AN: Welcome back everybody! Thank you so much to everybody who reviewed/followed/favorited the story! I may not have responded individually to the reviews but know that they mean the world to me and encourage the hell out of me, especially when I had an insanely busy month like the one I just struggled through! I hope you guys enjoy Chapter Twenty! :)
Puppet Chapter Twenty
The water surrounded him, gently numbing his senses in the most subtle of ways. Drifting around him like an aura was the soothing scent of lavender, wrapping around him like intangible arms and giving him a small source of comfort as his mind wandered. The tender hands that rubbed over his skin and automail kneaded gently, turning his muscles lax and an almost-buzz began to come over him. Those hands ventured down his body until they disappeared under the water and a smile shadowed itself across Ed's lips. Without being urged, he turned his head and tilted his chin up. Lips automatically connected with his and a slow, warm kiss commenced. It wasn't entirely enjoyable but it wasn't awful either, and Ed found himself chuckling when Artabanus disrobed and squeezed into the tub with the blonde. It was a tight fit until the older alchemist lifted Ed into his lap. Steam rose from the water and the heat of their bodies together added to the mind-hazing atmosphere. Lavender and peppermint collided in Ed's senses, and a trail of simmering sparks lit up his body as Artabanus urged his body more. The soft gasps that Artabanus gave were the only noises other than their occasional kiss and splash of water.
The silence should have been comforting but soon it became stifling.
Ed blinked; focus slowly returning as he stared at the tiled wall opposite of the tub he lay in. Straightening, he scowled at the ache in his neck and steadily began moving his limbs back to life. He felt heavy and tired but pleasantly numb. The faint smell of cheap lavender extract wafted up from the cloudy water he was lounging in and he sighed when he realized that this was the cause of that memory. Or was it a flashback?
Roy would know.
Quickly regaining himself, Ed had enough mind to worry about the General and how the mission to Yeyeim was going. Glancing around, he realized there was no clock in the tiny private bathroom that adjoined his hospital room. Ed sighed and let his head fall back, ignoring the sharp twinge in his neck at the action. He figured he'd probably been in the bath for at least an hour, judging by the coolness of the water. But he had no will to lift his body from the stark, stainless porcelain tub. It felt like years since he had a good bath like the ones Artabanus gifted him with, even though it was probably just a couple of weeks ago at the most.
Time was such a strange thing that had become so scattered and foreign to him recently. It was almost like time had no more place in Ed's life, and he was content to let it slide away from himself. Except in times like this, in which he had Roy to worry about. Now the minutes seemed to be morphing into hours as sightless golden eyes were trapped, unfocused, on the wall across from the bath.
'You haven't even written down Artabanus' circles. Haven't wanted to research them. You haven't thought about alchemy at all in the past week. That's not like you, kid…'
Ed sighed and let his head fall forward, water licking at his chin as it dipped toward his neck. He closed his eyes and the words washed over him again. It was true, of course. He hadn't thought about alchemy much at all. He was so consumed by the constant stress and worry about the captive children and the Ukreytans. And Artabanus…
Thoughts shifted into a wash of memories and images, flashing before his eyes in a myriad of colors and lines. Everything became disjointed and abstract, his mind shifting back into its defensive state of blurred shapelessness. He saw the innocent, tormented faces of the children he'd failed to protect. He saw James, and Winry, and Alphonse. Sometimes he glimpsed his father and heard the soft, ghostly voice of his mother. But mostly he saw Roy, Hughes, and Artabanus.
When a particularly vivid image of Artabanus turning a page in some text or other, a slight smile playing across the man's lips, Ed found his own mouth mirroring the expression.
'…you don't love him, Ed. You know that right?'
The blonde automatically stiffened, eyes snapping open and back straightening as he whipped around and snarled, 'Of course I don't love that fucker! Forgive me if I have trouble getting out of the act I've been playing for so long! Don't fucking judge me. Not you.'
As expected, he found himself yelling at thin air. He began to come back to himself and slowly his muscles began to relax back into the cold water. Chastising himself, he almost missed the breath-soft words that drifted over him, accompanied by warmth around his shoulders that could nearly be identified as arms.
'I would never judge you, Ed… I'm just scared…'
Chills raced up Ed's body at Hughes' words and he swallowed tightly, left hand rising to clasp the warmth that vibrated on his shoulder. Of course there was nothing there, but the warmth remained. Ed pulled his body up, curled into himself so he could set his forehead on his knees and focus on the heat still hovering over his shoulders. His thoughts had completely disappeared and he was left with an impossibly fast kaleidoscope of images that were driving his emotions on a wildly shifting ride. Fear bled into anxiety bled into anger bled into relief bled into something not quite happiness. He didn't realize he was gritting his teeth and only came back to reality when a sharp crack echoed through the tiny bathroom. Ed jolted and glanced down at the right edge of the tub, where his automail had gripped so hard it had caused a fission to skitter down the porcelain. His heart resumed its normal pace after realizing he was still alone.
He sighed and laughed lightly, 'You worry too much, Hughes. This is me we're talking about.'
'That's exactly why I'm concerned,' came the wry response, and the warmth dissipated from his shoulders, 'You, Edward Elric, do not know how to ask for help when you need it.'
'I don't need help,' Ed responded automatically with a strained smile, 'everything's over now. Roy will get the rest of the kids back and arrest those Ukreytan bastards and that will be the end of it.'
There was a brief silence and when Hughes' words came again, Ed could practically feel the frustration in them, 'Stop being so damn stubborn, Ed. You know that Artabanus is just waiting for the chance to get you back. Do you really think you'll be able to fight him alone when he does? Not to mention how screwed up in the head you are right now. I mean, you're talking to dead people, still.'
Wincing, the blonde shrugged and swallowed down the acidic guilt and shame, 'Well I doubt Al or Roy is going to let anyone fuck with me. They'll help me with Artabanus… And nobody can help me with my head.'
And so what if he was still talking Hughes? It was a small comfort when he was alone. Sure, it had been a while since they'd talked last, but Hughes' voice was actually firm and lucid this time. Ed hated to admit it, but he would gladly admit himself insane as long as he could continue these interactions with his old friend. It wasn't hurting anyone to pretend…
'You need to talk to Roy.'
Ed remained quiet at that.
'Ed, if anyone can understand what you've been through, it's Roy.'
'How so? Was he abducted and fucked with for a year?' Ed asked sardonically, rolling his eyes and making an exaggerated motion with his arms that caused the water to lap at the edges of the tub.
'No,' Hughes murmured, voice fading in and out, 'but he's been through a lot, too. If anyone can empathize with your condition, it's Roy.'
Suddenly Ed remembered all those years ago, when Mustang's team had whispered between themselves about his dependence on alcohol. He remembered how Mustang was always careful with how much he drank at the bar. He remembered the darkness in those coal-like eyes and the shadows that never really seemed to completely leave them. Struck silent, Ed sat and contemplated that as the water changed from tepid to freezing.
Hughes was gone and coldness replaced his presence along with the chilling grip of reality.
What time was it? How long had he been in here? Was Mustang's skirmish a success?
He wouldn't know unless he got out of the water and went to find out, but he just couldn't find the will to move. Like the cyclical nature of most everything in life, his thoughts connected to the beginning and his mind played along the same strings that led him to this spot. How was the mission going? How much time had passed?
When would he ever begin to feel normal again?
Something dark, choking, and oily filled his insides like the thick, greasy smoke from a fire, coating his insides with blackish tar. He felt heavy, thick, fuzzy, and somehow he'd completely forgotten how to move his limbs, how to function his own body. But most of him didn't care. He just closed his eyes, slumping back against the slick, cold porcelain and focusing on the spots of light that shone through his eyelids like torches in a crimson night.
The scent of lavender and faint sound of the dripping tap sent him into a semi-conscious, restless state, leaving his mind blessedly empty.
'I would never do something if I didn't think you would survive it. Remember that…'
'All you ever do is raise me up…'
'You are divine, perfect…'
'Be careful…'
It really all was fate… wasn't it.
'-ther? Brother?'
Al's voice dragged him back and Ed opened his eyes to face his brother's frenzied movements in draining the tub and draping a multitude of towels over his body. Seeing his eyes were now open, Al gave a loud, relieved sigh before glaring at Ed.
'Are you trying to kill yourself, now?! You're freezing, Brother! How did you fall asleep in the bath?'
Sitting himself up, the elder Elric winced at the sharp twinge in his muscles. He really must have fallen asleep. Still, he laughed weakly when Al began towel-drying him like the mother hen he was, 'I'm alright, Al. What time is it?'
'Just after midnight,' Al answered, voice still lined with frustrated worry as he stepped back to grab the clothes hanging from a nearby countertop.
Ed decided that drying himself off and getting dressed would be the thing to appease Al the most, so pushed back his questions and began the mechanical motions of dragging the rough, scratchy material over his skin. Hospital towels were so different from the plush, down-soft material that Artabanus made him use. Again he found something that he missed about his time with Artabanus and scowled, returning his main focus back to pulling the shirt over his head and tugging the loose cloth trousers up to his hips.
He looked up to find Al regarding him with something of a bittersweet smirk. Raising a brow, Ed crossed his arms in expectation.
The younger alchemist just shook his head, smirk widening into his rare shit-eating grin, 'Nothing, Brother. I was just thinking that you really did get a little pudgy on your stomach.'
Ed blanched, hands patting at the softness of his abdomen before scowling at his chuckling brother, 'Yeah, we'll see how fit you when you spend a year laying in bed. I swear, once I get out of here I'm going to kick your ass, Al.'
Al just laughed harder, prompting Ed to cross the room and slap the taller Elric upside the head. Doubled over at this point, Al just grinned hysterically through his laughter. Finally giving in, Ed smiled and waited it out. He knew this was one of Al's coping mechanisms. The anxiety of finding him unconscious in a tub had probably been a little panic-inducing. Giving an exaggerated sigh, Ed tilted his chin up and stomped over to throw open the door. Crawling into bed was both an enormous relief on his sore and frozen body and a mentally exhausting experience. He was sick of lying around. The desire to just get up and walk a mile or two was insanely difficult to swallow down.
Al followed after a moment and took a seat next to Ed's bed, still smiling brightly. There was a true happiness that glowed from Alphonse that Ed hadn't seen in so long, that he couldn't help but return a small smile of his own. Leave it to his little brother to banish the stress in his soul like a candle to the darkness. A surge of love and gratitude choked Ed suddenly and he reached forward abruptly, grabbing Al's hand tightly in his own.
'I missed you,' Ed murmured, smile wavering.
Despite the awkwardness that chased the emotion, Al reciprocated quickly, grabbing Ed's flesh hand between his and tears welled in his eyes, 'I missed you too, Brother.'
Something tight and heavy began to alleviate in Ed's chest and a comfortable silence filled the room. He focused on Al's even breaths and the hint of the unique smell that was his brother. He never noticed it until Al retrieved his body, but Al definitely had a special scent that Ed had been missing. No longer the metallic tang of iron, Al's scent consisted of cotton and earth and the rain. Ed almost began drifting into sleep, the gentle darkness creeping up on the edges of his thoughts, until Al broke the silence.
'I was going to tell you, Brother. Sergeant Fuery radioed Winry. Everything went well in Yeyeim and the General should be back here by dawn with details.'
A tsunami of relief crashed over Ed and he let it become audible in a large sigh, 'Of course everything went well. This is the bastard we're talking about, Al.'
Alphonse snorted loudly and Ed opened an eye to glance at his mischievous grin, 'Please, Brother. I could tell how worried you were about him. Sometimes I wonder about you and the General…'
'Wonder?' Ed asked, face starting to heat as his thoughts spun around the odd moment he and Roy had before the General had left.
Giving Ed a look that said he wasn't fooled one bit, Al leaned forward a bit, 'You know what I'm talking about, Ed. You've had heart throbs over him since you were thirteen,' at Ed's horrified and stunned look, Al scoffed, 'How could I NOT notice? You used to say his name in your sleep like some kind of cheesy theater show! And I'm not even including the times your body got really happy thinking about him!'
Ed couldn't respond. His face and head were so inflamed with blood that he could only stammer useless noises that lacked any form of syllables whatsoever. Al continued for him, however, wide grin thinning into a serious but warm smile.
'I just didn't ever think he felt the same way about you. Until you disappeared at least. I think that's when I realized the depth of feelings he has for you.'
This cut through Ed's embarrassment. The strange mixture of curiosity and regret made his stomach twist. Yet something airy and light was like helium in his skull. This wasn't something he'd ever imagined talking about with Al, despite the fact that they talked to each other about anything and everything. And Ed just didn't think he had the energy to talk about this with Al right now.
So he abruptly, obviously, and gracelessly changed the subject, 'I've been having hallucinations.'
Al startled and his bronzed tawny eyes shimmered with concern and intrigue, 'Hallucinations…?'
Ed swallowed tightly and sat back, trying in vain to sort through the emotions that were swirling through his being, 'Yeah… they started after a couple months when I was with Artabanus,' and damn but why was just saying that name out loud to Al so difficult? 'at first I thought it was just my own thoughts being reflected in other peoples' voices, but they started giving insights I hadn't really thought of before, y'know? They helped me plan; talked to me when I was sure I was going completely insane. Comforted me when everything started to feel hopeless. They started fading away, getting weaker and practically disappearing I think. But a little bit ago, when I was in the bath, it came back. It's the weirdest thing, Al. I feel like those people are really there talking to me. I don't know what to think about it all.'
Al was quiet for a while, and the air between them seemed super-charged with anxiety and worry. Thick and hard to breathe through. Yet somehow Ed found the atmosphere comforting, probably because it was a familiar feeling between him and Al.
'Who are they of?' Al finally asked, making Ed jolt at the sudden question.
'Hughes and Mustang,' he murmured, realizing for the first time that it was a bit strange… 'those were the only people I ever really heard.'
All of a sudden the older Elric began to wonder why he never heard Al's voice, or Winry's, or even his mother's. Those voices would probably have been more comforting than Hughes' or Mustang's had been.
Apparently something in his expression revealed his line of thought, because Al's mouth curled painfully into a slight smile, 'Your mind probably picked out the father figures that you've had. The ones you respected the most, I mean. They were people that were strong and gave you that stability at the time.'
Edward snorted loudly but let the logic of the statement sink in. Father figures, yeah. Most of the people he'd looked up to throughout his adolescence had all been women though- his mother, Pinako, Teacher, even Hawkeye. It wasn't that he hadn't looked up to Hughes and Mustang… he had, in a different sort of way. They weren't exactly father figures to him, more like…
More like war buddies, in a way, Ed thought with a quiet frown. He respected them completely, no matter the jibes and fights he had with Mustang, and he had felt strangely equal to them no matter the circumstance. At times he would feel immature or childish in front of Mustang, but still that sense of equal footing and understanding between them held strong. It was the same with Hughes. Ed couldn't classify him as fatherly or brotherly, or friendly, just… something else entirely. But significant in a way that could never be put into words.
It was that sort of bond that he held with those two men- something profound and indescribable that he felt with them. Yet his bond with Mustang was growing, expanding out of its boundaries like a vine stretching outside of a flower barrel, seeking more, gaining strength and life as it spread.
Maybe that's why Mustang's voice faded completely and Hughes' still remains. This really all is some kind of subconscious torture that I'm inflicting on myself. Fuck this trauma bullshit.
Again, Ed somehow felt like he was shifting back into his old self, like the slide of a microscope changing ocular lenses. Everything blurred out of one focus… and into an entirely different one.
He glanced up to see that Al was watching him closely. Something about Ed's demeanor had obviously visibly changed, judging by Al's curious and wary expression.
'Are you alright, Brother?'
Ed smiled, then froze when something struck him suddenly. His mind was getting better by the day, repairing itself, seemingly. Many of the supposed psychologists he had talked to told him about how the brain repaired itself after trauma, often starting to heal itself at a slow, steady pace. But most of the time, they had said, things will begin to come crashing back to the surface. Such as forgotten events.
If I'm already getting better, getting back to myself, my mind rearranging itself… when's the final shoe gonna drop? Is that entire nine months going to hit me all at once?
The stubborn denial rose up to meet the terror that was beginning to pound in Ed's throat, but wasn't quite strong enough to mask the dizzying flood of panicked thoughts. Imagining everything that could have happened in those months…
What is my mind trying to protect me from, exactly?
A pendulum of emotions crashed back and forth inside of him violently, sending him careening between thoughts quicker than he could keep up with. But eventually something broke through the heavy rasps of breath and the dizzying black ink spotting before his vision, and there was Alphonse, holding his hands tightly and murmuring something softly. Something that lilted and repeated over and over again, until finally it dragged a bark of laughter from Ed.
'Are you reciting the periodic table?'
Al smiled at him cheekily, giving his hands another rough squeeze, 'Of course, Brother. It always calms you down, right?'
Ed rolled his eyes but sat back, stretching his limbs out from the tight ball they'd curled into. He kept one hand in Al's and stroked the warm, slightly damp flesh to reassure himself of his brother's existence. He didn't know whether the sweat he smoothed between their palms was his or Al's, but he cherished it nonetheless as he gazed down at the white sheets of the hospital bed.
'It's been almost… two weeks, now?' Ed questioned softly, to which Al nodded, 'would you believe me if I said I'm ready to go back to Central?'
Al's face, when Ed looked up, was laid with doubt and glimmers of hope. Like he wanted to believe it, but everything else was telling him it was impossible. And so the younger Elric just gave a wavering upward tilt of his lips before squeezing Ed's hand between his.
'Sitting in here isn't going to help me, Al,' Ed practically whispered, feeling like a strange force was pressing down on the room and demanding the hushed stillness it now was filled with, 'it's just going to keep me frozen in time, giving me room to think about the past year. I need to move forward. You understand, right?'
'Ed… you could have died. Almost everyone thought you were dead. You haven't even told me what that man did to you! The scars on your neck, your wrists… your leg and your stomach…! It scares the hell out of me, Brother. And you just want to… move on? How?'
The outburst had Ed shrinking in on himself guiltily but he just didn't know how to answer his brother other than, 'I just need to keep moving forward, Al. I don't want to look back,' and if a slight crack in his voice made Al look away with remorse as well, so be it.
Words stopped after that, and the chill of the room had them silently communicate the unanimous decision for Al to climb onto the bed beside Ed and slide under the sheets. Their legs quickly became tangled somehow, and Ed found himself breathing a shaky, relieved sigh into the crown of Al's head, wrinkling his nose at the hairs that tickled his nose. But the earthly scent of his brother grounded him in a way that nothing else could, and he found himself drifting off to sleep with just the slightest feeling of strangeness. The unsettling feeling that the body he was holding and that was holding him wasn't nearly as tall and slim as he was used to. But it was still a comfort he hadn't felt in a long time and his conscious blackened while a smile played on his lips.
A grimace stretched General Roy Mustang's face as he wiped wetness from his brow, his hand containing just the slightest of tremors when his glove came away smeared with brilliant scarlet. The skirmish had lasted a little over an hour and had not gone to plan at all, leaving Mustang shaken in the worst way possible. They had planned to surround the ruins of Yeyeim- more like an old ghost town with its buildings still standing relatively undisturbed by nature other than overgrowth by the sparse northern flora- at five points and then begin to steadily enclose toward the center. They had known their presence would be obvious, was counting on it as they wanted to spook the Ukreytans out of their hiding places so they would attempt to run. Despite common belief, running prey was more easily dispatched than the prey that stood their ground and fought. They had accounted for so many errors, for so many possibilities.
But what they hadn't accounted for was halfway into their tightening ring in the ruins, when they came upon the Ukreytans holding the captive children before them like shields.
Mustang's first, quick, foolishly romantic thought was that they were giving up the hostages, but was proven immediately wrong when gunfire exploded through the air and the Sergeant on his left dropped to the earth with resounding, familiar dead weight. Pain slashed across Mustang's brow, eye automatically blinded by his own blood, and he was one of the two dozen Amestrian soldiers of that group to duck for the cover of a nearby building. Mustang hadn't been able to use his alchemy, and was left with a simple revolver as a weapon. His mind spun frantically for ways to get the children out of the way, but was shocked into complete, horrified stillness when the Amestrian soldiers at his side began leaving cover and firing back at the Ukreytans, either oblivious or uncaring of the children.
His roaring commands to cease fire were drowned by high-pitched, childish shrieks. Young cries rang out and the sobbing immediately began, which Roy could somehow hear above the boom of gunfire and thunk of metal entering either earth or flesh. He had clapped his hands together and slammed them to the ground, forcing a wall of stone up between the Amestrians and Ukreytans, heart shriveling at the thought that he was having to protect the children from Amestrian gunfire.
They were held suspended after Mustang's orders were heeded, and could only listen to the other groups' battles throughout the ruins. Finally the Ukreytans began to retreat, and Mustang led his team on a careful pursuit. Eventually an opening was handed to them in the form of First Lieutenant Amsel vaulting over a wall in front of the Ukreytans, grabbing a child, and disappearing between a building's corner a moment later. Several soldiers followed and Mustang was finally able to unleash his alchemy on the scrambling Ukreytans.
Half an hour of messages running between the five teams later, and they all gathered in the center of the ruins with the surviving Ukreytans and Amestrian children.
Nine, Mustang scrubbed his hands together uselessly, just further smudging the blood into the cloth of his gloves and giving serious thought to just igniting them completely, his own burnt skin be damned, nine children dead.
The icy numbness fluctuated in his veins, sending another shiver down his spine as a heavy sickness spoiled his stomach. He felt like vomiting, shouting, razing the crippled buildings to the earth. But he could only stare blankly when a towel appeared to his left, extended by First Lieutenant Amsel. The quiet, still eyes that bored into his made Roy straighten and fix his mask firmly in place.
'Lieutenant Amsel,' Mustang said, voice scratchy with the smoke his fire alchemy had caused. The scent of charred flesh still hung in the air, more pungent than any funeral procession, 'I wanted to formally extend my gratitude for your assistance to our team. It was a very effective tactic, although dangerous. Some would call it suicidal.'
Amsel didn't seem to react at all. Just measured Mustang for a moment, making the General's insides just chill further. Finally the Lieutenant nodded, 'Thank you, General.'
And Mustang was alone again, staring after the Lieutenant's back as he went between soldiers to assess their injuries. Mustang swallowed tightly and raised the coarse towel to his forehead, not even wincing at the sting and burn of the cloth against the graze of the bullet. If he'd just been an inch to the left…
A small noise trapped itself in his chest as he bemusedly realized he'd almost broken his promise to Edward.
He didn't have long to contemplate that or gather himself at all, really, before a Sergeant was hurrying to his side, 'General! We've separated the Ukreytans in the old cathedral. Stuffed 'em in the old confession booths. Luckily there were about ten. A couple of the other prisoners we put into one of the adjoining rooms in there. Your orders?'
Roy thought quickly, glancing up at the already darkened sky. They drove military vehicles out so they didn't have to await a train schedule, but that also meant they had a little more time if needed, 'Where are the children at?'
'We've already loaded them into the trucks, sir. The medics are looking them over and preparing them some rations and water.'
'Good. Bring a truck into the ruins to load the Ukreytans into. Make sure you check every single one of them thoroughly- I don't care if you see fit to strip them completely naked to make sure they're unarmed. And I mean completely unarmed,' the General flashed his glove's transmutation circle before the Sergeant's eyes so he understood, 'leave one of them in the back rooms. Whoever seems like he's in charge or at least a position of authority.'
'Yes, General,' the Sergeant breathed out, hastening back between the decrepit stone buildings.
'An interrogation, boss?' a voice asked, and Roy turned to Havoc, who was approaching with a cigarette dangling from his lips. He was thankfully completely unharmed. The blonde soldier collapsed against the stone wall beside Mustang and inhaled deeply on the nicotine. Mustang could see the lines of tension tightening the usually aloof man's eyes, and the misery was obvious in the blue eyes. Neither of them were pleased at how things turned out, no matter it was technically a success.
There were nine dead children being loaded into one of the trucks already.
'I need to know if there are more Ukreytan groups like this. And how they're getting past the border patrols,' Roy told Havoc simply, trusting the man to understand. Judging by the vindictive, distressed edge to his eyes, Havoc wasn't going to complain about an interrogation, no matter what methods were involved.
Which brought Mustang to a new struggle. Just how would he interrogate one of these Ukreytan monsters without violence? As part of the enormous reconstruction of the military forces, the clause on interrogation had been heavily amended, making physical violence illegal. Mustang was sure there were still circumstances in which this law was scooted around delicately, but what kind of Fuhrer would he be if he didn't honor the most moral of codes?
At the moment he was not feeling so ambitious.
To use children as shields… it was something the General had never seen before and those screams and anguished cries would only add to the darkness already clouding his soul. Perhaps it was selfish and just as inhuman as their actions, but he had the monstrous urge to just decimate the rest of the Ukreytan group. It was a burning rage bubbling in his veins, something he'd felt only a few times before in his life, mainly when he was facing the homunculi. It was diluted, though, and he was thankful that he could bite back the murderous beast without the presence of Hawkeye or Ed. Just imagining their faces behind his closed eyes gave him a sense of calm.
He was in no way mentally prepared for this "interrogation", but he knew now was the best time, when the defeated Ukreytans were still shaken. Straightening himself, he nodded at Havoc to follow him. As they walked, the General swallowed down the fire and the bile thickening his throat and chest, urging himself to focus on sunlit eyes and brilliant smiles. He thought of that unique voice that held unending expressiveness and passion as it strung together a quartet of simple syllables that created profound and genius musings. He thought about the young and the present, how much that golden figure had changed, had grown, had fought. And how despite everything, that man had kept to his morals and his codes.
Roy Mustang still had a lot to learn from Edward Elric.
The cathedral had obviously become the center of operations, and Mustang was distantly angry at the fact that they hadn't informed him of this, until he glimpsed Lieutenant Amsel directing the flow of soldiers as they loaded heavily restrained Ukreytans onto one of the trucks. Catching his eyes, Mustang could only give him a simple nod of thanks and acknowledgement before heading into the crumbling entrance of the once-magnificent church of mauve and gray stone. It was easy to ignore the crawling chill of the breeze scuttling up his arms, simple to push the feel of blood trying to drip down his temples away, and he had already forgotten the pungent scent of smoke that clung to his uniform like a permanent reminder of his sins and salvations. But entering in the cathedral and seeing the blood splattering the stone as medics knelt over pale-faced soldiers brought every tiny sensation back to assault him with unrelenting, unforgiving force. Too-lucid memories of flames bursting through a city gone to hell, the smoke choking him and the scent of roasting flesh filling the air like a viscous smog…
And then the heat of Havoc's arm pressing against his, from shoulder to wrist, had him focusing once more. Without a glance at the Lieutenant, the General straightened his shoulder and entered the open room, tasting the coppery scent of blood on the roof of his mouth as he passed the wounded Amestrians, stopping for a moment to give them his attention. Leadership came with the obligation of forced smiles and strong, encouraging words. Usually Roy would dislike this after a battle, but he knew this one had been just and the words came easier, the glimmer of worship and awe in the soldier's eyes easier to bear.
Moving on to the doorway behind the altar, where the leader of the Ukreytans would have been placed, he tried to stifle any visible response to the soldiers' conversations behind him.
'To have fought with our future Fuhrer… I'll never stop telling this one.'
'He thanked me… I can't believe it. Someday I get to tell my kids that I fought beside the Fuhrer.'
'The scars are worth it for just a fraction of the General's attention…'
Swallowing tightly, Roy put his gloved palm upon the worn wood of the door, feeling the cold seep through the material to settle against his skin in a grounding way. The cold always helped to keep him in line, to create a sharp, icy edge to his thoughts and freeze all the thoughts that tried to seep their way into his tightly controlled masks. It was something he was beyond grateful for as he swung the door open and came face to face with a pale-skinned man with copper hair and brilliant emerald eyes. Mustang glanced at the two soldiers at either side of the absurdly young man and motioned them out. With a nod, Havoc closed the door, leaving just the General and the Ukreytan in the small, windowless room lit only by the crooked and scarred iron chandelier. Crippled shelves lined the room and the Ukreytan sat upon the ragged remains of what used to be a bed.
Mustang stood silently, letting his eyes bore into the man who had a false air of confidence and uncaring about him as he lounged upon the ages-old furniture. The Ukreytan's posture was loose and open, but the tremors in his hands and the twitching of his mouth betrayed his unease. After a full minute of silence had passed, the nervousness spread in the form of the man's eyes darting between Mustang, the door, the floor, and the ceiling. He was a good pretender, the General had to admit. Especially for his age. The man couldn't be past his mid-twenties. But a good leader surpassed years, and Mustang could see the sharp slice of intelligence in those glazed green eyes, only just stronger than the insanity lingering within them.
Strange how those two are often interchangeable.
Finally, four long minutes of stillness later, the Ukreytan cracked. In a physical sense as much as a metaphorical one, Mustang mused as he watched the young man rocket off of the bed and begin loudly pacing the room from wall to wall, a good five feet from the General.
'I know you execute us now, yes?' the Ukreytan said in heavily accented Amestrian.
With an easy tilt of his head, Mustang replied, 'Perhaps. That depends on you, at this point.'
Green eyes peered at him sharply from under that fringe of orange-red, 'How?'
'If you answer my questions, and do that honestly, I may refrain from incinerating your… posse. Hell, you might even get a fair trial.'
'Incinerating? I do not know this word.'
The General demonstrated with a quick slide of his fingers together and a funnel of oxygen that consumed the bed in flames. Just as quickly as it ignited, Mustang forced the oxygen away, leaving a billow of smoke and smear of ash where the wood had once been. He hadn't taken his eyes off of the Ukreytan, and so had seen the paling of his face and the flash of recognition in his features.
'You,' was the hissed response, 'I know you. You are called a demon by my people. Seytan enkarne.'
Humming placidly, Roy took a step forward. The Ukreytan stumbled back, hackles raised and a maniacal sneer on his lips. There was madness in his eyes, much clearer now that he knew who Mustang was. Mustang himself was not surprised. He was infamous throughout Amestris, it was likely the same rang true for the countries surrounding their blood-soaked home as well.
'Maybe I am the devil,' he murmured, measuring the Ukreytan's terror-stricken expression with an ounce of bitter vindication, 'but even I would not use children as shields.'
Expression filled with something like hostile disgust, a face one would give to something particularly horrid, the Ukreytan simply scoffed, 'You do not understand.'
'Then explain it to me,' Mustang offered, shifting to take a seat on the stone floor, seeing as there were no chairs or other surviving furniture. With obvious hesitance, the Ukreytan mirrored his actions on the other side of the room, distrust and fear still thick in the air like the smoke still petering out through the cracks in the walls, 'tell me what your interest is in Amestrian children.'
Standard questions needed to be sifted through and answered before Mustang could get to the ones he actually cared about. He already knew most of what the Ukreytan would tell him about the children and their purpose. It truly was a cruel world.
'No interest, Seytan. Simple business. We take, we baptize, and we sell.'
'And how far does your business stretch? Are there more groups like yours in Amestris?'
The Ukreytan's eyes narrowed and he scowled deeply as he hesitated, 'You… no lies in my people living? You will keep them alive?'
'I swear it,' Mustang said with complete sincerity, keeping the Ukreytan's eyes and allowing the leader to see his honesty. The General was a bit confused by the Ukreytan's absolute belief in his earlier bluffs about killing the Ukreytan group. But if the man considered Mustang some kind of demon… well… 'Your people will be treated fairly and with respect as long as you cooperate with me here and now.'
A few long moments of contemplation commenced, in which Mustang organized his thoughts and observed the shaking Ukreytan. The man truly did have a strong façade, but Roy was a master at the craft and could easily tear apart the mask in his mind, peeling away the layers until he could perfectly see the trembling, anxiety-ridden child cowering beneath the Ukreytan's charismatic exterior. The General wished he'd been facing somebody older, stronger, and colder, so that he could cling to his rage. But this young man before him just left him feeling empty and exhausted. And so he already knew the Ukreytan's answer when the orange-red head nodded.
'There are other groups- do not ask where, I do not know. Only in the South and North. They join in Ukreyt every two… what is this word? Ay? Aylar?'
The man squinted at Mustang and the General could only helplessly try to decipher the meaning from the dialogue. He had no grasp of the Ukreytan language whatsoever and suddenly wished he had a direct radio line to Edward. Surely the genius would know after his time spent with the Ukreytans. Then again, perhaps not, knowing the blonde's broken memory.
'Days? No. It would be impossible for you to all meet up so often without being detected. Months, then?'
The man could only shrug, 'But we do not talk. We only give the urun and return. So I do not know about them.'
'I assume they would be huddling in ruins like your group though, correct?' Mustang drawled, allowing his tense demeanor to shift to boredom with a strategically placed chin against a hand and his elbow resting on his knee.
Scoffing, the Ukreytan quickly objected, body unconsciously mirroring Mustang's body language, just as the General anticipated. It left an air of confidant between them, almost, as Roy knew it would, 'I do not know this, but I think they must go in cities. They always have good clothing and fat stomachs. Obur.'
That didn't sound very friendly.
'You don't like these other groups?' Mustang let the surprise bleed into his voice.
'Hayir, they love too much the Amestrians. They keep most of the urun for lust. Igrenc,' he shook his head.
Stomach curdling and heart beginning to sink, Mustang gave an empathetic noise. He didn't need to have a clear grasp on the Ukreytan language to understand what the man was saying.
So instead of product, the other groups are keeping the children as sex slaves. Fucking wonderful. Just when I thought this situation couldn't get more twisted.
Which reminded him…
'In Helltem there was a laboratory. You were impregnating girls and using alchemy to try and strengthen or alter the wombs. I could understand that much from the notes that we found and the details of the transmutation circles. Obviously it didn't work, but I'm surprised that none of you died from the human transmutation. Could you tell me more about that? Explain what your endgame was, and how you achieved it?'
'I do not know,' the Ukreytan murmured, discomfort obvious. It had appeared as soon as Mustang mentioned the laboratory and had only grown exponentially.
'But you are the leader of the group in Helltem, correct?'
'I am. But I do not know. The magic, it is not known to me.'
'You mean the alchemy?'
'Yes, I do not know. That is the bilim adamlari, not me. Isaac and Francis and Artabanus. I know they mean to make a stronger people. Stronger and smarter. Put the circles on the stomach, light them, and the women die. They are not meant to die.'
What the fuck is wrong with these people? Everything has pointed to religion and profit until now. Baptizing children by removing their genitals, selling them to people in their home country as religious items, believing alchemy to be magic, the belief in demons and devils… but this. This is scientific and all-too logical- to use alchemy to attempt to enhance the human race. Somehow they had enough knowledge and skills to not only create the circle, but to use it without being consumed by the imbalance involved in human transmutation. Although the transmutations have all been failures, the only materials we could find in the laboratory were the corpses of other dozens of dead women and just a few ounces of sulfur and iron. The contrast between these two belief systems doesn't make sense.
I'll need to talk to one of the people he mentioned. Isaac is in a coma from Edward's attack, and I don't know of a 'Francis'. Artabanus, however…
Just the name sent a white-hot, blinding anger searing across his veins, and Mustang clung to this but was careful to hide it out of sight as he spoke, bringing the Ukreytan out of his apparently troubled thoughts, 'Tell me about this Artabanus person.'
The Ukreytan's lips twisted into something that was indistinguishable between a smile and a grimace, 'Artabanus, good brother. Good alchemist, you would call. He went mad long ago. His… takinti? Deep interest with Edward hurt him. But I still love my brother. Most divine of us all.'
Roy's heart flared with pain and heat but he had to swallow it to ask the next question, 'You knew of Edward. What did Artabanus do to him?'
The Ukreytan's eyes snapped up to him from where they had been gazing sightlessly at the dusty stone floor, a spark in them that increased the appearance of madness within their depths. Roy's blood was already freezing before the man even spoke.
'Artabanus loved Edward. Called him a god and the divine being. And but… treated him as… um… would your word be pet possibly? Touched him in lust and hurt him in greed. And but never purified the boy. All garip. I do not know how to say.'
Frustrated, Mustang gritted his teeth and stood, beginning to pace as he repeated the words over and over again. The term pet was especially lighting the blood in his arteries alight, and his knuckles ached with the urge to shift his fingers and obliterate everything around him. The fury was something deep and monstrous inside of him, like the whirling monstrous force of an oceanic storm, dark and unrelenting. Yet he wanted more information, wanted something detailed so that he could just know. The not-knowing every single thing Edward had experienced was clawing at him like a feral animal, sundering his logical mind from the wrath of his emotions.
The rare occurrence began to rise in which Mustang threw self-control out the window, his military countenance shifting to purposeful vendetta as his searing gaze pinned the Ukreytan in place.
'There is a nine month period in Edward's memory that is missing. Tell me what happened.'
By the time he stiffly stepped outside into the streets of Yeyeim once again, the dark had long since set in. Three trucks rumbled in front of the cathedral, headlights washing the cold stone in an unfeeling yellow glow. With Havoc at his back and the Ukreytan leader in tow, Mustang approached Lieutenant Amsel. The man stood at attention in front of the vehicles, ominously silhouetted by the artificial lights as he waited silently.
Mustang considered the soldier for a moment before scanning the area one last time, 'Are we ready to head back to West Command, Lieutenant?'
'Yes, sir. The children have probably reached the city by now. We are just waiting on you.'
'I'm ready. Let's go.'
The journey back to Western Command seemed short, with the way Mustang's thoughts were sluggishly rolling around his mind in an exhausted haze. His eyes stared out at the night, lingering on the faint lights of the occasional town they passed as he envisioned families preparing their children for bed. So many bright futures lingered there, like promises in the warm glow of candlelight that was held suspended past the panes of glass. The hours sliding by like grains of sand through an hourglass, yet it went like quicksand. Havoc fell into a silent slumber at his side, only apparent by the closed eyes and slouching of the man's shoulders. Mustang spared a small smile for his trusted friend before turning his eyes back to the stars.
So much light… so much malice to extinguish it… the flowers that mourned it with elegant yet silent words. Faces shorn into photographs, flecks of silver grating themselves into the surface of the glossy paper.
Roy felt the sudden, breathtaking urge to drown himself in a bottle of something strong and dizzying, the feeling so intense he could feel his chest constricting and eyes burning. His priorities upon their return to West City began to rearrange themselves in his mind even as the soldier at the front of the vehicle announced their approach.
Twenty minutes later Mustang was climbing out of the vehicle and ordering Havoc ahead of him to the hospital. He received a bitter, knowing look but didn't comment on it as he followed Amsel into West HQ. Debriefing the mission lasted only another half an hour in which Mustang's thoughts constantly strayed to liquid salvation. He left the Western soldiers to the paperwork and bid them goodnight, setting off out of the building and to the first bar he could find.
It was in the middle of closing but the owner was happy to give up a bottle of their strongest scotch to the wayward General. And so, on the cusp of dawn, Mustang slid through alleys and side streets, taking large gulps straight from the bottle, caressing the slender glass neck with his gloved fingers as the alcohol burned down his throat and muddled his mind. Every so often he would pass somebody in the streets, mostly homeless men and prostitutes, but passed them without a word or a care for his state.
He arrived at the hospital and ignored the shocked and disapproving eyes that followed him through the main area and to the adjoining hallway. He was sliding into drunken oblivion at this point, and didn't notice Havoc's approach until the blonde's hands were on his shoulders and guiding him to the wall so he could stand still and glare into the man's sharp blue eyes. Havoc's lips were scowling and moving quickly. Too fast for the General's hazy mind to process, and so he waved vacantly for Havoc to stop.
'Fucking pay attention!' Havoc snarled at him, and Mustang was shocked by the sting in his cheek a moment later. Havoc's hand was still raised, that scowl still pulling his lips.
A wash of self-loathing had Mustang's knees buckling, but the Lieutenant held him up by his collar.
'Roy. Listen to me,' Havoc said, calmer this time, 'There was a sighting of Artabanus while we were gone. Sitting outside of Ed's window in the courtyard. Luckily the patrol on duty spotted him before he could get in the hospital. Get it? The chief is still in danger. You can't do this. If anyone is going to be able to stop that criminal, it's you. You're useless like this.'
Panic was just a tiny nibble against the tilting and swaying landscape of Roy's mind. He idly wondered where his bottle of alcohol went, and where he'd lost his military jacket. Then he wondered why there was a cup of steaming coffee in his hands, and why he was sobbing over it like a broken creature, words spewing from his lips that made the man sitting across the table from him pale. Havoc looked ill as Mustang talked.
And then Roy found himself sitting in the fold out chair in Ed's room, stomach roiling viciously and head aching thunderously. The dawn was finally hauling itself over the landscape, and the tender, rosy hues it cast across the room lit on the two bodies huddled together under the sheets of Ed's bed. The light shown on Ed's hair, making it shimmer like rose gold. Roy admired the beautiful, angelic face as Ed slept, and he smiled at the portion he could see of Alphonse, where the boy had buried his face in his older brother's back. They looked so peaceful, so content…
These were two souls that Roy had added to the small group of people he would gladly give his life for. So beautiful, so precious… these boys meant the world and more to the General. He didn't realize he had risen until he was beside the bed, leaning over to brush the strands of honey almond away from Al's face. He leaned further down to press his lips against Ed's temple, drawing back when he felt the older Elric shift in his sleep.
'Welcome back,' the soft, sleep-lined voice spoke, and Mustang looked down into tired golden eyes.
A swell of something sharp and spiny and warm and soothing crackled through Roy and he just barely managed to choke back the emotions before they could make themselves obvious in his eyes. Nevertheless, he gave a shaky sigh and threaded his fingers through Ed's hair before burying his nose in the scent of lavender. Soft muttering was his response, until a tugging on his sleeve had him moving until he was half-laying on the bed, back stationed against the wall while Ed levered himself up to stare at him. Something passed between them, invisible but heavy that crackled between stone gray and glittering gold.
But Ed smiled, and everything was alright.
Roy shifted one hand over Al's loose hair, his other was wrapped around the elbow that Ed had thrown across his stomach. The weight of the blonde half on top of him had Roy's heart stuttering with pain and warmth. Ed was already asleep once again.
Roy swiped his thumb across the skin of Ed's flesh arm, staring at the boy's sleeping face, gazing at Al's contented smile.
I don't deserve this.
He tilted his head back, eyes sliding shut as his muscles began to loosen. Sunlight hit his face and his body let go of the tension completely as he faded into the black. Ed's breath flushed across his wrist, making a smile twitch at the corner of Roy's lips.
Like the night, his consciousness left with the arrival of the dawn.