A/N: Happy Sunday, everyone! I hope you all had a good week. Not much going on, so I'll just leave you with Chapter Twenty-one. Enjoy!
I do not own FMA.
Chapter Twenty-one - Hidden Danger
UNINHABITED SECTOR, CITY OF JADAD, ISHVAL
1323 HOURS, APRIL 23RD
The search didn't get underway until afternoon, just after a hasty midday meal. With the stress and distraction of the last day or so, Roy hadn't been interested in any kind of regular meals, and so hadn't much noticed the food in front of him when he did eat.
Ishvalan food, he was coming to realize, was as no-frills and hearty as the people, with an exotic flavour and a heat that lingered pleasantly on the tongue. Whatever spices went into the good, simple food, he would have to find out; he was no great shakes at cooking, but perhaps he and Riza could make a study of it together….
Of course, he had to find her first, and get her back to her old self.
And so, he set off alongside Scar into the bright sun of early afternoon, carrying a scaled-down copy of the city map on the Reconstruction office wall, with three locations to be scouted circled in red. At last, there was something to do, some affirmative action to be taken, rather than planning or waiting to be instructed.
"Scar," he began, his eyes on the dust-swept street ahead, "I want to thank you." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the larger man look his way, and pressed on. "That you're going to these lengths to help an Amestrian soldier, one who took part in the civil war…. You didn't have to get involved like this. I appreciate it."
The other was quiet for a moment, then said, "It isn't the first time I've done so. Or the first time I've been thanked for it."
Roy lifted an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"I didn't have to help stop you from destroying the Homonculus Envy out of vengeance," he pointed out. "But as I told Edward Elric, I know what vengeance does to a man, and I knew your skills would be needed elsewhere. Such as here."
When Roy looked over, somewhat shamefaced at the reminder, he was surprised to find the corner of Scar's mouth pulled back in the smallest of imaginable smiles. "You were too busy bickering with the Elric boy to hear, but your Lieutenant thanked me. For stopping you. And so, out of courtesy to her and for the safety of my own people… I am here."
He stopped me from acting in anger, and she thanked him, Roy mused to himself. And if we find her first, he'll help stop her from giving in to this thing that's taken her over. And I'll thank him, bowing at his feet if I have to.
The first location they were set to check was a seminary students' residence overlooking a broad courtyard. Roy glanced around at the once-impressive architecture, now fallen into disrepair. Stone benches sat beside shallow depressions that had once been small pools, and the few shade trees that had once been so carefully cultured and tended were now bare, bone-dry, and shrivelled-looking.
He could picture the students walking here, talking over their lives or their studies, studying quietly in the shade or while dabbling bare feet in the pools. This had once been a place of peace, of contemplation and learning. All things that Riza herself valued…. But then she had no way of knowing what this place was, aside from matching the things he thought she would look for in a place to hide.
The double front doors of the seminary were slightly off-kilter, the right one hanging at a slight angle to create a gap. Scar pulled it open slowly, a fraction at a time to prevent any telltale squeaking or grating of hinges. A scattering of dust was spread over the floor, blown through the gap by any wind from the right angle.
Scar opened the door just wide enough to slip his burly frame through; without a word, Roy followed him inside, only to be stopped by the big man's hand bumping gently against his chest.
"Wait here." He glanced back over his shoulder. "You are lighter, but I move more quietly."
He couldn't argue with that, but it didn't stop him from trailing silently along the wall, his eyes travelling up to the vaulted ceiling of the foyer. The architecture was spare, made of the same dun-coloured sandstone with what appeared to be Ishvalan sigils carved around the perimeter at knee height. But where Amestrian design might have placed a glass dome on the roof or tall panes of glass in the building face as windows… there were none.
A wide set of stairs across from the doors spiraled up to a balcony overlooking the entryway, and it was in this direction that Scar headed. He walked stealthily, bent slightly at the waist, his steps rolling from one foot to the other in soundless motion. Keeping his eyes roving over the balcony above, he started up the stairs, keeping close to the wall. Roy tried not to notice that the man's right hand – the destruction hand – was held ready to flex and unleash its power.
But Scar reached the top of the stairs with no incident, and disappeared briefly from view, presumably to check potential hiding spots not visible from the ground floor. Roy held his breath, listening for the sounds of a sudden scuffle or the thud of a heavy male body hitting the floor…. Silence.
Reappearing at the dusty balcony rail, Scar beckoned him wordlessly.
"Searching the dormitories will go more quickly if we split up," he murmured, the low timbre of his voice echoing faintly in the open space. He pointed off down a hallway to Roy's left. "Open every door, look in every room. If you come across one that's locked…."
He glanced pointedly at Roy's hands, his meaning obvious.
Yet Roy hesitated. "I've been trying not to use alchemy since I arrived," he murmured back. "You're sure it won't be some kind of… offense?"
Scar shook his head, already turning toward a second hallway in another direction. "With the rest of my people, yes, but not with me, Colonel. I understand that desperate times call for desperate measures."
And if there were ever desperate times….
Starting off along his allotted hallway, Roy zigzagged slowly left to right, opening first one door, then the next, then the next… The first room was filled with dusty, battered-looking sleeping pallets. When this place was in its heyday, they had likely been very comfortable and well-kept, but the several years of neglect had done their sinister work.
The second room proved to be a bathroom done in clay tile with pewter fixtures. Time and disuse had dulled the metal and discoloured the ceramic sinks, and a pipe leak had caused an anomaly: algae appeared to be growing on the wall under the sink closest to the door. A quick check of the stalls, and then Roy returned to the hallway.
The third door was locked.
Gritting his teeth, Roy took a deep breath. A locked door in an abandoned place like this could mean two things: either something valuable or dangerous… or Riza. Clapping his hands together, careful to do it quietly, he touched gently probing fingers to the doorknob.
The potential pathways for the energy sprang to life in his mind, showing him the shape of the metal and how it could be manipulated. Roy focussed on the locking mechanism. No way to really pick it with alchemy like this; it was too fine-tuned a task. He settled for simply destroying it, leaving the knob to turn freely.
Bracing himself, he swung the door wide, ready to dive out of the way if an attack came toward him… and was surprised to discover a room with four two-person tables, a desk at the far end, and shelves of books lining the walls.
A study hall, he realized with a mild jolt. He should have expected to find a place such as this; it was at least affiliated with a school of some type. Students needed suitable spaces to do their assignments… and this space reminded him of the small personal library where he had spent so much time of his own studies. He was a stranger in a strange place and yet he could still find things to remind him of her.
DERELICT BUILDING, CITY OF JADAD, ISHVAL
1503 HOURS, APRIL 23RD
She was fading in and out of a light doze when she first became aware of the faint voices from outside. Riza's newly over-sensitive ears pricked, her eyes opening to the almost complete blackness of the room as she listened. Weariness tugged at her, not so strongly as if she were in sunlight, but reminding her gently that this was the time for sleep.
When the voices sounded again, slightly louder this time, she pushed aside her fatigue and rose.
The room she had chosen to hide in was on the second floor of a building that had once been some sort of inn. Each room opened on to a walkway, with one walkway wrapping around the outside of the building and another bisecting each floor to lead to the central stairwell. Her windowless room led off this centre hall, where the light of day did not reach so easily. It was nothing more than a linen storage closet, but with one shelf cleared except for a spread-out sheet and a pillow, it was comfortable enough.
The voices were still advancing, but distant enough to suggest that their owners were in the street, not within the building itself. However, sound carried well in these corridors, bouncing from one surface to another, meaning they could be closer than she thought. Her bare feet making no noise on the stone floor, Riza eased toward the door, pressing her ear to the wood.
Two men spoke in Ishvalan, their tones conversational and businesslike by turns. Judging by cadence alone, she suspected them to be warriors, possibly out searching for her. Their likely thought was that a deserted inn would be an incredibly convenient place for a fugitive – four walls and a roof, probably a bed, some kind of plumbing. She could only hope they wouldn't think to check the linen closet.
A part of her knew that she didn't need to kill anyone that happened across her; she had strength now to subdue most attackers instead of ending them outright. But another part – a stronger, much larger part – also knew that anyone who crossed her path was fair game for the hunger coiling in her stomach. If she gave in to that, if she sank her sharpened canine teeth into someone's throat and drank the blood that spilled out… she might not be able to stop herself from taking too much. And if that person happened to be a friend –
The voices were receding in volume, their owners moving away from the building, and Riza turned away from the door. Settling back into the little bunk she had fashioned, she stared up at the underside of the shelf above her and tried to calm her unsteady thoughts. Her mind threw images at her, first of Roy smiling his fond smile at her, and then those dark eyes filling with surprise as she sank her teeth into his neck.
Closing her eyes tightly, she willed the images away… but they came creeping back. Different views of Roy came to her – peacefully asleep in a bed beside her, his naked body over hers, his grin wide at some joke – but always with the same ending. Shock, pain, and betrayal as she gave in to the hunger and bit him.
And Riza knew, somewhere deep in the back of her mind, that would be the fastest way to make him hers.
MARKETPLACE, CITY OF JADAD, ISHVAL
1614 HOURS, APRIL 23RD
It was a hot and dusty group that gathered in the deserted marketplace at the end of the search. They trickled in in pairs, gathering around the large well in the centre. Though it was old, it had been dug deep enough that the water remained cold, clear, and fresh. Ramshackle structures that had once been vendors stalls circled outward from this central point, bare and deserted now, but still offering a bit of shade for the weary search party.
Roy sat on the edge of what had once been a table for displaying someone's wares, sweat cooling on his forehead and the back of his neck tingling with the beginnings of a sunburn. Dark eyes watched the rest of the searchers getting drinks from the well's sturdy wooden bucket, speaking quietly with each other, and dispersing to find their own pieces of shade while they waited for further instruction.
"I suppose we'll have to revisit the list of possible places," he said aloud to the man sitting beside him. "We must have narrowed it down too far and missed her."
Scar nodded, his back straight, hands resting in his lap and eyes closed in momentary meditation. "We will wait to hear the others' reports, and then make our decision."
As soon as the last pair of searchers had reached the marketplace and quenched their thirst from the well, Scar rose from his seat and moved into the centre of the group. He raised his voice to be heard, speaking in Ishvalan. Roy shifted, his heart sinking as realized they would be delayed even farther if Scar had to spend time after the briefing filling him in on everything….
"He's thanking everyone for their help in looking for the Lieutenant," a young man said from his left. He had slipped around to Roy's spot, leaving his own partner. "And asking if anyone found anything of interest, whether it relates to her or not."
Partway across the group, a man's hand rose, and after he received a nod of acknowledgement, he began speaking, his hands moving as he spoke.
"He says the came across her footprints at one point," the young man interpreted. "About two hundred metres from the amphitheatre where she was last seen. They know no one has come out this way yet, and certainly not barefoot as she was. They followed them briefly for perhaps five or ten minutes, until they turned down an alley." He frowned. "It was a dead end; a wall reached about ten feet into the air, and her tracks just… disappeared. They entered the alley but did not come back out."
A ten-foot wall and disappearing footprints…. Roy supposed that in this new state of hers, it wouldn't be overly difficult for her to scale such an obstruction. Even before, with her military training and time spent on obstacle courses, it would only have presented a difficult challenge, not an impossibility.
The interpreter was still speaking quietly, his voice overlapping those of Scar and the reporting searcher. "The banam manav asks what sort of buildings the footsteps ended near, so that they might be targeted for searching later…. The searcher says there were some houses, a few shops… and a… do you call it a 'house for bathing?'"
"A bathhouse," Roy supplied, frowning slightly. "What was you called him – the man in the centre?"
The other smiled, sadly. "To you and to others outside our borders, he is known as Scar, yes? For the mark on his face?" Roy nodded. "Names are sacred to the Ishvalan people, Colonel. The man you call Scar cast his name away and so can have no other. Our people call him banam manav – the 'nameless human.'"
Roy raised an eyebrow. "I see. And what's your name?"
Dipping his head in a brief, introductory bow, the man smiled. "I am Wajed, Colonel, and pleased to meet you." He gestured to another man nearby. "But there is more news."
A man had gotten to his feet, crossing toward Scar with something held in his fingers. Scar took it, turning it over and examining it, before holding it up in Roy's direction but speaking to the group at large.
"It is a piece of cloth torn from the Lieutenant's clothes," Wajed translated. "They are confident it is hers because it appears undamaged by exposure. It was found near where the other man found the footprints in the alley, stuck on a nail sticking out of a board beside a storehouse." His eyes lit as Scar asked a question. "Storehouses have no windows, to keep out damaging sunlight, so she may have– oh."
Roy felt his own rising hopes fade as the light disappeared from the young man's eyes. "The storehouse was on their list of places to search, but they did not find her there."
Taking a deep breath, reminding himself not to give up so easily – because Riza certainly wouldn't – Roy sat straight and listened attentively to the reports' translations. There were two more sightings of footprints, each one slightly farther east than the last, but nothing more.
Finally, Scar motioned Roy forward, making one last comment as he did. "He wants you to say a few words," Wajed murmured, before turning and heading back to his search partner. Roy felt his stomach flip in sudden nervousness, but managed to keep it off of his face as he slipped from his seat in the table and emerged into the sunlit open space.
Eighteen solemn faces looked back at him, some with curiosity but others with straight-faced neutrality. A feeling of vague unease settled into the pit of his stomach, but aside from that, he paid it no mind. He drew himself up to his full height, and began.
"First of all, I'm sorry I can't give you my thanks in your own language. You certainly deserve it for all you've done. That being said, it's important to me that you know I'm grateful for your help." Roy kept his smile small – thankful but not an overt showing of emotion. "Myself and my Lieutenant are visitors to your lands, and to have such support in looking for her is comforting. We may not have found her today, but I'm confident that we will tomorrow."
He waited as Scar finished translating for those who could not understand the Amestrian words, his eyes scanning the group. There were a few understanding smiles, but his message seemed to have been received favourably.
An instant later, he was wondering if he had been too quick in that assessment. A prickle began at the back of his neck and he had to consciously keep tension from lifting his shoulders, his gaze turning more alert as it swept over the group once again. This feeling, one he had had several times before, he had always associated with unfriendly eyes upon him. Rival officers, Homonculi… and now perhaps something more sinister.
The sentiment was confirmed as the group of men broke into a smattering of polite applause, every face holding some degree of a smile. The feeling remained; it wasn't from one of them. And as Roy stood, listening to the response to his words, a sinking realization came trickling in.
Forcing steadiness into his movements, he turned to where Scar stood at his left shoulder, keeping his voice somewhere around a murmur. "We were looking for an open space with significance," he said, not quite urgently. "One with tall buildings nearby without too many windows where she could keep watch. This place was searched?"
Scar was almost instantly on the alert, though it showed only in the red eyes and the near-perfect stillness of his body. "Several of the buildings around it were," he answered. He gave Roy a critical look, assessing. "What is it?"
"Just a feeling. A bad one." He glanced back at the group, now beginning to murmur among themselves when it was clear their leaders were in private conference. "Look, we were due to start back toward the settled area soon. We'll go a block or so, and then I'll circle back and see if there was something the searchers missed."
The larger man shook his head. "That's a high risk for potentially very little payoff. And suppose you do find her? What then?" His gaze turned hard. "Colonel, this new personality she's gained has made it very clear how little regard she has for the lives of others. Even yours."
Roy's glare was equally firm. "I never said I was planning to try and speak to her. I just want to know where she is so that we can form a plan to bring her back in."
Scar had seen the lie and Roy knew it, but there was nothing for it now. Red eyes glanced up at the group, then back to him. "Very well. We will beginning leaving… but when you break off to circle back, I will come with you." He took a pair of steps forward, preparing to address the search party, his final words on the subject tossed back over his shoulder. "You need a bodyguard from your bodyguard, Colonel."
She was growing restless in the dark. Snatches of voices still floated occasionally to her, and each time, they woke her. Finally, Riza slipped from her shelf-bunk and began pacing the small space, trying to work the shivery feeling from her legs. It was a feeling that begged her to let them run, to let them be stretched, to burn off the energy building slowly in her muscles before it drove her crazy.
Soon, she reminded herself, taking a deep breath. Soon the sun will be down, soon you can go outside, and soon – The hunger shifted in her stomach, reaching achingly up to tighten her throat. – you can find something to keep from starving to death.
Soon, too, her visitor would arrive in the city. There was still a faint pressure in her mind, so delicate that she had to concentrate to feel it, but it was only the daylight weakening the mystical connection. When it grew stronger again, she would know for certain it was safe to leave her little hideaway.
Looking around at her surroundings, Riza came to the decision that, if there were going to be two of them in proximity, they were going to need something more spacious than a closet. Perhaps that storehouse she had passed up the night before? She had discounted it then because it was so obvious, but this long after the fact, she was relatively sure they would have already searched such a space and others like it. It should be safe enough now.
She had just begun mentally plotting the route back to the storehouse when a new voice spoke up outside. Her head came up, swivelling toward the door, enhanced hearing straining to catch each word and be sure…. Yes. Yes, it was definitely him.
Her smile widened. Of course he had joined the hunt for her himself. Why wouldn't he? If there was one man who knew the mind of Riza Hawkeye, it was him, and he would be only too quick to offer his knowledge of her. Or, well… his intellectual knowledge. The carnal, he would keep to himself.
Still grinning broadly at her own little joke, she moved to the door, reaching for the time-tarnished brass knob… and hesitated. No, there was still sunlight out there. Even in the shade of the hallway, she would be weakened even farther than she already was. Light of any kind on her body would drain her quickly, and her strength might not return until nightfall. If she were spotted and had to run, her chances would not be good.
After only a second more of internal debate, she opened the door wide.
Her breath caught as she stepped into the dim shadows of the hall, feeling fatigue creeping up her arms and threatening to buckle her knees. She forced herself to inhale the warm, still air, forced her feet forward toward the sound of that familiar voice, one hand on the wall to aid her fickle balance. It hadn't been this bad the day before, walking to the amphitheatre for the ill-fated yantir, but then again, the sun had also been on its way down at the time.
She reached the edge of the hall, where it opened onto the mezzanine leading to other rooms and the wide space of the marketplace beyond and below. Leaning against the wall, shading her eyes against the sun's glare, she stood just inside the shade where the hated beams could not reach her.
There was a group of about twenty people in the market below, all men, most wearing the robes and shoulder sash of the priesthood. In the centre, side-on to her as they faced the others, were Scar and Roy, who had, by all appearances, just finished speaking. Scar was translating, the foreign words flowing easily off of his tongue. The group seemed tired after their fruitless search… but not dispirited. Riza pursed her lips in mild annoyance. That was bad news for her; if they felt defeated in their efforts, they were less likely to try again.
She was still watching, her eyes on the back of Roy's head, when she saw him catch on.
Freezing instantly, she watching his head move slowly from one side to the other, scanning the group before turning to speak quietly to Scar. Moving with agonizing slowness, Riza shifted to a crouch, putting the wrought iron of the mezzanine railing between them. It wasn't perfect shelter, but it would at least hopefully confuse the weaker human eyes and prevent detection.
There were a few brief seconds of murmured discussion, and then Scar stepped forward again. One brief comment over his shoulder, and then he was giving orders. Riza dropped flat to her stomach on the dusty floor of the hallway, the familiar prone position of a sniper but minus the weaponry.
With her eyes level with the far edge of the mezzanine, all that was visible of Roy was his head and shoulders. Still watchful, he looked slowly around the entire area, his gaze lighting for a brief moment on the second floor of the inn and the dim inner hallway.
Riza's breath caught for a second time at the sight of those dark eyes. Intelligence, suspicion, and tactical savvy were all there, even at this distance, underlined by the set of his jaw as the stare moved onward, the man himself stepping slowly toward the rest of the search party. Leaving her unseen.
The tip of her tongue darted out to moisten suddenly dry lips, in time with a sudden urgent clench in the pit of her stomach. She wanted those eyes on her again, wanted her fingers in the messy tousle of dark hair, wanted his lips on hers and everywhere else. Heat blossomed in her cheeks and behind her ears, slithering down the back of her neck to her spine. Forget wanting his eyes, his hair, his lips… she just wanted him.
How long had it been now? How long since that last, lascivious tumble in the back of the supply truck? Two days, three… she didn't quite know anymore. Strange how conversion to a new, better form had the effect of messing with a person's internal clock.
Carefully, with patient slowness, she began wriggling backward, deeper into the hallway. The motion stirred the wanting ache in her, making its stoked flame flare a little brighter for a brief moment before she wrestled it back under control. She would return to her hiding place, calm herself, and keep a lookout for anyone else that came searching, whether it was the party below, the stranger still slowly approaching from the north side of the city, or Roy himself.
And if it was Roy…. Well, if he was willing and she played her cards right, there was no real reason why that little wanting ache should have to go unsatisfied.
Even if, in the process, his neck fell victim to her fangs.
The search party wound through the deserted streets of the disrepaired city in two parallel lines. Roy stayed toward the back, watching Scar at the front of the column for their chance to break away and double back. The prickle on the back of his neck had faded as they left the marketplace, but the sense of unease that accompanied it had settled persistently between his shoulder blades.
In the initial search, there had only been four buildings around the marketplace's perimeter marked as possible, and the men who had swept them hadn't found any sign of Riza. She was good, Roy knew, but even she wasn't flawless at covering her tracks in an unfamiliar environment. There would have been something. Going on his memory alone, there were at least three other buildings of note around the marketplace square… but how many of them would be suitable for a newly turned vampire?
The last thought rocked him mentally for a moment, the word 'vampire' echoing around in his mind. He still had trouble reconciling what was supposed to be a fantasy term, a fictional creature, with the woman he'd known for years. With the woman he loved… even if she wasn't exactly the same woman anymore.
It was comforting — how ever slightly — to know that vampire lore always spoke of ways to reverse the… the curse, he supposed. Granted, several of them involved the suspected vampire already being dead and in a grave, but there was exactly one he knew of that should reverse the effect. If Riza hadn't been dead when she was finally turned, and not enough time had elapsed for her natural life to be over, then —
Motion ahead broke his train of thought; Scar turning to speak to Wajed, who was following just behind him, and then stepping aside to let the column pass. He spoke in Ishvalan to the group, but from the waving gesture he gave, it was clear he was ordering them to follow after the new leader.
Roy stopped where he was, waiting as the larger man made his way back to him, his face serious. "Should we circle around to the other side of the marketplace? Come at it from a different direction?"
Scar glanced skyward, judging the height of the sun. "Sunset will be beginning in an hour and a half," he commented. "We would be losing time that could be spent searching." He started back the way they had come. "We will use the same avenue, but we will be cautious. Stealthy."
They retraced their steps, covering the distance in roughly five minutes and in relative silence but for Scar's murmured directions. Nervousness began to flutter in Roy's stomach, at what they would find or, potentially, the lack thereof. He was willing to admit, if it came down to it, that recent events had him feeling overly suspicious and on edge… but he knew the sensation that had caught his attention in the square. He had spent six months with that feeling, worried that Selim was watching his every move.
The only good thing the Homonculi, Bradley, or their Father had ever given him: a good healthy sense for when he was being watched.
The shadows were stretching long in the sun from the two and three-storey buildings around the edge of the market square, silence laying thick and heavy on the air. Roy suppressed a shudder; total silence in an urban environment was far creepier than he had anticipated it would be.
They slipped into the shadowed overhang of a colonnade to one side of the square, both of them eyeing the buildings. Scar was the first to speak. "Where shall we start?"
Frowning in thought, Roy crouched, the better to see the buildings past the overhang. "I know I said that any building with too many windows should be counted out… but I'm not sure that method will work. I know I felt something when we were here before, but I couldn't tell where she might have been watching from and I didn't see anything."
"Yet you know it was her. Watching." Scar nodded in understanding. "A good instinct. But you did not answer my question."
Standing straight, Roy tilted his head toward the door closest on their right. "We might as well start here and work our way around the square. Sooner or later, if my 'instinct' is right, we'll find something. Either Hawkeye, or some trace of her."
The iconography on the sign over the door identified it as a former bakery. The single plank nailed across the door did not prevent their entry long; the dried, desiccated wood was no match for Scar's right hand.
The interior proved dusty, but otherwise undisturbed. No footprints of recent passage, not even by mice or insects. Chairs were set neatly upside down on tables, the counter tidy and free of any clutter or the smallest of crumbs. A glass-domed cake plate sat empty, harbouring nothing but stale air.
Roy paused in the doorway before entering to search more thoroughly, taking a quick count of the other ground-level doors around the perimeter of the square: twenty-two. Blowing out a breath, he ducked inside the stagnant warmth of the bakery. If they wanted to make any kind of progress before sundown — and its now inherent, potential danger — they would have to work quickly.