Author's Note:
This chapter picks up immediately where the previous one left off. Chapter 12 and Chapter 13 were originally planned to be a single chapter, so apologies if the pacing is a bit slow.
Reed was going to pass out.
His arms hung weak and useless at his sides, his ears ringing with white noise. It took all his energy just to keep his legs moving. Dread instantly gripped him like a vice. He couldn't lose his composure in the middle of the town square. He increased his pace, trying to make it to the relative safety of a side alley. The action caused his head to spin, his vision swimming before him. For one terrifying moment he feared his legs would give out and he'd go tumbling against the cobblestone path.
He pressed his hand firmly to his chest, a vain attempt to ground himself.
Somehow, he was able to stumble those last few steps into the alley.
He collapsed against the stone wall. His shoulder was leaning heavily against the cold bricks and knees were threatening to buckle beneath him. He had the overwhelming desire to lay his body on the dusty floor.
'It's just a little rest'
'Doesn't that sound nice?'
Reed gritted his teeth and forced himself to stay upright. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his head against the wall; the stone cool and refreshing beneath his skin. He curled his fingers under his sleeve to rub his bracelet, trying to console himself.
He hated being like this.
This wasn't the first dizzy spell he's had and he doubted it would be the last. It was another symptom of his rapid physical and psychological decline.
It had started as little things. A nightmare here. A headache there. Hardly anything noteworthy. But as the days grew, so did the symptoms. An hour of restless sleep became two, then four, and then a whole night.
He went through the day like a marionette puppet with twisted strings. Haphazard actions, volatile, and lacking all the direction and meaning.
When it became clear that he wasn't getting any better, that the bags under his eyes were there to stay, he started to isolate himself as much as he could.
He spent his evenings either with Viera or locked up in his room. The curtains drawn, lights out, eyes fixated on the ceiling. He would lay like that for hours, his mind racing.
From what he could tell, there were two reasons for this breakdown.
The first was related to Ed's book.
Truth be told, the second night of the mission, Reed had thrown the book into a random drawer in his nightstand and promptly forgotten all about it.
It was only after the incident in the forest, after he had shot Mustang, after he had heard the grueling tale of Edward's injuries, did he bring it out again.
For the next few days, he simply could not get the book out of his mind. It had awoken some insatiable curiosity within him. Despite his better judgement, he was overcome with the intense desire to read it, to study each and every one of Ed's annotations and inscriptions, and familiarize himself with the interworking of Ed's mind.
It was foolish.
And probably insane.
But he couldn't help it.
Last night, he almost lit the damned book on fire.
The match was blazing in his hand, orange flame slowly consuming the wooden stick. When the thought occurred to him: this was Ed's book. All he needed to do was return the damned thing and be done with it. He had smiled then, threw the smoldering match into the sink, and decided to return the book to Ed the very next day.
He wondered how Ed had reacted to the gesture. They weren't supposed to give any inclination that they knew each other, especially in public. Returning the book had been a breach of protocol. Was Ed troubled by that fact? Was he surprised? He wondered if this action would make Ed suspicious of him.
He wondered if he cared.
Reed pressed his head harder against the stone wall.
He was losing it.
The question was whether he would lose it before or after the mission was over.
"Are you alright, young man?" a voice said.
Reed froze, startled by the sudden voice. He spun around, trying to get a look at the newcomer - or at least he tried to. His body was still too fatigued. Limbs weak. His legs tipped off balance-
And he went tumbling against the stone path.
Reed cringed as he landed heavily on his arms, his hands scraping against the stone.
"I am so sorry!" the voice said. It sounded like a man. "I didn't mean to startle you."
"It's fine," Reed said, heat rising to his cheeks.
He pushed himself up from the ground, groaning when his wrist ached painfully. Reed pulled himself into a sitting position, doing his best to brush the dirt from his clothes. He turned his wrist slowly, grimacing as it emitted tender pings of pain.
The man crouched down next to him.
"May I take a look?"
Reed hesitated for one moment before extending his hand.
"Are you a doctor?" he asked.
"Not exactly," the man said, taking Reed's wrist in his hands. "But my late wife used to work at the town clinic, so I know basic first aid."
The man pulled back Reed's sleeve to get a better look. Reed's eyes widened as his bracelet was exposed. Luckily, the man didn't comment on it, simply pressing his fingers to his wrist.
"Well the skin isn't broken and there's no obvious bruising, but it's a bit too early to gauge the swelling," the man said. "How's the pain?"
"It's manageable," Reed said.
"Can you make a fist?"
Reed clenched his fingers together, cringing as the pain intensified. The man hummed and turned the wrist over.
"It appears to be a minor sprain," the man said, releasing his wrist.
"That's good, right?" Reed said, pulling his sleeve down to cover his bracelet.
The man nodded. "But it's still not something to take lightly. Elevate the injury as much as possible to help reduce the swelling. Put ice on it every few hours and I would suggest taking pain medication if you have it."
The man stood up and extended his hand. Reed accepted his help in standing up.
"Are you one of the construction workers?" the man asked.
"Yes."
The man frowned.
"Again, I'm terribly sorry for startling you. I would hate to jeopardize your job"
"It was an accident," Reed said. "And I'll be fine."
"Just make sure to put ice on it. And if the pain continues to get worse, I would suggest immobilizing it with a splint," the man said. "You do have access to those supplies, right?"
Reed opened his mouth to thank the man, but hesitated.
How was he going to explain this injury?
Hawkeye kept the first aid kit. Reed knew she reported everything to the Colonel. If he told them that this was an honest accident, would they believe him?
Reed doubted it.
He looked down at his wrist. It wasn't a severe injury, but it was an injury nonetheless. It was certainly going to give him hell tomorrow if he didn't do anything about it. He could probably skip the ice. A cold pack or cold water would be an adequate substitute. However he needed some sort of pain medication if he had any hope of muscling through the shift tomorrow.
The man pressed his lips together, interpreting Reed hesitation as something else entirely.
"They're that cheap huh," he said. "Well then, at least allow me to patch it up for you."
The sudden generosity surprised him.
"I couldn't possibly-"
The man shook his head.
"I was the one who startled you in the first place," the man said. "Please, let me make it up to you."
"I don't want to impose."
"You're not," the man said, flashing him a smile. Reed wanted to believe that it was genuine. "I already closed my shop for today, so it's really no bother. Come on, it's right over here."
Reed followed the man through the side streets. During his walks through town, Reed had mainly kept to the main streets, so he couldn't exactly place where they were. But as they continued to walk, Reed had the growing feeling that he'd been here before. He shook his head. Between running surveillance for Mustang and doing favors for Viera, he had been all over town. Reed wouldn't be surprised if every single street in Ukon felt dimly familiar.
They arrived at the man's house and the man led Reed through a small garden. Reed gazed casually as he walked, admiring the colorful flower bed and looking up to see an impressive oak tree. Clearly someone had kept the garden well maintained.
The man led Reed into the house and directed him to the kitchen. He opened the ice box and placed some ice cubes on a towel before handing it to Reed.
"Here you go."
"Thank you."
The man smiled.
"There's a first aid box in the living room closet," he said. "Let me fetch it real quick."
The man retreated to the next room.
Reed looked around at his surroundings. It seemed to be a decent house. He was standing in a spacious dining room that opened up to a small kitchen. There were photos hanging on a nearby wall.
Reed stepped closer, curious.
The largest photo seemed to be a family portrait. The man was standing next to a brown haired woman, an infant in her arms. Reed assumed this was his late wife and perhaps their child. The next photo was of the woman and the baby, smiling amidst a field of flowers. The child was a bit more grown up in the next photo, a toddler with shoulder long hair, wearing a flowery dress and blue shoes. Reed walked along the wall, watching as the photos grew more and more recent. Eventually, the wife stopped being pictured, confirming that she was deceased.
Reed stopped to gaze at one of the more recent photos. It showed the man and his daughter, now in her early teens, walking hand and hand beside a lake. Reed took a closer look at the girl. She seemed oddly familiar.
'Wait a minute'
There was the sound of footsteps behind him.
Reed turned to see the man watching him.
"That's my daughter," the man, Meg's father, said.
"Where is she now?" Reed asked.
Meg's father-
'Wilfred'
- walked to stand next to Reed.
"Probably off with her friends," Wilfred said. "She doesn't like to stay cooped up in the house."
Honestly, Reed couldn't blame himself for not recognizing Wilfred sooner. He had only visited the convenience store once and even then he never went inside. So it's understandable that he failed to recognize him until now.
But that didn't mean he could stay.
"My wrist feels a lot better," Reed lied. "I should be going."
Wilfred creased his brow.
"Are you sure? It's only been a few minutes. You should ice it for at least ten."
"Nope. I'm fine," Reed said. "Thank you so much for your hospitality."
He placed the ice on the table and was across the room before Wilfred could protest. Honestly, he could probably be more subtle, but currently he was jeopardizing the entire intelligence team. Plus, he doubted Viera would be happy to learn he had been conversing with a former member of the White Wolves. He could deal with the consequences later, but he needed to leave right now.
Reed gripped the doorknob and began to turn it, ready to disappear into the evening sunset.
"I know who you are," Wilfred said.
Reed froze.
"What did you say?"
"You're a spy from Drachma," Wilfred said. "And friends with Viera."
Reed released the doorknob and turned around.
"I wasn't going to say anything," Wilfred continued. "But I recognized your bracelet."
"Then why did you help me?"
Wilfred only shrugged. "Because you looked like you needed it."
Reed scoffed. "Is it really that simple?"
"Does it need to be anything more."
Reed stared at him, unbelieving.
In the alley, they had been strangers. It had been natural to lend a helping hand, expected even. Small towns were like that.
However with the reveal of their identities, they had lost the innocence of anonymity. Now they were no longer strangers, but two people on different sides of a growing conflict.
They shouldn't be having this conversation at all.
"I am sorry for scaring you and causing you to fall," Wilfred said. "It really was an accident."
Reed said nothing.
"I understand if you want to leave," Wilfred continued. "But we both know that that wrist is going to give you hell tomorrow if you don't treat it. At the very least, please accept the ice."
Wilfred extended the ice towards Reed.
Reed stared at him for a moment. The door beckoned behind him.
'Leave now'
He probably should.
'Go'
But-
Wilfred had been a member of the White Wolves. He chose to leave the organization. As much as Reed hated to admit it, he was intrigued.
"I'm already here," Reed said. "Might as well stay."
He accepted the ice pack and sat down at the table.
Wilfred nodded and rummaged through the first aid kit. He procured some small packets.
"These are cold packs," he said, passing them towards Reed. "Do you know how they work?"
"Yes," Reed said, slipping them into his pocket. He had used them before. When shaken, the chemical inside the packet reacted to create a cold compress.
"How's the wrist?"
"Still a bit tender."
"Want medication?"
"Yes, please."
Wilfred slid him the bottle. Reed popped off the cap and swallowed a pill dry.
It was quiet for a few moments.
"Would you like a cup of tea?" Wilfred asked.
Reed looked up at him.
"I'm just trying to ease the tension," Wilfred said.
"Okay," Reed said.
"Do you have a favorite?" Wilfred asked, moving towards the cabinet.
"As long as it doesn't have too much caffeine," Reed said.
He watched as Wilfred started the kettle. He pulled a box down from the cabinet, picking a tin. He poured some tea leaves into a teapot, adding the water once it was ready.
Reed watched him work.
A few minutes later Wilfred walked over, two cups on a tray before him. He extended them towards Reed.
"This is a Xingese blend," Wilfred said. "Illegally imported of course. But of all the things the military could arrest us for, I'm pretty sure tea is at the bottom of their list."
Reed looked down at the cups. The tea they were drinking came from the same pot, but there was still a chance that the cup itself was laced with hemlock or ricin. However by letting him choose his own cup, Wilfred was showing that he had no ill intent. It was a small gesture, but helped ease the tension in his shoulders.
Reed chose a random cup.
"Thank you."
"Your welcome."
Wilfred sat next to him and took a sip from his cup.
Reed waited until the man had swallowed before bringing his own cup to his lips. A deep earthy flavor washed over his tongue. It was very good tea. Reed set the cup back on the saucer.
"When did we meet?" Reed asked.
"About three or four years ago," Wilfred said. "You don't remember?"
Reed shook his head.
" I don't blame you. Even when I was a member of the Wolves, I rarely visited headquarters. However one day, the Wolves were running low on medical supplies. The leader was concerned because winter was fast approaching. I was instructed to bring whatever I could spare up to the base. As I recall, you were making a commotion in the medical tent."
"I remembered that day," he said, the memory coming back to him. "Viera and I had made a bet over who could spear the most fish. I slipped on a rock and ended up tumbling into the stream. Ended up getting a nasty gash on my arm."
"And despite everyone saying it would be easier, you adamantly refused to take off that bracelet," Wilfried said.
"Even Viera couldn't convince me," Reed said.
"No, she couldn't," Wilfred said. "Anyway, I later asked the leader about you and he filled me in."
Reed took a sip of his tea to hide his surprise. The leader rarely told anyone about his true identity. Wilfred and the leader must've been close.
They drank in silence for a few minutes.
"So what brings you back to Ukon?" Wilfred asked.
Reed ran his finger along the edge of his cup. Although Wilfred was aware he was a Drachman spy, Reed had no reason to assume he had any knowledge of the intelligence team. He might not even be fully aware of his daughter's activities.
It was probably best to keep it that way.
"Errands from Drachma," Reed said.
"Are you working with Viera?"
Reed nodded.
Wilfred let out a sigh.
"You don't approve," Reed said.
"If I approved I'd still be a member of the White Wolves."
"May I ask why you left?" Reed asked, glancing across the table.
Wilfred looked away and took another sip from his cup.
For a moment Reed feared he would refuse him, but then the older man began to speak.
"To understand that, you must first understand why I joined the Wolves in the first place," Wilfred said. He leaned back in his chair. "Out here in the country's backwaters, one can't help but grow up sheltered. I grew up in Heinsworth and came to Ukon to marry the woman of my dreams. I never cared about politics. To me it was just something on newspapers to make them sell better."
"So what changed?"
Wilfred was silent for a moment.
"A childhood friend of mine enlisted in the Ishvalan Civil War. He was gone for four years. And when he returned, it only took him three months to drink himself to death. I tried reaching out to him, but he refused to say anything. Just sat there, bottle in hand, this haunted look in his eyes."
Wilfred continued. "It was shortly after his death that I first met the leader of the White Wolves. He came into my shop one day and struck up a conversation. I was impressed by his intellect, so I watched him closely for a few weeks. At that time, I wasn't the only one. After the war, the White Wolves saw a surge in popularity. Like many others, I was drawn in by talks of great reform and social change. I found that my beliefs aligned with that of the leader, so I joined."
Wilfred took another sip of his cup.
"I used the store to supply the Wolves' missions and launder money. The leader respected me and I respected him. For a while, things were good. But everything changed after his death. The leader knew what a behemoth the Amestrian military was. Better than anyone else, he understood that we could never directly antagonize them. We had to take things slow: slowly build public support, supplies, and numbers, until the military simply couldn't ignore us anymore. But that's not what Jason and Viera are doing. They're running the Wolves straight into the ground."
"But you shouldn't discredit all the recent improvements. They've been training members to gain new skills and operate as a formative unit," Reed said.
"I'm not discrediting anything," Wilfred said. "But the Amestrian military has trained soldiers, tanks, artillery, and State Alchemists. At best, the Wolves have half of that, minus the tank. The victor in that fight is clear."
"Which is why their plan is masterfully crafted to rely on guerrilla warfare and the element of surprise," Reed said.
"That's what you thought of their plan?" Wilfred said. "I thought it was just a bunch of wishful thinking."
"What do you even know of it?"
"I have friends that keep me in the loop," Wilfred said dismissively. "But surely you understand what it means to raid the base at Heinsworth? Even if the plan goes perfectly, lives will be lost. According to Jason and Viera that sacrifice is necessary to accomplish their goals. Do you agree?"
"Yes," Reed said. "We must do whatever it takes to defeat the military."
"During the Ishvalan Civil War, the military burned Ishval to the ground to accomplish their goals. If we're willing to do the same, then are we really better?"
"But that's different."
"How?"
"The military is out of control."
"The White Wolves blew up an entire train station," Wilfred said. "Is that not equally out of control?"
Reed gritted his teeth.
Wilfred continued. "Really think about it, truly conceptualize the carnage that is coming. The White Wolves are preparing to blow up an entire battalion. These are not faceless soldiers. These are men and women with lives, families, friends-"
"You think I don't know that?"
"So then why are you here?"
"I have no choice," Reed said. "If I don't follow my orders to the letter, my boss will kill me. She'll kill my family."
"And you've been ordered to help the Wolves?"
"Yes. In every capacity."
"And you've accepted this?"
"Yes!"
"Are you sure?"
"Yes! Completely!"
"So then why are you crying?"
Reed paused. He hadn't even noticed the tears rolling down his cheeks. He pressed his palms to his eyes and looked away.
"I have no choice," he repeated. "You don't have to tell me what's coming. I already know what lies ahead. A better man might try to find another way, might try to save everyone, and be a hero. But that's not me. I know who I am: I'm human and I'm weak. And when the moment of truth comes, I will follow my orders like the mindless soldier I was trained to be. Even if that means supporting the Wolves. Even if that means killing a child."
It hurt to say these words out loud. To acknowledge the cold truth that stalked his waking hours. It was the second reason for his sudden breakdown.
Because when Kani had reached for the gun...
When Mustang had shot at Viera...
He hadn't even hesitated.
And it frightened him.
He murdered Kani in a moment of pure panic. If Mustang hadn't been hiding behind a tree, he had no doubt he would have murdered him too.
So what did that mean for Ed?
When that dreaded moment finally came, would he even realize what he was doing? Or would he just react: the gun recoiling in his hand, the shot reverberating through the air, the blood splattering across the floor-
He pressed his palms against his eyes.
In a way, he was like Meg and Paul. He was stalling, refusing to accept the truth, hoping that a miracle would fall from the sky. But in the end he was only delaying the inevitable.
The hand on his shoulder startled him.
He looked up. Wilfred said nothing, simply passing him a handkerchief. He accepted it and used it to soak up his tears.
The silence drew long and hard between them.
"So then what should I do?" Reed asked, his voice cracking. "Tell Viera she's wrong? Have her abort her plan?"
Wilfred was silent for a few moments.
"That's your decision to make," Wilfred said. "But for the record: you're not going to get Viera to change her mind. Don't even bother trying."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Viera is smart. She is the co-leader of a resistance group. From the moment she destroyed that train station, she knew what she was getting into. I'm certain she's ready to see this out until the end," Wilfred said.
Reed shook his head.
Wilfred continued. "The question is: are you?"
Reed rubbed his eyes.
"What do you mean?"
"If the White Wolves continue on their current trajectory, bloodshed will be coming to the entire Northeast area. For people like us, who live difficult lives, this isn't the time for regrets or second guesses. It is a time to make a decision and stick to your values. I got myself out of the White Wolves. No matter what happens, I must live with that decision. Viera is starting conflict between the White Wolves and the Amestrian Military. No matter what happens, I'm sure she is ready to face the consequences. So the question is: will you be able to live with your decisions? Are you absolutely certain you can see them out until the end?"
The answer should have been obvious. He decided long ago that he would do anything for those closest to him.
'It's for your family'
'It's for Viera'
'Everything is for them'
But what about him?
What would happen to him?
Never mind the aftermath of the mission. After the bodies had been buried and the blood washed away, what would happen to him? Could he even claim some semblance of normalcy? Or would the stress only continue to worsen?
Would Edward become another Kani to haunt his dreams?
Was he just doomed to live like this forever? A slave to his guilt? Chained to his past? Or worse, would he find every death, every kill, a little easier. Would he slowly grow numb to the horrors? Until the ache faded away and all that was left was a hollow shell.
Part of him was disgusted by this thought. But the other half, the secret part of him, longed for it.
"I don't know," Reed said honestly. He ran his hand through his hair. "I sort of wish I could just ignore it all, you know? Ignore my orders, my nationality, my past, and just make an objective decision."
"Funny," Wilfred said. "I was thinking the exact opposite."
"In what way?"
"Like you said, we're human," Wilfred said. "Humans are complicated, messy, imperfect. Our past experiences are what shaped us, so don't shy away from them. Running from your past is easy, but what really takes courage, what really takes character, is facing it head-on."
Reed was silent.
"This is your battle and yours alone. I can't tell you what to do, nor can anyone else. Ultimately, that decision is up to you. But whatever you do, make sure you are able to live with it for the rest of your life," Wilfred said. "And remember: you are human. Because humans are imperfect and messy, don't expect your decisions to be perfect either. As long as you keep getting back up, keep moving, and keep striving to do better. That is enough."
Reed shook his head. His mind buzzing with all of Wilfred's words.
He glanced at the clock. It was late.
"I should be going," he said.
This time Wilfred didn't protest.
Reed was halfway to the door before he turned back.
"Thank you," he said. "For everything."
Wilfred smiled.
"It was no problem at all."
The sun was casting its last glimmers of light across the twilight sky by the time Reed approached The Shrunken Tavern.
Reed didn't want to be here. He would rather be back at the inn and curled up in his bed with mind ablaze with all of Wilfred's words. However he had promised that they'd meet with Viera again tonight and he didn't want to go back on his word.
He pulled open the large oak doors of the bar. There were quite a few people here tonight, most of them members of the White Wolves. Reed didn't stop to observe the crowd. Instead he shuffled past the patrons, heading straight for the backroom. The bartender shot him a cold glare as Reed stepped behind the bar, but Reed ignored him, simply opening the door to the backroom and entering.
Viera was sitting on a crate, a dismantled gun laying on a cloth before her. She appeared to be cleaning it.
"Long time no see," she said sarcastically.
Reed didn't respond. Instead he sat down heavily on the crate next to her, groaning as his muscles strained. He leaned backwards, his hands reaching up to rub the fatigue from his eyes.
"You okay?" Viera asked.
For approximately half a second, he considered recounting his entire encounter with Wilfred. Viera was his friend. He trusted her.
But Wilfred was no longer a member of the White Wolves, he had chosen to turn his back to the organization. Reed's true loyalty lay with Drachma, so he hadn't cared. However other people may not be so understanding. They would see Wilfred's acts of kindness and words of wisdom as a threat.
No.
He couldn't tell Viera about Wilfred.
"I'm fine," he said.
"Did you have a long day?" she asked, the concern clear in her voice.
"Something like that." He took a deep breath. "You got any alcohol back here?"
"This is a bar," Viera said, reaching to a nearby crate. "Do you want rum, gin, or whiskey?"
"Whatever kills my liver the fastest."
Viera grabbed the bottle of whiskey. She procured two shot glasses from a nearby cabinet. He watched as she tipped the bronze liquid into the glass, filling it to the brim.
Reed took the shot in his hand. He took a tentative sip, tasting the unfamiliar alcohol. The bitter liquid slid down his throat, burning at his insides. A few shots of this could get someone very drunk very quickly.
So without further ado, Reed tipped the entire shot down this throat.
He set the shot glass down and tapped it, signaling Viera to refill it. She complied and he drank that shot as well. Already he could feel the effects of the alcohol. His stomach felt warm and his head began to cloud.
It felt fantastic.
"You can rest if you need to," Viera said, refilling the glass again. "We don't have to discuss this now."
"No," Reed said. "I rather get this over with."
Viera nodded. "So did you get the information for me?"
Reed nodded and pulled a piece of paper from his jacket.
"I've never actually been to the Heinsworth base," he said. "But some time ago, my superiors requested the blueprints. So I drew them again from memory."
"You memorised it?"
"Didn't have any other options. Blueprints of government buildings are never allowed to leave the archives," Reed explained. "A base like this will likely be run by 100 to 200 soldiers, but they probably increased that number. This." He pointed. "Is your goal, the armory. It is located on the second floor and at the center of the base. The walls will be reinforced steel and there will be at least two guards at the door."
"Wonderful."
"Getting into the base itself should be simple. Bribe a janitor, hop the fence, whatever. But if the military sends troops to Ukon, the remaining skeleton team will be on guard. Furthermore military protocol mandates that if there is any breach of the base, they immediately seal off the armory."
"That's a problem."
"Yes," Reed said. "If they spot a single person, those doors will be sealed and nothing is coming out of them."
"So then how do we get to the armory without alerting any guards?" Viera said.
"You can't," Reed said. "The base is designed with long windy halls with multiple checkpoints. It'll be next to impossible to get inside without being seen."
"So what do we do?" Viera asked.
"Infiltrate the base. Don't worry about being seen. Hell, let them close the doors. Have a small group of people make a big show of trying to open them. Meanwhile, you send your forces to the floor above. It's a conference room. Normally after a breach, the ranking officers would locate here to coordinate troops. But a skeleton team would instead be focused on securing the base. This room should be easy to gain control of. Once you are in, very carefully blow in a hole through the floor. That should allow you to access the armory."
"But wouldn't that risk igniting the gunpowder and other explosives inside the armory?"
"Not if you're careful," Reed said. "Dangerous supplies like that are typically kept towards the very back of the room, if you blow a hole in towards the front, the risk should be minimal."
Viera creased her brow.
"I'm sure you can handle it," Reed said.
"I probably could," Viera admitted. "But I'm not leading the raid."
"You're not?"
"They want me in Ukon to set off the land mines," she said. "Jason is leading the raid instead."
"Don't you guys have an alchemist? Why not send him?" Reed asked.
"I would if that damn fool wasn't so impulsive," Viera said. "I need him where we can keep an eye on him. We can't risk him losing his temper and messing things up."
"Understandable."
"So when would be the optimal time to attack?" Viera asked.
"I would say about 1700 hours. Shift change is at 1800 hours, so by then the soldiers would be tired, hungry, and wanting to go home. Perfect time to strike."
"Then the only thing left is trying to find a way to get them to leave the base," Viera said.
"Still no new ideas?"
Viera shook her head. "We could take hostages, but then the military would just try to negotiate. A riot definitely would get them to intervene, but many of our members don't want to put the townspeople at risk."
"You'll think of something."
"I'll have to," Viera said.
She leaned backward, careful not to topple the stack of crates behind her. She drank her whiskey in a single gulp.
"Anyway," she said. "How's the little band of vandals."
"Meg and Paul cancelled the meeting."
"So they didn't like my new order?" Viera asked.
"Apparently not."
"What are they planning now?"
Reed didn't answer her right away. He drank his third shot, slowly this time. Letting the burning alcohol steadily slide down his throat. He tapped the glass again, signaling for a refill.
"You know this only works if we collaborate," Viera said, tipping more alcohol into the glass.
Reed stayed silent.
Although he had made no promises to Wilfred, no indication that he would repay him in any way, Reed found himself hesitating.
Wilfred was likely unaware of his daughter's activities. He probably didn't even know the true danger he and Meg were in.
Furthermore, despite knowing his identity and allegiances, Wilfred still displayed immense kindness. To repay that kindness with deceit, to give Viera information about Meg, to further endanger Wilfred's daughter. Well...
It felt like betrayal.
"Hey."
Reed glanced up. Viera was looking at him directly in the eye. Her smile was gone, replaced with a small frown, set eyebrows, and a firm jaw. If it wasn't for the alcohol clouding his mind, he would probably be intimidated.
"What are they planning?" she repeated.
He closed his eyes.
'damn it all'
"They are going to stall."
"Is that all?"
Reed opened his eyes and reached for his glass again, rubbing his thumb along the rim.
"They're both scared, uncertain, and have absolutely no idea what to do next. Paul even suggested running away if things got bad enough."
"They knew what they were getting into when they decided to vandalize the construction site," Viera said.
'But did they?'
Reed just drank his fourth shot.
"So is that all you found out?" Viera asked.
Reed sighed.
"They also figured out Ed is with the military," he said.
There was no use hiding this information. Even if he hid this from her now, it would probably just come up again later.
"How did they react to that?"
"Paul was furious. He thought Meg was taking unnecessary risks."
"And Meg?"
Reed paused.
"She was scared."
"You know," Viera said. "She's already helped Ed twice. Do you think she'll do it again?"
He rubbed his finger along his glass.
"Without a doubt."
Wilfred's words reverberated through his skull.
'Viera is smart. She is the co-leader of a resistance group. From the moment she destroyed that train station, she knew what she was getting into. I'm certain she's ready to see this out until the end'
"What are you going to do?" Reed asked.
"Whatever I have to," Viera said.
Reed knew he should probably remind her that Meg was just a kid. When under stress and especially when inexperienced, people panic, mess up, and make bad decisions.
Instead Reed poured himself another shot and drank it as quickly as he could, the bitter liquid bringing tears to his eyes.
"Is that all?" he asked, moving to stand. His legs were unsteady, knees buckling beneath him. He probably shouldn't have drank so fast.
"You're leaving already?" Viera asked.
"Yeah, I'm sorry," Reed said. He didn't mean it. "I've been out most of the day. Should be heading back to the inn."
It was more likely that he would stumble around the alleys for a few hours, cursing at the stars and waiting for the alcohol to clear from his system.
But Viera didn't need to know that.
"Talk to you tomorrow?" Viera asked.
Reed forced himself to look at her.
No matter what, she was still his friend.
"Of course."
Reed was definitely more than a little buzzed.
He steadied himself against the door to the backroom, taking a few moments to collect himself. For the first time since he'd arrived, he cast a glance across the bar.
As expected, a majority of the crowd were members of the White Wolves. Reed hardly knew any of their names, but he recognized most of them. The group playing darts liked to hunt deer in the autumn. The couple flirting at the bar were particularly skilled with electronics. The man currently engaged in arm wrestling could disassemble and reassemble a gun in less than 5 minutes. Reed wasn't focused on any of them though, his eyes coming to rest on a woman sitting in a booth near the door.
This was the first time he had actually seen Amber around any members of the White Wolves. She had a book propped open on the table before her, a glass of alcohol in her hand. If it wasn't for the tense line of her shoulders, Reed would've thought she wasn't paying attention to her surroundings at all.
They hadn't planned to meet today. He had absolutely no obligation to acknowledge her presence. Despite this, Reed found himself walking over to her. He honestly didn't know what came over him, maybe it was the alcohol flowing freely in his veins, but before he knew it he was slipping into the seat beside her.
Amber didn't even blink.
"Took you long enough to notice me," she said.
She was relaxed, her cheeks flushed, presumably effects from the alcohol. Yet there was still a certain edge to her. Her eyes, glassy as they were, were hard and focused. Mildly intoxicated or not, he knew she would not hesitate to slit his throat and let him bleed out on the table.
"I wasn't expecting you to be here," he said.
"Well, I have to spend my time somewhere," Amber said, flashing him a smile. She tilted her head towards the backroom. "Viera still hiding?"
"She has to," Reed said. "The entire intel team is looking for her."
"And whose fault is that?"
Reed looked away.
"Anyway how have you been?" she asked.
He blinked at the sudden question.
"Alright, I guess."
Amber shifted closer to him. She reached out and cupped his cheek, tilting it in her direction.
"You haven't been sleeping well," she said, tracing the bags under his eyes.
Reed froze, surprised by the gesture. How intoxicated was she?
Amber rolled her eyes.
"Relax, you're not my type," she said. "But we are two strangers talking in a bar."
Reed instantly understood. As with any undercover work, one always had to blend in. People went to bars to relax and unwind. Sitting stiffly next to each other would only invoke suspicion. But no one thought twice of a tired laborer flirting with a beautiful woman.
To compensate he threw his arm around her shoulders, drawing her even closer. The proximity was more than uncomfortable, but it would allow them to talk quietly without fear of being overheard.
"Better?"
"Yes," she said. "But we should make small talk for a few minutes."
"Are you afraid of someone listening in?"
"More like I rather make sure no one is watching us," Amber said, eyes slowly scanning the crowd.
"Fair," he said. "What do you want to talk about?"
Amber shrugged. "What do you miss most about home?"
'Of all the questions she could ask'
He looked down at her. Amber was still scanning the crowd, her eyebrows creased. She could simply be looking out for threats or maybe trying to gauge his character or perhaps she was actually trying to have an honest conversation with him.
In any case, he didn't have a reason to lie.
"My family," he said.
She nodded. "Tell me about them."
This information was already in his file. Drachma did extensive background checks for their undercover missions. It was likely Amber already knew everything he was about to say.
So he told her about them. How his father was a fur trader and his mother a daughter of merchants. How he was the eldest of three. He recounted his childhood, growing up on the base of the Briggs Mountains. He told her of his siblings. Of all the mischief he and his sister got into. The time they stole a neighbor's chicken, ate so many berries they both got stomach aches, lost his boots in a blizzard…
He rambled on for several minutes, aided by the alcohol in his system. Amber didn't seem to mind. She continued to scan the crowd, nodding along.
"So why did you join up?" she asked after he'd finished a particularly interesting story involving his sister and a sack of potatoes.
"My father died," he said simply. He rubbed his bracelet resting beneath his sleeve.
There was a moment of silence.
"That's very selfless of you," she said.
He looked at her again, but her expression was unreadable.
"Have you spotted any threats?" he asked, changing the subject.
"No," Amber said. "What about the White Wolves? Have there been any new developments?"
In a low tone, he repeated the Wolves' plans to her and everything that had happened in the past 12 hours (minus his encounter with Wilfred).
"So what do you think?" he asked once he had finished.
Amber was silent for a moment.
"Something doesn't add up," she admitted. "I find it very hard to believe they would put so much effort just to obtain weapons."
"They need the firepower."
"And they couldn't find an arms trader?" she asked. "Trust me, there are way easier methods to acquire ammunition than raiding a government base."
"Well what other motive do they have?" he asked.
Raiding the base was already a very big risk. He doubted the Wolves would do it just for the heck of it.
Amber scoffed. "Don't tell me you haven't noticed."
Evidently, he had not.
"The White Wolves are desperate to make a name of themselves," Amber explained. "Think about it. The former leader preferred diplomacy and passive resistance. He never took things too far and never overstepped boundaries. This was so extreme that the military was able to relatively ignore the White Wolves' activities. It would be reasonable to assume that as the years went on and their activities yielded no results, many members would start to feel dissatisfied."
Amber continued. "Then the leader suddenly died. Now nothing is stopping the White Wolves from going to extremes. If I was in charge, the first thing I would do is establish the White Wolves as a serious threat. It just so happens that one of the first things they did under their new leadership was blow up a train station."
"So raiding the base..."
"Is a declaration of war."
Reed felt a chill run down his spine.
'Viera, just what exactly are you getting yourself into?'
"They don't have the manpower to sustain prolonged conflict," he said.
"There's always guerrilla warfare."
"But to go to war against the military..."
"I know," she said. "The White Wolves chances are basically slim to none. And even if they somehow do win, a majority of their members will be wiped out in the conflict."
Reed gazed at the crowd. He didn't need Amber to remind him how powerful the military was. He was certain that if Mustang and Ed really put their mind to it, they alone could pulverize the entire town.
"Don't look so down," Amber said. "I'm certain these people already know what they're getting into. They probably already accepted that they may have to die for their cause."
Reed already knew Amber was apathetic to those around her. But in this moment, talking about a full scale war like it was nothing. It irked him more than anything else.
"Why do you care anyway?" he countered. "No matter the outcome, we'll end up benefiting from it."
Amber looked down. "Actually no."
"No?"
"I wasn't going to tell you. And frankly I still don't trust you." She took a sip from her glass. "But I lied. The outcome of the raid won't determine the state of the alliance with the White Wolves. It will determine the fate of Operation Dagger."
"What?"
"You haven't been home in a long time," she said. "But there's been an increase in political turmoil and public unrest. When I left, there were protests at least once a week. People crowding the streets waving signs and screaming for reform. The Counsel would rather focus on internal problems than external ones. So they are suspending Operation Dagger."
"And the operatives?"
"All vital agents will be extracted," she said. "Unfortunately it takes a lot of effort to clandestinely extract those under deep cover. The Counsel wants to wrap this up quickly. Most will simply be cut off."
He shook his head. He couldn't believe what she was saying.
"But they can't do that."
"They can and they will." She looked him in the eye. "Why do you think I'm here? Don't you think I have better things to do than babysit a resistance group? I'm trying to salvage this operation. In the best case scenario, the White Wolves actually turn out to be a formidable opponent against the military. In that scenario, the Counsel would be forced to keep operations running."
"But if it doesn't work? If we can't extract everyone in time?"
"Then we fail," Amber said. "It's harsh. But reality is, if the raid fails so does everything else. Not only will Operation Dagger be suspended and all our operatives will be cut off, but the White Wolves will be completely annihilated. These people have publicly denounced the government. The military can't allow their ideals to spread. If the military manages to gain control of Ukon, I'm certain they won't hesitate to execute everyone here."
"We can't let that happen," he said.
Amber smiled.
"Glad we're on the same page," she said. "I know it's hard, but you have to trust me. We're the only operatives in the area. We have to stand together."
His head was spinning with the information he had learned. He sighed, casting a glance across the crowd.
Just in time to see Mustang enter the bar.
'Damn it'
He immediately turned to Amber.
"Put your arm around me," he hissed, moving his own arm around her waist. "Now!"
"What?"
"Just do it!"
Amber raised an eyebrow, but complied, slinging her arm around his shoulders. More than thankful, he leaned into her neck, hiding his face in her hair.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Mustang just walked in."
Amber stiffened. "Hold the glass. Pretend to be drunk."
He reached forward and grasped the empty glass in his hand.
"Do you see him?"
"Yeah, he's talking to the bartender," she said. "Do you know why he's here?"
"No. He mainly spends his free time talking with the other construction workers."
"Think he suspects you?"
Reed shook his head.
"On the contrary. I think he's trusting me more," he said, racking his brain for possible explanations. "Maybe he got bored and decided to poke around some more."
"You better hope so."
It had been a good half hour since he had consumed those shots of whiskey, but he could still feel the effects throughout his body. His mind was clouded around the edges and his eyebrows were drooping. He breathed against Amber's neck. She was wearing some sort of perfume. The scent reminded him distinctly of antirrhinums.
Reed shook himself. He needed to focus. They were in the corner of the bar. The door was to the left of them, but it was still a good distance away. Should they risk making a break for it?
"So are you just going to keep breathing on my neck until he leaves?" Amber asked.
"You got a better idea?"
"Wait," she said. "He's moving."
There were a few moments of silence.
"Okay," she said. "He's talking to the group playing darts."
Reed sighed.
"He's going to get himself shot," he said.
Well... again.
"They're on the far side of the room," Amber said. "We can wait until his back is turned, then head for the door. If you keep your face buried in my neck, he won't see your face."
Reed thought it over.
"You're shorter than me," he said.
"Well then you're going to have to act really drunk."
Reed rolled his eyes. This was ridiculous. But at the moment, he couldn't think of a better plan. Time wasn't on their side either. The longer they waited, the possibility that Mustang would recognize him by his clothes increased.
Right now their only choice was to make a break for the door and hope no one would pay them any attention.
"Tell me when he's turned around so I can slide out."
"Okay," Amber said.
They waited a few moments.
"Now," she said, releasing her arm.
Reed pulled away from her and slid out of the booth. For a split second, he spotted Mustang near the other end of the bar. But he quickly turned around, faking a stumble. Amber was already next to him, pretending to steady him. Slowly, they made their way towards their door.
He breathed a sigh of relief when the door closed behind them, cutting off the sounds of the bar.
It was dark now, a cool night breeze warfing past.
He tried to pull away from Amber, but she held on.
"Wait until we're in the alley," she said.
Reed followed her lead until they were safely hidden in the shadows. She released him and he took a step away.
"Thank you," he said.
"Your welcome," Amber said. "But you need to find out why Mustang was at that bar."
"I will," he said.
They stood silently for a few moments.
"I should be heading back," he said.
"I'll walk with you."
They set off for the inn, taking side streets and alleys as they navigated through town. The moon loomed bright overhead, casting light on them whenever they came out of the shadows of buildings.
Amber was the one to break the silence.
"I had a brother once," she said.
Reed looked over. In the darkness, he couldn't make out her expression.
"Had?"
"We were on a mission together," she explained. "Things went wrong. In the end, it came down to either saving him or letting the mission fail. I chose the mission, because that's what you do."
He said nothing for a few steps.
The entire day felt surreal: Ed going to Meg for help, the intel team finding out Viera's identity, Viera's new order to the vandals, the meeting getting canceled, returning the book to Ed, his conversation with Wilfred, his conversation with Viera, and now one with Amber. Each person gave wisdom and insight on the situation, their words resonating in his mind.
He didn't know if he could trust them.
He didn't even know if any of them had been telling the truth.
They had come to an intersection. The inn was just down the street. It was time to part ways.
"Why are you telling me this?" he asked.
She turned to him, her face illuminated in the moonlight.
"I can tell you're conflicted about this mission. Not only are you friends with Viera, but I'm willing to bet you have at least some investment in the Amestrian military." She took a step closer to him. "I'll be honest with you: I don't really care. As long as you remember your priorities. Above all, you are a soldier. In the end, it doesn't matter what personal obligations you have or what you feel. The mission always comes first."
He looked her in the eye.
"You don't have to remind me," he said. "No matter my personal obligation, when the moment of truth comes, I will follow my orders."
"Good." She patted his shoulder. "Now have a good night."
Without saying anything else, she walked off into the darkness.
Reed stood there for a moment, watching the shadows. With a shake of his head, he returned to the inn.
He went straight to his room, peeling off his clothes and stepping into the shower. He stood under the water, scrubbing at his skin, determined to get her scent off of him.
Author's Note:
Again, no idea when the next update will be. I'm legally required to not leave the house, but whether or not that will translate to more writing time will yet to be seen.
Wilfred: Humans are complicated, messy, and imperfect. Therefore don't expect everything you produce to be perfect. As long as you keep getting back up, keep moving, and keep striving to do better. That is enough.
Wilfred:
Wilfred: RIGHT?
Me, looking up after procrastinating on my fanfic for months bc I thought it wasn't good enough: yeah... good points...
Fun Fact:
Reed comments that Amber smells like antirrhinums, also known as snapdragons. Among other things, these flowers symbolize deception.