Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist is not mine. I'm just drawing it out.

Chapter 21: No Choice

Although they did not know it, the cell Falconer and Hawkeye were pushed into was identical to the one used to contain Ed and Mustang. The two women assessed every inch of it independently within the space of a pair of searching glances. As the door slammed shut, they dropped resignedly onto opposite bunks. Neither of them spoke.

Hawkeye was well aware that things could have been worse. She had certainly been searched by people who had been far more...personal about it. The downside was that that same professionalism meant the only weapons left to them were teeth and nails. And she was unlikely to do any great damage with nails as short as hers. On the other hand, they had been neither harmed nor restrained, if you did not count the heavy metal door between them and the rest of the world. They had not been given reason to believe Ivan's situation was any different. Most importantly, they were close to Ed and the Brigadier General, and Al and Noah were still free.

Her conclusions were not optimistic but they were not completely hopeless either. She looked up and focused on Falconer. The other woman - it helped to just think of her that way - was completely still, as though she scarcely dared to breathe. She had been like that since they had been captured, avoiding eye contact with anyone and everyone, staying completely silent. Concern had Hawkeye's brow creasing slightly.
"Elizabeth?" she said softly, "Elizabeth. Look at me. Please."
Falconer shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself.
"I can't..." Her voice was small. "I can't..."
"Calm down. Elizabeth. I need you to be thinking clearly, you understand?"
"I can't..." she repeated, "I can't face...him...again...I can't. I'm sorry..."
"I don't need apologies," Hawkeye chided, "I need someone in a fit state to help me."
"You...you don't understand. I just...can't."
"Whatever this man did to you, you can't let it destroy you."

A flash of anger closed Falconer's down turned face.
"That's easy enough for you to say."
"I've met sadists. Seen...what they can do."
"Not one like him," she retorted.
A harsh bark of mirthless laughter escaped her lips and she rubbed at her eyes with the heels of her hands. At last, she looked up too.
"I wouldn't be so bad if I still had my knives. It's being defenceless..."
Hawkeye narrowed her eyes.
"You can still bite. You're not defenceless."
"Hah." Falconer looked down again. "He doesn't care about that..."

It was impossibly disconcerting to see yourself so beaten and helpless. Hawkeye had always taken some pride in being prepared for almost every eventuality and ready to improvise her way out of anything else. Part of that was a conviction that there was no such thing as an utterly impossible situation. Working effective covert ops during the Eastern Rebellion had been 'impossible'. Getting the Flame Alchemist organised had been 'impossible'. Getting a twelve year old accepted into the State Alchemist programme had been 'impossible'. Defeating the aerial attack on Central has been 'impossible'. Ultimately, there was a solution to everything, even if it was not a very pleasant one.

But all that was the opinion of Riza Hawkeye, not Elizabeth Falconer. She was absolutely prepared to accept that there was no chance and give up, no matter what she was told.

Irritation coloured Hawkeye's thoughts.
"Listen," she began.
The door clicked, the lock drawing back. The major rose to her feet, unwilling to have whoever it was looking down on her. A Templar entered, holding the door open. And in walked the Marquis L'enfer.

To her shame, she was caught off guard by his appearance. The single, astonished syllable escaped Hawkeye before her common sense could stop it.
"Sir?"
He smiled and any possibility of his being Roy Mustang miraculously healed evaporated.
"Well, that's a good start. You, I take it, are Miss Falconer's counterpart. She never greets me so willingly. Do you, Elizabeth?"
Falconer had frozen even more. The Marquis glided towards her, reaching down to place a gloved finger under her chin.
"Nothing to say?" he whispered, "How rude of you. But nothing we won't be able to fix."

He whirled suddenly and placed his hand on Hawkeye's cheek. She flinched, mouth twisting in distaste. He stroked the skin under her eye.
"You aren't afraid of me, are you? How...convenient. Instilling fear is always far more interesting than discovering it waiting for you." His smile faded. "Unless you are going to tell me where Elric's brother has got to, here and now?"
Hawkeye said nothing. The smile returned.
"I thought not. Hm. Your clothes would disgrace a goatherd." He turned away and addressed the guard. "See to it that these ladies are provided with more appropriate attire. Inform me when they have been made presentable. Oh." Pausing, he glanced back. "I don't suppose there is anything 'King Bradley' especially enjoys seeing you wear?"
Unsurprisingly, he got no answer. He smiled once more.
"Ah, well. It will have to be what I enjoy seeing Falconer wearing, then."
With that, he prowled away, the guard stamping after him. The door crashed back into place, cutting out the extra light from the passage outside.

As Falconer slumped onto her side, staring straight ahead, Hawkeye was left to consider that there was something fundamentally wrong when a man like that could walk around with a face he in no way deserved.

Ivan paced up and down in the way one man can when in a cell made for two. Nobody came in to gloat over his capture, so he was left to his own thoughts. After a while, he sat down on the edge of one of the bunks. After another while, he swung his legs up and lay back, leaning as comfortably as he could against the wall.

After all, he thought, if he was going to have to wait around, he might as well use the time to get some rest. Eventually, his eyes closed and he began to snore.

The walls were being resolutely unhelpful in that they showed absolutely no inclination to transform themselves into ways out. Al scratched his head, uncomfortably aware that they had been walking through the tunnels for far longer than was either healthy or useful. He experienced a twinge of longing for a body that could break through solid stone and was never bothered by hunger, aching muscles or claustrophobia.
"Perhaps we should have taken that last fork," Noah suggested, "We could go back..."
"Yeah..."
Neither of them moved.

"If this is a trap," Al said, shuffling his feet, "why hasn't anyone turned up to catch us?"
"I don't know. Perhaps they don't know we're here."
"Then it's not a very good trap, is it? Why build it?" He chewed his lip. "Unless it's some kind of experiment..."
"If it is, the Templars weren't told about it." Noah frowned. "I think we've passed by some of the places where there were supposed to be entrances into the institute but..."
"We didn't see them. They could have been bricked over or..."
He realised he was wasting time. Taking the lantern from Noah, he walked a few paces further along the tunnel. When the light revealed nothing but more blank brick, he came back.

"We'll try the last fork," he announced decisively, "Even if it doesn't lead anywhere, we'll have checked."
"All right," she agreed, "And...if it does lead somewhere?"
"Um...we find out where."
She smiled slightly and took the lamp back.

Hands shaking, Helen accepted the glass of brandy Anna held out for her. The older nurse promptly poured herself a similar measure and slowly collapsed into the other chair. She sipped at her drink. Helen did not.
"These people are quite mad," Anna declared, "Quite, quite mad."
Helen nodded silently, clutching her glass.
"What do we do?" she asked hollowly.
"What can we do? I cannot see us simply walking out of this dreadful place and going home, can you?" Another sip of brandy and a resolved expression came upon Anna. "No, my dear, we must persevere and pray that we will escape unscathed. I can see no other practical course of action."

Helen nodded again. Then spoke, barely able to force the words out.
"But what about Edward?"
Anna sucked air in through her teeth, hesitating.
"They clearly need him for something...I'm not sure that they intend to harm him."
Her companion looked anything but reassured. She tried to think of something more but could not come up with anything that would not sound trite and condescending. Instead, she reached out and patted Helen's hand.
"We must carry on. There is nothing else we -"

She was interrupted as the door flew open and Dr Graves stumbled in. Blearily realising that the room was occupied, he lurched towards the table.
"Simons, Jameson...is that brandy, there?"
"It is, doctor," Anna told him.
Pointedly ignoring the sharp whiff on his breath, she poured him a small dose.
"Thank you," he huffed gratefully.
He hovered awkwardly next to them, clearly at a loss when neither of them offered him their chair.
"I say," he said, "This is a rum business, eh? I just left Chambers chatting with Edward. Or as much as you can call that a chat. About this Elric fellow, as it happens. Didn't understand most of it."
No response was forthcoming. He fumbled with his glass and drank deeply.
"Well. Have to get along. Sure Chambers will need you to shift Edward in a bit."

Swaying as he walked, almost forgetting to put the glass down, he departed. Anna sniffed disdainfully.
"At least we know how he intends to cope with all this."
Having still not touched her drink, Helen showed no indication that she had heard.

The Marquis strode through the corridors of the Institute, Solomon at his side. A triumphant smirk played around his mouth.
"I think I am going to enjoy this evening," he confided, "if only for the novelty of the situation. Perhaps we should invite my...twin along as well. I think he might appreciate the exercise..."
He trailed off as he noticed Issacher and Daniel standing up ahead. They were clearly arguing, although very quietly.

"So yah had it 'completely under control', did yah?" the glass eyed Templar drawled sarcastically.
Issacher bristled.
"Yes," he growled, "we did. You did not have to interfere."
"Good job ah did though. They were about ta get out inta the street...which might have raised some...difficult question with tha local authorities."
"They would not have -"
"Of course they wouldn't have...yah'd have caught them at tha last second, would yah?"
"We -"

"Gentlemen, please," the Marquis intruded smoothly, "This bickering does not suit you and, besides, all has ended well."
"Sair," Daniel acknowledged, grinning.
"Sir," said Issacher, far more stiffly.
"Excellent." L'enfer laid a hand on the hilt of his sabre. "Your timing, Daniel, remains impeccable. I may need your assistance later, if that will not present you with any unendurable inconvenience."
"Ah'm sure it won't, sair. Ah take it our guests are settled in?"
"They are. None of them appears overly happy with the accommodation but I suppose we must expect such ingratitude."
"What about the gypsy?" Issacher asked, spitting the last word.
"I have no real interest in him."
"Then perhaps we should shoot him now."
The Marquis arched an eyebrow then shook his head.
"I think not. He might prove to have a use outside of satisfying your thirst for blood. If he doesn't, you can do what you like with him. But for now, restrain yourself."
The gangling Templar scowled but submitted to the order.
"Yes sir."

"Sir!"
As he came bolting down the passage, Cain's face was flushed and panicked. He was clutching a sheaf of papers to his chest, apparently afraid someone was going to try to mug him for them. Clattering to a stop in from of them, he snapped a terrified salute. The Marquis's gaze swept over him lazily.
"Is something the matter, Cain?"
"M-mr Chambers, sir. He says he wants to start immediately!"
Daniel jerked in surprise.
"Ah thought he was waitin' until we had the other Elric kid?"
"So did I," the Marquis replied sourly, "But if Mr Chambers has changed his mind, we must act accordingly. Cain - I want the gates closed and locked, the guard around the boundary doubled and as of now, movement between the different blocks is restricted. You two, go with him. Make sure he does his job properly. Solomon, stay with me."

The lower ranking Templars hurried away. Solomon turned to L'enfer, as impassive as ever.
"So," he said slowly, "We finally see if we've been wasting our time."
"We haven't," was the hushed response, "I've seen what he can do. What he's capable of. We haven't been wasting out time."
"Even so."
"Do you see any choice? He still has the upper hand."
"He's still human. We don't have to do this."
The Marquis laughed.
"Yes we do. Of course we do. Besides...the chance that he can do everything he says he can...the chance to be able to...turn lead into gold, dust into diamonds...it's a pretty lure."
"Lures are."

Laughing again, the Marquis brushed dust from his sleeve.
"Thank you for your continued paranoia, Solomon, but this time I think that is all it is. Come. Let us go and see why Mr Chambers is suddenly so eager to be hasty.

A/N: Holey Molley. Some hiatus, huh? Essays, exams, various other stuff, and life in general have been getting in the way of this for far too long. I'm sorry to have kept you all waiting, everyone. I'd say it wouldn't happen again but I'd lay good money that it will. That's the bad news. The good news is that there is at least another chapter written and ready for posting and we are FINALLY getting to the bit were everything starts going to heck in a handcart, so expect a lot of fireworks to come!