Chapter Four
The Cerulean Alchemist looked around the train station, hating being there. There was nothing she liked about little midway towns with their handfuls of people and nothing to do. Regiene needed a city. Openness disturbed her. Her foot drummed the warped floor boards as she waited for her connection. "Basque, it's me," she said over the hum of the staticky line. She had waited on this call until she knew her lover would be home. "How's it going?"
"They manage to fail to snare the wild horse and the little bird," Gran replied, his voice vicious.
Regiene blew a wisp of her hair away from her face, not really concerned by his temper. "Well, you said, you didn't care one way or the other. Dead is good, disgraced might be better. It'll be tastier. Imagine the look on the little bastard's face when he's no longer the darling of the military."
"Yes, well hopefully our friends do manage to kill the target before our little thorn in the side finds him. Mustang and Hughes were getting too nosy about certain things and I'm fairly sure Mustang knows where the Crystal Alchemist is hiding out. He's most assuredly been in touch with Hohenheim."
Regiene's lips thinned at the mention of the powerful alchemist. "Which could be a very bad thing."
"I should have left you in place just to ensure Mustang doesn't manage to stumble onto where Hughes was taken."
She grimaced. "That might have risked him spotting me. Don't worry so much, Basque. Mustang is pretty and charismatic but he's not bright. That's why you wanted Hughes out of the way. He's the real threat."
"And Mustang has too much pull for me to have just transferred Hughes some place harmless. You're right about Mustang's face. The brass like to make sure our little hero of Ishbal is well seen by the troops and keep him well tended to," Gran said bitterly. "Rather than show him to be the coward that he is."
"While Kimblee is left rotting in that damn laboratory," Regiene growled back.
"Unfortunately, Crimson got too out of hand. Faking his execution is the best I could do at this point. Lab Five will pay off if we're patient."
"I have trouble with being patient. All right, they're boarding the train. I'll check back in at the next stop." Regiene hung up the phone and gave a moment's thought to Hughes' plight. She boarded the train, grinning broadly.
X X X
Hughes panted, barely able to think. His body trembled hard, weak from blood loss and the terrible things the man called Womack was inflicting on him. The room reeked of blood, sweat and piss. Hughes' body thrummed with the pain from the electric shocks the car battery had delivered. His pants chafed, damp with blood and urine. At this point, he had been shocked enough that he no longer had to worry about dribbling piss down his leg and into the wound. He was empty.
Womack had taken a break when Hughes had fainted. He could hear the man talking to some woman now. Hughes left his eyes screwed shut. Let them think he was still unconscious. Maybe he could learn what they thought he knew or who they were. Drachmaian insurgents, that much he surmised but what in the hell would they want of him? Did they think he was the commanding officer? If so, they must not have a photo of their intended target in that case. If he had been 'turned over' as Womack claimed, Hughes figured the least their betrayers would have said is 'the commanding officer looks half Xing, make sure to get him.'
No, after having time to think about it between screams, Hughes realized he had to be their target but why? Who had betrayed him? And what were his chances of getting out of here? He didn't know if his femur was fractured by the bullet but he didn't think he could walk. In fact, his captors were so confident he was too weak, they had unbound his wrists from each other and had them loosely tied to the bed posts. They had stretched him out on a bare mattress, for better access when it came to the torture.
"What do you mean Binney and Smith aren't back yet, Fisher?" Womack growled.
"They haven't reported in. I've not had time to go back to the site of capture, too many onlookers now. But there has been no sign of his friends at their domicile. Chances are they're dead," the woman replied dismissively.
Hughes couldn't see what she looked like but her voice was rough, like she smoked too many cigarettes and drank raw whiskey. Her words chilled him. He didn't want to think about his best friend lying dead in the woods. On the other hand, if Womack's people were missing, he would put odds that it was them lying dead and Mustang was alive. If Roy was alive, all Hughes needed to do was survive until he was rescued. He wasn't sure he liked those chances, either.
"We can't bet on it. One of them was an alchemy freak. You can't trust those monsters. In fact, our source might be wrong. The one we've been extracting information from might not be working alone. A freak would make the pair that much more dangerous. I couldn't make him tell me what they planned on doing to break our forces. I didn't think to ask him about the freak. Why don't you give it a shot, Fisher?" Womack gestured at Hughes. "I'll go check on Binney and Smith if I can."
"With pleasure." The way she purred that response made Hughes' flesh creep.
Hughes opened his eyes as Womack left. He tracked Fisher's approach the best he could with his poor sight. She got close enough that he could see her leering face and the way her walnut hair was pulled back much like Hawkeye's. "Did he get tired already?"
She grinned ferally. "Womack likes his brute strength." Fisher went to the cupboard in the room and took out a thick pillar candle. "I'm more subtle. You can spare yourself a lot of trouble if you just tell me about the freak now. I'll be honest. I'm hoping you don't."
"I can tell you he doesn't like to be called a freak," Hughes said, forcing his usual cheeriness into his voice.
Fisher laughed and came over, setting the now-lit candle on the night stand by his head. How could something usually either so utilitarian or romantic make his belly knot up fearfully? "I'll keep that in mind when he's in your place."
"I thought you decided he was already dead." Hughes summoned up a smirk.
"Ah, listening were you, naughty boy?" Fisher opened Hughes' belt buckle and yanked his pants down to his ankles.
He couldn't hold in the bellow of pain as the cloth ripped away from where it had dried onto his wound. Blood started flowing again. He could feel the warmth seeping along his skin.
"What Womack doesn't understand is some people like a little pain. Maybe you're one of them. I've met a lot of that type in my time. Are you going to tell me about the freak or do I get to have fun?" Fisher poked a finger into the bullet hole.
Hughes gasped, nearly biting his tongue again. It was sore from the times the shocks had come before he could brace for them. When he got his breath back, he said, "Guess one of us will be having fun."
"Thank you." Fisher picked up the candle. "My last boyfriend used to beg for this."
Hughes clamped his jaw shut against the howl of agony as she spilled the wax down over his freshly bared privates.
X X X
"Anyone ever tell you, you take a girl to all the nicest spots, sir?" Hawkeye eyed the pub sign adorning their third bar stop for the evening. In dark red letters, the pub name "The Quiet Woman" circled around a woman carrying her own head.
Roy rolled his shoulders. "The word around town is this pub plays host to both Drachmaians and Amestrisians. It would probably be the best place to find the rebels we're looking for."
"That's what you said about the last two bars, sir," she said wearily. She adjusted her hair clasp because her hair threatened to slip free.
His eyes narrowed. "And I keep telling you not to call me sir, Hawkeye."
"Whatever you say, Mustang." She smiled slightly. "This place is disgusting."
"We're not even inside yet. How much more disgusting can it be than the Bucket of Blood pub?" He pulled a long face. "Scratch that. I suppose any place that finds humor in decapitated women is going to be a bit rough."
"Don't worry, Mustang. I'll protect you." Her grin widened.
"That's not funny," he said, chuckling in spite of himself. Truth was, she probably was scarier looking. He had just turned twenty-one and looked about fourteen. No one took him seriously within the military or without. He looked like a child. He'd grow a beard just to look older but all he could really manage was some patchy scruff that looked like he had mange.
"Do you think they'll just be wearing those badges if they actually do hang out in places like this?" she asked quietly, hand reaching for the battered doorknob.
Roy nodded. "It probably has no meaning to anyone but them. We don't even know if they're rebels from here or across the border. Hell knows they can be hiding anywhere in these mountains but if there's one thing soldiers like to do, it's unwind when they get the chance."
"You don't have to tell me," she said, yanking the door open. A noxious cloud of tobacco smoke roiled out making her eyes smart.
Smoke layered the pub, darkening the place even more. Its few windows wouldn't let in much light in the day and at night they were just small pies of gloom. The pub didn't make a lot of use of electric lighting, thick candles thumped down haphazardly on every table. A smoky fire crackled in the enormous central fireplace. Several dart boards were in the far end and several tables had people playing dice or cards. Roy could count the women in the place on his fingers and didn't doubt everyone but the bartender was a prostitute. He glanced back at Hawkeye and saw how grim her face was. He didn't blame her. Given some of the looks even he was getting, he was feeling a little like meat for sale in this place. She didn't move off to find a place to sit and observe. Instead she stayed close to him, more for his protection he didn't doubt, than her own. Tonight had impressed him with her toughness.
Mustang pushed his way to the bar. "Two pints," he said, wondering how much they'd learn while nursing the beers before someone got suspicious of them.
"Not from around here," the bartender said, a wicked glint in her eyes as she poured beer into mugs that at least looked clean.
"Am now," he replied noncommitally.
She grunted at him, feigning disinterest. Roy handed a beer to Hawkeye and flipped a modest tip to the woman. He threaded his way to a place too near the fire for physical comfort, which was probably why the warped little table stood empty. He and Hawkeye turned their chairs a bit so they could sit and look out over the pub. Eyes were turned back their way as well. That had been a problem in their search. They were strangers and everyone in the small mountain town knew it.
Roy sipped his beer and grimaced. "They can't brew worth a damn around here," he said lowly.
Hawkeye took a taste. "It's not that bad."
Roy shrugged. "I prefer whiskey but that's not as easy to nurse and it goes to the head too damn fast."
Her eyes flicked back towards the smoky fireplace, coughing a bit. "Not the best choice of seats but I guess there aren't many options. I guess if you needed to, you could use that." She nodded at the fireplace.
Roy touched his right pocket where one glove and his watch rested. His other pocket had another glove and matches just in case. "Yes. With that I could turn this place to ash. I'm rather hoping to avoid that."
"When did you learn you could do this kind of alchemy?" she asked, her eyes on the crowd and not him.
Selfishly, he wished she'd just look at him just a little. "When I was young."
"I had heard you were the youngest to take the uh..." her eyes cut around, as she scanned to see if anyone was eavesdropping, "test."
"I am." He smiled sardonically. "For all the good it did me."
"I was there at the battles in Ishbal, too," she said softly, her eyes finally flicking towards him. She had seen him there, but never in action. She had seen the flames, of course, but never their creation. Hell she had almost killed him receiving the countermand at the last moment. She wasn't sure if she should tell him that or not, unsure if the rumors of why he had been targeted and then spared were true. "I didn't realize that it was you...I saw what some of you had done in the desert. I can understand why you don't want to talk about it."
Roy glanced at the old wood of the table. "I don't. I never thought I'd be turned into a butcher or that they would call me a hero for it. Some days it doesn't seem real. And days like today, hoping that my friend hasn't been killed for political reason, it's all too real."
"We have to believe Hughes isn't dead yet. If they wanted that, they had opportunity to do it where he fell yesterday," Hawkeye said, pretending to take a sip of beer.
"There are things worse than death," he replied grimly and her face pulled into a tight rictus.
"Hey, pretty lady, why are you wasting time with a boy? Why don't you trade up to some real men?" a thick-neck man from the next table over hooted at Hawkeye.
Hawkeye's face twisted and Roy knew she wasn't going to just shrink from that comment. He wouldn't want her to even though this was going to be a problem. "Well, when you find one, let me know so I can do that," she retorted and Roy braced for what he knew would come next. Either the idiot would shut up or there'd be a fight. So much for finding anything out here, not that he had spotted a single badge yet and it wasn't likely rebels would be talking rebellion openly.
Predictably Thick-Neck and the red-faced thug sitting with him both got up. "Who do you think you're talking to, girlie?"
"She's with me so why don't you two push off and leave us to our beers," Roy said, not really wanting to get into a fist fight but what the hell. He wasn't letting anyone talk to Hawkeye like this.
"Who's talking to you, boy?" Red-Face grabbed him, hauling Roy up.
Roy twisted, breaking free. He took Red-Face to the ground with an arm lock, leaving the much larger man whimpering and grasping for his shoulder with his free hand. "I think I'm talking to you. Now leave us alone."
"Let Elliott alone or I'll do your girl right in front of you, you slant-eyed bastard," Thick-Neck growled, lunging for Hawkeye.
She rocked back on her chair, one foot catching him in the groin and the other in the knee. He took out the table, splattering everyone with beer as he went down. "It'll take more than you to manage that," she spat at him.
Two men, who looked like they could belong to the Armstrong line, lumbered out from behind the bar. The brunette busybody pouring drinks came with them. "Elliott, Marius, what have I told you about bothering other guests?" Her voice was as sharp as a new knife. "Get out of here." The two sides of beef on either side of her dragged the wounded men towards the door to ensure they left. She leveled a button-eyed look at Mustang and Hawkeye. "You two okay?"
"Wet but fine," Roy replied, sluicing beer out of his hair.
"I'll get you more drinks on the house," she said, Roy's 'thank you' hitting into her back as she stomped back toward her haven behind the bar.
Roy set the table back up. "Maybe I should have found another angle for you to investigate, Hawkeye. Apparently the sight of a real woman is too much for some of the locals."
She flushed slightly. "Sorry to be a distraction."
"You can't help being beautiful." The words slipped out before Roy knew what he was saying. It was his turn to blush. "Sorry. I didn't mean to speak out of turn."
"It's all right, si...Mustang." She ran a hand through her beer-soaked hair.
He wondered what she must think of him. If she had any doubts after the train ride here that he was interested in her, she didn't any more. What was he thinking, flirting when Maes was probably somewhere being hurt? He was a terrible friend. Neither of them said anything even after the bartender came back with more beers.
Hawkeye's hand came down on his wrist and she nodded toward the door. He followed her gaze. A man and a woman had come in sporting the white shield with red stars on their jackets. The woman saw them looking and tapped her companion's shoulder. Both badge-wearers wheeled around and walked right back out of the pub. Roy and Hawkeye jumped up and pushed their way to the door as fast as they could through the crowd. Once they managed to break free into the frigid mountain air, the badges were already down the path several yards. At least they were on foot which meant they were most certainly locals.
He and Hawkeye broke out into a run. Roy felt the rush of air but didn't have time to dodge as Thick-Neck stepped out from the shadow. He slammed a log from the fire woodpile near the pub wall into Roy's side, taking the Lieutenant Colonel off his feet. Roy felt the bullet graze along his side break open and bleed as he rolled along the ground, breathless.
"Sly, Elliot, get her but she's mine once I'm done with pretty boy," Thick-Neck said. "Help hold him down, Rob."
Just what I need, reinforcements, Roy groaned mentally, rolling out of Rob's way as the brawny man reached for him. Mustang leapt to his feet, swinging on Thick-Neck. The man was muscled but he was slow. Roy's fist caught the man's nose, breaking it. Thick-Neck fell back, howling. Gunfire echoed through the wooded glade the Quiet Woman rested in. Thick-Neck's buddies yelped in shock.
"Come on, Mustang!" Hawkeye cried, her guns out.
"We don't have time for you idiots," Mustang yelled back to their attackers as he started loping downhill, following the path the badge-wearers had taken.
Hawkeye was ahead of him, running with a gun in either hand. He just hoped her trigger finger wasn't too easy or he was likely to catch a ricochet off the ground. Behind him, he heard the roar of a truck engine and the malicious howling of four bullies too stupid to give up the fight. Hawkeye was already dodging for the side of the road. Mustang followed suit, pulling out one of his gloves as the logging truck rolled past and circled back for them.
"They're starting to piss me off," Roy growled as the truck lumbered their way. He snapped his fingers and the vehicle was engulfed in flames. The fire started dying as soon as it ignited but the effect was what Roy wanted. The men inside were shrieking in fear and drove right into a ditch. Roy caught Hawkeye's elbow and propelled her forward. "I was really hoping not to out myself as alchemist in town, too."
"Better that than losing our target," she said, pushing herself to pick up her speed.
But it was too late. Their target had disappeared. Trolling the streets near the pub showed them nothing. The morons from the Quiet Lady had cost them dearly. The streets were deathly quiet and sleet began to fall, freezing both soldiers to the core. Roy cursed loudly as they walked on. The night couldn't have taken a worse turn. It was too small of a town for word not to get around about a gun-toting blonde and her flame-throwing companion. Roy knew he had no prayer of blending in. The only way he could look more exotic was to have Ishbalan red eyes. Even though they knew they had lost their prey, they kept searching until the very early morning hours.
Finally they dragged back to the little hotel room. It was cold inside. Hawkeye put a hand on the radiator. "It doesn't throw much heat. Guess we're supposed to use the fireplace."
"This place is more for romance than convenience...sorry. It was the best I could do," he said sheepishly, taking off his sopping jacket.
"Understood sir." She went over and threw a few logs into the fireplace then stepped back and looked at him.
Pulling on his wet array glove first, Roy took out the matches and lit one. Flames leapt from it to the fireplace. He tossed the match in as well. He turned and saw Hawkeye giving him a curious look. "I can't create the spark. I need something to build the transmutation off of and my gloves can't make the spark when they're wet."
"I'll keep that in mind, sir. Are you all right? He hit you hard. I can see you're bleeding again." She pointed to his shirt.
"I'll be fine. Why don't you shower first, Hawkeye, and warm up? I'll report back in to Central and you and I have to get some sleep. We aren't going to be good for much longer."
She nodded. "I'm really feeling every muscle that got pulled when the car rolled."
"I know."
While she showered, Roy left a message for Gran at command, merely stating that they had spotted what might be a rebel faction and that they would try to follow up on it in the morning. He tried to divorce himself from thoughts of what was happening to Hughes. It wouldn't help if he worked himself up with thoughts of torture and death. He needed to rest so he'd be worth something to his friend in a few hours. He looked up from the fireplace where he had been sitting when Hawkeye came back into the room. "You take the bed, Hawkeye. I'll sleep in the chair." He pointed to the overstuffed chair that he wasn't sitting in until he had dry clothes.
"Are you sure, sir?"
"Positive."
He left her turning down the bed clothes as he went to shower the beer out of his hair and the blood from his body. He did his best to patch up the bullet wound. His skin was red and angry there and now bruising even more thanks to catching a log to the ribs. Hawkeye was still awake when he dragged back into the room and fell into the chair.
"That doesn't look comfortable, sir. Please, the bed is plenty big. It's not like I didn't have to sleep right next to other male soldiers on the front lines," Hawkeye said, patting the mattress.
He wanted to climb in next to her in the worst way. Instead, he said, "It's not really appropriate."
"Who'll tell command?" she asked.
Mustang sighed. He was too tired to argue. He flipped the covers down on the other side and climbed in. The bed was luxuriously soft. He sighed again, sinking into the feather tic. "Thanks, Hawkeye," he said, all too aware of how close she was to him.
"You smell good," she blurted out.
He glanced over at her, looking at her huge eyes and the hand she had flung across her mouth. He could imagine her blush.
"I'm so sorry sir. That wasn't...I didn't...it was inappropriate."
"Relax, Lieutenant. Like you said, who'll tell command." He smiled faintly. She had a point. He did smell good, usually did. Jenna, the herbalist who looked out for him when he was growing up, always made sure to send him her hand milled soaps, rich in goat milk, cedar, rosemary and cloves. "Speaking of command, no demands have come in from any groups holding a solider for ransom. We still have no idea who's behind this."
"People foolish enough to wear an identifiable mark," she said, shifting on the bed so she was looking at him.
Roy's eyes strayed for a moment to her lush chest. "Not foolish, overly proud. They're as proud of their group as we are of our military. They probably think what they're doing is for the greater good. We just have to find them."
"And find out why they want Hughes."
"That too. That's secondary in my mind but I suppose it's not to Command." Roy said. "We'll worry about it in the morning. Get some sleep, Hawkeye."
She mumbled something, letting her eyes shut. As she relaxed into sleep, her hand brushed his arm. He wished he could nod off as quickly as she could. Hell, he'd settle for being able to tear his eyes away from her body and it didn't help that blood was heading south to spite him. Great, she had only been asleep for a few minutes. All she needs to do is wake up and see you like this! Roy rolled onto his back but that just made his condition all the more obvious. He flipped onto his side and behind him, Hawkeye murmured. Give me a break! He demanded of his body but it ignored him. It had been a while since he had a girl in his bed, not really trusting his state of mind ever since he got back from Ishbal. Oh, his reputation would have everyone believe otherwise but he had been lonely for months. His body was making him pay for that now, remaining stubbornly as hard as iron.
Damn it! Roy slipped out of bed and hobbled into the bathroom. This was the last thing he needed with Riza sleeping just a few feet away and Hughes God knew where captive. Of course, Hughes barely registered with Roy's chaotic mind. He was too full of how Hawkeye looked, how she moved and smelled, of how her hand had felt on his arm. She was an underling. She was forbidden. Thoughts of that did nothing to ease the heaviness between his legs. It only served to make it worse. Clamping his jaw shut, resolutely, Roy reached down for that treacherous body part.