Author's Note: Hi everyone! Welcome back to "Kingdom Come". Special thanks, as always, to ProfessorPalmarosa for her superb beta-reading skills.
No content warnings for this chapter.
Youswell, Amestris – November 25th, 1921
Al tried not to chuckle at Mei huffing angrily beside him. Her brocade jacket prevented her arms from laying flat, giving her a penguin-like appearance. The fur trim tickled her face as she adjusted her messenger bag, rummaging through its contents for the third time in the past twenty minutes. Her lip pushed into a frown, eyebrows scrunching towards the bridge of her pert nose.
Grown woman though she was, she looked every bit the petulant child. A snort slipped past Al's defenses, earning him a growl and chastising glare from the miniature panda perched on Mei's shoulder.
"Don't laugh!" Mei snapped, hands balling into tiny fists. "Geez, you'd think those stupid border guards had never seen a diplomatic visa before!"
Al shrugged. After a full week of train travel, he had no idea where her energy came from. "They probably hadn't, Mei."
"Ugh!" She pulled at her braids. "They still didn't have to dump out my entire bag, Alphonse. My journal pages are all bent up, I swear they stole my seaweed snacks, and OH GOD THEY SAW MY UNDERWEAR!"
Her dark eyes widened with horror, and she swiftly began the fourth round of rummaging. When she cursed the missing seaweed snacks again, Al realized with mounting dread that he'd snuck a few but never returned them. He wouldn't mention it now though. Mei was in rare form, and Al knew firsthand how much fury such a little person could wield. Resolving to slip in the snacks at the next opportune moment, Al silently hoped the bag was enough of a mess that she wouldn't question it.
Of course, Al didn't blame the poor guards for conducting a thorough search. Mei's traveling clothes and lack of armed entourage didn't exactly scream 'princess'. Her half-brother, Emperor Ling Yao, tried convincing her to bring his personal bodyguard, but Mei had declined. She'd insisted that Al was perfectly capable of protecting her and would never let any harm befall her. Never mind the fact she too was an accomplished martial artist.
While he appreciated the vote of confidence, Al wished she'd accepted the emperor's offer. He and Mei could handle themselves in a fight; but with Lan Fan tagging along, they wouldn't have to. Her striking mask and kunai knives would have reinforced the 'diplomat' image, providing deterrent enough for most thugs.
Instead, they'd compromised with Ling by accepting first-class cabins on the new Pan-Continental Express from Xing to Amestris. Construction finished over the summer, and the first train had completed its maiden voyage only two months ago. The new locomotives were freshly painted, well-maintained, and even air conditioned. Though already late November, the Great Desert remained sweltering hot in the daytime and frigidly cold at night.
Temperature hadn't been Al's largest concern as a suit of armor, but he had witnessed his brother sitting in enough pools of sweat on summertime train rides that he'd felt a twinge of relief at his inability to smell. Ed's leather pants might have protected seats from oil stains, but the impervious material hadn't done him any other favors. Fellow passengers had usually given them a wide berth.
"Oh good!" Mei chirped, producing a small box emblazoned with stylized calligraphy. "They didn't mess up Ling's present."
Al palmed his face. Sure, the tiger-headed baby shoes were adorable in resplendent shades of pink, purple, and gold – Winry would love the traditional gift – but why had Ling felt it necessary to attach a handwritten note reading 'Eat me, Elric'? Al was probably better off not knowing. Ed's friendships had a tendency to veer left at 'strange' and charge full speed ahead into the uncharted realm of 'weird'.
They left the border checkpoint, glad for the opportunity to stretch their legs despite the dust clouds kicked up with every step. Mei snuggled into her bulky jacket, pulling the hood over her ears as Xiao Mei nuzzled her neck. A breeze whisked by and Al inhaled the fresh air. He caught traces of coal, but also the scent of frying meat and vegetables.
Downtown Youswell had changed in recent years. Miners in battery-lit hard hats still strolled the streets pushing wheelbarrows piled high with coal. But just as common were men and women carrying steel beams and lumber, children hauling in boxes of nails and screws by the wagonload, and the constant noises of sawing and hammering. A banner strung between two light poles fluttered in the wind.
'Welcome to Youswell: The Gateway to Amestris!' it proudly proclaimed.
Lonely roads were now lined with wooden store fronts, their wares pouring out in enticingly elaborate displays. Pastry samplers and hand-painted pottery filled the windows, flanked by rotating racks of postcards, embroidered dishcloths, and lighters embossed with the national crest. Walk-up stalls offered everything from espresso to apple dumplings and – unless the exchange rate had gone through the roof recently – all for criminally exorbitant prices.
Al wondered how much a room at Mr. Halling's Inn went for these days. Mei tugged his sleeve, her smile revealing the pride she felt in the townspeople who'd shown her such kindness as a child. Even if they were fleecing Xingese tourists, Al had to admire their enterprising spirits.
"You were looking for a payphone, right?" Her head tilted towards a brightly-colored booth.
Up close, Al could see the dents and rust poking through the fresh paint as he fed coins into the slot. He dialed for a long-distance operator, and a kindly voice asked where he'd like to route the call.
"Resembool, please. I'll give you the number." He enunciated each digit clearly, and gave Mei a thumbs-up when he heard the first ring. Then the second ring, then the third.
That was odd. With a frown, Al checked his watch. It was only eleven o'clock and Granny Pinako usually answered the phone in the morning. She could be out running errands, but normally Winry would have manned the shop in her absence.
Al startled at a tap on the glass, aggravating the crick in his neck. Mei scrunched her eyebrows, but he merely shrugged. Al wasn't sure how far Winry's pregnancy had progressed. Even if she was only a few months in, she and Ed wouldn't have traveled far. That letter seemed pretty confident about the baby's sex though. For all Al knew, his niece might have already arrived.
In that case, Ed and Winry could be out making the rounds among the friends they considered an extended family. Al felt miffed that so many others might have an opportunity to welcome the new life before he could. Wasn't he supposed to have uncle privileges? With a surly grumble, he resolved to keep his own firstborn child from meeting Uncle Ed until at least a dozen other people had the chance. It was only fair.
On a hunch, he fed more coins into the slot. When he and the now-familiar voice recognized each other, they shared a laugh at the coincidence.
"OK sir, where to now?"
"Rush Valley. I don't have the number handy. Could I bother you to look up Atelier Garfiel?"
Al could just picture Winry's automail mentor cooing and fawning over the little one bundled up for the cold while Paninya ribbed his brother over knocking up his mechanic. He hoped she was ruthless.
"No bother at all, sir!" the operator cheerfully replied.
From the other side of the glass, Mei pouted and shifted her weight from foot to foot as her stomach growled. Al bashfully smiled, scratching his short hair and mouthing 'just a sec'. This time, the phone rang twice before someone picked up.
"Hello, you've reached Atelier Garfiel," a sultry voice moaned. "I hear someone's been a bad boy and busted up his automail. You ready for a good screwing, sugar?"
Al flushed at the erotic tone and the unbidden visuals it evoked. Who in their right mind answered the phone like that?! "Umm…hi? Mr. Garfiel, this is Alphonse Elric."
A long awkward pause followed. Then with a panicked gulp, "OH NO, HONEY, I THOUGHT YOU WERE SOMEONE ELSE! Just pretend that didn't happen, all right?"
"No problem!" Al squeaked. He wished it really wasn't a problem, but the image was probably burned into his memory forever. "So, is my brother there? Or Winry?"
"Afraid not, sweetie. My little girl up and left the nest a while ago. Haven't seen either of them in months. Look, I have an, uh...appointment I have to get to, so best of luck, OK?"
The phone clicked, and Al mourned the wasted coins. At least Mr. Garfiel was having a good day.
When Mei breathed a fog onto the glass and wrote 'Any luck?' with her finger, he shook his head. She rolled her eyes, longingly gazing at the inn across the street. A blackboard propped outside advertised 'Friday Lunch Special: One Steak Sandwich for the Price of Two!'
Al sighed at the shameless impertinence. Of course, after so many days on a nonstop train, he sympathized with Mei's craving for rest and a square meal. He held up a finger, promising only one more try for now. This one had to count. Where else would his brother go? They'd been so many places and met so many people.
Ah, of course!
With renewed hope, Al reached for his wallet again. Though relieved to find exactly the change he needed, he felt annoyed at the huge price hike on long-distance calls. Maybe the town of Youswell had inflated this too. With a brief prayer for luck, he fed the coins into the slot and waited, floored when yet again the same operator picked up.
"Sir, are you in some kind of trouble?"
"No, no, no," he assured her. "I promise this is the last one! Would you please connect me to Dublith? Here's the number…"
By now, Al too shifted back and forth. His stomach rumbled sadly as he glanced to Mei. She tapped her watch and nodded to the line forming behind him. Just great.
"Happy Meat Butcher Shop," a man answered, his tone anything but happy.
Something felt off, and a second passed before Al realized the disconnect: Izumi usually answered the phone. "Hi Mason, this is Alphonse. Is Brother there by any chance? Or Teacher?"
Mason put the phone down while a muffled conversation carried on in the background. Al heard raised voices – not unusual for the lively Curtis household – but a knot grew in his chest regardless. A moment later, the line crackled back to life.
"Where are you?" Izumi demanded.
Despite the sharpness in her voice, hearing her speak eased some of his tension. Hohenheim had transmuted her remaining organs into a less painful arrangement, but she was still living on borrowed time.
"Youswell," he said. "Mei and I arrived this morning, and we're trying to find Brother and Winry. No one's picking up in Resembool, and I checked with her mentor in Rush Valley. Are they with you?"
She swallowed audibly, and Al felt uneasy when she strained to speak. Her throat sounded raw, as if she'd been crying. He couldn't remember ever seeing her like that.
"No. But there's something you need to know, Al. With all the traveling, you must not have heard yet."
So something really was wrong. "Heard what?" he nervously asked.
"We're at war with Drachma," she said. "The announcement went out yesterday, and the military's rushing soldiers to the front. Ed was probably drafted."
No, that couldn't be right. Not after everything Ed had done for Amestris, and especially not with a baby on the way! He'd already served his time, and after sacrificing his alchemy in exchange for Al's body, what more could he possibly give? What did they expect him to do?! How would he even defend himself in…in battle? Oh God.
"Teacher, they wouldn't," Al protested, hating the rising pitch of his voice.
Izumi sighed with resignation. "Yes, they would. They drafted me too."
Al was indeed the calmer, more level-headed brother. However, he was not immune to anger. Where Ed's temper could flare and fizzle in a matter of seconds; Al smothered his pain with rationality, stuffing all his hurts, frustrations, and resentments into a deep dark hole. It could lay dormant for months or even years. Yet when that void filled and all his pent-up fury reached critical mass, he seethed not with simple anger, but with unadulterated rage.
This new government was supposed to be better, more fair, more peaceful. War should have been a relic of the past and conscription a last resort. This was the Amestris they'd fought for, that so many had died for?
Through the glass, Al locked eyes with Mei. She stopped shifting the second she recognized his look. Sinking back on her heels, she crossed her arms and gave him a firm nod. That settled it.
"We'll meet you up north, Teacher."
Unknown Location – November 25th, 1921
"Pack of cards, a broken pen, and your wrench," Ed grumbled, examining their meager assets.
Wistfully, his thoughts turned to the tattered briefcase lying by the railroad tracks somewhere between Pleonuk and East City. He'd barely crammed the tea-soaked blueprints back inside before the fight broke out, undoubtedly drenching his spare clothes. Too bad they weren't leather.
Compared with the current inventory, items like his shaving kit and the travel-size tube of automail oil now seemed like priceless treasures. Not to mention his old silver pocket watch. Technically, he should have turned it in when he retired, but Mustang had pulled a few strings. Of all the things to lose.
"Hold on. I've got a few hairpins too," Winry volunteered, counting them out on her palm.
Good catch, Ed proudly thought. He held out his hand for the delicate pins and returned the wrench to its rightful owner, rolling his eyes when she happily rubbed it with her cheek.
"OK," he said. "You look for nuts and bolts while I work on the door."
Ed had originally assumed the kidnappers would take them to a safe house, hand them off, or switch vehicles. Any transition from the van to another location would have provided an opportunity for escape. All he needed was a too-loose restraint or an unholstered weapon, and they would have been home free.
So he and Winry sat in silence, biding their time. They listened to the engine's hum, the crunch of tires rolling over gravel, and the stale air whistling through the vent. Without his pocket watch or windows to the outside, Ed could only guess at the passage of time. They'd likely reached the wee hours of morning; and still the van crept on at a slow, winding pace. Whatever their destination, the kidnappers had decided to take the long route.
At some point, exhaustion had finally overtaken Ed and Winry both, and they fell asleep to the engine's rumble. They huddled beneath the tattered overcoat, but an insistent growl from Ed's stomach roused them from their restless slumber. Despite his near constant state of hunger, that particular rumble sounded like a request for breakfast. They must have slept until mid-morning.
The cargo hold felt oddly stuffy and the vent rattled even louder than before. Ed noticed a blast of hot air. Sometime in the night, their kidnappers had cranked up the heat. Were they seriously going all the way to Drachma? These guys were either complete greenhorns or experienced operatives who knew how to evade law enforcement. Considering the evidence and the distinct lack of police sirens, Ed settled on the second conclusion.
Damn. Goons like that came prepared. They'd have tire chains, ice picks, and extra cans of gasoline. Those doors wouldn't budge until they reached their final destination. There would be no better opportunity. If he and Winry stood a chance of getting out, they'd have to act now.
Of course, this would be so much easier with alchemy! One quick handclap would have blown a hole right through the side of this stupid cargo van. They could have been halfway to Central before the Drachmans even realized they'd been given the slip.
As quick as it came, Ed shook the thought from his head. If giving up alchemy was the price for restoring Al's body, then so be it. Regret would get them nowhere, especially when Ed knew he'd make the same decision one hundred times over. For now, he and Winry would just have to escape the old-fashioned way.
They tackled the door from opposite ends. Ed jiggled the handle in case their captors had forgotten to lock it. No such luck. Meanwhile, Winry felt around the seam, cursing under her breath when she realized all the hinges were on the outside. She flipped the crusty blanket and searched for something to unscrew. Ed cracked his knuckles and got to work.
Twisting the hairpins into a pick and lever, he dropped to his knees and gazed through the keyhole. He inserted the lever, gave it a quick turn, and cackled victoriously when he felt resistance. Holding it steady, Ed carefully threaded the pick into the keyhole, gently moving the tools up and down until he heard a soft click.
Haha! Take that, idiot kidnappers!
"Psst!" he whispered. "Come here. I think I've got it."
Winry quietly stepped over, craning her neck for a better look. Proudly, Ed moved the lever back and forth so she could hear the click. He smiled when her eyes lit up.
"Oh, thank God. I swear this whole cargo hold is wrapped in a single steel sheet! There's literally nothing I can – "
Suddenly, the vehicle swerved, hit a pothole, and slammed its occupants into the wall.
Ed braced for the impact, but found himself miraculously unbruised and pressed against something soft. He must have landed on the blanket, though now he had far more concerns about the source of its stains. Ed supposed he was better off not knowing. He looked around for Winry, surprised to see the dubious blanket tossed in the opposite corner.
"Edward…" growled the lump underneath him.
Shit. He started to sit up, but felt something hard in his hand. Curiously, he uncurled his fingers and immediately blanched. His mouth felt dry, and he tried desperately to swallow the lump in his throat.
"What's wrong?" Winry whined, impatiently nudging his back.
He was doomed. Ed held up the broken half of his hairpin lever and prepared for death. Without a doubt, the other half was still lodged in the keyhole, rendering the lock forever un-pickable.
A barbarian war cry burst from Winry's chest. She wrangled him into a chokehold, smacking him with the wrench. "You moron!" she growled through her tears. "Why didn't you let go?!"
Before Ed could protest, Winry's wrath turned onto the door. Like a madwoman, she whacked the wrench against the stubborn handle. It crumpled and twisted with each heavy hit, but never unlatched.
"OPEN UP, DAMN YOU!"
A blow from the front cabin startled them both. An angry muffled voice shouted something incomprehensible and hit the divider a few more times. Ed recognized the warning. Another outburst would give the kidnappers cause to pull over and confiscate the wrench. The prospect of losing their only weapon weighed heavily against the opportunity for escape. If their attempt failed, the situation could become much, much worse.
Ed wondered why the Drachmans had abducted them in the first place. If they just needed some Amestrian civilians for hostages, why travel so deep into the country's interior? The kidnappers must have boarded that specific train for a reason. Were he and Winry their targets from the beginning, or had they simply gotten in the way?
So far, no one had really hurt them. These goons were probably just the delivery squad for some bigger boss who wanted them alive. Ed wanted to say 'unharmed', but his own past experience didn't support the notion. If sufficiently pissed off, the Drachmans could inflict a lot of pain without actually killing them. Were he alone, even that threat wouldn't stop Ed from raising hell. But he was always more reckless with his own life. He wouldn't be careless with Winry's.
She stood frozen in place, unsure whether to cry or attack the door handle with every ounce of strength she possessed. The wrench shook in her hand as her lip trembled.
Ed searched for a distraction. Wherever they were going, not rocking the boat was their best chance for arriving unscathed. If they couldn't escape now, they'd have to gamble on an opportunity arising at their destination. But with Winry practically crawling out of her skin, they needed something to pass the time.
His eyes lit on the pack of cards, an idea quickly forming. He picked it up, head swimming from his recent rendezvous with the wrench. Quietly, he swore to buy only soft squishy things for Winry's future birthdays. Either that or carry his own wrench and see how she liked the occasional wallop. Ed was a feminist, dammit. He could dish out some equal treatment.
Gently, he squeezed her arms. "Hey Winry, let's kill some time, huh? How about a round of poker?"
She stared at him like he'd grown a second head. "You can't be serious."
"Why not?" he shrugged, masking his nerves. "We're stuck in here for who knows how long. Beats sulking and worrying, doesn't it?"
Winry blinked a few times, considering his point. After a moment, she nodded. "Deal me in."
Glad she'd taken the bait, he eagerly shuffled the cards and started dealing.
"Hold up. Al says you hide cards up your sleeves, so ditch the coat!"
Really, Al? You little traitor!
Then again, this could also be fun. Ed offered a devilish grin, waggling his eyebrows. "How about you win it off me?"
Several hours later, Winry sat grumbling in only her mismatched bra and underwear. Ed's shredded overcoat lay draped across her shoulders. Her hair hung loose, sticking up in the back as goosebumps covered her arms and legs. Sporting a sulky frown, she stared intently at the cards in her hand, glancing up to gauge her opponent's poker face.
Ed held his expression rigid against her inquisitive gaze. He lounged against the vile blanket, caution long since thrown to the wind. At this point, the mystery was best left unanswered. With an exaggeratedly content sigh, he wiggled the toes on his single sock-covered foot and tossed Winry's fluffy pink scarf around his neck, tickling his bare chest.
"Full house!" she suddenly crowed, slapping down her cards. "Read 'em and weep, sucker!"
Winry cackled wildly, pumping her fists and wiggling her hips. Smugly, she bit her lip and reached over the pile of discarded clothing to tug on Ed's pants. He blushed. So that was next, huh?
He was almost disappointed at having to crush her, but thus was the price of victory. "Straight flush!"
Her face fell in disbelief as she groaned and tore at her hair. Ed frowned. Seriously, why did no one believe he was legitimately good at this game? Oh well, at least he had three enticing choices for prize. Mulling his options, his arm brushed against the cold steel and practicality won out.
"Coat," he demanded, chuckling maliciously when she handed it over. Sweet warmth enveloped his body as he snuggled into the familiar fabric, cooing at the sore loser across from him. "Aww, you even warmed it up for me."
She scowled and gave him the middle finger, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her grumpy, flustered face on top. Suddenly, the cargo van slowed and came to a complete stop. They heard shuffling from the front cabin and the opening and closing of doors. The vehicle bounced from shifting weight and the two prisoners locked eyes.
"Shit!" Winry swore, snatching up her wrench as she stood.
By habit, she started to hide it in her pocket only to realize she was in her skivvies. The footsteps and muffled conversation carried on outside. The door handle jiggled violently, stuck on the broken hairpin lever still lodged in the keyhole. Desperately, Winry looked around for a hiding place. Something heavy whacked the door from outside and a crowbar poked through the jamb. Her time was nearly up.
"Hold this!"
Ed yelped as Winry shoved the frigid wrench into his pants. Indignant and well…freezing his balls off, he began to protest just as the door swung open.
Thanks again for reading! If you couldn't tell, I had way too much fun writing this chapter. I hope you all enjoyed it too. I'd love to hear what you think!