THE WATERS OF LETHE
Disclaimer: I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile.
Author's note: post series semi drabbles. Some movie events may happen, but differently. This version is 52.1, a partial re-write because I was never completely happy with this chapter.
Warnings: possible movie spoilers. Has contained and will contain violence, bad language, death & mentions of sex.
Beta: none. Anyone want to take on the task of polishing this little "jewel"?
52. The Angelika
An ambulance was waiting at the airfield where the zeppelin landed just outside of Berlin, Germany. The unconscious Edward was brought out on a stretcher carried by two strong men who worked for the zeppelin company. The vehicle backed up as close as it could to the passenger debarkation area, and then two more men, dressed entirely in white clothing got out of its cab. One opened the large double doors on the back of the ambulance and the stretcher was placed inside, then the other man got in behind it and secured Edward. The man remaining outside shook the hands of the other two and thanked them before he slammed the rear doors shut, re-entered the ambulance cab and drove away.
/
Edward was running for his life through a blank yellow void which had no top or bottom, nor back nor front. No signposts for the human brain fix on. He couldn't exactly say just what he was running from, or for how long. But that is the way of nightmares; they only make sense to the subconscious.
He looked back over one shoulder, but the void stretched empty of threats. Maybe he'd outrun whatever unknown terror had pursued him. Edward turned his gaze back to the front a bit too late as he abruptly collided with something hard and unyielding. It knocked him backward about a foot and he landed with an ungraceful thump on his ass.
"NO! Oh, no, no, no!" The breath left his lungs when he saw the Gate looming over him. It stretched black and merciless as high as he could see the only solid thing in the yellow void. It stood solidly on the ground and hung in midair at the same time, and Edward scooted backwards on his rear as fast as he could. He tried to stand up and run again, but his knees had turned to water and he couldn't regain his feet. The Gate was quiet as if observing this foolish human and waiting.
As if some sort of decision had been made, the doors creaked open ponderously, with a terrible grating sound, like the screams of thousands of people in the most awful pain. At first, Edward saw only blackness, darkness too stygian to be normal; and then the eyes appeared and the whispering began. The voices were too low pitched for him to catch any words, but just the sibilance filled him with the upmost horror.
The black arms came whipping out of that darkness that was blacker than black. Edward cried out in fear and he redoubled his efforts to scramble away, but they were too fast and he was too slow. One arm after another wrapped around him until he was covered from neck to foot with writhing black tentacles. The arms gripped Edward in a crushing hold, and they started to drag him inside the Gate; he screamed and screamed, even after he disappeared into the darkness.
The doors of the Gate slowly creaked closed until only a sliver of blackness was left and they paused briefly and the echoes of faint screams were heard. Then, the doors slammed to with a terrible finality, like the closing of a sarcophagus lid.
/
Edward woke up screaming, bolting straight upright while the sound tore at the walls of his throat. His wide open yellow eyes stared straight ahead, his mind still half locked into the nightmare. Gradually, he got a hold of himself once he realized he was awake, Edward swallowed hard, feeling the sore tightness in his throat.
He swallowed again and panted with exertion, his mouth open and taking in great gulps of air. Sweat rolled off his face and he shivered when a drop traced down his spine. Edward swallowed again and he felt a dry tickle at the back of his throat that demanded a drink of water. His arms were trembling and he flopped back down, but regretted that action instantly because it felt like laying his head on a block of ice.
Gradually, Edward's pulse and respiration slowed their mad galloping and calmer now; he could take stock of his new surroundings. It was clear he'd arrived at his mysterious destination while still under the influence of the drug. It must have put him out for several hours because the light outside was weak, like a late fall afternoon.
He was in another, larger bedroom, a space that was clearly very old. The room was rectangular, the longer walls pierced by two windows, and a high ceiling was crisscrossed by huge oak beams darkened with age. The walls were painted in a pleasing warm yellow shade, like an explosion inside the sun. Directly opposite him was a large window, the sill stretching nearly to the floor, heavy curtains of a dark green damask framing a view of bare tree branches. It was storming outside and they whipped back and forth in a heavy wind while rain spattered against the glass every few seconds.
In the wall to Edward's immediate left was a large oak mantel under which a cheery fire crackled behind a black iron screen. The mantel was heavily carved with acorns and oak leaves, the wood shone as if recently polished. A half open wooden door was on the other side of the bedside table, and another door, closed, pierced the other short wall. The fire spat sparks when a gust of rainy wind came down the chimney and Edward shivered in response. This room was a very attractive chamber, but it was still a prison, this place was picked to store him until the Thule Society was ready to use him.
The furnishings correlated with the age of the room and appeared to be of the same vintage. A bedside table, a desk, dresser were all close to the bed, a full size one on tall legs, and an absolutely massive headboard. Next to the bed was a smaller, marble topped table which had a carafe of pink glass resting upon it. His throat tickled again, he was definately thirsty and he eyed the carafe, which appeared to be full. His mouth felt lined with cotton and he could just taste the delicious coldness. But he still hesitated. What if the water was also drugged?
He would just have to risk it and pushed back the bedcovers. Whoever had put him into bed had covered his body with at four thick wool blankets under a heavy quilt worked in yellow and green blocks. It looked quite cheery, but didn't quite fit his mood, which was far darker. Edward swiveled his hips and sat on the side of the bed, his legs dangling, almost, not quite touching the floor. He felt a brief flash of irritation at that knowledge, the last vestige of his old hair trigger sensitivity to comments about his height. After about a year in this world, Edward had undergone a growth spurt between the ages of seventeen and twenty-one; and he was now of roughly normal height.
Now he was out from under the blankets, Edward also felt definately chilled; he still wore the oversized pajamas his captor had dressed him in and drying sweat stuck them to his skin. His first impulse was to tear the sodden cotton off and just roll his naked body in the blankets, but the undermost one, plus the pillow were also damp and clammy. He reached over to pick up water glass turned upside down on top of the carafe, but his hand shook a little, and he guessed it was an after-effect of the drug.
Bile rose up in his throat when he recalled the calm ease by which his captor had kidnapped and drugged him. He set the glass down heavily on the marble before swallowing hastily and wiping his mouth with a pajama sleeve. Now, he really needed that drink of water and he reached out again to pick up the carafe. It was heavier than it looked and his whole arm shook with the effort of lifting it up, the water sloshed dangerously and most of what he tried to pour into the glass landed on the table top.
Edward set the carafe back down while making a sound of disgust deep in his throat; he gritted his teeth and reached out again, trying to stop the trembling. But it was all too much for him to take, a whimper broke from between his lips, and he threw himself back onto the bed. Edward rolled over and buried his face deep into his pillow before bursting into a storm of bitter tears. He wanted to be free, but despite all his efforts, seven years of running and hiding had only gotten him back where he'd started.
He was determined to escape this new prison, but just thinking about the effort required to scope out the lay of the land seemed like too much work. Edward was tired of always being on guard and looking over his shoulder, of being forced to flee just as he'd seemed to make a halfway comfortable life for himself. He hated always feeling so lonely and a sudden and unexpected wave of homesickness washed over and made him cry harder for a brief moment. He wanted to so much to return to Risembool, the village of his birth, and stand on Sentinel Hill, the high headland that overlooked the Rain River.
Edward could almost feel the warm wind blowing against his skin, and through his hair. If he ever found a way home to his world that would be the first thing he would do. Stand at the top of that hill and watch fat white clouds race through a blue summer sky, mimicking the sheep grazing in the fields far below...
His cries wore down to sobs eventually and he sniffed back a few tears, feeling drained, but also calmer. You'll feel better after a good cry was an Amestrian aphorism. He used to think it was pretty useless advice, but strangely enough, he did feel better. Maybe that's why Winry cried so much, although she'd once said she cried because he wouldn't and Al couldn't.
Al... His throat tightened up again as something vital clenched painfully in his chest. More than home, he missed his little brother so badly, and a few extra tears leaked from his eyes.
Yes, he felt calmer now, time to stop pitying himself. Clear thought was needed, but a wave of weariness pulled at his eyelids. He would rest his eyes for a while, and then pour himself a glass of water before looking around for any weak spots he could exploit to escape. He would just doze for a bit and rest his burning eyes...
Edward fell asleep without even realizing it.
/
It was dark outside when he woke up a second time. Edward blearily raised his head from the pillow, and tried to blink the room back into focus. They felt crusted with tears and sleep, and even his lips felt glued together; he must have drooled in his sleep again. Now he was sprawled on his back, someone had pulled the blankets and quilt up to his chin and neatly tucked his arms under the cocoon of warmth. The fire was crackling with fresh vigor as if it had been supplied with more wood. Now the fire was stirred up in a bigger blaze, he could feel the heat of it playing over his face.
Someone else was in the room with him. He heard footsteps, then one of the biggest men he'd ever seen moved into his field of view, pulling the window curtains across the rods and shutting out the cold German night. The newcomer was dressed in gleaming white clothes and was easily twice, almost three times as wide as Edward, but not from fat. This man looked quite fit, with shoulders so broad, he must be compelled to sidle through doorways. Long arms that bulged with muscles hung from those shoulders and one of his hands was about as wide as both of Edward's. He was as big as a wall and Edward felt sure the man could break him in half with contemptuous ease.
So, he is my jailer. They picked a most intimidating one then. Edward levered himself up on his elbows, narrowed his eyes and prepared to loathe the man.
Almost as if some sort of radar had alerted him, the big man turned abruptly, but gracefully. Edward blinked because he'd expected a blank face with mean little eyes under a unibrow. But the face presented was open and honest; his eyes were a warm, sparkling brown, although the look of guileless innocence was spoiled by a rather large nose. His lips curved upwards in a big smile when he noticed Edward glaring at him.
"Ah, Herr Elric! You're finally awake, and just in time for dinner too! You must be hungry by now, jah?" His voice was soft and friendly, but it made Edward bare his teeth in response. This was his jailer, he must hate him, hate him with every fiber of his being. Then his stomach growled, a long, plaintive gurgle of "feed me!"; causing the man to laugh, and Edward felt the distinct pop of a vein on his forehead.
"Come, Herr Elric, you smell like a pair of sweaty socks. I will give you a nice bath and then bring your supper."
He whipped the blankets off Edward with one large hand before he bent down and scooped up a very surprised blond like he weighed almost nothing. Edward scowled up into that friendly face; he could see the man had dark, perhaps black hair that was cropped so short his scalp could be seen.
"Put me down, I can walk, dammit!" Edward's protest came out in a fierce, throaty snarl. The smile on the man's face never wavered as he did so, but Edward's knees began to buckle the instant he put weight on his feet. He nearly landed in an ungraceful heap before he was picked up again.
"Oh, I am sorry for not introducing myself earlier. My name is Klaus, and I will be your nurse while you reside at the Angelika." Klaus kept up a running patter as he carried Edward into a room covered in gleaming white tiles banded by smaller black ones. He set Edward in a chair and turned around to fiddle with the drain plug of an enormous white claw-footed bathtub. The taps opened with faint squeaks and water gushed into the tub; steam began to rise from its depths.
"The Angelika?"
"Jah, this place is called the Angelika Convalescent and Nursing Home. It started as a convalescent hospital for wounded soldiers, but now we also give dignified housing to recovering patients, the elderly, and the terminally ill. Herr Doktor Stein is the director, and he - oh, Herr Elric, are you unwell?"
Edward's face must have paled several shades when he heard that name - "Herr Doktor Stein" - he was the man supposed to pick up Edward after his capture at the Vienna train station so many years ago.
His musings were roughly interrupted by Klaus who began unbuttoning Edward's pajama top and he stripped off the damp, uncomfortable and slightly stiff cloth with practiced ease. Edward found himself picked up again and smoothly slipped into the hot water with hardly a ripple. Klaus handed Edward a washcloth and a square cake of yellow soap. "Can you wash yourself, Herr Elric? I must go and strip the bed and make it up fresh."
Edward nodded once and Klaus turned neatly on one heel, the rubber soles of his shoes squeaking on the tile floor. Edward was left staring speculatively in silence for a moment. His earlier determination to hate his nurse now made him feel slightly ashamed of being such a churl. Klaus called him 'Herr Elric', not 'Shambalan'; apparently he was not in on the plot to use him to open the Gate. That was good, but he would somehow have to convince Klaus to help him escape without sounding crazy. Edward was more than certain Eckart had made some plausible sounding cock and bull story, he would have to be patient and find out the details somehow.
He got busy with the cloth and soap and had to admit getting clean felt good as he hadn't bathed since the day he'd been kidnapped right off the streets of Dublin. The once almost too hot water was now pleasantly warm, he could just lean back and fall asleep in this deep tub and soak for hours. His eye lids were drooping when Klaus came back into the bathroom. "Ah! Very good Herr Elric! I have some shampoo here and I will wash your hair, jah?"
/
Edward was sitting up in bed, clean and dry; he had on a fresh pair of cotton pajamas. On his lap was a small tray which held a large, steaming hot bowl of beef broth, accompanied by a tall, glass of foamy milk. This is my supper? He stared at the inoffensive items with disgust. He was HUNGRY and wanted something he could sink his teeth into and chew like his mind was chewing over what he'd learned from Klaus.
His "nurse" was insufferably chatty and he'd happily given every last scrap of information contained in his head. About the Angelika and its history, Dr. Stein, the number of staff, and the size of the grounds. But most important was the information there were no guards, no walls, or gates here. He could wander away at will if he liked, although Klaus did let slip - a bit too casually - "it is a long hike to Berlin".
Edward responded with a sheepish grin and he returned the innocent remark he might be interested in seeing a cabaret show at one of Berlin's more infamous nightclubs.
Klaus seemed to be content with that explanation - but there was something guarded in his innocuous expression - as if he almost, but not quite, believed Edward. For his part, Edward bent his head and applied himself to drinking his broth, as if he was the completely innocent lamb he pretended to be.
His spoon was scraping the bowl just as a soft knock sounded on the door. "Ah! It's is Herr Doktor Stein, he's come to see how you are settling in." Klaus bustled over to the far wall where he paused and then bowed slightly when the door popped open and Dr. Stein walked in.
"Guten dachs, Herr Doktor." Klaus greeted his employer with a warm, deferential tone of voice; he seemed to be truly fond of the man he worked for.
"Guten dachs, Klaus." replied in a soft, calm voice. This was a man who clearly didn't get excited over many things, like the arrival of a new patient.
He was a middle aged man of roughly average height with a trim build. His brown hair was cropped short, although the cut wasn't as short as Klaus's. Silver hairs spread across his temples and more were sprinkled throughout the neatly trimmed goatee on his chin. He wore a plain dark blue three piece suit of good quality wool. The only colors were a thin silver watch chin across his flat abdomen, and a defiantly red tie that bisected a cream colored dress shirt.
His eyes were gray, a soft sort of gray which gazed on Edward with something like concern when he came to the side of the bed. When Dr. Stein smiled abruptly, the creases around those eyes deepened and they glowed with a benevolent light. Edward decided Dr. Stein wasn't part of the Thule Society either; it might be possible to make him an ally of him too.
Edward couldn't help but smile back; perhaps he could turn this situation to his advantage. The older man must have misinterpreted Edward's expression as mere friendliness, for his words were without guile: "Gutens dachs, Herr Elric. I am Dr. Theophilus Stein, director of the Angelika Convalescent and Nursing Home. I understand you have been sickly for a long time, but I shall make you well again."
