Enflamed Chapter 2: Questions, a fullmetal alchemist fanfic

Enflamed

Chapter 2 - Questions

"Hey, Al! Al! Look at that!"

"I see it, nii-san!"

Large blue eyes took in the incredible image that his brother pointed at. The sky was on fire. Clouds were thwarted in their plans to tuck the sun away behind them as rays burst out from their prison like long fingers, reaching and hoping to somehow touch the entire ceiling of the world. There they captured embers and lit them up – purples mixing with blues, oranges, and yellows. Edward Elric looked sideways at his brother's face, feeling proud that he was somehow related to the look of happiness on the child's features. At any other time, he would have recited some scientific fact to impress his sibling, but no such facts came to him now. All he wanted to do was to enjoy this moment, and perhaps make it last forever.

A gentle breeze ruffled his golden hair, cropped neatly to his shoulders. His mother insisted that he keep his hair nicely trimmed and groomed. He hated it. One day, he would grow out his hair and wouldn't bother with cutting it. Closing his eyes, he allowed the wind to seep into him, almost daring to believe that he was flying. If he looked out in front of him, his eyes could avoid capturing the image of the hill they sat upon, and with such sights omitted could see the farmlands below. In such a way, he could feel that he was a winged bird, suspended in the air, hovering above the people – free. Feeling a tug on his sleeve, he turned his attention back to his little brother with some regret. The child was smiling, giggling, laughing – Edward swore that he had never heard a better sound. Together, they could do anything. They could surpass their father in alchemy, could become great scientists, could make incredible discoveries –

"Nii-san…what do you think we're going to do when we grow up?"

The question should have been simple to answer. After all, he had only just been considering the possibilities. Yet, Alfonse had asked it in such a tone that something close to suspicion wormed itself into his stomach. He furrowed his eyebrows, a lack of understanding and obvious hesitation transforming his features into a face Alfonse was not too familiar with. The younger boy suddenly looked embarrassed.

"I guess…we'll become scientists…" Edward said lamely.

"But what about Mom?"

Mom? He was amazed to find that his vision of the future held a loophole. But the answer should have been obvious.

"If we don't stay here, she'll come with us. We'll go all around the world, and discover new things. We'll set precedents in alchemy, and show everyone just how incredible the Elrics are!"

After his excited outburst, Alfonse sat quietly, smiling a secret smile. Edward's plan sounded wonderful. Although it would be difficult to leave home, things would be alright because their mother would be with them. Together, they were unbeatable. He laughed, suddenly, and Edward joined in without a second thought. His younger brother's laugh was always contagious. They continued that way for some time, rolling around on the floor, laughing, tickling each other until both boys were breathless. When they looked up at the sky next, they noted that the sun had almost set.

"We should get home," Edward said soberly. "Mom will be worried."

"Yeah."

They set off for the house at an even pace, occasionally pushing each other and giggling. It took less than ten minutes to reach their home, and both boys smiled when they did. Their mother wasn't outside, and they supposed that she was busy making somethig irresistable for dinner. In his hand, Alfonse held some flowers he had picked along the way. Edward knocked on the door.

"Mom! We're home!"

No answer.

"Mom?"

When Edward sent a look of confusion towards Alfonse, the younger boy just shrugged and shook his head. Strange. Knocking again, they waited until impatience turned to fear. Jerking the doorknob fiercely, he was shocked when the door opened willingly under his strength. Forgetting about Alfonse for the moment, he burst into the house, an irrational terror siezing his heart. He searched the house up and down, calling his mother's name until he felt his throat constrict painfully. Before he knew it, he was standing in front of his own room, breathing hard from his run around the house. A trembling hand lifted up to touch the door handle. Something told him that beyond that door was something that he did not want to see.

He twisted.

Twisted.

Lowered the handle.

Pushed against it.

And entered the room.

There, on the wooden floor lay something so hideous that it could hardly be considered human. In the place where there should have been a head, rib bones stuck out like spears in a linear arrangement. The mouth was open – no lips, just misplaced teeth and hair. Arms were twisted, wrists broken, knees bent backwards and skin shriveled like all the moisture had been sucked from it. Organs pulsed as if blood flowed through them, twitching and wriggling until Edward thought he would be sick then and there. Blood soaked the floor like bright red paint, its viscous body swirling beneath his shoes and its metallic scent suffocating him. No…it couldn't be…that thing was not his mother…A pain came next. A wave of pain in leg so strong that it forced him to his knees. A scream tore itself from his throat and he shot a look at the offending limb, his eyes widening when he saw what was happening. His leg was disappearing!

"Al! Al! Where are you?" A siezing desperation gripped him by the throat. Golden eyes wildly searched the room. Surroundings that had been so familiar to him were now strange. Nothing made sense. The walls were growing and he was shrinking, losing hope for redemption and gaining new layers of shame. When he had seen that sunset, he had dared to hope that this dream would be different from the rest – that perhaps it would not turn into the gruesome nightmare that had plagued him for so long. Yet now, as he bled his life onto the wooden floor, as his blood joined with that of the disfigured form in front of him, he understood that there was no going back. There were no chances to do things over, to stop himself from wanting to bring back one of the only people that he had ever loved. He heard a gasp at the doorway and turned – slowly – for he knew who stood there.

"Nii-san! What have you done?"

The child stood there, stock still, as if he was a statue – a monument to his darkest shame. How could he have fooled himself that things could ever be alright? Already he was losing his arms, legs, stomach, neck – the transparency was drowning him in invitability, engulfing his brother just like his own terror engulfed him now. His brother's eyes were petrified. He screamed his name, over and over, begging him to do something, to save him from the horror. But didn't he understand? There was nothing he could do! Nothing! Still, he couldn't stop himself from reaching out one last time and was rewarded with knives of suffering as his arm began to disappear as well. The transparent force of the Equivalent Exchange dissolved the flesh, the blood, the bone, until there was nothing but a broken, bleeding stump left in the place of a healthy limb. Yet still his brother continued disappearing.

"Al! Al! No!"

"What have you done, nii-san? What have you done!"

A bright glare shoved him backwards onto his knees, and he opened his eyes despite the pain. A small glow hovered there, his brother's voice screaming and shouting his name from the orb. His mind went completely blank. His hand moved on its own accord as he began to desperately make the seal that would bind Alfonse's soul to the giant armor standing against the wall of the room. And all the while, all he could do was applogize…

"Oh God, Al! I'm sorry…I'm so sorry…"

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Colonel Roy Mustang stepped down from the train platform at exactly nine in the morning the day after the incident at Laboratory Five. The first hints of winter's snow dotted his thick, blue uniform with fat snowflakes, the small flurry of white later turning into a blizzard that Havoc and Hawkeye would eventually call Nature's personal welcomming party. Much to the enjoyment of the two, Mustang agreed to join them for a drink later that evening, assuming that he would finish all of his duties with the higher-ups at Central. His first priority, however, was paying a visit to Hughes who, as Gracia revealed, hadn't come home from the hospital the night before. Roy could only assume that that meant that Edward had been located, and that his condition was worse than he expected.

Or maybe he's trying to figure out a way to make that brat stay in bed…

He knew all too well that the older Elric brother was a pain in the ass when it came to sitting still. That was a major reason why he always took care to find a job for him that entailed traveling. The kid simply couldn't stay still for a minute; the restlessness that came with youth constantly pulled him in different directions. Or maybe he was afraid of staying in one place too long, of getting attached to a location. His musings were interrupted when Havoc called to him from the front seat of the military car that Hughes had arranged for. Hawkeye muttered something about him losing focus when it came to the Elrics, and he had to resist return the favor.

"We're here, Sir."

Mustang nearly kicked open the car door.

"Right."

The large, grey walls of the hospital building gleamed wet from across the street. It was run-down, but due for repairs in January. The facility itself was nearly fifteen years old. Somehow, he couldn't help wondering if the equipment still functioned properly. He was shocked, having been oblivious to the concern that now seemed to be such a large part of his day. Once again, his thoughts were interrupted –

"We'll park the car and join you later," Hawkeye said. Go, her eyes told him.

"Thanks."

As the car continued forward, Mustang's cloak billowed in the breeze that its passing created. He shielded his eyes from the morning sun and the glare of snoflakes on rooftops, moving forward until he reached the doors of the hospital.

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Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

Time had never seemed as sullen as it did in a medical clinic. It dragged along like a crippled old man – lazy and impossibly slow in its tempo. After spending nearly nine hours doing nothing, Hughes had to admit that he felt as if his sanity was slipping. It had been nearly midnight when he and several other nurses had brought Edward Elric into the hospital. Nearly losing him twice during the drive itself, Hughes feared the worst when he actually saw the wounds that tore open his side, shoulder, and thigh.

How bad is it? He had asked the doctor. Shaking his head, the older man reponded.

"The major rectus femoris muscle was torn in his leg, which means that the kid won't be doing much walking for a while. Something cut right under his rib – he's lucky it didn't hit the lung or he'd be dead by now. The wound on his shoulder is deep, but luckily isn't something we can't handle." Giving Hughes a grim smile, he bowed his head and asked if he could be dismissed to continue his work. Hughes wasn't sure why he stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, but his eyes must have revealed his discomfort for the doctor went on to explain a bit further.

"He should be fine, Sir. If we didn't lose him by now, then the boy has a strong will to live."

A nurse opened the door to the room to which Edward was assigned. He could only see him partially, but Hughes noted the oxygen mask that had been placed over his face. At his questioning look, the doctor explained that it was sleeping gas, a necessary precaution that had to be taken in order for the boy to keep still while they gave him stitches. The clock chimed, and for the first time in a while, Hughes realized the time. Eight thirty. Had it really been that long? Gracia must be worried, he thought.

"May I…?" he trailed off, unsure of how to phrase the question. The doctor looked hesitant but agreed. Hughes walked into the small room, instantly feeling stifled. Yet, despite the inadequate size of the room, Edward still looked small. He smiled, thinking that the boy would take offense if he knew. Stepping towards the bed, he grabbed a nearby chair and sat down, resting his elbows on the matress. The only sound now was of Edward's labored breathing – ragged, shallow. He hated to see him this way. Normally so full of life and energy, the boy seemed so fragile now that Hughes felt a stab of anger. Why had such a cruel fate been bestowed upon so innocent a child?

"What have you done to yourself this time, kid?"

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When a knock shook the heavy door of the sick room, Hughes assumed that the nurses had come to tell him that it was time for him to leave. When he asked the visitor to enter, he was shocked to find Roy Mustang standing in the doorway, his coat wet and his eyes burning with intensity. Immediately, his gaze slid to the boy on the cot, his eyes narrowing.

"Good morning." Hughes attempted to lessen the sudden tension in the air by forcing a smile. Roy simply inclined his head in acknowlegement of his greeting for the second time in twenty four hours, Hughes wondered if he had done the right thing by telling him about the situation at all. The Colonel's boots squeaked as he made his way towards Edward, setting one gloved hand upon the metallic footboard. "Doc says he should be fine, although he's in bad shape."

"I can see that much," the younger man answered tersely.

"Don't look so concerned. He'll be fine." When his friend didn't answer, Hughes waited until he made eye contact. It was obvious that anger simmered there beneath the strong desire to know who to let that anger out upon. He understood what he wanted. Details. Letting out a long breath, he gestured to another chair that was propped up against the wall. Roy took it and sat down.

"I can't tell you much, because I don't know the full extent of it myself. Edward should be able to tell us more, if he'll agree to cooperate."

"The Lab was supposed to abandoned, but I'm guessing it was not," Roy suggested. A beat. He lowered his voice until it was barely audible.

"It's strange, Roy. Mangled bodies, corpses of dead chimeras, equipment that looks like it was working until yesterday – the convicts that were found there say that they saw General Basque Gran there. We both know he died in action."

As innapropriate as it seemed, Roy smirked.

"So who did they blame it on?"

Hughes wasn't surprised. He had been expecting that sort of response, especially since he was no stranger to how things worked in the military. Stealing a look at Edward, his frown dipped lower. The heart monitor was keeping an even rhythm.

"Scar. But I'm not about to settle for that, and I know you won't either."

"You're right," Roy agreed bitterly.

"In any case, we won't know the truth until..." He didn't get to finish. A rustling sound made both men move confused gazes to the cot. Edward's heart beat stuttered then sped up, the monitor signaling the change with increased volume. His lips opened and he grimaced. Hands shifting, teeth gritted, and pulse climbing, Edward Elric regained conciousness. Heavy eyelids fluttered open to reveal his golden eyes. Slowly, his pupils contracted to accept the onslaught of light. The first person he saw was Hughes, and even then he did not immediately recognize him.

His first reaction was panic.

Heedless of his injuries, his right hard reached up to tear off the oxygen mask, body pulling him up at the same time into a sitting position. Looking around wildly, Roy thought he greatly resembled a cornered animal, fearful and confused. Before he could do anything, Hughes was already ordering him to lie back down. But, of course, the boy refused.

"Al! Where's Al?"

Hughes studied the boy through his glasses, concern overshadowing all other emotion for the moment.

"Lie down! Do you have a death wish?"

But Edward wasn't looking at him. He was looking through him. Frantic eyes scanned the small room.

"Where's Al?"

"He's fine," Roy blurted out before he could stop himself. It's dangerous for him to be here, so Gracia agreed to let him stay at her house until you recover." Hughes sent him a scathing glare to let him know of his "appreciation". But Edward swallowed that piece of information without hesitation, his answer coming out so quickly that neither man could doubt that it was ruled by instinct.

"I have to fix him. Now." The look on Edward's face suggested that he was completely serious. Both men were so shocked at the sudden turn of events that Edward managed to somehow kick his legs over the side of the cot before they could react. The pain must have been immense – his groan of pure agony told them so.

"Fullmetal, where do you think you're going?" Roy asked smoothly. Nowhere, apparently, for right at that moment Edward crumpled forward, his shoulders shaking. Roy stood up, unsure of what he should do. Hughes cursed. Blood stained the white surface of the hospital gown.

"I'm going to get the doc," he mumbled quickly, dashing out of the room before Roy could stop him. Walking over to stand in front of the boy, he did his best to control his annoyance. He looked so pitiful – so defeated.

Finish me off.

Even then, after their public battle, he hadn't looked this way. Even when he had him pinned, and even when he knew that he had obviously lost, he still hadn't looked this weak. Always, he had shown him that life couldn't bring him down. Always, he had been determined and unbeatable. Yet now… Something pricked him in his throat and he captured the young boy's chin in his hand, forcing his face up. Gold met onyx. He had been wrong, Roy realized. Those eyes were still flashing fire.

"What did you see, Fullmetal?"

For a while, they simply stared at each other – the intimacy of Mustang's action not passing by unnoticed. The Colone's hand felt warm against his face, almost as if it was already burning. Strange how such a dangerous hand could be so gentle yet forceful at the same time. He was a man who was used to dominance, and somehow, Edward didn't think that he was quite immune. If only the pain would lessen, then could think straight – could think beyond just how stronglyl the Colonel's actions had affected him.

"Tell me."

He would have slapped his hand away from him if he had the strength. But since he lacked it, Edward was forced to put up with the mixture of emotions that raged through him now. His eyes skittered away from Mustang's, their owner terrified of revealing the fear that lay beneath them. Memories of the horrors he had witnessed inside the Laboratory resurfaced and with it his anger. Cadavers, mishapen faces, glowing eyes, and most importantly…

"Homunculus…" he forced himself to say, knowing that Colonel would pursue the issue.

The word was whispered so quietly, that the older man had to concentrate to hear it. When Edward at last returned his glare, it was not as fiery as before. Rarely did he see him as the child that he was, but it was at times like these that he hated Edward Elric the most - hated the way he felt when he was around him. Those huge eyes, that hope for something unnattainable, and the refusal to come to terms with bitterness. He could feel the boy's hot breath even through his glove and remembered that dark night so long ago.

You can't go around trying to bring back every living creature that dies on you, Edward. It's not possible, and it's not healthy.

The words seemed so far away, as did the event that prompted them, yet Roy couldn't help but think that the pain and anguish in the boy's eyes now was the same as it had been then.That night, something had happened between them. Seeing him soaked in rain water, his hair hanging down, his clothes hugging his form, he had felt a jolt of electricity upon forcefully grabbing his wrist. And now, in the silent room, that electricity was returning.

"Stop looking at me like that…" Edward whispered.

"Like what?"

But how could he explain the flames that Roy's onyx gaze ignited in his stomach? Was it anger? The heat burned his face, his arms, his legs – everything, until he was left feeling breathless and dizzy. His eyelids felt heavy. He tried to form words, but speaking was difficult. With a forced contraction of his throat, he tried to swallow the lump that suddenly blocked his airway.

"Like I'm…a kid…"

Roy was there to catch him as he fell forward, blood blooming like a red flower on his side. Slowly, he lowered him back onto the cot, feeling an alien emotion creeping into his mind. He didn't have to move away a stray strand of hair from his lips, he didn't have to brush his fingers against his cheek, and didn't have to run the tip of his thumb across his bottom lip. But he did so anyway. He felt it prudent to prove to himself that Edward Elric did not look surreal in the light of the table lamp.

For some reason, however, the effect was just the opposite.

But you are a child, Edward…

He moved away and sat back down on a chair, running a frustrated hand through his hair. Why, then, couldn't he see him as such?

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To be continued…

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