I am (attempting) (badly) to work on HOTP for Camp Nanowrimo! So the next chapter probably won't be super duper long in coming. Which is good.
Translation: "I am the messenger of rage, of judgment, of Ishvala". It's probably REALLY BAD and if anybody can correct it for me I would be ETERNALLY GRATEFUL. -needs to learn Arabic-
Trigger warning: majorly squicky gore, body horror, violence, sex/sexuality, casual ableist language, implied child abuse/trauma.
Lyrics by Metallica.
~28~
Hush little baby, don't say a word
And never mind that noise you heard
It's just the beast under your bed
In your closet
In your head
-Enter Sandman
There was something in his eyes. Something bright. He opened one eye carefully, then groaned and pulled the blankets over his head, trying to remember what had possessed him to leave the blinds open.
"Finally, you're awake."
Will tried to grumble something that was supposed to be, "Quiet, Alex."
"It's late. Don't grump at me."
"Don't wanna be awake." He made a small hole in his cocoon and glared at Alex, who was sitting in his usual place next to the lamp.
"You have to report in today. Remember? Your job?"
Will made another face at Alex, then reached out and poked Alex's stomach, the force making Alex fall into a sitting position. "Click click."
"...Click click?"
"Turning off my alarm."
"Oh, hilarious."
Will groaned and sat up, pulling a few wild strands of hair out of his face. "I'm on bed rest or something, right?"
"Nope."
He let out another unintelligible grunt, then with a defeated sigh, rolled over and out of the bed onto the floor with a 'thunk'.
"Oh come on!"
"Nnnrr." Will rolled onto his side, sticking out his tongue in Alex's general direction. "But we have a nice floor."
"It's barracks. I wouldn't stick your face in it - god knows the last time it was cleaned."
"I like this floor. I'm staying here."
There was another frustrated sigh from Alex, and a second later, he appeared in front of Will's face, hitting the floor with a slightly less impressive 'click'.
"I thought I told you to stop doing that," murmured Will, blinking a little.
"Well, you never do what I tell you."
"But I'm the big brother, it's my job."
Alex snorted. "Well, right now your job is to get up and make yourself some coffee so you're not a total robot for the rest of the day."
Will grumbled a concession, managing to lever himself somewhat upright, wincing a little. His automail ports were sensitive – that usually meant there was going to be a rainstorm – and the bandages around his flesh limbs were aching as well. "Remind me to change these tonight," he murmured crankily, before finally managing to get himself upright. "Ok, I'm up, I'm getting dressed."
"And I suppose you're wearing the same clothes again."
"Yup!"
"Will, you have to promise to wash them tonight."
Will pulled a face, tugging his skort on underneath the shirt he'd slept in. "Yeah, yeah, fine." He pulled the shirt over his head, then blew his hair out of his face. "Where would I be without you?"
"Living in a pigsty." Alex clambered up onto the bed, then jumped onto Will's automail, climbing up into his little space behind Will's hair. "Now come on, we're wasting daylight."
"Why are you a morning person again?" Will groaned, adjusted his top and headed for the door. He opened it -
"Good morning, sir!"
Will sprang backwards, ducking into position. Then his mind finished processing. He sighed, rubbing his temple. "...Good morning, Davidson."
Chamond poked his head around the doorframe, then snorted. "You forgot we were here, didn't you?"
"I'll take none of that backtalk from you, soldier!"
"Yes, sir," Chamond replied in a resigned tone, although Will could see a sparkle in the soldier's eyes. "So what now?"
"Well, I'm supposed to report back in to the Colonel. But instead, I'm buying you breakfast."
Chamond and Davidson looked at each other, then back at Will.
"Can we get croissants?"
"You idiot."
OoOoOoOoOoOo
"Jareth, you're not paying attention."
"I'm paying plenty of attention," he murmured.
Diana snickered, face still in her closet. "I know my butt is mesmerizing, but this is serious."
"You have a grand total of three dresses. I don't know why this is such a meaningful decision."
"Because," Diana grunted as she yanked a shoe off the top shelf, then sighed as she reached back in to find the matching one. "this is the Fuhrer."
"I know you want to get back to Central and all, but aren't you getting a little..." Jareth searched for the word, then gave up, slumping back on the pillows and folding his arms behind his head. "I mean, I have no problems with illicit lunch-break sex, but it's a little risky, don't you think?"
"Life is risky. It's also short." Diana pulled out another dress. "...That being said, you should probably head back before anybody comes looking for you."
"If they find me I'll just say I'm being a faithful, caring lieutenant."
Diana snorted. "Well, faithful lieutenant should probably put on a shirt."
He grinned and shrugged his black tank top over his shoulders, keeping his eyes on Diana. Then, after a moment of watching her, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "...It's still bothering you, huh?"
"Don't know what you're talking about," she mumbled.
Jareth got to his feet and wrapped his arm around her waist, burying his face in her neck. "It wasn't your fault."
"Yeah, well..." she mumbled. "Maes was right. I should have said no."
"Mustang's a dick. He probably would have made it a direct order."
"Well, I'm going on a date with him." She sighed. "Hooray."
He reached out and pointed at one of the dresses. "You should wear that one. And the heels."
"Jareth, that dress has been around the whole damn country."
"And yet you still look amazing in it." He kissed her cheek. "Lunch break is almost over. You should put your uniform back on."
"I hate that thing. So much." She sighed and pulled Jareth's arms away, kicking the blue trousers into the air and catching them. "Who designed this?"
"Certainly not me. Too many twiddly bits."
Diana sat back down on her bed, rubbing the fabric of her uniform between her fingers. "...I told Maes I'd request a transfer for Fullmetal. What do you think?"
Jareth sat down next to her, thinking it through. It had been a while since he'd seen her so distressed. "Look, I – I know it's getting to you -"
"You don't get it, Jareth. I was angry. I snapped because I was angry. That's..." She tugged at her hair in frustration. "I promised! I fucking promised -"
"Hey. Hey, hey. Look at me." Jareth took her hands – she'd already pulled her gloves on, but he could feel the calluses on her fingers through the thin material – and held them as tightly as he dared. "This is different. Okay?"
Diana chewed on her lip thoughtfully. "...I suppose."
"Besides, Will's fine. Little bastard was sassing out the nurses."
She snickered at that. "Alright, pass me my shirt."
"Can I get another kiss first?"
"Oh, you -"
Predictably, they were late back to work anyway.
OoOoOoOoOoOo
" - so then I just gave them the deed. The asshole looked ready to throw a fit when they kicked him out!"
"And you didn't get in trouble?"
"For what?" asked Will innocently, and then cackled at the look on Chamond's face. "Has anybody ever told you you're way too much of a stick-in-the-mud?"
"I have!" offered Davidson helpfully. Will reached over and patted him on the head absentmindedly.
"Fullmetal, sir," asked Chamond with an undertone of frustration, "where are we going? You've gone to three libraries today, flipped through several dozen books and then left again. Are you actually doing anything?"
Will laughed nervously. "Uhm..."
Chamond sighed. "Are you avoiding the Colonel?"
"No comment," he mumbled, ignoring the way Alex very, very pointedly cleared his throat.
Chamond stuck another toothpick in his mouth, eyeing Will with a look he wasn't quite sure he liked. "Ya know, you might be a talented alchemist, but you are a shitty soldier."
"Like that's news." Will started to walk off again, but Chamond grabbed his collar.
"Not happening. Our job is to protect you, and I'm making the call that that includes not wandering aimlessly around the city looking like a walking target."
"How am I a walking target?!"
"How are you not a walking target?" Chamond adjusted his holster. "Come on, let's get you back to Eastern Command – Davidson!"
"What?" Davidson snapped back to attention, yanking his eyes away from a display of flowers.
Chamond groaned. "...Flowers, Officer?"
"I was just looking!"
"Well, we're moving."
Will was about to complain, but Alex stopped him, yanking on his earlobe. "They're right, you know. And you really do need to see the Colonel."
"Yeah," he murmured back, "but that doesn't mean I need to be eager about it -" He stopped. Something had moved in the corner of his eye. The back of his neck prickled. "Chamond."
"Sir?"
Will glanced behind him. He didn't see anything, but that meant fuck-all on this street – there were dozens of alleys and smaller streets branching off from it. He lowered his voice so that only the two bodyguards could hear, pulling Davidson in a little closer. "...I think we might be being followed."
"Followed?"
Chamond looked at him warily. "Is this like that time you dodged us because you thought we were following you?"
"Technically, you were. Just...keep an eye out, alright? And stop looking at flowers."
Chamond seemed ready to say something else, but instead, he nodded, discreetly unholstering his pistol and holding it against his thigh as they moved along the street. "We can try to lose them in the smaller streets."
"Think it's worth the risk?"
"Worst comes to worst, at least we'll be putting fewer people in danger."
Will blinked, then inclined his head. He hadn't expected that from Chamond. "I don't spend enough time here. What's the best way to go?"
Davidson answered this time. "Two streets up, swing left." At Will's look, he flushed and grinned sheepishly. "I live down this way."
"That's a plus." Again, Will felt the sensation down his spine, the feeling of being watched. Just...take a breath. Sometimes you just...get freaked out, is all. They turned on to one of the smaller streets, and Will swallowed, trying not to break into a run. He reached up to his shoulder, and when Alex grasped his finger, he felt a little better.
Still, it couldn't hurt to check, one more time. He turned his head, and saw nothing but another empty alleyway -
- and suddenly the world caved in.
OoOoOoOoOoOo
"Diana! You look gorgeous," exclaimed Mustang the moment she opened the door. Then, after a moment of processing, he gave her a slightly less impressed look. "...And taller than usual."
She couldn't help but smile, walking outside and closing the door behind her. "I wore the heels just for you."
"Cruel and heartless. Now I remember why I like you so much."
"You needed reminding?" She stood up a little straighter. She was enjoying this part of things possibly a little too much – for all the authority and power he possessed, the Fuhrer only came up to her chest.
"Don't sass me, young lady." He cleared his throat and offered his arm. "The car is waiting. Do you like Maybelle's?"
She smiled. "I can't say I've ever been."
"Me neither! First thing on the list, a toast to the spirit of adventure."
Diana smiled, tugging up on her glove. They were long black ones this time, reaching up past her elbow. Mustang noticed the gesture, raising an eyebrow at her. "How many pairs is that?"
"As many as I need."
"Mm. So where are the arrays on this one?" He grinned as he opened the car door, and Diana eased herself in, wincing as she hit some of her bruises from the fight.
"A lady doesn't reveal all her secrets on the first date, sir."
"Oh, drop the sir. I'm calling you Diana, aren't I?" He slid in beside her, and tapped the glass in front of them. The car jolted into motion. "Go ahead and call me Roy. I promise nobody is going to shoot you for it."
"You promise, do you?"
Roy pulled a hurt face. "You don't believe me. How insulting. Is this why it took three tries to get you to go out with me?"
"You'd have better luck if you stopped asking out women half your age."
"Oh, and now you force me to face cold, hard reality! Your barbs wound me."
OoOoOoOoOoOo
Will opened his eyes. A second later, he closed them again, rubbing furiously at the dust that was still settling. "Ugh. Fuck." Something had hit him – he wasn't sure what.
After a moment, he tried again, looking out at the pavement from a decidedly crooked angle. Then he levered himself up onto his feet, feeling a very ominous click from his automail leg. It was responding slowly, too – Selim was gonna kill him.
"Alex?" he murmured hopefully. There was no response, and he reached up to his shoulder. Nothing. "Alex..." he whispered again, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. He's probably fine. The... whatever-it-was probably just knocked him loose.
Whatever it had been had taken down a whole wall from the looks of it. "Davidson? Chamond? Are you there?" No response from them, either. He wasn't getting a good feeling about any of this.
There was the sound of footsteps behind him. Not even waiting to check who it was, Will dropped back down onto one knee, clapping his hands together and pulling a spear of stone out of the cobbled ground, spinning around to aim it at whoever was approaching.
The man behind him stopped, the point of the spear an inch from his chest. "The Fullmetal Alchemist."
Will gulped, but met his steady gaze with a sarcastic look. "You looking for me or something?"
The man inclined his head, almost a nod. He was tall, with white hair and a vivid scar crossing his face beneath his glasses. "For a long time."
"...What do you want?"
The man clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth. Then, his hand shot out, grabbing the shaft of the spear. "Everything you took." It bent, groaned and snapped beneath his fingers.
"I... I..." Will stammered, trying to respond – then ducked as the man swung at him, still holding the spear-point. "I don't know you!" He couldn't find Alex – where was Alex -
Will braced himself on the ground and kicked at the stranger's ankle... and it barely moved. "Fuck," he had time to mutter before he had to roll out of the way of another punch. "What is your fuckin' deal?" he yelled, praying mentally that his leg would hold up. And then he saw the ground where the punch had landed, the stones split and broken... "What the hell are you?"
The man turned and looked at him, snarling. "Ana rasulu qiyamah, ghadab, Ishvala."
"I – I can't – I don't – oh, screw this -" Will waited for the stranger to lunge at him again. He stepped to the side, and swung his fists into the side of his head. "Fuck you, treetrunk, I have shit to do!"
The man's head collided with the wall, and he collapsed onto one knee. Will was somewhat disappointed and more than a little intimidated – he'd expected him to conk out completely. No such luck. Will backed away, and felt something trickle down his cheek. He wiped his face, then glared at the red stain on his hand.
He almost turned and ran towards the now-clear opening of the alleyway – but Alex was still somewhere in the mess of rubble. "Now would be a really good time to transmute something," he called out, clapping his hands and transmuting his automail as the man got to his feet again, turning to face him. The glasses had snapped in two, and now Will could see the extent of the scar – it crossed over both eyelids, angry and puckered and raw.
Then he looked up at Will. His eyes were a brilliant red. Will took an involuntary step back, glancing at the pile of rubble again – if Alex hadn't responded by now, something had to be wrong -
"You won't escape me," he growled. "No one has."
Will's blood ran cold. Can't be him. Not already – not all the way from Central -
"Get down!" Will obeyed the command instantly, collapsing on the ground. The man reached for him, almost as if he hadn't heard – and a shot rang out, ripping through his head. The red eyes disappeared in a fountain of blood. Another shot. His stomach. Another shot. His leg.
Will held his breath until the teetering corpse fell, spattering him with gore. Then, after he'd caught his breath, he turned to look at who had saved him.
Chamond gave him a brisk nod – and from Chamond's shoulder, Alex waved at him. The adrenaline left his system in a rush, and he wiped some more of the blood off his face, pulling himself up on the jagged brick of the wall that was still standing. "...Thanks." He didn't want to think about the fact that Alex had revealed himself to someone – it had probably saved both their lives.
"Just my job, sir."
Will gave him a wry look at that. "See what happens when I buy breakfast for people, Alex?" he laughed, although he could hear how strained it was. He picked up Alex and placed him securely on his shoulder again, brushing what looked suspiciously like sawdust out of the yarn on his head. "What happened to you?"
"Got snapped in half by a brick," muttered Alex quietly.
"What?"
"Hey, you were the one who had some muscly freak beating you up! I get broken all the time, you can relax."
"Well, what if your blood seal gets damaged?" Will poked the top of Alex's head. "Take better care of yourself -"
"Oh my god this is coming from you – and what did you do to your leg -"
"Sir!" interrupted Chamond, a note of fright in his voice. His gun was up again. "He's not down!"
Will's head snapped up. The corpse they'd left in the street – the body with a shot through its brain – was moving. "What -?" was all he managed to get out, as the man who had attacked him slowly rose to his feet and faced them again. The bullet had ripped away half of his face – but there was something flickering around the exposed flesh of his brain, the skin hanging down over his cheek, the fragments of bone visible through the pulp. Red sparks. And as they watched, the red eyes reappeared, still bright with some unknown hatred, staring them down as the rest of his wound healed itself, bones and muscles and skin knitting themselves back together.
None of them moved. The gruesome display held them with a mix of fear, fascination and disgust, and Will wondered with a strange calmness when he was going to wake up. Nobody could have survived that wound. Therefore, nobody is there, the capricious part of his mind tried to tell him, but he ignored it, forced himself to focus.
The man – the creature – straightened up, the bullet wounds in his leg and stomach disappearing. But he stumbled, hesitated – and threw an arm over his stomach. There were bandages there, stained red by the injury that was no longer there (it shouldn't have fazed Will as much as it did, unreality was part of his life but this was unreality that was here and real and impossible but it was happening). They looped up, over his chest, wound so tight that they almost looked like a shirt. And something was straining at them.
The creature stared straight at Will, lips pale. "I gave you the opportunity to die quickly, alchemist," he spat, but his eyes had lost some of their hard anger. Instead, he looked afraid.
The bandages began to tear.
