A/N: As I said at the end of the last chapter, graphic content ahead. I did tweak my description a bit in order to still fit it under a 'T' rating.
This chapter was extremely difficult for me to write. I invented the theoretical scenario purely for this story and even that was difficult for me as I am not the type to think about situations like these (which I pray this does not exist in actuality). This will be the worst chapter in this story.
So anyways: apologies. No author's note at the bottom, as I feel it would take away from the chapter's end (which I hope isn't cheesy….) A big thank you to Rookie Bee, Brenne, waddiwasiwitch, and Victorious-Mind for the reviews for last chapter. Classes have been crazy and I have neglected to reply, but I truly appreciate each and every review, favorite, and follow!
See you for Chapter 26. It's status will be updated on my page as I write it.
A sense of boredom overcame Nikolas as he leaned back in his chair, tipping it back to balance on its two back legs. Reaching over, he grabbed an empty can that had been left on the table and began to toss it up and down, up and down, up and down.
Behind him he could hear Giordani hard at work; pulling, shaping, and kneading the metal in his hands over the open fire, working it into its desired shape. After spending nearly three months with the man, Nikolas knew what the behemoth was capable of creating, and this would surely not disappoint.
"Hey, what do you think I should ask her today," Nikolas asked as he tossed the can in the air. "I was thinking that I'd ask her about flame alchemy again. That always seems to get her riled up."
Giordani grunted thoughtfully, but said nothing else as he continued to shape the malleable metal in his gloved hands. He was never one for words, but Nikolas never complained. Sometimes silence was the best noise.
Hearing the sound of boots scuffing against the dirty cement flooring, he lazily caught the can after he tossed it up one more time. Rotating his head slightly, he narrowed his eyes in an attempt to make out the face of the person that had entered. Despite the meager amount of light the fire radiated, he could just about make out the face of Thomas Wilson, one of their other "brothers." Trying his best not to scowl at the man, Nikolas nodded in greeting toward him. It wasn't that he didn't like the man… He just couldn't stand his existence.
In turn, Wilson nodded sharply back before strolling over to the table and taking the seat next to Nikolas. Leaning his elbows on the decaying wooden table and folding his hands together, Wilson inquired, "So what are you guys up to in here?"
"Working on a little… pet project," Nikolas retorted with a smirk. "Boss gave us orders to try something new. Said those Amestrian dogs are still chasing their tails, so he gave us the go ahead."
Wilson furrowed his brows and asked, "What is it exactly?"
Already feeling a surge of displeasure at the man's incompetence, Nikolas simply replied, "Something called the 'Silver Viper.'" When Wilson responded with a small 'oh,' Nikolas turned to look over his shoulder and called out, "Isn't that right, Giordani?"
The massive man grunted in reply and nodded his head, keeping his eyes down on the object in his gloved hand.
"What exactly are you going to do," Wilson asked with piqued interest as his eyes wandered over to Giordani.
Pushing back the annoyance that pooled in his cut, Nikolas decided that instead of outright telling the man, he'd pick at his brain, actually get him to think for once. "Tell me… How do you down a hawk?"
Puzzled as to where this was going, the man said, "I don't… I don't think I understand."
Raising his brows, Nikolas continued to rock back and forth on his chair, a smirk beginning to form on his face. "… You heard me."
When the man still couldn't get the notion through his thick skull, Nikolas sighed and craned his neck around in order to address Giordani. "You know, don't you?" When the giant grunted back, he asked again with a sneer, "How do you down a hawk?"
He watched as the mammoth man lifted the long, barbed rod up above his head, allowing the light to reflect off and capture its every detail. After admiring it for a while, his shoulders shook, as if he were chuckling. "Simple..." He finally rumbled, "You clip 'er wings."
The corners of Nikolas's lips twitched upward as she watched him, trying to figure out what he was up to. But she would never guess; the mask he wore both figuratively and literally was too concealing… Finally, he sauntered forward and stuck his hands into his pockets. Bending over so that his face was nearly a foot from hers, he quipped, "I want to play another game of questions and answers, Lieutenant. Care to join me?"
She narrowed her eyes in spite, but said nothing. Still defiant as ever…
"We're even going to put a little spin on it; to make it more interesting," he added, hoping to spark a horrified curiosity in her eyes, which he had found was incredibly difficult these days. Along with her body, her hope was dying. He could see it in those dimmed, almost lifeless brown eyes of hers.
Again she was silent, either too uncaring or too worn to speak; he honestly couldn't tell which.
"You're going to tell me all the secrets of flame alchemy," he said matter-of-factly as he raised his brows at her.
Lifting her head to glare at him, she wheezed, "You'd have to… kill me first…"
"Don't get your hopes up," he said pointedly, unimpressed that she wasn't playing along. Oh well. It only meant that they'd be getting started sooner. When she failed to reply to that, he strolled over to the still smoldering remnants of the fire and slipped on a pair of gloves. After lifting and examining it for the first time, he couldn't help but gawk at it and admire the craftsmanship.
It was just as he had described. About a 5 cenz coin in diameter, approximately sixteen inches long… And covered in thickened, pointed barbs.
Just as he'd ordered.
Whirling back around, he held the rod up for her to see. "See this," he asked.
She blinked wearily in reply, but finally moved her head up and down.
"I'm going to use this to get you to talk." Nodding toward Wilson and Giordani, he watched as they stepped toward. Giordani placed his massive hands on her shoulders, pinning her down in the chair. Once he had, Wilson moved ahead and grabbed her left arm and lifted it up. He saw her try to pull it away; failing, of course.
Stepping forward, he snatched her wrist from Wilson's hand and gripped it tightly, causing her to wince. He lifted the object in his hand and pressed the still searing hot, pointed tip against the palm of her hand. When she tried to jerk away from her contact with it, he tensed the muscles in his arm, preventing her from doing so.
When she looked at it with widened, panicked eyes, he coolly asked, "What is the secret of flame alchemy?"
And yet, even though she had registered what he was about to do, she still defied him, remaining vastly, and disgustingly, loyal to her General. Calling forth what little strength that remained, she lifted her eyes to him and whispered, "No."
"…Very well then." Without another word, he tightened his grip on her wrist and steadied the pointed object in his other hand.
Then he thrust it forward.
He was not too familiar with the human anatomy, but he knew enough to know that there were some… obstacles that would have to be overcome.
First is the wrist; chocked full of small, oddly shaped bones. And those, he knew, were surrounded in a compact network of tendons and ligaments. Twisting and plunging the spear at the same time, he heard an effectively loud tearing sound, confirming that with minimal effort, he had succeeded in ripping through her frail wrist's complex structure.
He paused for a moment to let her catch her breath in between her screams of agony.
Next there would be the area where the two bones in her forearm met her wrist. Simple enough…
Another wail of pain abruptly followed after another shove of the barbed rod.
Then the atrophied and softened muscles of her arm. Easy... Tugging back on the rod slightly, he felt the barbs catch on her ripped and torn muscles before plunging it in further.
He continued on, relishing the sound of her vociferous screams until…
She suddenly grew quiet, her entire arm and the fingers on her hand becoming limp as her head sagged forward and her chin came to rest on her chest.
Looking up, he realized that the tool had erupted at the other end of her forearm, dislocating her elbow. Frowning slightly, he gave it a small tug. The barbs caught on the torn tissue and flesh and became taut. To that action, her body responded by shuddering involuntarily; otherwise, she did not stir.
Letting go of her wrist, he watched as her dead weight of her arm swung down and knocked against the chair, then slow as it swayed limply at her side.
Raising his eyes to meet Giordani's, he nodded gravely.
The man shook his head sharply in reply and released his hold on her.
Without any support to hold her up, the Lieutenant teetered upright for a moment before collapsing to the ground, the metal tool lodged in her arm clanging loudly as it made contact with the cement.
Nikolas casually took a step forward and stooped down, pressing his cold and callous fingers against her neck. After a few moments he felt the vein quivering faintly beneath them as her body tried desperately to make sense of what was going on.
With a frustrated growl, he rose to his feet and addressed the other men in the room. "I fear she might go into shock," he explained with relative indifference. "Could you go into town and get some medical supplies?"
The men nodded in silent compliance and trudged out of the room.
When they were gone he crouched down once more and checked her pulse again. It was fluttering and erratic, but still there nonetheless. As he sat back, something suddenly dawned on him.
In the heat of it all he had forgotten to continue to demand the secrets of flame alchemy. With a mild shrug he let it slide.
Honestly, he could care less about the subject.
When the men finally returned they brought with them another individual, whose face was concealed by a pillow cover. The unknown stood on trembling legs, silent sobs escaping from beneath the cover they had been forced to wear.
Crossing his arms impatiently across his chest, Nikolas raised his hands and showed his palms, signaling to them to hurry up.
Hauling the individual over to him, one of the men pulled off the mask, revealing a terrified and hysterical young woman.
The instant it was off her face, she began to panickedly look around as her breaths hitched, bringing her even closer to the point of madness. When her eyes finally landed on his masked visage, she cried out and tried to backpedal, running into a looming Giordani.
Unfazed by her display of hysteria, Nikolas raised a brow and folded his arms patiently. When she had calmed enough, he said, "Thank you so much for coming out here on such short notice, Miss…?"
She continued to sob, ignoring his question entirely. With a frustrated growl, his patience running thin, he asked again, "Miss…?"
"Turner," the woman finally choked out, "Ma-Marie T-Turner…"
"Well thank you for joining us, Miss Turner," Nikolas replied haughtily. Taking a step to the side, he gestured to the motionless Lieutenant. "See that over there?"
When the woman's eyes wandered over to where he was pointing, she let out an audible gasp, her eyes widening in horror.
"Your job is to patch her up enough to keep her alive," he explained calmly as the woman, overcome with compassion and shock, rushed forward and dropped to her knees at the Lieutenant's side. After the woman had begun to gently prod the unconscious woman, he asked coolly, "Think you can do it?"
"This woman needs to go to a hospital," the woman hissed as more tears began to prick at the corners of her eyes.
"That's not an option," Nikolas responded hardly. "You'll have to do." He couldn't help but watch as the woman struggled with the cruel notion, then smirk as she looked back up at and glared at him in complete and utter dismay as she realized that he would not budge on the matter.
After taking a few moments to collect herself, she uttered back, "I'll… I'll do it."
"This is that Lieutenant that went missing a few months ago, isn't it," the woman asked as she gently inserted a needle into Hawkeye's arm.
Nikolas watched her for a few moments, silently studying and noting what she was doing; after all, he would be the one taking over the task afterwards. He was reluctant to tell her, though it quickly passed as he reminded himself that she would not be leaving there alive. Finally, he replied bluntly, "Yes."
"I really shouldn't be the one doing this," Marie Turner responded bitterly. "This woman needs to go to a hospital. Her temperature's spiking, her convulsions too frequent-"
"I told you that isn't-"
"And those idiots that took me didn't have the mental capacity to grab any decent pain medications," she hissed as she cut him off. "They grabbed oral tablets. Judging by her dangerously low weight, I doubt you've been giving her food properly. And you know just as well as I that she won't take them…" He watched as she fell silent and grabbed the IV bag and line she had been supplied by them. "At least they were smart enough to grab intravenous fluids and antibiotics. Those I can work with," she added harshly as she uncapped another needle and fed it through the drug's cap. When she withdrew the proper amount, she recapped the needle and worked on connecting the IV line and bag to the catheter she had placed in the Lieutenant's arm.
He watched as she connected the bag and inserted the needle into the line, administering the antibiotics she had drawn up. When the last of it had been given, she immediately focused her attention back on the Lieutenant's left arm, taking care not to touch it. With a disgusted huff, the woman finally said, "It seems that the tissue has already begun to die," as she pointed to the Lieutenant's darkened, purple fingertips. "It won't be long before her body begins to reject it. Then there's always the possibility of an infection, which I'm confident, will occur…" She trailed off, losing herself in deep concentration.
Finally, she made a decision. Taking the medical tape and wrap the men had also taken from the hospital, she began to unwind it. When she had taken enough, she ripped it from the rest of the gauze with her teeth. Leaning over and resting her hand gently against the Lieutenant's cheek, she wistfully murmured, "Hi sweetheart… There's something I need to do; something that will help you. I know it's going to hurt, but from what I've heard you're very strong…
"I'm going to tie this tightly around your arm and it's going stop the infection..." She waited for a moment; Nikolas saw that she knew she would not get a response. The Lieutenant had hardly stirred or moved since he had finished his brief "interrogation" twelve hours ago, lying motionlessly the entire time. He watched as the nurse lifted her arm, soliciting a pathetic, muted whimper from the otherwise unresponsive Lieutenant, and slid the makeshift tourniquet just above her elbow.
As she tightened it, she murmured, "I know it hurts, sweetie; I know… But… Just stay strong."
Nikolas watched as she again reached up and pressed her hand against the Lieutenant's cheek in a comforting gesture. He rolled his eyes and scoffed crudely, irked by the woman's compassion. When she turned to glare at him, he pressed, "Are you done yet?"
The woman paused, letting her eyes wander back down toward the Lieutenant. After examining her for a few more moments, she murmured, "You're going to kill me, aren't you," as she turned her shimmering gaze back to look him in the eyes.
He raised his brows knowingly in response.
Trying her best to keep her composure, the woman sniveled, "Make sure you k-keep retying the tourniquet every couple o-of hours… S-she needs eight m-milliliters of this ev-every six… six hours." When he took a step toward her, she quickly bent over and whispered something in the Lieutenant's ear. As he got to her side, she shakingly stood on her own and kept her eyes on the ground.
When he grabbed at her wrist, she pulled it away and planted her arms firmly at her side. Shrugging agitatedly, he growled, "This way," as he turned on his heels. After walking a few steps, he was surprised to hear that she had indeed decided to willingly follow. Leading her out, he took her to a smaller, more confined room. Just as he was about to turn and address her, she walked past him and stood a few feet in front of him, clasping her quivering hands in front of her.
He looked up and down her trembling form as he pulled the revolver from his holster, casually dispensing a single bullet into the rotating chamber. Curiosity got the better of him at that point, however.
"What did you tell her," he asked blatantly as he closed the chamber.
At the sound of the metal snapping shut, she fidgeted and clenched her hands together tighter as they became white. After taking a deep and shaking breath, her reddened, tearful eyes rose to meet his, and she said:
"I… I told her to fight."
Roy did not remember much after that point.
He could recall fragments of cruel, depraved laughter.
Remembered staggering out of the room and trying, but failing, at finding a wall for support.
He remembered spilling the contents of him stomach onto the floor over and over again until he no longer had anything left, ultimately resorting to dry heaving.
He vaguely recalled Dr. Marcoh's concerned face in his field of vision.
But he did not remember what had happened next.
Did not remember leaving.
Not recalling driving home.
Could barely remember stumbling out of the car as he arrived at Dr. Knox's house.
But suddenly everything began to play in real time again.
In a matter of moments he was in the house, making his way past a baffled Dr. Knox. Rushing by a distressed Alphonse Elric. And brushing past a concerned and wide-eyed Edward Elric.
For a moment, their two gazes locked.
He could tell by Edward's shocked expression, his raised brows and his mouth agape, that the boy had a general idea of what was running through his mind. And after he had passed him, he could feel the blond's eyes on his back.
He skipped every second step as he dashed up the stairs and to the bedroom at the end of the hallway. When he flew into the room, everything came crashing back to him at once.
The images and pictures that man had painted with his words.
The absolute devastation he felt as those words had sunken in and taken hold of his mind.
The sudden and abrupt realization of exactly how close he was to losing her.
And there she was, propped upright by a mountain of pillows, eyeing him with concern.
In all of her radiance. Her splendor. Her beauty.
Everything that was Riza Hawkeye was there in front of him.
He had known this and so much more before now, but when he heard those words and stories woven, he realized that he had taken her for granted.
He had thought that countless times while she served under him. After the Promised Day… When he first lost her… When they found her… When he nearly lost her again.
All of those times he had chastised himself for previously taking everything that was her for granted.
And now here he was thinking that again.
But this time it would be different.
He had said it in his mind over and over again before, but never spoke it out loud, always knowing that the mutual feeling was there.
But now he needed to form something tangible with his words, because it suddenly struck him that he may never have another chance. She may be here now, but she or he could be gone the next.
He would not let that moment pass again.
It took all of three steps for him the cross the room to be at her side. As she pushed herself upright to greet him, her brows knitted with concern, he sat down on the edge of her bed and guided her into his embrace.
He could hear her saying his name over and over again in an attempt to get him to explain his emotional state.
It was not something to be explained, as she already knew it. Rather, it was something he needed to say in just three short words.
Because how would he know what the future holds?
He had let it pass too many times and he would not let it pass again…
Taking a deep breath, he finally said those three simple words.
And when he did, he poured everything he felt into them. Pain, elation, sadness, comfort: all of it and everything.
Because he did not know what the future held, and he would not make the same mistake again.
He felt her grip on him grow tighter as she buried her head into his shoulder.
He had done it… Spoken those three pure words so that the opportunity would never pass again.
"I love you."