What… it's a bird… it's a plane… NO!
It's another chapter!

Yes, I'm alive :) So so so SO sorry for the long wait, but life has simply been so hectic! But here it finally is, and I promise the next one won't take as long :)

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To Hell

Erica slowly opened her eyes, but then closed them again as a soaring ache rushed through her head. She let out a moan of pain and raised her hands to press her cool palms against her forehead. It was then that she realized she was lying on a cold floor, un-smoothed stone cutting into her back.

Where the hell am I?

She tried to sit up, but the pain in her head protested too wildly. Instead she just opened her eyes again, allowing them to adjust to the darkness surrounding her.

It was still too dark to see anything properly, but she could make out the high ceiling and the uneven walls surrounding her. She guessed that she was in a basement of some sort, though it looked more like a dungeon that anything else.

A dungeon. A prison.

And suddenly, memories came rushing back to her.

*

"Erica! What are you doing here??" Roy's voice held something she wasn't sure she wanted to decipher.

"No one's home." She muttered, her brow furrowed. "I mean… at Hughes' place. I was supposed to…"

"Erica…" He cut her off, but didn't finish his sentence. Pain was etched into his features and she felt fear grip her stomach.

"What happened?" Anger laced over her voice and she suddenly understood why Abraham had always expressed rage in situations like these: it was so much easier than grief. For them at least.

Gracia was supposed to pick her up at the station, but hadn't been there. Instead a military escort had come, followed her to their house and then left again. She'd been knocking on the door for nearly ten minutes, and then waited half an hour for them to come home, before finally losing patience. She instead headed for the Headquarters, marching straight to Roy's office.

The empty silence that hovered in the air should have been a warning of the news she would receive.

"Maes Hughes is dead."

It wasn't Roy who said it, but a hard feminine voice from behind her. Riza Hawkeye was used to situations like these. Didn't mean that it didn't hurt.

Erica felt as if she had been walking, only for the ground beneath her to suddenly disappear. Dizziness came over her and the world started spinning. The only sounds she could hear were her heart beating too loudly and sharp intakes of air that wouldn't reach her lungs.

Roy had reached out a hand, laying it on her shoulder to support her. She wondered if she looked just as lost as he did in that moment.

*

Elysia was fast asleep, her small hands curled around the edge of her doll. She looked peaceful, sleeping her night away like any other girl her age would do.

Even the ones who had just lost their father.

"I don't think that she… that she understands it." Gracia muttered, her voice sounding like it wasn't sure how to be used anymore. "At the funeral… she doesn't…" She cleared her throat, looking away as tears formed in her eyes.

Erica swallowed. "She still waits for him to barge in the door any second now."

"Yes."

She mumbled something about going to sleep, leaving the mother alone with her daughter. Closing the door to her bedroom, she ignored the small lily, this time lying by itself on her book and threw herself on the bed, face pressed against the softness of her pillow.

Her eyes burned and she pressed the white material harder against them, she didn't want to cry!

At least, for Abraham she had been able to come for his funeral.

At least, for Abraham she had cried.

She felt torn. She felt violated, as if someone had decided to rip open her chest and stick needles into her hearts. Poisoned needles.

"I can say for sure that we'll miss you too. It's been great having you around Erica."

"It's been great being around."

A sob tore through her, and she gripped the pillow harder, willing herself to get control of her body once more, to stop the tears that had started falling slowly, hindered by the blockade the pillow made.

"Oh! My little Elysia, she's gotten so big… would you like to see some pictures??"

She barely even heard the window being opened, but she was aware of it when her mattress suddenly shifted as someone sat down on her bed. She grit her teeth, wanting to turn around and yell at him to get out, but she was afraid that if she did, purple eyes would see the tears and she didn't want him to see her cry.

"And I must admit, that in the span of time you've stayed here, I have come to think of you somewhat as a daughter."

She had curled into a ball; face still hiding in the wet and cold pillow, her body shaking. She had no idea how long a time had passed when she finally ran out of tears.

Slowly lifting her head, she realized she was alone in the room. The window was closed.

*

The sound of voices made her sit up, despite the pain still lingering just behind her eyes. All of her muscles screamed in protest and she realized she must have been lying on the floor for quite some time.

How long had she been unconscious?

A door she hadn't been able to see was flung open, and sharp light from the room behind spilled into the darkness, making her eyes narrow.

A tall, menacing shadow entered. Long, black and curly hair feel around dark clothing, making the woman become almost one with the darkness. Her purple eyes narrowed.

"I see the hostage is awake." She strolled over, bending down and inspecting Erica as if she was some sort of horse to be sold on a market.

"Honestly, shouldn't have sent Wrath on this one." She muttered. "You're completely beaten."

"Wrath?" Erica jumped a little at the sound of her own voice. It was dry and sounded as if it could be broken any minute: she must have been out even longer than she expected.

The woman didn't answer her question, merely reached out and pulled Erica up by her arm. The girl hissed in pain as her muscles yet again protested, and as soon as the woman let go, she fell forward, her legs not able to carry her properly after not being used for so long.

Luckily the woman – her captor – at least saw it fit to catch her before she fell and hit her head too hard.

Hit her head.

"Where am I? What ha…" Erica didn't have time to raise the last question, because just as she did, the memory of it came rushing back to her.

*

"Are you sure you'll be fine alone?" Kain Fuery's eyes were darting back and forth, as if he was expecting something to jump out and attack them any minute. Erica smiled, understanding his concern.

"Yes. I need to do this Fuery. You understand, right?"

"Of course, but…." He hesitated, torn between following orders and obeying his friend's wishes.

"I won't wander far. And there are other people in… in there." She couldn't make herself say 'cemetery'. She just couldn't. "I'll be fine."

"Alright." Kain nodded. "But… call out if anything happens. And come back as soon as…"

"I will." Erica cut him off, forcing a smile. "It won't take long."

She didn't look back at him as she walked into the cemetery (there, she'd said it, at least in her mind).

The gravestones looked tall and menacing, even with the sharp sun casting the darkness away. The soft grass pillowed under her feet and she wondered how many ants she killed with each step.

She wasn't quite sure in which direction to go, hadn't thought to ask where exactly now Brigadier General Hughes had been laid to rest. Instead she found herself wandering in different directions, her eyes skimming the gravestones, all of them harboring names she didn't know. So many people, died in servitude, died for their country.

How many of them had died in the Ishbalan War? How many had died for a Fuhrer that was corrupt and evil and had probably planned their death in advance?

She finally stumbled upon it, the edges of the carvings still sharp. The flowers where still fresh, the dirt newly laid. A new grave.

Erica gently put down the bundle of flowers she had brought, a canopy of different roses, all kinds of colors. It meshed well with the other flowers; people had thought to bring as many colors as she, none of them quite sure what would suit the former Major best.

A lump formed in her throat, but she didn't cry, despite the pain. She'd cried enough last night. She thought.

"Hello Erica."

The voice made her jump, and she spun around, coming face to face with the last person she wanted to see.

"Rafael…" She said before she was able to stop herself. Her eyes narrowed. "You."

"Now that's not a nice way to…" He started, but was cut off.

"Leave me alone." She felt as if her wounds had been reopened, and he being there was just like throwing salt in them.

His eyebrows rose. He was still so achingly beautiful and it made her want to kiss him as much as hit him. But she simply didn't have the energy for either.

"But I like it here!" He grinned and she felt frustration and anger. Tears started welling up in her eyes again.

"Go. Away." He was a traitor, a spy, and she wanted nothing to do with him. Even more angry, she spun around to face him, her fist flying out towards his face and…

… Was stopped by his hand engulfing hers, him not even breaking a sweat as he held her back.

"Really, you should learn how to control your temper." He said, a dark sort of irony in his voice. He let go of her hand and she let it drop, knowing she wouldn't be able to do anything.

"Last night, was that…" She started, wanting to ask him, but he had already turned his back on her, slightly waving.

"I'll see you later Erica." He said, disappearing behind a hill.

She felt fear latch into her: she'd just lost Hughes, she couldn't lose him too! Not him! She started to run, leaving the gravestone and the flowers behind, her hair and coat whipping with her fast run.

"Rafael!" That wasn't even his name. "Wait!"

She reached the gate in the other end of the cemetery, all promises to Kain forgotten. She spotted him standing on an abandoned street-corner, but as she came closer she realized that it wasn't him. The boy turned around and stalked off after shooting her a weird look.

Her heart was still beating, so loudly she barely heard the sound of someone walking up behind her. Erica turned around, green eyes locking with purple.

"Hello." The dark-haired boy said, showing off a wide grin. Shark-like fangs were showing, and she wondered how they had become like that.

He looked like some sort of psychological monster from the deepest darkest pit of her mind.

And she wasn't even going to run. It didn't matter anyway. Nothing mattered anymore.

She was too numb to even feel the whole pain of the blow to her head. It wasn't until she woke, many hours later in a dark, dank dungeon that the pain would come back to her.

"What do you want with me?" She hissed, staring at the woman who simply smiled, her lips forming in a predatory grin.

"You'll find out little one."

"Welcome to hell."