Avatar of Hope
Part 2 of Platinum Angel
by Bridgitkiido
Disclaimer: Is my name Hiromu Arakawa? No, it isn't. So, I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or anything having to do with it. And naturally, since the titles of this fanfic derives its name from the Platinum Angel and Avatar of Hope cards in the popular trading card game Magic: The Gathering, it is only right to point out that I don't own that either. I do, however, own my character, State Alchemist Major Avalon.
Spoiler Warning: There are plenty of spoilers for pretty much post-end-of-chapter 38 of the FMA manga. Mostly what happens to Havoc.
.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.
Time passed. Mustang's wounds eventually healed, and he left the hospital to continue with his important duties, such as helping the Fullmetal Alchemist and his brother and new Xingish friends fight homunculi. Unfortunately for Havoc, however, his legs' nerves weren't likely to just up and fix themselves, so he remained stuck in his hospital bed.
Every so often, between visits from his parents and retirement people, Major Avalon would visit the young Second Lieutenant. He appreciated her company, although usually it was just the two of them playing cards.
One particular day, Avalon entered to find Havoc reading a book of military records. After greeting each other and setting up for yet another round of Go Fish, she asked, "So, Lieutenant, what were you reading?"
"Oh, it's just something I picked up to pass the time," Havoc replied as he dealt the cards. The two of them had set up a small table relatively close to the bed, and Avalon had helped Havoc to sit up on the edge of the bed. "Some of the more public records about the State Alchemists. I was trying to look you up, and I think I found you. Your second name is Platinum Wing, correct?"
Avalon smiled. "That's correct; when I was in service, I was known as the Platinum Wing Alchemist. Of course, that's almost all in the past now; due to my injuries, I believe I'm probably going to have to retire soon."
"That isn't all of interest that I found, though," Havoc stated, holding the book up. "The first time you visited, Lieutenant Hawkeye commented that the popular story is that you were injured escorting a group of Ishballans to a new camp when you got into a freak accident."
"Yes," Avalon replied unfazed. "That is the official story."
Havoc replied, "Things don't quite add up with that, though. These records state that you were injured only a few months ago, and there haven't been any Ishballan movements – well, except for Scar, but he's a special case – in over a year. Also, how would you be investigating the death of General Hughes before your injury if you were escorting the victims of war?" He glanced at her.
Avalon smiled sweetly and replied, "I like intelligent men like you. Quite perceptive, to have figured me out like that."
"So what happened, if you don't mind me asking, Major?" Havoc asked.
Avalon sighed. She stood up, looked both ways out the hospital room door, and closed it. She also closed the blinds. "I suppose the first thing you ought to know is how my alchemy works – or, that is, worked."
Using her left foot, she pulled her right sandal off, revealing it to have several transmutation circles placed, as described, where her toes could easily reach them. She then flipped it over, revealing a second, larger, more ornate circle on the bottom, which was, oddly enough, formed from some sort of metal. She then balanced carefully on her, now bare, right foot and stepped her left foot on the right sandal.
Immediately, there was a blinding flash of light, such that Havoc had to cover his eyes. When it died down, however, what he saw was an amazing sight. There stood Major Avalon, and attached to her back was a pair of fully functioning metal wings, shaped like those of a bird, folded neatly to avoid knocking medical supplies over. "Before you ask," the alchemist stated, "yes, they do fly."
Havoc sat there in awe. "That's amazing," he finally replied after a few seconds.
"What do you think the mechanics are behind it?" the Major asked softly.
"The metal that the wings are made of apparently comes from that which was stored underneath your sandals," Havoc replied. "When you activate your alchemy, that metal forms a pair of wings, and the way you do it allows you to attach them to your muscles as well. That's the easy part though – the only issue remaining is that the amount of metal stored beneath your feet isn't nearly enough to form a pair of wings that size. After all, you alchemists have to follow equivalent exchange, right?"
Avalon smiled. "Very good. That would be everything the general military knows about my transmutation. In fact, I doubt that even the Fuhrer knows more. No one's ever noticed the issue you brought up with it. And I must ask you not to tell anyone what I'm about to tell you."
Havoc replied, "I won't tell anyone, I promise."
"There is one main reason why, even if our species suddenly sprouted wings one day, most people would not be able to lift off the ground," Avalon continued. "Our bones are so dense, with all the marrow inside, that the wings required for such a feat would need to be able to be very powerful. Birds don't have that problem because their bones are hollow, so their wings can support them."
"I see," Havoc replied. "So the extra material for the wings is your own bone marrow?" Avalon nodded. "But technically, that's transmuting a part of yourself – human transmutation! Isn't that against the law?"
"Now you see why I don't want you to tell anyone about this," Avalon replied. "Although human transmutation usually refers to attempting to raise the dead, some might consider what I do to be the same. The only difference is that while those who attempt to raise the dead usually die themselves, I come out of it with, usually, no complications. It's easily reversible as well.
"Unfortunately, it does have its side effects on occasion. After all, bone marrow is where new white blood cells are produced, and removing it can severely hamper one's immune system. Several months ago, I was sent on a mission to check on the desert town of Lior. My superiors claimed that they had received some clues about Brigadier General Hughes' murder, and they felt that I should go to Lior to investigate further. However, while I was flying over the desert, I got an odd disease, and without much marrow to replace them, my white blood cells had, for the most part, slowly died off. It exhausted me and dulled my senses somewhat, so when I finally made it to Lior and found all of the fighting that was going on there, I was fairly useless."
"So what happened then?" Havoc asked after Avalon had paused for a few moments.
Avalon eventually replied, "I suppose it's quite simple. I was looking around, I saw a few odd people talking – all of them had tattoos that I later identified to be of the ouroboros, they noticed me, I wasn't able to get out of the way in time, and the woman among them walked up to me and, after correctly identifying me without even having had an introduction, told me that they weren't going to kill me. Then, she somehow was able to extend her fingernails into sharp lance-like things, and she stabbed me in the arms, slicing the nerve cells in them. Then, they left, and a private who happened to pass by found me and took me straight to the hospital. I was later transferred over here, and… well, I've been like this ever since."
"A lady with an ouroboros tattoo?" Havoc asked, perking up. "Did she happen to have it on the center of her upper chest, and did she like very low cleavage?"
"Yes, she did," Avalon replied. "Why do you ask?"
Havoc then replied, "If it's the same one as I think you're referring to, that's the one that did this to me." He motioned towards his legs.
Avalon stepped on her sandal once again, changing her wings back into what they formerly had been. She then placed the sandal back on her foot and sat down. "In that case, I suppose we have more in common than I thought."
.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.
More time passed, and Avalon continued to visit Havoc. Eventually, the two of them started to have meetings that were not so much meetings between Major and Second Lieutenant, but between good friends. Sometimes, it seemed almost as though they were dating, although no one dared to come up to them and tell them that.
One night, Avalon came in to have dinner with Havoc. Instead of the usual hospital food, the two of them had ordered out at a Xingish restaurant. Apparently, a close acquaintance of the Fullmetal Alchemist had recommended the place, so, naturally, the Colonel had found out, and, naturally, he passed word to his entire staff. Havoc had even asked Warrant Officer Falman to buy some candles for the two of their dinner, among other things. The Warrant Officer could later be seen mumbling to himself about having to complete such an expensive shopping list, but that is irrelevant.
When Avalon and Havoc sat down to dinner, the two of them didn't start actually eating for a while. First, Havoc had something important to say.
And after several minutes of 'um's and 'er's and 'you know's and the like, Havoc eventually stated, "So, um, Major…"
"I don't think we have to be so formal right now," Avalon replied. "You can call me by my first name – Christina."
"Christina," Havoc repeated. "That's a beautiful name. Mine is Jean."
"Jean," Christina replied. "That's lovely as well."
"So, um, Christina… we've known each other several months now, and we're both going to probably have to retire soon anyway… I was thinking that… you know… um… here, why don't I just show you?" He took a moment to pull something out of his pocket – a small box that, as he opened it, revealed a small emerald engagement ring.
"Oh, Jean," she replied, "it's lovely!"
He continued, "You're the first woman I've met who has been nice to me because of who I am, and… I love you. I want to be with you for the rest of my life. Would you… would you marry me? I'd get down on one knee, but… you know."
Christina Avalon sat there a moment, taking in everything that he had just asked, and smiled sweetly.
"Yes, Jean, of course I'll marry you."
.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.--.
Author's Note: You asked for it, you got it. I'm not writing any more, but hopefully this will clear up anything you've been wondering. (Honestly, I think this ties it up better as well.)
