AN: Welcome back, guys, and thank you for the tremendous reviews! Big thanks go to- Takkunx, Shaat, Regina lunaris, LuvversLuvvie, TheWarriorPony, and my lovely Guest reviewer. Seriously, though guys, ENORMOUS THANKS TO THEWARRIORPONY. This person has rocked my world with her in-depth, college-worthy reviews and analysis of my story. She is so incredible.
So, Chapter Twelve. Going with my usual every-four-chapters ideal, this chapter is in Mustang's POV. Therefore, there will be much reminiscing and little action. So bear with me. It must be done.
Warnings: ...nothing, actually. I don't even think there's really any expletives in here either. So enjoy!
Puppet Chapter Twelve
Dust fluttered down in thick spirals, appearing in the streaming sunlight like some kind of glittering fog. Roy gazed at the phenomena and let all the thoughts and worries that were banging against the wall of his mind disperse, eyes fixating on each little mote that rained down in front of his office window. It took him back to when he was a child... it felt like it had been centuries since he was a small, frail little wimp that would sit in the living room and scribble away on sheets of paper as he delved into whatever newest alchemy text had come out. He remembered being vaguely annoyed when the dancing blankets of dust in the sunlight appeared to cake his notes and would shift slightly to get it out of the way, only to have to continue the process over and over since he was too lazy to actually get up and move away from the sunshine. He used to be so excited back then, but so... burdened. After his parents had been killed in a train accident- their cart derailed and blunt force trauma took them and half the train- when he was very young, he'd been sent to his aunt's care. His aunt had always disapproved of his intrigue with alchemy and sought at every corner to divert his attention to things such as proper etiquette and culinary arts.
He avoided this by going to the primary institution in Central- well, going to then sneaking out of the institution to hang around the west end district of Central, where older students and alchemists hovered and observed the many places acclaimed for their educational items. Shops lined that street, full of books, antiques, and other such items that would interest any alchemist. Mustang, though, he sought the people that frequented the parts, even though he would go in and browse the selections, his eyes were on the individuals around him.
Quickly learning body language, he was soon able to ascertain if someone would be hostile or inviting if approached, and soon enough- with the help of his foster mother- he could delve into a conversation and weave a charming tapestry of words that would strike even the most bored of souls into interest. At first he talked about the politics he learned through newspapers and Madam Christmas and then eventually began to feel brave enough to breach the subject of alchemy with strangers. He was pleasantly surprised at how diverse opinions were on the science, and cataloged each individual's thoughts into a sacred place in the back of his mind.
He was like a drowning man, and knowledge of alchemy was the water that he greedily sought for.
It was through means like this, from some random, fateful coincidence, that one day a teenage Roy bumped into the loveliest young girl in some old antique shop. Her wine-dark eyes had been darting around the place constantly- a sign of either above average intelligence or some form of combat training- as she ran her fingertips along the shelves she'd passed, obviously completely oblivious to the dark haired boy sitting between the shelves analyzing an ancient doll of some sort. Roy wasn't sure why it had caught his eyes but he'd been intrigued enough to pluck it off the shelf and begin cataloging every detail into his mind. At the approach of this beautiful maiden, though, he quickly set the doll back in place and leaned back on the heels of his hands. When she still didn't notice him even as she was five steps from him, he wryly wondered if she would step right on him.
As if sensing the thought, though, those sharp eyes speared through him a moment later and the girl stopped dead. Roy was impressed with her confident, boring gaze and matched it with an equal amount of measuring intensity. Most girls her age would look away immediately and begin blushing and stammering. Yet this beautiful blonde didn't. She was as undisturbed by his presence as most men he met. The anomaly puzzled but delighted Roy, and before he knew it a small smirk had begun to stretch his lips. Just as their staring match was reaching a colossal minute in length, a strong yet wavering voice had called from the shelf over.
'Riza, where have you gone, girl? You're killing me. Come here at once.'
'Yes, Father,' the flowing curtain of starlight-blonde swirled like liquid as the girl pivoted on a precisely elegant heel.
Roy was glad that he was now facing her back when he scrambled awkwardly to his feet, 'Pardon me just a moment, Miss.'
Cool wine eyes regarded him once more and he felt something melt inside of him at their attention. This girl... there was something about her... something that sucked him into her eyes like a vacuum.
'Roy Mustang,' he held a hand out. And somehow she understood that simple gesture and took only a second or two before grasping his palm and shaking firmly.
It was something young ladies and gentlemen just did not do. The most mannered approach, Aunt Chris' voice murmured from the back of his mind, is to kiss the back of a young lady's hand when first meeting her acquaintance. A handshake was something between men, but it was the only way that Roy knew how to convey his respect, and somehow the blonde seemed to understand him perfectly, 'Riza Hawkeye.'
'A pleasure,' Roy smiled as she gave a small nod and turned back around to go to her father. The young Roy Mustang couldn't help but follow after discretely to observe them from afar. The old man was flipping through the thick pages of some ancient tome, eyes gleaming. Roy caught sight of the title; "Historia Alchimia et Alius Usus", and became further interested, daring to step out from behind the shelf and formally introduce himself to one Berthold Hawkeye.
It was then, as he discussed the book that the man held- one that Roy himself had already perused of a year earlier- that Roy knew he'd found his teacher. The man's dark hazel eyes glinted sharply at each prose that Roy quoted and the boy's own onyx irises glittered at the attention the experienced alchemist bestowed upon him.
Master Hawkeye trained him in the following years, all the way up until Roy entered the military, and even though those years were scattered with memories of sterile, chemical smells and the sight of white- because of the Master's battle with some body-consuming illness, Roy remembered the man as strong. The man was always such a profound figure in every way. He would fill doorways with his body, send rooms silent with his booming voice, quiet a fight with just a single, wholesome look. Some of Roy's fondest teenage memories are of him sitting in the man's extensive library on a worn out couch with a book open on his lap, his eyes trained on the man that strode back and forth restlessly in front of him. Words of genius poured from old, bone-dry lips and the occasional surprising profanity thrown in now and then, but Roy was enraptured all the same.
And then Roy entered the military, and was immediately shunned by both his teacher and his own foster mother and paternal aunt. From the time he was eighteen until he was twenty one, the only ones he could turn to were the men he quickly befriended among his military comrades. His master had died, Roy had gained his secrets from the lovely and layered Riza, and then the Ishval Rebellion had occurred...
The now General's memories were clouded with red, grays, and dark, deep blacks when thinking of those times, so he let his mind wander back once more to settle on Berthold Hawkeye. The old, wise, bitter intellect that spewed with rawness from a gnarled and depleted throat... it was strange for Roy to look back on it now. At the time, the man had filled the alchemist's horizons from left to right. His teacher had been everything to him. Yet now, Roy realized how severely the man had been withering even as he taught his young, sophisticated student. Those long days Roy sat beside his hospital bed, he hadn't even really thought about the man's illness, only eager for more of the gasped knowledge, clutching at every little syllable like a lifeline. The scent of chemicals and gauze became so commonplace that Roy almost missed their presence when returning to his adopted home. He supposed that's why, now, if he ventured into a hospital it almost felt like a little piece of home.
Berthold Hawkeye had been a lot like Izumi Curtis, Roy thought with bittersweet reminiscence. That woman had been a lot more... abrasive... than his master, surely, but they both contained the same form of harsh intelligence that- when they deemed one sufficient enough for the knowledge- they would forcefully beat into their pupils. The fear the Elric brothers held for their teacher had been amusing and admittedly nerve-inducing. For someone to instill fear in the resilient spitfire that was Edward Elric, they had to be quite the terrifying creature. Edward never even blinked at horrific things like battling chimeras or facing men five times his size, but just at the mention of Mrs. Curtis the boy would turn sheet white and unsteady. Mustang now wondered how much the woman had really abused the boys. Sure, they loved her, but for such terror to be ingrained they must have gone through enormous amounts of agony- both emotional and physical. He had no doubt that if the extent of it all came to light, Izumi might very well be thrown in jail for the treatment. The Elrics had just been boys then. On the other hand, Curtis went by the same philosophy that Berthold had drilled into Roy:
Once one puts their whole being into becoming an alchemist, if that is what they truly desire, they no longer are a child, a boy, a girl, or an adult. They become gender-less, ageless beings. They become alchemists, pure and simple.
It's a philosophy Roy still liked to think about as often as possible. It's that philosophy that backed his decision to encourage Edward into the military. After everything the elder Elric had gone through, and through his intelligence and skill, he was never really a child in Mustang's eyes. Except he had been.
Night falling, a blonde sitting on stone steps in the pouring rain and clutching an automail shoulder. Tears pouring freely down a beautiful, tortured face as words of gods and humans spilled bitterly from sweet lips. The terror, and agony, and self-hatred in that crippled voice had Mustang shaking inside, wanting nothing more than to go after Barry the Chopper and dismember him one limb at a time. Yet his only solace was to stand from afar and keep his eyes on the gorgeous, broken blonde, and realize that no, Edward was not a god. Nor an adult. He was a child, and he was hurting, and Roy had no idea how to fix it.
That helplessness had preyed on the then-Lieutenant Colonel's mind for a very long time. It had driven him back to memories of the war and staring into dead children's eyes, knowing that there was nothing he could do to make things right. It was a dark, heavy, hollow thing that resonated through every cell in his body, driving his minds past the brinks of emptiness and into a whirlpool of shadows that threatened to suck him down deeper.
That same beast was echoing through him now, growing larger and hungrier with every passing day, practically swallowing at him at times like this, as he looked up from his paperwork once again to the figure slumped against the back of the couch in his office. Short, dark golden hair was strewn in a thousand different directions and coal-like shadows were ringed around the young man's eyes- a far cry from the vibrant, cheerful boy that had walked into his office six months earlier after an eye-opening trip to Xing. Alphonse Elric looked like he had aged ten years in the past few months, and Roy had to admit he probably looked similar. Sighing as he shuffled aside yet another report, the boy turned back to the map that was spread over the large mahogany surface of Mustang's coffee table, eyes dully scanning its surface for the millionth time. Roy watched as ink-stained fingers fluttered over the colorful parchment helplessly, as if the boy could locate his target simply by feel alone. The bite of empathy nipped at the edge of the blackness in the General's heart and he gave up on his own work altogether in favor of standing and making his way over to the boy's side.
He placed a hand on the strong, slumped shoulder and let himself be awed for just a moment- this was Ed's doing, he'd really done it, brought back someone from beyond the Gate- before taking a seat beside the younger Elric.
'You've been here all day again, Alphonse,' Roy wasn't surprised when Al merely shrugged weakly, those dark amber eyes still locked on the sprawling map of Amestris, 'You need sleep. I'll have Havoc drive you home, okay? We're not going to find him if we're exhausted...'
'I need to keep looking,' Al shifted his hands back to the foot-high stack of reports that were still fresh off the prints, 'Those last hundred and thirty two reports were all useless, but maybe... maybe there's something in here... I'm sure there is... Ed always causes a lot of trouble wherever he goes, so this is the best way to find him.'
Roy was quiet a moment, absorbing this, and tried unsuccessfully to swallow the growing stone that settled, heavy and cold, in his throat. It had been like this for the past three weeks. Every single day the younger Elric brother had wandered into his office, demanding all the reports on any unusual alchemic activity that had come in from every edge of the country. Seeing that Al would not be deterred, Roy always was quick to give the young man whatever he asked for, and Al would spend his days side by side with Roy in that secluded office. It was painful to watch the decline of such a bright boy like Al as the days went on without any clues to be found... but Roy supposed it was better than the months before. As soon as Al had heard that Ed was missing, and especially how long his brother had been gone, Al had fled Central to begin searching the country himself. That was six months ago. Only a few weeks ago did the younger Elric reappear on his radar- walking straight into his office and dropping himself onto his couch, only to begin crying. Roy encouraged him as best he could, and Al had latched onto that, which led to this new daily routine.
At least Roy could keep an eye on him and lend him a shoulder to support himself on, should Al need it. And, the General admitted guiltily to himself, it was nice to have someone else around that was feeling Ed's loss even deeper than himself.
Some days, he wondered how everyone around him was still functioning so smoothly- always the ever-rumbling and oiled machine- while he, himself, felt as if he was crumbling. There was no flash of fiery gold that burned hotter than the rawest whiskey to ignite the office around them, no gleam of sunlight-gold hair dancing from a leather binding, no wolfish flash of white against honeyed lips... there was nothing. Yet his men carried on as if nothing was wrong, as if nothing at all was missing. How did they do it? Of course Roy was attuned to their sudden silence at his appearance from his office when he eventually wandered out, and the odd looks he got around the command center, but those responses were resulted directly of him, and not of the lack of Ed.
Roy looked down at the map that Al was now scribbling on. Nearly every inch of its surface was covered in Al's own coded language that surely was connected with over two dozen different reports the boy had looked at.
All the search parties, all the time and resources put into finding Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist, Hero of the People, and it had all boiled down to this... two quiet accomplices sitting together over a simple map and looking through hopeless leads...
The skirmishes between Amestris and Drachma had calmed after four or five months, and even though they still occurred and probably would continue for many years to come, things had gotten controlled enough due to Mustang's competent command for him to finally request official assistance in recovering the abducted military personnel. From there, it didn't take long for Amestris' most secretive Intelligence teams to track down the missing officers. Every one of them had been recovered within two months- even though they found Lieutenant Colonel Faust dead. Except for Edward Elric. One team in Intelligence was still tasked with finding him, but hope was dwindling and they didn't even bother venturing out of Central anymore.
It had been a long, hard year since Ed disappeared. The loss of the blonde alchemist was... indescribable, for Mustang. It was almost like something had been torn straight from his chest and a roiling, spiny monster had crawled into the hole that was left. He positively ached at the thought of the young man. Such incredible longing for the nights they spent pondering alchemy, the past, and life in general, suffused in him, driving him to go straight home and sit alone with a bottle of amber medicine. No more were the days of him being social. How could he go to that bar when there would be no smart-ass, backhand insult to greet him? No, he would rather sit alone than with a dozen people that weren't Edward Elric.
Except, and here his eyes flicked back over to Al, who was mumbling something or other about winter coming and Ed needing an automail upgrade, now he had someone else that occasionally came home with him to make his nights just a little bit less lonely.
Roy would have to force Al to come home with him sometimes, if just to make sure the boy actually slept and had something to eat before jumping back into the search for his brother. But Roy was a bastard in that he was grateful for the company, even if Al was just as miserable as him at times. Many a night Roy had to sit and watch Al's body fall into exhausted slumber on his couch, and he'd pulled the blanket up over the teenager's shoulders, wishing with all his heart that it was a different Elric he was looking at.
It's not that he didn't like Alphonse. In fact, in the last few weeks Roy had never appreciated and treasured the boy more. But, he just wasn't Ed.
'Do you even think he's still alive?'
The question shocked Roy out of his thoughts, and an iciness crawled through his veins at the despair in Al's shadowed eyes. The hopelessness was there- the emptiness- and the man was again reminded of how long Ed had been missing. It seemed such an insane idea, that Ed would be snuffed out of existence without some grand scene or not at the hands of some mighty, evil adversary, but...
But all the skeptics and profiles the military had to offer had written him off months ago as lost. The suspicions were only cemented further when they found the Lieutenant Colonel murdered in cold blood. To everyone but Al and himself, it appeared, Edward Elric had died months ago. He, himself, had doubted the blonde was still alive, at times...
But for even Al to question their efforts?
'What do you think?' Was all he could think to ask in return.
Al's eyes hovered on him a moment longer before flickering and going distant, 'Brother is a fighter.'
'He is,' Roy agreed readily.
'He doesn't die easily...'
'He doesn't.'
Roy wondered at what was going on behind those dark amber eyes, tried to read the spin of the wheels, but just couldn't understand what Al was thinking. The older alchemist was humble enough to admit that the Elric brothers, both Ed and most likely Al, had an extremely unique thought process that he could never imagine attempting to replicate due to its complexity.
'Brother is still alive. We've gone through so much that would have killed us... he went through the Gate and returned so many times... there's no way he would die now. He wouldn't let himself.'
No matter how much Roy wanted to agree, the reassurances dried in his throat before they could be uttered and he just sat silently for a moment. He gazed at the circles that were sketched over a few different cities on the map, lingering on the ones in the west.
'I think we need to start looking east and south. We've been scouring the north and west because of this Drachma business, but what if Ed's disappearance had nothing to do with that at all? Then whoever took him- they would want to get away from the places the military would most likely be looking, therefore moving him east. Not only is military presence alarmingly light there at the moment, there are thousands of places to easily hide away from society, especially if you're a fugitive with a kidnapped person to control. Unfortunately, it's all too easy to sneak just a few people past the checkpoints we set up on all the main roads. I figure he's already been taken east.'
Al contemplated this a moment, 'So you don't think Ed's... abductor's... motives are militaristic?'
No. Roy didn't. Not anymore at least. If Ed had been kidnapped to be taken as a hostage, there would have either been demands given for his return, or they would have found him with the rest of the officers that had been taken. But there had been nothing- no word at all. And even the prisoners they had taken denied ever seeing the blonde. Except for that one they captured the first day, who had eventually revealed that the men they'd found murdered were in charge of abducting the blonde. So apparently whoever had Ed now had no connections to the Drachmans. But this just brought up the question that caused a restless anxiety to skitter across Roy's nerves. What, then, was the motive for abducting Ed? There could be so many reasons. Ed was a brilliant alchemist, an undeniable genius, with experience in human transmutation. Plus he was gorgeous to look at, and his character was unlike any other. There were just too many reasons why someone would want to take and hold Ed for himself.
'I don't think it has anything to do with Drachma,' he finally voiced to a patient Alphonse, 'I think it's something more personal. More dangerous,' at Al's worried, frantic expression, Roy rushed to try and fix his mistake, 'But we're not helping anyone by sitting here wondering. It doesn't really matter, does it? We just need to keep searching and we'll find him.'
'Yeah...' Al sighed at the map and brought a hand down to drape over East City, 'I've actually been thinking of hiring a private investigator. Winry told me about it last week. They're these people that actually train themselves in information gathering and spend their life solving cases like this- finding lost people- for a sum of money. Apparently Mom had talked to Pinako about them at one point, when she really wanted to find Dad, and Winry overheard...'
Of course Roy had heard about private investigators. He actually had a friend that had served beside him in Ishval that had left the military to enter that field. But he doubted that one person could do any better than the military's best Intelligence officers. Still, he knew he had to stoke the hope that was slowly dying out in Alphonse. If- no, when- Ed returned, he would be pissed if he found out Mustang had let Alphonse be crippled under the hopeless depression that had already dug its claws into the General.
And so, with a deep breath and a moment to plant his mask on tight, Mustang nodded, 'That sounds like a good idea, Alphonse. I am in the acquaintance of one such man- I can get you his number. As for paying him... I'm sure you realize that Ed named you his sole beneficiary of his accounts. Now that the military has proclaimed him... missing... you are in ownership of Ed's income. I know he has a very large sum of money in there that you will find useful in his recovery.'
'Thank you, sir,' the boy murmured quietly, beginning to drag another report off the tap of the large stack.
Roy stopped him with a gently firm hand, 'Enough of that, Al. I think it's time we both head home. I'll make us some tomato soup. How does that sound?'
'Sounds good, General.'
And with a wavering smile, the younger Elric conceded, grabbing his coat and sending one last, resentfully longing look at his work, before following Roy out of the inner office. Roy's men bid them goodnight kindly and they returned the useless gesture with equally hollow twin smiles. Hawkeye's wine-dark eyes lingered on his a long moment, conveying so many things in just the span of a few seconds, before Roy broke the connection. He was not ready to talk to her, not yet. He wouldn't give in to her concerns until he was certain of Ed's demise. Only then would he break down, and he would break down hard, and both he and Hawkeye knew that she was the one he would turn to. She had always been the one he turned to. They were like soul mates, in a familial way. They were much to similar to be anything more intimate than that, and they both knew that.
He had the strange inkling that she also knew about the intensity and depth of his feelings toward Ed...
Shrugging the niggling worry away, he led Al out of Central Command and toward his modest home just a few blocks away. His body carried on a conversation with Al- about the coolness in the air and of Elicia and Gracia's status- while his mind was whisked hundreds of miles away from himself.
Amber. All he wanted was that golden amber back. Shiny amber hair draped over honey skin. Whip-quick amber eyes glowing fiercely over a wicked, pearly grin. Dull amber liquid passing those sarcastic teeth into that confident mouth. If there was one thing Roy could describe Ed as, it would be "golden". Everything about him was bright and rich and effervescent. Should anyone remark Ed as dull, Roy would not doubt it if some higher power would strike them down for that blatant blasphemy.
And should anyone ever kill Ed as if he were some ordinary soldier...
Well, what would be punishment enough for such a horrible sin? Nothing that Roy could think of. Not a hundred years of constant burning by baptizing flames would be retribution enough.
He and Al ate quietly, occasionally voicing a remark about Ed or about the search for him, but mostly they kept to themselves which was fine with Roy. After that, the stress and constant thinking apparently caught up with Al. As soon as the boy's body stretched out on Roy's luxurious couch, he was out like a light.
Soft fondness bloomed in Roy and he watched the teenager sleep for a small while before finally taking himself to his bedroom.
Like always, his thoughts before he slipped into a restless, tortured nightmare were of Ed.
Where are you, Ed? Come home already... I don't know how much longer I can keep Al going...
I don't know how much longer I can keep going...
I told you, didn't I? I need you by my side.
I can't do this without you.
What "this" was, Roy didn't have time to question himself about.
Darkness overcame him, shuffling away the vision of Edward from his eyes and replacing it with dreams of towns haloed by flames and hundreds of dying screams. Sand whipped past his face, biting into his flesh like shards of glass, and the sun burned down on him mercilessly as his fingers slid together again and again, creating spark after spark, lighting the fragile town below into roaring fire. Tears burned in his eyes and he told himself it was from the heat and the sting of sand, but the aching hollowness in his heart sang a different tune.
Suddenly, hands gripped his shoulders through his uniform and he could feel them like fire on his flesh. The left, a small but firm palm that was backed with such power that Roy's mind stuttered in the face of it. The right, a chilly, hard bite of metal in the shape of a hand. Right and left like total opposites, grabbing and forcing different things into him. He was filled with such wonder at the flow of energy from the left- it was a comforting feeling that calmed him down to his toes- while the right steadied him with absolute stability. His fingers, still posed and ready to snap, loosened. Hand falling to his side, he was struck with a feeling of complete peace.
He whirled around and his arms enveloped the blonde that stood there with crumpled brows. Ed melted into his embrace with little resistance, which would have been extremely unusual, except that Mustang knew this was a dream.
'It wasn't your fault,' those words in that voice had him breaking. He clutched the small form in his arms tighter, and he was able to momentarily forget the carnage and death at his back. He forgot about the red stone that gleamed viciously, murderously, on a ring around his finger, and about those dead eyes he faced every day. All he knew was amber and golden salvation.
When he awoke only four hours later to the sound of hushed sobs echoing from the living room, he felt the crack widening at this cruel reality he was now trapped in. There was no gold for him, no salvation for the monsters that cried out in his dreams from his past.
For his salvation had disappeared into thin air over a year ago.
AN: End of Chapter Twelve. What do you guys think? Next chapter will be back to Ed of course, and the story will start to brake for the large time lapse. I don't want to speed through the story like some out of control semi, just to wreck it, so I'm going to try and apply a little tact.
Please leave me a review? I'm going to try and respond to some of your guys' questions, comments, but along with this story my own life is starting to pick up speed again now that summer is coming. So please don't feel neglected or left out if I don't respond to you. I really do take every review and comment to heart, as it's like fuel to my plot bunnies' fire.
Thank you so much for reading! Until next time.
