Deliver Me

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Chapter Three: Renewal

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Eyes widening, Edward froze. His hands were loose at his sides, but he could feel them itching. Twitching to do something to get this asshole off of him.

"What did you do with Al?"

Much to his chagrin, his voice shook. He was scared, scared that something had happened to his brother. The brother he had promised to protect and take care of. Who now, because of his foolishness, was in danger by some nameless maniac. A soft chuckle came from the man behind him. "Nothing, just yet. Depends on your cooperation."

He paused, waiting to see if Edward would respond by hurting him or what. "Take off your automail." He commanded.

The reaction was hard and fast.

Edward's hands clenched, his right arm pulled forward, and his elbow jammed back. The blow caught the man at a glance, hitting him in the side. It was just enough for the arms to loosen, if barely, and Edward pulled his body away from the man behind him.

He nearly tripped as he pushed to the middle of the room, free of the restraining arms, but off balance. Spinning around to glare at his would-be captor, Edward growled.

The light was in the wrong angle for him to catch sight of the man's face. He didn't know who this guy thought he was, or what he had done with Al, but the fact that he had even threatened to touch his brother was enough to really piss Ed off.

"What did you do with Al?" He repeated, with obvious anger. He could feel it gathering in the pit of his stomach like some sick perversion of a snake; ready to strike out at anyone who got too close.

"Like I've already said...Nothing, yet," the man said. He stepped into the room, shutting the door. "It depends on what you do now."

The room was plagued by darkness, only faint beams of light coming from the slits at the sides of the window. The slightest bit of light allowed both Edward and the unknown man a bit of a basis on where each other were.

"What do you want?" Edward glanced toward the two beds in the room. The couch behind him, chair in the corner... Everything was there, and it didn't look like there had been a fight... But that left only one question in his mind.

Where was Al?

Others followed that question. Questions like "Is he alright?" and "Who is this guy, anyway?" Unanswerable questions, until he had enough information to bust out and find his brother.

The man stared at him. "Your automail." He said, "Either you use those tools," He pointed at the table, "Or I can."

There was just enough light for him to make out Edward's face. He was confused, angry, and all things that made the boy want to kill him.

How much would it take for him to launch himself backwards over the couch? Edward had to wonder. It would be hard from a stand still, but he could do it...

"Why?" He asked suspiciously, eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"

He couldn't glance behind him; he couldn't move to let the man know what he was doing. Ed would have to trust his luck. If he underestimated, he would end up flat on his back on the other side of the couch.

"No questions. No moving besides toward the tools." The man pulled something from his pocket. With a flick of his thumb, a scratchy radio sound filled the room. He pushed something; a beeping sound took over before the scratch came back. Then, there was a voice.

"Brother? You there? Do as he says, please!"

Al's voice.

"Al?" Edward's eyes widened, and he had to force himself not to run at the man. "Al! Are you okay? Where are you?"

All of the panic, the stress, was making Edward giddy. He felt dizzy, light headed. And he felt angry.

"Let him go! He never did anything to you!" He shouted at the man, almost beyond his own control.

"Did he?" The man said thoughtfully. "I think he deserves exactly what he gets."

He brought the walkie-talkie to his lips. "Get ready." He said into it before letting his hand fall to his side.

Standing expectantly, the man watched Edward through the thick dark of the room.

"Don't hurt him!" Edward's voice was desperate, shaking.

He moved cautiously to the side, picking up one of the tools. His hand was shaking, but he hardly noticed as he pulled off his jacket. The shirt came next, and he started to unscrew his arm. The screws holding it in place landed on the table, and he pulled the limb off.

The man watched him, a dull expression on his hidden face. Thankfully, the darkness was hiding his appearance.

He spoke into the walkie-talkie again. "Hold on." He said, waiting for Edward to remove his leg.

It was always harder to get off his leg. Edward couldn't stand doing it, just like he couldn't stand asking for favors, or being threatened. And what made it worse was the bastard was threatening Al. No one got away with that.

He collapsed onto the couch, working his pants down at a crooked angle. It was hard to get into the right position with the screwdriver, but he managed, working out the screws he could reach. He had to arch his back and turn to the side to reach the ones in the back, and when he was finished, he was hard pressed to pull the leg free.

It landed on the ground with a loud thump. Edward tossed the screwdriver after it, holding himself up with one arm. "Where's Al?"

"Somewhere safe." The man said, grinning. He walked forward, palms facing toward the boy. He cracked his knuckles, one at a time.

Then, he pulled a pen from his pocket. "Hold still." He said, uncapping it as he stood in front of Edward.

Glaring up at the man, Edward entertained only briefly the thought of shouting help. It would be useless. It was late so no one would be awake. They wouldn't hear him.

And what the fuck was with the pen?

"Where is he?" Dammit, he didn't care what happened to him, as long as he knew Al would be all right!

"Somewhere safe." The man repeated, one calloused hand holding onto Edward's chin as the pen touched his forehead.

Quickly, he drew a circle and something else. Then, he let his hands drop and he capped the pen. "This will hurt a bit."

His hands clapped together, he breathed in before his palm touched Edward's forehead. A bright light flashed, the red flickering.

Edward would have continued to glare, but his eyes shut as the hand touched his forehead.

Immediately, he lost sense of himself. He was floating. At least, that was what it felt like. Every nerve on his body tingled, and then burned, and he cried out in pain. His body writhed, trying to pull away from the press on his forehead, the only part of him that was cemented in reality.

He had never felt anything like this. The pain reared and swallowed him whole, though it was dimmed, as if it couldn't possibly hurt that much. Not even connecting automail to his body had hurt quite like this. Losing his limbs was no comparison. This was the worst torture Ed had ever had to endure.

He hoped Al hadn't suffered like this, and he hoped he was all right. He hoped this would end soon, and he could just die in peace.

The air around them because thick and gelatinous, like swallowing water. The man muttered something, and his grip increased.

Then, something happened. Light replaced the places where Edward's automail arm and leg had been, blinding red light that made it impossible to look at.

The light overwhelmed for a moment before fading.

A flesh-and-blood arm and leg replaced the light.

Grunting softly, the man dropped to his knees as if he'd been drained of the ability to do so.

When everything faded, Edward didn't know if he was happy to be alive. He curled into a ball on the couch, arms hugging his knees to his chest.

Wait.

Arms?

His eyes opened, and he stared. Just stared. Slowly, his fingers flexed, feeling rubbery and useless. He uncurled, brow furrowed. How had...

"Scar?" His confused frown deepened, and he tried to brace himself with the new arm. It collapsed from under him, and he winced, catching himself with the other.

"You'll be weak for a while." The man said, "And no, but very close. My son is dealing with your brother. Say hello."

The walkie-talkie buzzed. "Brother!" The voice said in greeting, this time less scratchy.

"Al!" Edward tried to reach for the radio and fell off the couch, landing hard on the floor. Groaning, he pushed himself up, using both arms. "Are you okay? Where are you? Are you... Is Scar with you?"

That bastard! Had he lied? Ed couldn't understand why there was reason to lie about something like that. It wasn't something to be trivialized, and if Scar had lied...

"Yeah, he's holding the phone up to my...mouth..." Al's voice said, "Oh! Brother! I have a MOUTH! I can talk like a regular person!"

Scar's father rubbed his eyes, a slightly wrinkled hand lifting. "Your brother's body will take a short amount of time to grow used to being in this world." He said, voice quiet. There was a faint amount of resemblance in it to Scar's.

Scar's voice came through the walkie-talkie. "I'm here as well, but I can hardly move at all. It took two of my father's brothers and I to do this. One has passed out, probably for the next couple days. And the other has not been able to move his arm for several hours."

The man stared at Edward again. "I told you, your brother deserved what he got. So did you."

Leaning back against the couch, Edward gripped his right shoulder with his left hand. He had a grin on his face, one he didn't try to wipe off. He looked down at man beside him.

"Thank you." It was so weird to feel skin under his fingers. He was so used to metal, so...

He started to push himself up, steadying his weight with the limbs he was sure of. "Can you take me to Al?" What would it be like, to see Al, instead of armor? Would he know how to act?

Would Al still feel the same? Sound the same? How would he look, act... Edward had so many questions, and his brother could only answer all.

"I'm an old man, Elric." The man said, shaking his head. "Unlike Scar, I don't think I'll be able to walk for a while. He'll bring your brother here soon enough. They're only at a small house outside of town. While I could use a small circle on your forehead, his required much more time and effort."

He motioned for the boy to sit down. "Just wait. I would assume you'd like to know why we didn't just tell you before? Your heart." He pointed at Edward's chest. "In order for this to work just right, your heart rate needed to be up quite a bit so that we'd know your blood was pumping enough that the new limbs would begin to run blood through the new veins."

Leaning down, Edward wrapped his strong arm around the old man's shoulders. He pulled up with no small amount of effort, helping the Ishbalan onto the couch.

That made sense, and he understood a little better. At least, far more then he would have if he'd been left in the dark. He was still angry. He could have been told! Did they think he was too young to understand? He wasn't a fool! He could take care of himself!

"When was this planned?" Edward glanced back at the man as he took a few unsteady steps.

Easing onto the couch with a soft sigh, the old man relaxed. "A short time ago. It took Scar and I years of training to even maintain this power and keep it under complete control. For the past year, we've kept this kind of strength in reserve to prepare for this." He shook his head. "I don't remember the man's real name, but he had the darkest eyes and hair. He asked for a favor, something to redeem his father for the sin he had created when he'd changed my father."

He watched the boy walk. "It will be uncomfortable for a short time, trust me. It will only take a day or so to make the movements strong, just a longer time to grow used to being able to."

Smiling slightly, the man peered through the still-dark room. "Forgive me for before, it was one of the few ways to increase your blood pressure. Fear is the fastest way."

Edward shook his head, looking around for his discarded shirt. His boot hit the automail leg, and he stumbled. Falling onto hands and knees, Edward bit back a curse. His fingers found his shirt, and he sat up, pulling it over his head.

"Don't worry about it." He muttered, pushing himself up again. Just because the limbs were new didn't mean he was going to give them a break. He had to be as fully functional as he was twenty minutes before. "How's your side?" He gestured on himself, at the place where his elbow would have landed.

Dark hair and eyes... Hell, that could be anyone. Sighing, Ed ran his hands through the hair that wasn't tied back in his braid. He still had his gloves on, he realized. Tugging the off, he stared at his hands through the dark.

His alchemy had relied on his metal arm, would he still be able to transmute without a circle? He didn't want to try yet. There would be time later, after everything was settled, and he'd seen Al.

"Don't worry about it." The old man said, shaking his head. "I'm fine. Scar warned me you might fight back so..." He lifted his shirt, revealing a hard bulletproof vest. "I came prepared."

Sighing softly, he pulled out the walkie-talkie and spoke into it. "Scar. I trust you're bringing the boy here."

There was an answer almost immediately. "Yes. We'll be there soon."

Al was coming. Edward felt nerves pool in his stomach, making him anxious and jittery. He didn't know what to do with himself, and standing in the middle of the room was hardly his ideal occupation.

Crossing the room, he lit the lamps in the corners, filling the empty spaces with orange light. He felt a little better, with something to do, and preceded to pick up the screws and limbs he had thrown on the floor.

His throat was tight, preventing speech. He had to try twice before he found his voice. "So... someone besides me came and asked you to do this?" He frowned, the fingers of his left hand trailing lightly over those of his right.

The touch tickled, but he didn't stop it. He hadn't felt anything with his right arm for nearly five years. He'd almost forgotten what it felt like, and he knew already that reactions from that side of his body were going to be slow. Some things just needed to be built up. Like alchemy. Starting with a basic circle, you add more and more until the circle is so complex you wonder how you ever created it.

That was all he would have to do. Build up the muscle and strength; keep him from ever giving up.

"Yes. One year ago." The man said, staring at the boy. In the light, he looked vaguely like Scar, with wrinkles around his mouth and eyes. "He came asking for our help, pleaded."

He shook his head. "We did not officially accept until Scar stepped in."

Suddenly he realized. "I have forgotten. My name is Red."

An entire year. Edward looked down at his hands, frowning. If Hilton was such a huge taboo, how could someone else, besides Havoc and Mustang know about him? Sure, there was the Fuhrer, and whoever had been assigned to destroy the files, but otherwise...

He nodded in response to the man's introduction, wondered vaguely if odd names ran in Scar's family, and lost himself in the subject at hand. His fingers tapped together, and his eyes clouded with thought.

Red had described the man to have the 'darkest hair and eyes.' Well, that would suggest black, wouldn't it? There wasn't anything darker then black.

"Mustang." He breathed, then immediately dismissed the notion. That was crazy. He'd never seen that bastard plead for anything.

The door opened, Scar stepped inside. He noted his father and Edward, turning around. A second later, he was pushing a body in a wheelchair through the door. A tall one, sporting the same color hair as Trisha Elric. "Brother!" Al said excitedly, "Look at me! And you! Your arm and leg are back!"

Scar stepped aside, allowing the boys a moment as he sat next to his father. He looked tired, alive, but tired.

"Al!" Edward's eyes widened. He had spun around as soon as the door open, expression open and hopeful. Now he sported the biggest smile he had ever had in his life.

In an instant, he was crouched in front of Al's wheelchair, both hands on the armrests. Words seemed to be completely beyond him, and after a few seconds of staring, he pulled Al into a hug.

He could feel the warmth of Al's skin underneath the baggy clothing the boy wore, and the thrum of life that surrounded him was nearly overwhelming. This was Al. Not some dream, fabrication... This really was his brother.

Tears gathering at his eyes, Al hugged Edward back in as strong a grip as he could muster. "Brother..." He said softly. "You...you're so warm."

He could feel, touch, taste, and smell...everything! It made him want to cry, and since he hadn't done that for real in so long...he let himself.

Because now he could. He cried, holding onto his brother.

Letting out a laugh, one that was a little choked, Edward squeezed his eyes shut. "You are too..." He blinked his eyes open again and pulled back, clearing his throat.

He leaned back again, looking up at Al. His eyes were shining, but if he wouldn't let himself cry before, he certainly wasn't going to now. "Are you okay?"

It wasn't a question about the tears. He had to know that Al wasn't hurt, in any way, because after this, he was never going to let his brother be hurt again.

"I'm fine, brother." Al said, smiling. "I have a body, I'm human again." He shut his eyes. "It only hurt when the body was new, but that's all melted away now. I'm so...happy."

His smile couldn't have been any wider.

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TBC

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Suqua: Not a long wait, neh? We're so nice. XP