering.
"Get it," Ed seethed. His lips were curled back from his clenched teeth, and he was panting through them with fury. "And don't make me tell you what it is I want."
With the knife arriving with the precision of a diamond before his pupil Havoc froze with immediate shock. It stalled him suddenly, but quickly began wearing off. He was unwilling to relinquish his control without a fight. "What are you going to do with that?" Havoc asked, sounding nervous.
"I will stab this through your fucking eye and rip it out like a peach pit if you don't drop my dick this second," Ed hissed. In agonizing suspense Hohenheim was gripping the bed sheets with both hands and he didn't see any movement, but Ed gave a fast and fleeting grin of disgust. "Good," Ed whispered.
"Are you seriously planning to fight me off with a letter opener?" Havoc asked softly, keeping an iniquitous tone even while beginning to sweat. "Hm? Think that can even cut a man?"
Ed smiled and chuckled a dangerous giggle Hohenheim had never heard. "Oh, I think it will work just fine," Ed teased. "I'll pluck your eye like a toothpick into a fat grape. And while you're screaming and grabbing at the bloody hole leaking down your face, I'll lick it from top to bottom. I'll suck the cornea off like a wet onion." Ed moved the knife just a hair closer and Havoc gasped a sloppy hitch of breath. "And if I like the taste," Ed continued, "your right eye can watch me chew the left like a nice hard boiled egg."
Hohenheim could see the storming fury in Havoc's face. Havoc jerked cautiously in Ed's hold, testing Ed's strength like a beast trying to break free. He wasn't ready to be beaten so easily, and narrowed his gaze at Ed with vengeful commitment. "You little shit."
"Get it!" Ed barked. The order was flat, and proclaimed loudly. Ed suddenly raised his voice into a hard commanding tone and it shot through the room like a bullet. He shoved Havoc back by the head and with the man rising to a full stand Hohenheim had a chance to look at them both.
Havoc was sweating heavily. Lust was still hot in his eyes, but now there was anger and cautious fury brooding. Ed was a mess, with his shirt and underwear ripped open and his body glistening like a china doll from all the exertion. His hair had been pulled from the braid in fistfuls and the side of his face looked stung by hornets. "Go." Ed extended his arm to keep the knife inches from Havoc, and he gave it a sharp jab toward the doorway with his order. "Get." Ed spoke like he would to a dog and Havoc left into the hall with Ed following.
Hohenheim felt certain it was time to leave, and with both boys gone forced himself to sit up. It was a slow and painful process. The rags and ice toppled into his lap and his liver cried out in protest with the crunch of his body. His ribs had recovered, but he suspected his false ribs had broken inward or possibly downward into his liver, and that was what had caused the delay in his healing. The liver was not an organ he wanted to rush into health, but with the volatile situation in front of him, he felt compelled to help. Ed seemed to be holding his own, but not without serious injury to his recovery.
Moving gently Hohenheim slid one leg off the bed before the other while rocking his neck to either side. He stretched it, and cracked it once before rolling his shoulders. He wanted to be able to stand quickly and look strong. Their new friend did not seem to have the best intentions in mind, and if they could leave without violence he would.
"Now drop it," Havoc spoke, loud enough to be heard even from the bedroom. Since the boys had left there had been no conversation and Hohenheim looked toward the doorway with this clear phrase. A moment later a slender metal object dropped to the floor and clattered. "I know how to use it and I will." Hohenheim glanced about the bedroom for a weapon. Things did not seem to be going well. "I am no longer in the best of moods, so get your shirt off." There was a brief rustling sound. "To the bedroom." Footsteps began approaching and Hohenheim paused, in a moment of thought where he stood. He could remain standing, and begin the confrontation right away, or he could resume his useless appearance, and take an opportune time.
Hohenheim recognized the lamp as his easiest weapon and with footsteps returning he slid back onto the bed and closed his eyes.
Ed appeared in the doorway with his shirt missing and his underwear unbuttoned into his pants. He paused for a moment as Havoc closed in behind him and then stepped in. Havoc looked smug carrying a wallet in one hand and a small gun in the other. Hohenheim felt himself stiffen on sight of the weapon, and it was clear Ed was responding to it as well.
Havoc gestured to the second empty bed with the gun. "Get up to the bed."
Ed's hands were balled into fists and he looked over his shoulder to Havoc and glared at the man. "Why?" Ed asked. His voice was low and carried a tone of intense fury and accusation. His anger was extreme. For the moment Ed was obeying only with calm controlled movements. It was a reluctant surrender built on the committed promise to return with the first available opportunity. The moment the gun was lowered, or the moment it could be taken, Ed was going to explode, and Hohenheim felt certain, it would be with a force greater than anything he'd ever seen.
A thin smile scribbled up Havoc's face before he gave a laugh which was more a grunt of air than a sound. "Get up," Havoc cocked the gun, "to the bed."
Ed stepped to the second twin bed and stared at it with his hands fists at his sides. Unlike the first wooden bed, this one was a strong wrought iron with a waist high foot board. Practically flush against it Ed was very close to Hohenheim, and Hohenheim looked at his son. He could see Ed's illness streaked across Ed's face. Ed's cheeks were hot, his body was sweating, and with the situation Ed looked ready to vomit.
With Ed's obedience Havoc decocked the gun and seemed pleased. "Take off your pants."
Ed closed his eyes slowly and muttered something so quietly only his lips appeared to move.
"There is someone in the room with us," Ed said angrily.
"I like spectators." Havoc was happy.
Ed jerked around with startled outrage. "That's my father!" Ed gestured in a wild angry swing of his palm towards Hohenheim.
Havoc was even happier, and mockingly said, "And I wouldn't care if it was your mother." A new rage was born in Ed when Trisha was mentioned. He tipped his face down and it darkened like that of a rabid animal. "Now get them off."
Ed answered easily, and with non negotiable confidence. "No."
Havoc's smiled dropped. "Get them off."
"I said no," Ed snapped. "I am not undressing, and we're not doing whatever you think we're doing. I am going to get the old man I brought, and I am leaving now." Ed's voice was powerful. "You are done." It was the voice of the state alchemist who only had to clap his hands to attack someone. In Amestris Ed had a research budget, a travel budget, and impressive income for all he knew and could do. At the age most boys were reading comics, Ed had a career most developed men envied. He did not sound like the German commoner he looked like. Although his clothes were standard, and his accent was poor, Edward's spirit was of higher society, and carried with it the demands of well earned entitlement. Without landing a single insult, he was spitting on the blonde German thief, and the man could hear it.
"Maybe you've forgotten I am the one with the gun!" Havoc snapped, advancing in a fast careless step of blinding anger. He jerked his arm up and thrust the barrel into Ed's forehead between Ed's eyes. "I'll give the orders around here," Havoc sneered. "And I won't shoot to kill you." Havoc smiled. "I'll shoot you in the thigh and you can bleed down your leg while we do this." Havoc cocked the gun. "Now turn around, and take off your pants." Ed didn't move, and Havoc gave this only a few seconds before dropping the gun to aim at Ed's right thigh.
With the threat to the flesh leg, Ed lifted a flat palm in a surrendering motion and turned around. He moved slowly, deliberately taking his time, and Hohenheim could see Ed's eyes darting in rapid thought once he faced the bed again. Ed brought his hands to his pants and began to unfasten them with the trembling procrastination of a man tying his own noose.
"Good boy," Havoc mocked, decocking the gun again.
Becoming frantic for a way out Ed threw his gaze around the room with flighty desperation. Hohenheim opened his own and let them meet. His heart had pulsed, in a beat twice that in strength, when he saw the cocked gun peg Ed in the head. He was ready for them to make their move, and Ed froze in a moment of shock when their gaze locked.
With immediate understanding Hohenheim was conscious Ed's eyes widened. His expression broke into a dull catatonic stare of disbelief, before his brow knit with angry panic. Hohenheim heard Ed's thoughts clearly. Get up asshole! Stop laying there and help me!
"Hey!" Havoc snapped. The sound of him was loud and sudden. Ed's frame gave a quick shudder in surprise. "Stop stalling and get them off now."
Hesitantly Ed brought his hands to his fly and began unzipping it. He felt subconscious with Hohenheim awake, but more certain he might see his way out of this. After all, it wouldn't be like the old man to just lay there and let him get beat up.
Havoc calmed with Ed obeying him, and spoke with a tone of new curiosity. "Has your lover done this to you before?"
Ed unzipped his fly and paused. "Made me strip at gun point?" Ed asked sarcastically. "No, you're the first."
Havoc lifted the gun and hit Ed harshly in the back of the head with the butt of it. "You know what I am talking about," Havoc said angrily.
Ed's shoulders rose like an offended cat and he hissed with the sting of the blow. He reached back and gave the hot throb a quick rub. Ironically, it made the lamp's lighting seem more tolerable, and helped things come into focus.
"Were you on the bottom?" Havoc asked. Ed's squeezed his eyes tightly closed. He wasn't going to talk about something so private. Not to this man with a gun, and certainly not with Hohenheim listening. He finished opening his pants and hung onto them when they slipped an inch off his waist. "Were you?" Havoc was insistent, and used the gun barrel to land a demanding jab to the back of Ed's head. Ed let his pants go and they dropped to his ankles leaving him in his half unbuttoned underwear. "I couldn't imagine you'd be on the top."
Ed forced an optimistic tone full of repugnant anger and said, "Well, they say good things come in small packages." Havoc smiled. He stepped up quickly and wrapped a loving arm about Ed's chest to hug the boy. He kept the gun to Ed's temple.
"I am only asking to be easy on you," Havoc whispered, taking a moment to sniff Ed's hair with appreciation. "You know, this doesn't have to be like this for you." Ed fixed his gaze on the wall ahead of him and revealed nothing. He kept himself limp and pliable as Havoc squeezed him. "I don't want to hurt you, and I don't want to scare you either."
"How generous," Ed said flatly.
"I would love to hold you close. I want to give you the choice, you understand?" German Havoc was insane. "You can cooperate, and I'll be gentle." Havoc was groping Ed's chest. "But if you want, you can just bend over, and we can do it like that too." Havoc slid his hand to Ed's right nipple and pinched it.
Ed cried out a sound of overcome surprise and jerked in Havoc's arms. The pinch felt incredibly invasive. He did not have his right nipple in Amestris, and the nerves were new and extremely fresh. Ed winced with Havoc's grip, overcome with the sensation it caused. After he demanded he be fit with automail, Pinako cut his nipple off during surgery and the metal of the automail port stretched over half the scar. Ed remembered Pinako's voice taunting him during his therapy directly after the arm was added. Each automail port was like a ball and chain and for weeks it was hard just to shift his weight. I cut that nipple right off you, she had said, holding him upright and forcing him to stand, and I'll cut off more if you don't make that leg work Ed!
The touch was embarrassing, and Ed felt himself blush.
"Oh, so sensitive!" Havoc laughed, pinching it again.
Hohenheim reached for the lamp. The blonde German was touching his son in a way that was not only inappropriate and upsetting to him, but seemed to be gravely upsetting Ed. Havoc wouldn't leave Ed's right nipple alone, and Ed was panting out fast startled breaths. The touch felt so deliberately insensitive Ed felt as if Havoc were doing something incredibly private to him and was starting to squirm.
"Come on," Havoc whispered, plucking playfully at Ed's nipple. "We can make it nice."
"You make me sick," Ed confessed. "You make me fucking sick."
Havoc's interest in foreplay erased with Ed's tone, and with Ed unsuspecting, Havoc stepped back and planted a hand on the back of Ed's head doubling him over. Unprepared Ed's face hit the bed harshly. The iron frame took on the inconvenience of doubling over a high garden fence, and Ed lost the power of his legs without the ability to fully bend his knees or drop his weight into them. Viciously he began squirming. "Stay still!" Havoc jammed the gun barrel to the back of Ed's head, but Ed didn't care. Bent over in his underwear, Ed's vision had gone milky, and the light in the room was overwhelmingly bright. He understood little more than the need to get free at any cost, and reached back and grabbed at Havoc's hair. Havoc cried out into his jaw when Ed fisted it and yanked out whatever he could. "Get your hands down!"
"What do you fucking thing you're doing!" Ed screamed, jerking an elbow back into Havoc's chest. Havoc broke out coughing. "I'll fucking kill you!" Ed lifted a leg to kick, but Havoc stamped a foot down on the pants between Ed's ankles and trapped his legs.
"Yeah, I'll beat you up nice and pretty when I am done, so don't you worry about it," Havoc said, unzipping his fly. "Now get your hands down." Havoc secured a grip on the back of Ed's head, and kept Ed's face smashed to the bed quilt.
"Get your hands off me!" Ed cried, struggling.
"I mean it! You think your feeble wiggling means anything to me?" Havoc boasted.
"Fuck you!" Ed raised his voice. "I said, get off me!"
"Listen to this mouth." Havoc laughed. "I'll have to give you something to keep you quiet."
Hohenheim stood up. The moment Havoc pushed Ed into a position that truly scared the boy, he reached for the lamp. With the struggling he stood up in a swift even raise from the bed, stepped behind the German man, and smashed it over his skull. It was a powerful swing, and the lamp shattered in a violent explosion as if Havoc's skull was a bullet.
Havoc's head seemed to bounce to the side, as if his neck were made of rubber and stretched with the force of it. Then it snapped back, and out cold, Havoc fell forward like a dummy and blanketed Ed with his dead body weight.
Ed flailed when Havoc came down on top of him. He threw a vicious elbow into the man's face and started screaming. "Get the fuck off me! I'll break your fucking face!"
Ed's wild tone made Hohenheim panic, and he grabbed Ed's shoulders, but Ed didn't recognize his touch. "Edward," he said, tightening his grasp. "It's me. Don't move, there is glass on you son."
Ed brought his hands to the bed and tried to push himself up. His bare palm missed jagged shards of glass by only centimeters. "Get me up!" Ed cried. Havoc's weight was too much. "Get him off of me!"
Hohenheim laid his hand over Ed's to calm him. "Ed, stay still," he said, putting as much reassurance into his voice as he could. "There is glass on you. Let me clean you off, and then you can get up." Ed stopped struggling, but his wild breathing didn't subside. He was heaving as if he'd fought for his life, and in some ways that was what it felt like.
Quickly Hohenheim tossed the visible shards of glass from Ed's shoulders and hair. The lamp was in coined sized pieces in all directions. The bed was littered with them, and once Ed's shoulders were safe, Hohenheim shoved Havoc haphazardly to the side. Ed curled his hands over his head when he felt Havoc's body moving, and for a moment Hohenheim felt he was lifting a blanket. Havoc's body gave way and revealed a view of Ed that shocked him.
Ed was thin as a rail, and bent stomach down clutching his head and shaking, looked more vulnerable than Hohenheim could stand. He grabbed Ed's shoulders and pulled him up with the intent to protect Ed from Havoc and the entire world. "Easy Edward," Hohenheim whispered.
Ed staggered to his feet, and as soon as he knew he could move became wild again. He looked madly for Havoc's body; fearful Havoc would come to and attack. Ed raked his hands over his face and up into his hair, puffing his bangs out with static caused by the automail. He was hysterical though entirely mute. There was nothing but the hyperventilating asthmatic wheeze of his panicked breath, and the shaking of his body. He gave Havoc an investigatory kick, and when Havoc didn't move, Ed stepped back and looked down at the pants pooled about his ankles. He was swaying unsteadily, and Hohenheim grabbed Ed's shoulders to steady him just as the right sleeve of his underwear slipped down to his bicep.
"Ed," Hohenheim said firmly, bending down to Ed's face. He whispered, "You're all right now." The urgency he had to explain this to Ed, came from the urgency he had to believe it was true. Yes, Ed was safe. He was not hurt, he was safe. Hohenheim grabbed Ed, and hugged Ed to his chest. "You're safe now." He pressed his face into Ed's hair and with the fever and Ed's sweating; Ed's natural smell was strong. Hohenheim took a deep breath of his son, and laid a hand in the blonde color that came from his blood. "You're okay."
Ed had been silent, in a state of adrenaline ridden pandemonium that left no ability for speech, until the hug. Then Ed responded fiercely, and latched onto Hohenheim with desperation. "I want to go!" Ed screamed, trembling viciously. His body was wet with fresh sweat, and although his grip on Hohenheim was uncertain, it was tight. "I want to go dad, I want to go."
Hohenheim felt every muscle inside him lock up when for the first time in years he heard that small familiar word drop from Ed's mouth.
D-A-D
It clarified things like the last piece of a puzzle. It was the simplicity, but also the complexity, of something well known becoming something more. It was Hydrogen bonding easily with Oxygen to make water in both words, and simultaneously allowing something as magical as the base pair bonding for the double helical structure of DNA. Suddenly, the parental desires he had been struggling with and trying to subdue for Edward's dignity, were right, and it became okay for Edward to want them and hate them at the same time.
Hohenheim paused in this moment, feeling as if it would end before he knew it, and also that it never would. It was as if he had stepped in something too thick to step directly out of. Life was different this way. Life was different now with Ed. It was not himself, traveling and living with only himself to care and plan for. He had made another life with Trisha, and that life was a separate operating identity that cared for him, and which he cared deeply for.
Hohenheim tightened his grip on Ed, hugging the boy fiercely. "We shall," he whispered. He stepped away from Havoc's body, and took Ed with him. He was unwilling to let Ed go with danger so close. It was startling to a frightening degree how easily he had gone down, and how thoroughly his unconsciousness had abandoned Edward. In this world Ed could neither read nor write, he had no money, no idea where he was, and his health was a wildly inconsistent enemy for them both.
Ed was in shambles and wheezing out breaths as if in the heat of an asthma attack. His hair had become a tangle of strings feeding into a messy braid. His shaking was visible, rattling him constantly, and with his underwear pulled off his shoulders and opened, Ed looked appropriately like each piece of him was falling apart.
Hohenheim coaxed Ed to sit at the foot of the bed and felt Ed's burning forehead. Inside he also felt dizzy and a bit nauseous, and it worried him. He had to pull himself together; he could not worry about his own injuries now. His liver held no consequence to Ed.
"Let's get you dressed," Hohenheim said, tugging Ed's underwear up his shoulders.
Ed lifted his gaze with his jaw hanging open and his breathing coming sloppily through his mouth. The right side of his face was still inflamed from the slap, and now along his forehead was a reddened looking rash from the scuff of the bed quilt grinding into his face. Against the pale color of Ed's face these abrasions were stark, but still held no contest to the dark circles Ed's eye sockets were becoming. They were growing ever worse, and made Ed look like a corpse.
Ed licked his lips and rasped a single question. "How long…were you awake?"
Hohenheim buttoned Ed's underwear quickly. "I came to slowly, and it was difficult to move."
Ed kept a silent stare and Hohenheim felt some guilt for stretching the truth but Ed's expression held no trace of suspicion only obedience.
"Are you hurt?" Ed asked, sounding exhausted. "Your ribs…looked broken."
Hohenheim laid his palm over Ed's last button. Ed's pure worry for something as strong as him was naïve, and it gave him remorse and humbling chagrin he only remembered from the farmhouse. Above all else, to think his angry bullheaded son, who seemed more likely to disown him, had actually been reduced to this.
"You put on your shirt; I am going to hail us a car."
Ed gave a sloppy nod and slid his downed sleeve up his shoulder. Quickly Hohenheim left the bedroom and found himself in a simple one bedroom flat. There was a single sitting area and kitchen to his right. He sought water from a visible pitcher and finished a large glass, before refilling it for Ed. On Havoc's counter was a single Semmelknodel breaded dumpling. It looked like a pale meatball in size and color. Hohenheim contemplated taking the food. It was not in his nature to rob from the people of either world, and he was just about to leave it with confidence he could buy something for Ed to eat when he noticed the long sterling silver letter opener laying on the kitchen floor. Against the linoleum, the knife was slender and gleamed with an eagerness to slice. Hohenheim bent down and picked it up. The weight was suitable. It was enough to jab into a man at full strength, and certainly enough to pluck into an eyeball like a grape.
Hohenheim pocketed the letter opener, then he took Ed's abandoned shirt, and the dumpling to the bedroom. Ed sat at the foot of the bed holding his head between his knees trying to stop his heavy breathing. He had corrected his underwear and fastened his pants, but his hair was still a mess.
Hohenheim approached and lowered the cup into Ed's line of sight. "Ed, drink this." Ed immediately pushed it away.
"I feel nauseous."
"Ed." Hohenheim returned the cup. "I know you don't feel like you're dehydrating, but I promise you that you are, and it's a very real threat here."
Ed pushed a hand up his forehead and into his damp hair. "My fever," he muttered, eyes drooping closed with exhaustion. "It's bad." Hohenheim rested his hand on Ed's forehead. It was blazing. "I can't see well." Ed took the cup with his hand shaking. Ed's grip was so unsteady the cup looked as if it were rattling, and Ed brought it to his mouth with the vibration enough to slosh water onto his fingers before he sipped. Ed only drank a few inches and then he set the cup to the floor and returned his palm to his face.
"Are you too nauseous to stand?" Hohenheim asked, considering how long he'd have to be gone to find a cab. He extended Ed's shirt and Ed took it eagerly.
"I just…want to sit here for a little bit," Ed said, sliding his shirt on slowly. Hohenheim waited patiently as Ed pulled it around himself, adjusted his collar, and began buttoning the front. Fully dressed he looked greatly improved, and Hohenheim extended the dumpling when Ed finished.
Ed looked at the food in Hohenheim's hand with curiosity and then with growing illness. "I don't want it," Ed said miserably.
Hohenheim ran his hand over Ed's automail shoulder checking to make sure everything was in place while pushing the dumping into Ed's flesh hand. Ed didn't shove the bread away although he did not cooperate. He was too tired to do either, and Hohenheim lifted Ed's hand to his mouth and Ed reluctantly nibbled the corner.
"I will hurry back."
"If he wakes up…" Ed trailed off, and dropped his arms to his knees with the dumpling slipping almost entirely from his grasp. "I'll take him out before he can stand." Ed lifted his gaze to Hohenheim, and Hohenheim considered this. "I know how," Ed said, voice weak but confident, and Edward seemed capable, at least in good health, of defending himself. Hohenheim didn't doubt Edward's ability to fight with skill that could be fatal, but it seemed unlike the boy to murder. "I can't defend myself," Ed said softly, sounding crushed with his own confession. "I can't defend myself like this." Ed dropped the dumpling and in a slow sorry point indicated himself with one slender finger. "I don't have a choice."
"He won't wake up," Hohenheim said firmly, turning for the door. He felt a need to rush, to hurry back before the man awoke, but he paused in the doorway just the same and looked at Ed's stark white face. "Don't kill him if he does Ed."
They were not, as Hohenheim found, on a main street, and he walked three blocks before emerging from cramped residential streets of little commercial automotive traffic before he could manage a cab. Kempten's traffic seemed unusual to him, with far too great a difference between the residents and tourists. He rode back to the German man's house in silence, and sitting outside the man's thrown together flat bundled in his coat and looking almost homeless, was Ed.
Hohenheim opened the back door of the cab so Edward could see him and beckoned. "Edward!"
Ed staggered to his feet and broke out coughing, but was coming in a sloppy jog. "Hey sir," the driver objected, sounding nervous. "He doesn't look very healthy." Edward in fact looked worse than Hohenheim remembered. Ed arrived with skin that shown white and clammy like that of dead squid, and his flesh hand clamped to his mouth to keep his coughs under control. With Ed in full sight the driver turned around in his seat with alarm. "He got the pneumonia? Or measles?" the man asked, pointing at Ed as he climbed in.
"Absolutely not, I assure you," Hohenheim said, keeping a kind conversational tone. He helped Ed into the cab quickly and closed the door with Ed sitting at his side. Currently their only option was taking this cap, and he intended on doing so.
"He sure as hell looks like he does!" the driver was reasonably frightened.
Ed lowered his hand from his mouth panting and looked utterly perplexed. Amestris did not have common diseases that spread as quickly and killed so mercilessly.
"What's a measle?" Ed rasped. Amestris also did not have measles.
"You know what he has?" Hohenheim asked, forcing a jovial tone. "A bit of tetanus." Hohenheim gestured the car drive forward, but the driver looked skeptical. Ed's eyes were barely open, and he leaned to the icy window of the cab and pressed his hot forehead to it. Hohenheim ignored this. "He's a few days in and still has a few to go I am afraid. You are right, quite right that tetanus is nasty, but not contagious. Now, how about a hotel? I need one closest to the East of the city."
The driver looked a bit shaken with this explanation and studied Ed's drunken appearance before slowly replacing his hands on the wheel. "Yeah," the man said softly, sounding unconvinced. "I know one."
The hotel to the East of the city was only twenty minutes from them, and it was a three story brick building with a lavish entrance. Out front in the crowd was a sign for the large science exposition on Special Relativity and Quantum Mechanics being held over the weekend and Hohenheim cursed their luck. If they were traveling for any other reason, and if Ed were in better health, he would have loved to bring the boy. Now however, the exposition was only clogging the city up with burdensome traffic.
With the cab along side the curb and their driver retrieving their bag, Ed tipped his head up to see the top of the building puffing large clouds of breath through his open jaw. "Why don't you leave me out here," Ed said, sounding sick. "While you get a room." Ed's mannerisms were that of a sleep deprived alcoholic. His coordination was off, his speech was sloppy, and Hohenheim was beginning to feel thankful Ed was still on his feet. "They're going to think I have the plague or something." All about Ed's scalp his hair was damp and his bangs looked limp and dirty.
"Ed, there are plagues here. Let's refrain from using that word." Amestris had not had a plague in decades.
"Ugh, this world is freaking awful," Ed groaned, resting a hand on his stomach. "Even the air smells bad."
The driver brought them their bag, staying well away from Ed, and fled as soon as he was paid. Hohenheim grabbed the heavy suitcase with Ed squinting at the large science signs. "What is this gibberish?" Ed asked. "It's the same style as in Eric's…" Ed trailed off, and his expression of muddled thought went slack with the birth of a new idea. "Oh god." Ed brought a hand to his sweating forehead, putting this together. "…I can't read the language here?" Ed asked, in a tone threatening to become worse. "I can't read the…"
Hohenheim grabbed Ed's arm and began a nonnegotiable pace indoors. "We can't stay out in the snow," he said, leading them to the check-in counter. He did not feel now was the time to discuss Ed's illiteracy.
A young girl came to them quickly and Hohenheim ordered a room. At his side Ed tried to be invisible and kept his face ducked down and hidden from all the traffic. The hotel was rather respectable, and the lobby was a large room with well colored upholstered waiting furniture opening into a small eating area. In the large sitting area a young boy of seven stole his sister's doll and she burst into tears. With the boy wearing a young sailor outfit, and the girl in a frilly dress and hat, Ed stared at the tall woman minding them. She was wearing high fashion and the bodice of her dress was tight and flattering. It made her waist seem pinched, and she was shaking a scolding finger at the young boy before sitting him firmly in a chair.
The review of Quantum Mechanics had droves of people moving in and out of the lobby and consequently most of the rooms were full. With Kempten what it was, the cost of this hotel room was a small price to that of something in Berlin, and higher society was cluttering an establishment which usually considered itself lucky to see bankers and doctors.
Hohenheim took what he could get; a single room with a queen sized bed, and asked for extra blankets. Once they had things together Hohenheim left the counter expecting Ed to follow but Ed seemed dazed. He stayed behind hanging tight to the counter's high wooden edge for stability and staring at the people as if dreaming.
"Ed," Hohenheim whispered, taking Ed's arm and tugging him along. "Ed, you need to be in bed." Ed looked as if someone had circled his eyes with a finger of soot. In a hospital setting he would have been cause for alarm, and out among the people, he looked like death. "Keep steady," Hohenheim said, tightening his hold on Ed's spindly arm. Ed did not seem entirely focused, and Hohenheim increased his pace. He wanted to escape to their room. "And I apologize, but we're on the top floor."
"Does this place smell coppery?" Ed muttered, struggling to walk.
Hohenheim sped up with Ed's question and made sure to keep himself in front of the boy to hide his state. The hotel was furnished in long hallways of hardwood and deep red walls. It was impressive for such a smaller German city. Hohenheim was certain there would be a small desk and separated bathroom in their room rather than just a mattress and wash bin. Ascending two flights of stairs and a second long carpeted hallway with Ed forcing himself along in lumbering steps, they arrived at their door. "I am going to order us some dinner," Hohenheim said. Ed's breath had become the audible sound of a bronchial rasp after the first flight of stairs and this scared Hohenheim more than he would admit. "I want you to take a hot bath, it will help your chest." He unlocked the door with Ed leaning into the door frame as if he'd emptied a bottle of whiskey.
"No way," Ed slurred, pushing himself up and stumbling straight for the bed. "I want to sleep." Ed climbed onto the fully made bed in his coat and curled up.
Hohenheim locked the door behind them and looked around. The room was small and practical. Hard word floor, heavy quilt on the bed, thin writing desk as he had expected, a small dresser he had not, and closet. "Ed," Hohenheim scolded, tossing his suitcase aside. "You can not sleep like this." Ed was in a tight fetal position when Hohenheim forced his hands in to the top of Ed's coat buttons and unfastened them. "Ed? You're still wearing your coat and shoes." Ed did not care. He moaned out an incomprehensible noise and was already half asleep. He was sinking from consciousness like a stone and Hohenheim considered fighting this natural science before simply giving in. He didn't have the heart to disturb Ed with him looking so weak. Instead he unpacked some clothes for them both, and left to clean up.
The bathroom was cramped with a narrow Center-Drain porcelain tub, and unique cast iron enameled pedestal sink. For a smaller city, Hohenheim was impressed, and took hold of the china cross handle knobs of the sink with appreciation. While there was little to be said about a poorly furnished room, there was tremendous comfort from a properly furnished lavatory, and the hotel did not disappoint. Satisfied, he shaved about his checks where the stubble grew upward and trimmed his short beard. Then he ran a hot bath and scrubbed himself before dressing again in trousers and a high collared dress shirt so he'd be presentable but more or less ready to retire before seeking out Ed. The hot water had warmed him efficiently, and it felt good in comparison to the cold brutal winter. Hohenheim entered the bedroom with a towel draped about this head. Ed was dead asleep and curled into a dark wool and scarf ball.
Hohenheim called downstairs and ordered soup and mash potatoes for a warm solid dinner before returning to Ed's side. "Ed, you need to get up." He pressed his palm to Ed's shoulder and rocked Ed in an unrelenting quick pace until Ed's swollen eyes cracked. Ed had been sleeping for two hours. "Come on now," he said grabbing Ed's lapels and pulling him up. Ed came limply, seeming disoriented and half asleep even as he was lifted upright. "Come on, up on your feet son," Hohenheim whispered, helping Ed to stand. With Ed teetering like a new born deer Hohenheim rushed to the lavatory and wet a cloth. He laid it on the red swell of Edward's cheek.
Ed hissed with the intense cold and pulled his face away. "That's cold!"
Hohenheim returned to Ed's buttons and was unfastening them as quickly as possible worried Ed would simply collapse. "Ed, you are taking a hot bath." Ed groaned in protest. "You'll feel better with it, get your coat off." Ed lifted his hands and held the front of his coat as if waiting to rip it apart but didn't continue. "Ed." Hohenheim lifted his gaze to Ed's flush face and snapped his fingers once. "Stay conscious." Ed gave a sleepy nod but still didn't move. Hohenheim snapped his fingers in Ed's face a few times. "Ed."
Ed snatched Hohenheim's snapping hand with alarming speed and precision. It were as if Ed reached out and snatched a fly: his grip was impressive. "Don't do that," Ed said softly, opening his eyes in a deliberately slow gaze of irritation. "Don't snap your fingers in my face."
Years ago Pinako had called a doctor from three towns over once the surgery for the leg and arm were completed. She said she had done hundreds of surgeries, hundreds, but never two limbs at one time on such a young boy. Ed found, drifting in and out of consciousness, with his mouth always stained with medication and tasting like chalky pills, that he was too weak to move his body with the metal ports inside. It were as if someone had pinned his leg and shoulder down with big needles and all he could do was gently wiggle the parts in-between. Pinako was adamant Ed had to lift his ports, but every time Ed did, to his horrified embarrassment, the strain on his body was so intense he pissed himself. After the first time this happened Pinako shewed Winry from the room to give him privacy and he remembered breaking into humiliated tears as the sheets were changed and Pinako cleaned him. It happens to everyone, Pinako had lied. She called the doctor shortly afterward.
"I hate people snapping fingers in my face," Ed said. He remembered a tall man in firmly pressed clothing snapping fingers an inch from his nose to keep his gaze whether he was asleep or not. The man was intimidating and Ed was terrified by him because the man had no tolerance for his complaints and would touch and move what he wanted with no warning. Keep your eyes on me, the man would order, snapping his fingers aggressively before yanking on this or that. The pain would be unbearable and if Ed closed his eyes for even a minute, or even while screaming, the snapping fingers would return.
Hohenheim looked at his hand inside Ed's small tight grip and nodded. "I am sorry," Hohenheim said, sounding confused but upon the cusp of understanding he was touching something real for Ed. Something he had missed. Something perhaps Trisha might have understood.
He helped Ed slip his coat off and hung it up with Ed slowly unbuttoning his shirt. Then he left for the lavatory and began refilling the tub when their dinner arrived.
Hohenheim went to answer the brief knock, before stalling with Ed in route. He was not expecting this, especially with Ed in the condition he was. He felt a need to intercept. To send Ed to the bath and answer the door, but restrained himself. He understood denying Ed the right of adult action, sick or not, was still denying him. While his first response felt all of Germany outside the door Ed was carelessly going to answer, his logical side corrected him. Ed was not too young, Ed was also not in any danger, and if there was danger, Ed seemed capable, and needed to hold his own.
Hohenheim retracted the single step forward he had taken and watched Ed stagger over to the room door and open it. A young girl stood in wait holding their dinner tray and Ed stared blankly at her. Neither of them spoke. They conducted a youthful awkwardness with her standing in wait until she offered the tray, and Ed took it. Ed muttered a small "thank you", and she nodded. Obediently she stood in wait for additional requests, and Ed was confused with her. He tolerated this for only a few seconds and then, unfamiliar with German customs, shut the door in her face.
Hohenheim told himself not to smile. He wanted to chuckle at his own overreaction, and Ed's delightful adolescent behavior, but managed to stay composed. He heard Ed set the tray on the bedroom desk and approach the lavatory. When he turned to the boy Ed was standing in the threshold with a soured vexed expression.
"That girl laughed at me," Ed said, with some disappointment.
Hohenheim took a towel from the near by shelf and laid it on the side of the tub with a small laugh of his own. "She did not."
"She did," Ed insisted. "She kept looking at me, do I look funny?"
"Perhaps she thought you were attractive."
"Like this?" Ed asked in astonishment. He gestured to his pale diseased expression before shaking his head. "I don't understand half of what I am wearing. Am I wearing it wrong?" Hohenheim didn't know how to answer this considering Ed's outfit was largely a shirt and pants, but Ed was looking down at himself critically. "Oh," Ed said, grabbing his open lapels and closing them quickly as if self conscious. "I had my shirt opened, and she could see this world's ridiculous underwear." Ed looked to Hohenheim questioningly. "Was I being inappropriate?"
"While I wouldn't go walking around in it Ed, I am sure she was not so stricken by your few open buttons she felt need to stare." Hohenheim began a chuckle that surprised him, but Ed was frustrated with an equation he couldn't figure out. He continued unbuttoning his shirt while glancing at parts of his outfit before giving his jaw a slight stretch to the side.
"My face?" Ed asked. Hohenheim raised his eyebrows with a bit of surprise Ed was clinging to this topic. Did it matter why a young woman looked at you? "Does she think you slapped me?" Ed asked, with some insult. The right side of his face was obviously struck and still red and swollen. "Your abusive friend seems to want to."
Hohenheim considered this while steering Ed to the tub. "Germany is a strict nation." This was perhaps the easiest way to put it. "They use corporal punishment, but so does Amestris Edward, and you shouldn't judge the German people harshly because of it." Ed dropped his shirt to the floor with a bitter grunt. As if he needed no reason to judge the German people harshly. They, and their horrible world, were horrible.
"So what you're saying to me is that here, living here, I'll be subjected to the ignorant social standards of the German populous and treated like a misbehaving child by any supposed adult who feels a need to express bloated authority with violence." Ed scoffed. "Don't even think about trying anything like that with me." Hohenheim was surprised Ed felt such a statement was warranted. He had been hard pressed to spank the children before, and because Trisha didn't have the heart, those few pats he'd given the boys were the only form of physical punishment they'd ever received from him.
Hohenheim watched Ed dropped his pants to his ankles and step out of them. Wearing only his underwear Ed looked as if he were wearing Alphonse's two year old Amestrian pajamas. Hohenheim could remember Alphonse tottering about the summer months with a pacifier in his mouth in a state of content curiosity. Smiling Trisha used to bend down from her chair and coo to the boy, Where do you think you're going Alphonse?
"Ed." Hohenheim lowered his voice to a sincere and kind tone, but Ed ignored it. He had dipped his hand into the bath's warm water and was gently swaying it to and from. "Although I have not said anything, I am very proud of the man you have become." Ed's hand stopped swaying. "And when you respect another man, you find it very hard to encroach on his ways." Ed took his hand from the water and laid it on the small pile of provided towels. "I would not, you understand?"
Hohenheim's words were confusing missiles into a sensitive wound. They were further ammunition toward the conflict brewing inside what was once a firm conviction. Saying nothing Ed felt a line drawing in the sand within him. On one side, things stayed as they were, and on the other things were different. This world and all that was happening was forcing him to stand on this line when it had for so long been barely visible in the horizon. The rapid cross of such a distance was like speeding towards a fifty yard line without knowing what team was going to score when you crossed it.
"Do we have any soap?" Ed asked, keeping his gaze in the tub.
Hohenheim relocated the small bottle he had unpacked to the side of the tub and left for the door. He could feel Ed's desire to let what they were discussing pass. "Wash up and we'll eat," he said, leaving the door ajar behind him.
Ed fell asleep in the tub, and after forty minutes Hohenheim investigated only to find Ed with his head resting on his shoulder breathing easier in the steam. He gave the door a hard knock to wake the boy and Ed's head snapped up. "Edward, you've been sleeping." Ed looked exhausted and unimpressed with this statement. "Would you like to get out and go to bed?"
Ed looked miserably to the towel and sat up slowly with protesting muscles. "Yes," Ed grumbled, dragging the fluffy white bundle to his head.
"If you need me I'll be in the other room."
"Okay," Ed muttered, before waking up a bit with a sudden thought. "Do I have to wear my dress?" Ed called. "I want to put my pants and shirt back on." Hohenheim was closing the door the bit he had opened it and it swung in a gentle bump into the hinge. "I feel stupid." This was natural all things considered. "I sleep in my clothes all the time!" When Edward was younger he often protested when it was time to get ready for bed, and Hohenheim remembered Trisha leading Ed to the stairs by his arm and urging him up nearly every night. "Does your silence mean I have to wear the dress?" Ed asked, sounding disappointed. Ed stood up in the tub and Hohenheim could hear the water splattering back into the bathwater. "Fine, I'll wear it," Ed said miserably. "But only because you like me in it." Ed teased.
Hohenheim had eaten half of his dinner when Ed finally emerged in the cotton nightgown and went directly to the bed. Ed dropped himself on top and curled up without a word, but the silence was enough. Hohenheim could literally feel Ed sinking back into an ill and needy sleep. With Ed's eyes open a mere crack Hohenheim approached and pulled the blankets out from under the boy.
Ed lifted his gaze with barely any strength. "Why do you...put up with me, old man?" Ed whispered, body limp with fatigue as Hohenheim tucked Ed's legs beneath the covers and brought them to Ed's shoulders.
"I should ask you the same question son." Hohenheim sat down alongside Ed and stroked a hand into Ed's damp hair. "I should ask you the same question."
Ed was sleeping in a matter of seconds. As a result the evening passed slowly and Hohenheim spent much of it reviewing the trip they were to make. On his own, detours and delays meant nothing with such an abundance of time, but with travel hard on Ed he wanted a straight shot to their destination and a quick return for recovery.
From his suitcase Hohenheim retrieved a topographic map of Germany, and studied the growing altitude of the Appalachian Mountains about the Austrian border. The highest points were white, and the rest was a dark green before petering into browns as the elevation dropped. Finding a straight shot through the contour lines always looked more difficult than he remembered it being. Having traveled this way so many times he had found a road that brought him where he wanted to go, and pending the gate left the surrounding area the way he remembered it, the beginning trek would be something Ed could hopefully manage easily. Europe made travel seem easy, and had dedicated significant effort to transportation, the same way Amestris had fully developed the rail. Carefully, Hohenheim folded the map along the longitude and latitude they would want, and looked at the dark green patch of land they would soon stand within.
Around eleven he climbed into bed along side Ed's sleeping body, envisioning a dark ink stain upon his map to represent the gate, and a promising map flag representing Edward stemming from it. The thought of Edward moving over the gate gave him a sense of military conquest like troops over a battle, and the simultaneous fear of an uncertain invasion. In the dark room, he fell asleep to only the sound of Ed's shallow breathing and shortly after four the next morning he awoke but Ed did not.
Curtain falls on Chapter 10 my readers. This chapter takes us to a very different place, and we will now keep the M rating. Please share your responses. These were some powerful scenes, and I know they may be catching many of you off guard. I am eager for your thoughts. Were you surprised?
My loving thanks, again, to you consistent reviewers - You rock. I look forward to you every week.
...To those of you following this story who have not reviewed (perhaps ever, you criminals : )...please...leave something.
Chapter 11: Tartarus will be up next Friday 03/15/13. I am honored to have you.