A/N: Welcome to the second-to-last chapter of this fanfiction. Yes, second-to-last. I have already written out the last chapter and it feels bitter-sweet having to end it. Please expect the last chapter to be posted up in a few days. Good news, though! I am working on my next story which is to be entitled "Pentacle". It's going to be a murder mystery sort of thing starring Hughes, Ed and Al. How many Hughes-based fics do you see, eh? A preview will be posted with along with the 9th and last chapter.
8-Last Stand
"Lieutenant Haywood!" Mustang yelled, getting to his feet and rushing to his subordinate. He rolled the man onto his back and stared in horrified surprise at the bloody ring staining his blue uniform a sickly colour. Past the wall, I could vaguely hear the cries of the Ishbalans as they issued guttural orders to each other. I picked myself up off of the ground and immediately grabbed Haywood's dented med kit and took it over to –dare I say it- his body.
The bullet wound had passed straight through his stomach, leaving a bloody hole its wake. He coughed, letting crimson blood spill from the corners of his mouth like small streams. He looked up at us with pain and a pleading look. Mustang was already ridding his subordinate of his coat and the white shirt underneath, exposing the bullet wound in Haywood's bare chest. Everything was red. A piece of fabric that had been lodged in there would never have been seen.
The Major glanced up at his wall every now and then, hearing people banging against it with something. Haywood's head lolled from side to side as he moaned in pain. He started closing his eyes, but I tapped the side of his face until he opened them again.
"Lieutenant Haywood! Stay with us. Talk to us about something… Your family! Tell us about your family!" I told him. He nodded numbly and started out in a weak voice.
"My-my daughter…Emily and I… we- we'd play for hours… in the backyard wi-" he tensed up and gasped in pain as I cleaned out the wound, flushing out any sand that had gotten in and searching for any fabric that could cause infection.
"It's alright, keep going," I said softly, casting a glance over to Mustang. He caught my eyes and shook his head slightly, indicating that this man wouldn't live. I winced on the inside and looked down at the man who was struggling to tell us about his daughter and their puppy, Russet playing in the backyard. Struggling to tell us about her first ballet recital, how he'd taken her and her mother out for a treat afterwards. He was struggling to pour out his life's pride and joy to us while tears running down his face turned brownish-red as they intermingled with blood, sweat and sand.
"My one regret is not being able to see my wife anymore," he said weakly, "And not being there to see my Emily grow up." He knew he was going to die.
I felt my own heart break as I took my gun from its holster and placed the barrel against his head, "No," I said shakily, "You'll see it. I promise." Haywood turned his gaze to me in silent thanks before I shut my eyes and pulled the trigger. I got up shakily, letting out a strangled breath and pushing back the tears that threatened to spill over the edge. A blue glow pulled my eyes away from my blood-spattered gun, the crimson blood shining with the silver underneath. Major Mustang had scratched a transmutation circle in the wall and had created a hole into the building beyond. I picked up Haywood's abandoned rifle and shoved his bloodied dog tags into my pocket.
Mustang already had Havoc, so I cast a last look at the corpse and the cracking wall the Major had made before hopping through the hole which he proceeded to close back up. So now it was only me, the Major and Lieutenant Havoc. It was at this point when I was starting to get seriously worried. We're stranded in the center of a dead city with limited food and water and armed Ishbalites on our tails. Oh, and let's not forget that we're all exhausted, we haven't slept for nearly three days, two of the three of us have injuries and the Major can't snap his fingers without causing himself pain. What could be better! my insides screamed. I didn't let any of that irrational thinking get in my way, though. I couldn't.
As fast as we could run, bearing a man with a wounded leg, we ran from alleyway to alleyway, looking for a way out. By our second day in the city, Mustang must have been going paranoid because he kept looking over his shoulder and at the rooftops and inside the buildings. When we did hear the Ishbalites, we dove for cover. Mustang started babbling like a madman due to lack of sleep and I had to clap my hand over his mouth to keep him from giving away our position. His body shook from the amphetamines he had managed to salvage from Haywood's med kit before we left and he looked like he was snapping. I dove into my pocket and drew out Haywood's stained dog tags, waving them in front of his face.
"See this?" I asked. He stared wide-eyed at the embossed lettering on the metal, "This is what will happen to you if you're not quiet!" I said in a harsh whisper, adding a hurried "sir" after my sentence. His eye locked on the dog tags and the large dried spots of blood. With that he seemed to sober up (for lack of a better expression). He seemed to be locked on the embossed name on the metal tag, all other things in his world blocked into a meaningless void. I looked straight into his eyes and drew his gaze from the dog tags.
"Major. We need you right now," I said sternly. A hint of self-awareness flickered across the Major's face. He looked back to the medical pack and drew out the bottle filled with the amphetamine pills. His hands shook as tipped the pills into his palm, downing two of the white capsules before I took the bottle from his hand, downing two pills of my own and looking around. The blood emanating from Havoc's leg wound had stopped and Haywood's bandaging from the previous day seemed to still be holding up. Mustang looked pale and sickly, there were large bags under his eyes, betraying the three days they had gone without sleep; contrary to what his body was telling him: a blatant "I'm awake!" I was sure that I didn't look any better, if not worse. I had been stinting the small amount of rations we had. I was tired, hungry and thirsty. The only thing that kept me from fainting then and there was my conviction: my solid decision to protect Mustang until he became Führer.
I patted the bag containing our ammunition. I scowled, feeling only a few clips for my pistol remaining, and even less ammunition for my rifle. I sighed and took in the dog tags with my eyes again. I rubbed some of the blood away from the name with my thumb, searching the scratched metal for some faint memory of its former owner. I replaced them in my pocket and scratched at my arms, where my skin had become dry and flaky. The drugs made my mouth dry and my tongue tasted horrid, but I kept my eyes on the alley opening, clutching my silver pistol with clammy hands.
I pressed the sound of Havoc retching to the back of my mind. He had lost the colour in his face and his stomach was starting to reject the food he was given. He had lost too much blood. He was barely ever conscious and Mustang and I took turns supporting him as we traveled wearily towards where we thought the edge of the city was. We were constantly haunted by the phantom footsteps of our Ishbalan pursuers, driving us onward into the jaws of exhaustion and starvation. For now, Havoc rested against the blackened wall, his pale face covered by a sheet of cold sweat and lolling on his shoulder while he was in a feverish nightmare.
The Major rested against the wall, staring up at the sky. He still clutched the gold locket that he had picked up our first day, the delicate hinges still melted by his alchemic flames, the picture of the Ishbalan family still singed inside its frame. After having taken the amphetamines, the drug-induces tremors had returned to his body.
It was at that moment that the Ishbalites decided to try to kill us again. While they had started with over ten men, they had been whittled down by my guns and –stubborn man- alchemic flames. He'd snapped regardless of the fact that it hurt him, making his hands bleed again. At this point, the last thing the three of us needed was a faulty alchemist who had no concept of when to stop. "If you want to fight," I'd told him, "Use your gun for once, sir." He'd given me a half-hearted glare, unwilling to admit that I was right, but hesitantly acquiescing.
The Ishbalites shot at the part of my back that they could see and the bullets exploded above my head. I ducked behind the alley wall and clicked the safety off of my pistol. Pointing my gun around the wall, I aimed at the closest Ishbalan and fired, hitting my mark between the eyes. I ducked behind the wall again, removing the empty cartridge and smacking a full one in. Mustang drew out his gun and backed up next to the wall. He whipped his pistol around the corner and fired towards the Ishbalites, missing them all wonderfully. He ducked behind a chunk of fallen rubble on the other side of the alleyway.
"I see that shooting isn't your forte!" I called to him.
"Doesn't take a genius to shoot a gun! Point and pull the trigger!" He yelled as he shot back at the Ishbalites, managing to shoot one of the enemies in the foot.
"Yes, however there is some aim involved," I replied, swearing under my breath as my pistol clicked empty. I tossed the last clip to Mustang and abandoned my useless pistol, throwing it to one side. I slipped my rifle off of my shoulder and loaded it with the remainder of the rifle bolts. This would be difficult, but not impossible. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, zoning out all of the gunfire. I whipped around the corner and started shooting at the Ishbalites. A few of them were no doubt slightly shocked at the sight of a boyish blonde with a rifle shooting at them. They went down first.
I ducked behind the cover of the wall and looked longingly at the empty bag of ammunition, willing it to refill for me. Mustang had run out of bullets before I had and was pulling on his slightly bloody gloves over his cut hands and fingers. I shook my head at him, but he ignored me. As I wasn't intent on dying, I let him go. He pulled the glove over his hand and held it in a snapping position. He then swung his arm towards the Ishbalites, snapping as he did so. Wincing as the flames engulfed the people, he dug his left hand into his pocket, fingering the locket that he's picked up.
I ducked back behind the wall, not wanting to get hit when the Ishbalites' ammunition reacted to the heat. I looked back at Havoc, instead, who was still unconscious and moaning in his feverish sleep. His hand twitched as it fired an imaginary weapon at phantom enemies. A grunt of pain from Mustang turned my attention to him again. He was sitting down, staring at his gloves, watching as fresh blood seeped through the already stained white fabric. Then, the ammunition reacted to the heat. Bullets sailed past, lodging themselves in nearby walls and amongst piles of bones. Thankfully, though, none of them hit any of us.
I was safe for the moment, so I grasped Haywood's med kit and jogged tiredly over to Roy, who had already taken off his gloves. I bandaged them again while reprimanding him for being so stupid, but thanking him with the tone of my voice.
"Sir, you could have been seriously hurt. Just look at your hands," I said softly, "I was worried... There," I said as I finished bandaging his hands, "That should do for now, sir."
He sat there, fingering the locket again, staring down at the surface which he turned every which-way. It sat, glittering in the palm of one shaking hand –both from nerves and the amphetamines. I sat there for a minute, watching him before I decided to do something. I closed my hand around his fingers and the locket, not enough that it would hurt him, but enough for him to look up at me. When he did, it was with dulled, sad eyes that looked nothing like they did when I had seen him first.
"Sir… Roy," I said, "Don't do this to yourself, it's not healthy. You can't brood for the rest of your life."
"I can sure as hell try," he mumbled. I sat back, with the ghost of an amused smile on my lips.
"Ever the pessimist. It doesn't sound like the Roy Mustang that I knew. He wanted to be the Führer. Do you?"
Roy furrowed his brow and glared at me for making him answer that.
"Yes." Quick, concise and to the point.
"Good," I told him. I don't know what spurred my next action, but my 'perfect soldier' act was taken off for a minute. I leant forward and planted a soft kiss on his lips, teasing him, leaving him wanting more. When I drew back, he was looking at me with wide eyes, a shadow of his former expression flowing over his face. I smiled, "Become the Führer, show Amestris a different way of doing things, a peaceful way of doing things. Come now, get up." He smiled and nodded to me, shakily getting to his feet and stuffing the locket back in his pocket. I knew it would work. Not that I didn't enjoy it, but Roy had needed some… motivation. On went the 'perfect soldier' act again. With that, we collected Havoc and returned to our abandoned encampment. As we weren't hiding or being careful, it only took us another day.
When we returned, our tents were ransacked, but nothing had been stolen. One of them had been partially disassembled, with poles scattered everywhere. 2nd Lieutenant Finch –or what was left of him- had been lashed to one said pole and left to rot. There was a bullet hole through his chest and part of his head had been blown off. Flies and maggots crawled all over his skin, eating every morsel they could find. The brain and the crimson inside of his head were crawling with flies, ending up looking like some sort of depraved melon riddled with seeds. I held back the urge to retch, as, I imagine, did Roy.
"One thing flames are good for," he managed to croak while digging in Havoc's pocket for his lighter, "No flies."
He clicked the lighter and set the corpse on fire, the flies clouding about it as if hoping the fire would dissipate, leaving them to their work. I wrinkled my nose in disgust, but started surveying the ground for anything of use. We lay Havoc down in the Colonel's tent before heading back outside. Roy seemed to have an idea.
"Did we have a radio?"
"No, sir. Even if we did, the Ishbalites would have most likely destroyed it."
Roy shook his head and started rummaging through all the scattered objects, "No matter. Hawkeye, gather up all the metal objects and wires that you can find and bring them back here, alright?"
I nodded and set about my task. I collected bullet casings, metal food containers, stakes from the ruined tents and even cables from the ruined engine of our truck –which, might I add, never worked properly after that sand storm. I dumped them in the designated place and stood, watching Roy. He sat there on his knees, shifting around every once in a while, with one hand bracing himself and the other drawing patterns in the sand, gradually making a transmutation circle around the parts.
"What do you plan to do, sir?" I asked, watching the patterns unfold beneath his hands. He stopped for a minute and tilted his head to look up at me. With a smirk that was reminiscent of his first, he said-
"We need a radio, don't we?"
He finished the patterns and walked around the circumference of the circle, checking the patterns. I was doomed to stand there, forever bemused by the act of science occurring in front of me. Satisfied, he kneeled down and placed his hands on the edge of the circle. Neon-blue lightning blotted out the sun, forcing me to shield my eyes. When the light disappeared, I blinked to force the spots away from my eyes. Past the brightly-coloured dots in my vision, I saw a military transmitter radio sitting in the center of the circle. Roy strode into the center, inspecting his work. Nodding his approval, he waved me in towards it. He slipped the headset over his ears and turned the dial on the radio's face, searching for the right frequency.
I placed a similar headset over my ears and listened in to the noise that was emanating from the radio. I thought I heard something, but Mustang passed it. I bent over and gently pushed his hand out of the way with a quiet "Excuse me, sir." Turning it back to where I thought I had heard something. I turned it slowly back and forth as I narrowed down the frequency. When I finally got the right frequency, I smiled triumphantly and set my headset back on the ground. Roy did the same.
"Let's take this inside, we can finish tomorrow. For now let's get some rest. We need it," he said. Tiredly, we hauled the thing into the best tent and collapsed beside it. I offered to take first watch and he thanked me with his expression as he settled into a deep, dreamless sleep. When I had watched until sunset, it seemed a shame to wake him, so I kept myself up for a few more hours. By then, I was about ready to dig a six foot hole and bury myself in it. I slouched back into the tent and unceremoniously dropped onto the sand on the floor. I reached over and shook Roy awake.
"Sir… 's your turn," I slurred before falling asleep out of sheer exhaustion.