Cloud Refuge

Through the windows of Central Command at the summer afternoon, Major Alex Louis Armstrong sighed contentedly at what an impeccable sunset the sky would conjure that night. He was an amateur photographer himself, a certain skill inherited from a certain Reginald James Armstrong going back some three generations when the technology was being developed…

"What a fine day this is, gentleman!" the Major exclaimed, earning him a series of sighs in response from Falman and Breda.

Armstrong lowered his hand to his left, so it rested on the Colonel's desk, where the telephone was being held. He brushed it every few moments or so, waiting for a phone call, or any sign that the dear Elric brothers had been retrieved and that they were safe and sound. He solemnly closed his eyes, knowing intuitively that they were likely not going to be alright immediately, although the Major could hope.

He would do whatever it took to ensure those boys' safety.

This sunset recalled fond memories of when he had attended the automail fitting of Edward, and he had chopped wood gracefully in the front garden (using a technique passed down the Armstrong generation with spectacular finesse). There had been a beautiful sunset that night in Resembool too; he remembering rising from his burst of exercise to look up at the hill. There, standing silhouetted against the sunset was a young boy with a dog by his side, standing in silence by the ashes of the past. The boy clutched the dog firmly due to his absent leg, and the right sleeve of his coat billowed freely in the country breeze, where that limb was missing too.

Sitting on the front porch was a broken Alphonse too. His armour had been tattered to pieces, and a gaping hole had had to be covered with a sheet to prevent people from seeing the truth that rested beneath the sheets of living armour that housed the boy's soul. Al had been gazing at his brother too, the Major knew it, and the younger Elric's helmet was bowed, his single feather-like strand of hair on his helmet blowing from side to side.

The Major had watched and wept silently inside, mourning that which the Elric brothers would not cry for themselves.

His fingers tapped once again at the phone line, winding the coil around his thumb before releasing it. The movement was monotonous and allowed the time to pass faster through the stifling office.

In his peripheral vision he could see the box with the white daffodils left untouched behind where the other members of the Colonel's team were waiting for the time to pass by.

There was nothing they could do now; all preparations had been completed. Colonel Mustang knew of a safe house and a doctor to take the brothers too upon their return to Central

"Second Lieutenant Breda, should we inquire via radio communication as to the progress of the investigation from young Fuery?" Alex attempted to disguise the urgency from his voice, albeit knowing he had been unsuccessful when Heymans nodded in agreement.

"Would this be alright, Falman?" Breda consulted the human encyclopaedia, who was fittingly reading a book entitled Criminal Records Eastern Branch 1900-1910, and the Warrant Officer looked up sharply.

"The Sergeant was able to adjust the radio connection in order to bypass Central Command and the military's record of all transmissions three weeks and two days prior…" he incited, his head returning to being buried in his tome, but Breda did not disguise his impatience.

"Can we contact Fuery or not, Warrant Officer?" Breda asked sharply, a little too clipped than Falman was used to by the way his body suddenly stiffened.

"Yes… I do not see how the highest risk factors would jeopardise-"

"Good," Breda said, turning to give the signal to the Major.

Armstrong then moved his muscular body from his spot next to the Colonel's desk and weaved through the office until he reached Fuery's workspace. The young Sergeant had one of the cleanest desks, except for the large, obtrusive pieces of technology that rested beside his paperwork like metal companions. The Major stared at the buttons and dials, remembering the instructions an enthusiastic Kain had propelled into his mind. Turn the left dial 90 degrees clockwise…flick this switch…

There was a whirl and a hum as the radio came to life, and the Major nearly flinched backwards, the process nearly tearing his military jacket to seams. A red light started flashing, and the Major grabbed a pair of headphones, slinking them past his impeccably groomed blond curl resting on his forehead. This was the signal that Fuery had instructed him about.

"Dear Sergeant, please report your status," the Major incited, word-perfect, a skill that had been inherited by his great uncle, Alfred Armstrong, who was blessed with his photographic memory. Alas, that would be a story to tell another time. All he had to do now was wait for the response on the other end; however, Fuery's main focus on this mission was to act as the communications between Mustang's team and Armstrong's team still at Central Command. The Sergeant had informed the Major that he would be particularly prompt in his reply, unless an emergency prevented him from having access to his gear.

Alex thought that was the case now. All he could hear on the receiving end was static.

Fuery said he always answered.

He waited for several long moments, wondering if there was a potential flaw in the equipment. He was about to lift the device to examine any potential damage to it, but then suddenly, it began vibrating. It sounded like a low drone, before increasing in volume and intensity, until the very desk itself started to shake. Breda and Falman were behind him now, summoned in a panic at the ruckus being caused at Fuery's workspace.

"Oh God," Falman whispered, and uncharacteristically, he grabbed the Major and ripped off the headphones from his head, throwing them across the office.

Alex barely had time to comprehend what was happening; the Warrant Officer was shouting complex words into the air, but they fell upon deaf ears. They may have had a breakthrough! They may have finally been able to communicate with the team in Turinene…after so long without seeing the Elric brothers, and even though it had not been long since the Colonel and the others had parted ways, he felt he had not seen them for an eternity either.

Why had Falman done that?

However, his question was being answered as the headset began to vibrate violently too; smoke was rising from the radio at this point too. With a blinding flash of bright blue light, a searing high pitch sound reverberated around the room, making all three members occupying the space to stagger and fall onto their knees, clutching their ears in equal shock and fear.

And then – voltage.

Blue alchemic sparks danced forth from the radio like bolts of lightning, ripping through the air they breathed and in turn the molecules that formed its basic composition. It was a powerful and terrible rebound, alchemy as it should not have been.

He could imagine screams of two tortured boys witnessing the death of their mother a second time after the rebound hit them. The Major shivered.

The air had become cold, jagged like ice. He was leaning over, staring at the sparks before his eyes, inhaling sharply; sweat beaded along his forehead and precipitation escaped his lips with each exhale.

What on earth… was that?

The whole world was not only cold, but his resolve had chilled too. He had been shaken, as if the transmutation had sucked the life from his bone marrow, leaving him feeble and shaking like a coward. For once, he didn't possess the desire to rip of his clothing to express his emotion. He dispelled the feeling with a firm clasp of his knuckles, burying his fists into the ground to help him rise to his feet.

"Gentleman, are you alright?" the Major spluttered, wiping his mouth and brow with his handkerchief.

"I'm alive," Breda answered blandly, rolling onto his back, as he stared at the radio, which was now a mass of dust. He sneezed, "damn allergies."

"I don't know…" Falman faltered, "what caused this alchemic rebound. I don't know…" It was unusual for the Warrant Officer not to know something, and without that security blanket of knowing, he was susceptible to doubt, a trial for any deep thinker like him.

He knew something was wrong, and although he could not leave immediately (enough suspicion had been raised already with Mustang leaving as abruptly as he had), he could make a phone call. His aunt Margaret would be expecting guests after all.

He prioritised their safety over his pride as an Armstrong. Always.

He saw a boy in a red coat storm angrily out of his office, not wanting to speak to his superior officer ever again, although he would be back when his lead proved to be a dead end. His younger brother turned around and bowed, apologising on behalf of his reckless brother and quickly followed the hot-headed midget down the corridor, his armoured body clanking against the floor, leaving a sonorous ringing in his office. It was never quite the same without the Elric brothers, as though the life force was dulled until they made their untimely appearance back at headquarters – which could have spanned days or months, when Fullmetal had no other resort.

He hated returning to that place.

Standing there in the room of the brightest white he had ever seen, Roy Mustang realized that the office would have been a sanctuary in contrary to the Hell that had tortured the living shit out of him. The Elric brothers didn't have a home in the office; Roy understood that they had no home to return to when Edward had announced he had burnt it to the ground with a flame kindled by his own hands. That was part of the silent promise the brothers had made with each other to ensure they could not turn back, but on this tremendous journey of theirs, they needed familiar places which could give them rest bite from their ceaseless search, if only for a day or two. The Rockbells were very special to Edward and Alphonse as were the staff of his team who had formed close bonds with them over the years that crawled by. Even though the brothers had not recovered what they had lost, they had formed allies along the way, friendships that had morphed into a strange family that was dysfunctional to say the least.

But it would do.

The ambitions of becoming Fuhrer were only made stronger by the work and effort that his team put in. And it wasn't just the paperwork they completed at work; it was the memories they had made along the way, through the trials, that had made him want to protect the world.

Being with the people that understood the madness that life spewed, and the shit cards that fate had dealt out for them. They didn't need to put that into words, because it was enough to realize the importance of strength in the team, much like the wild wolf pack.

And the heart of that strength was shrivelled, crouched and going blind on the floor in front of him.

The thing that had the body of Fullmetal, the same hair, the same physique, the same absent limbs. However, it was as though the stuffing had been taken out of a toy, or the strings detached from a puppet. It had even denied being Edward Elric.

Don't think like this, Roy, he shook his head sternly to himself as he watched the pitiful creature look at him with sad eyes, one of them seeing, before drooping his head again, patchily cut hair not failing to cover his defeated complexion. Out of the horrors he had seen in this world, seeing the kid this broken was something he had never wanted to see. While he knew that prisoners of war were kept and tortured for information, the Elrics had obtained Alphonse's body back (and it was only Edward's they needed to retrieve next) and deserved peace in their life in return for their hard effort. A damn break for their work. Equivalent Exchange.

Edward had placed so much faith into this law of alchemy; he had based his life around its principle. And it had betrayed him. The boy would not want to trust anyone again, however, Roy knew it was the way Edward to get out of this hellhole.

"Edward, do you trust me?" Roy said, neither gently nor harshly. He wanted an honest answer, he needed an honest answer. He needed to know…how much of Fullmetal was actually left. And whether the stoic hothead was gone or not.

The blond cocked his head in confusion, as if not understanding the question and his gaze returned to the floor where he took several long moments to contemplate the question. His face was expressionless, but before Roy was about to coax him, there was a light shake of his head.

"I'm sorry, Colonel, but I-" the blond choked and shook his head more violently, "I just don't k-know a-anymore."

He had refused contact, so all the Colonel and Lieutenant could do was stand by and watch as the boy wept the remnants of his soul out without tears. Now he seemed to be holding onto something, and whatever that something was was straining to keep the lost and fractured boy held together.

"That's okay, Edward," he answered shakily, not knowing exactly how to respond. He wished Maes was here, the one who was good at comforting others and relate to how they felt. Roy understood the torment the boys had endured, especially through the horrors of Ishval, but he found it nearly impossible to connect with others. He preferred to keep his demons as far out of the reach of others as possible so they couldn't get hurt by them. They couldn't get hurt by him.

They made him someone he was not.

But this someone slumped in front of him was Edward. No matter how defeated or bruised or broken. He was alive, and Mustang didn't have to imagine the monstrosities he had witnessed while in this dark pit waiting to see the Sun, trying to break out but each time being captured and dragged back into Hell. It was like a vicious nightmare, one which he couldn't ever wake up from. However, torture had become Edward's every day, and therefore the nightmare was unescapable.

"We have to get you out of here," Roy said without realizing he had spoken. Dammit. What he was thinking and what he was saying were completely different things. Why could he be a schmoozer and also be able to flirt easily (despite that all being a pretence) but be unable to talk to the blond who needed the reassurance right now?

All that Roy had wanted to know on that dark day when the needle containing the morphine had been inserted into his vein by himself, and the only thing to end the madness was to push the plunger all the way down, and watch the fluid empty out into his body-

The dosage had been pitifully low; it would not have killed him, but he would have become dependent on the stuff.

"Don't deserve it," Edward muttered, and the boy refused to elaborate, and he slipped into another bout of silence. If he spoke or dared to speak, the feelings he had been bottling up would break loose.

Roy couldn't take another second of this. His resolve was shaking.

"Edward. You don't have to listen to me if you do not want to. I will say it however many times you need me to say it to you. Even if you think you deserve nothing, you have earnt the rights to do anything. You have helped this world and saved so many," Roy spluttered, earning him a frightful stare. Hawkeye exhaled lightly, in silent agreement to his words.

"I didn't save him," that was the most certain thing that Edward had said throughout their time together. Roy puzzled was about to query further when there was a knock at the door. Hawkeye, prepared as always, rose stealthily to her feet and was beside the door in an instant. She released the safety and her fingers clutched carefully over the trigger. Her breathing matched her heart rate, and her eyes became unfocused and detached; it was her way of coping when she shot someone in the face for them to never rise again. Even if she wasn't going to be killing anyone, she was inflicting unnecessary pain. However, Roy recognised that detachment in her steely gaze as one emotion: anger. If he entered the office to see Hawkeye looking as furious as she did there, he would have attempted to run away from the mounds of paperwork just waiting for him to fill them up. Her emotions were beginning to surface now; like his own, her resolve was shaking. Seeing how these people had been treating Edward. They could not be classed as people.

Monsters.

And as the door creaked slowly open, two guns pointed at each other. Two people stared hostile for a long second. Hawkeye's fingers were at the trigger, but before she could operate the deadly weapon, her eyes widened in shock realisation as Jean Havoc stepped into the room. Hawkeye dropped her weapon and her back leaned against the wall, sweat dripping down her forehead. She wouldn't have hesitated to threaten to load a round of bullets at Roy's face two months ago when he had failed to complete his paperwork. However, this place was putting him one edge, and that feeling was clearly mutual with both Havoc and Hawkeye. Havoc placed a hand on her shoulder, relieved, and saluted her. She nodded in mutual respect.

He turned to face the Colonel, disguising the form of Edward, asked quietly, "have you found the Chief, Colonel? We found Alphonse in the opposite wing-"

Havoc started, but when he saw goodness knew what – the blond hair, the stumps, the small physique, all of the signs indicating towards the figure being Edward caused the Second Lieutenant to yelp in excitement and he began to tread his way carefully forwards.

"Stay away from me!" Edward growled, wary, his hand reaching out behind him, pushing his body backwards. It was horrifying to witness the boy moving backwards on his broken bones, the skin laced with the infection stretching grotesquely. The boy then coughed and spluttered, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. He needed medical treatment and rapidly.

"Chief…" Havoc looked down solemnly at the alchemist huddled for a moment before raising his gaze to report to his superior officer, "Hughes is bringing Al with him. No other lifeforms found in the basement thus far. But…"

"What is it, Lieutenant?" Roy demanded, his tone authoritative and tense. Edward had winced when his younger brother's name had been mentioned, apparently out of reflex. Roy couldn't believe that Edward, who would fight with tooth and automail to protect his little brother, the entire reason he had decided to take up Mustang's offer of becoming a State Alchemist and suffering the ordeal of automail surgery in a year. Most grown men were fearful of the pain automail rehabilitation entailed. And he had been thrown into a chaotic world of military and politics, and the antisocial kid had had to adapt to life on the road, when he had lived the first part of his life in a rural village. Alphonse too, a quiet and kind boy, had witnessed little girls playing happily in the snow one day and crying out in a distorted whimper of a chimera the next. Both of the boys had endured so much, too much...

Roy straightened his back and attempted to play the role as commanding officer, although his body screamed in exhaustion. Havoc looked shaken; Roy had to be strong for his team. And especially for the Elric brothers.

"Sir, I don't think…" Havoc paused and finished, reluctant to complete his report yet. He glanced over at a silent Edward, and Roy understood.

"Where is Hughes?" Mustang queried.

"He went on ahead with…him," Havoc didn't want to upset the older Elric brother as much as Roy. Discretion was required.

"How is he?" Roy's voice wavered.

"He'll live, but he clung to Maes so tightly as if his life depended on it," Havoc, usually light-hearted, was playing with his cigarette packet in deep thought, "Hughes is taking him to the Major's relatives. Their mansion used to be a functioning military hospital, you know."

Roy knew that Al's life did depend on it. The demons locked in their drawer in his mind snickered. When Maes had found Roy with the morphine, he had wept and been unable to let go of the sleeves of his best friend, who stayed awake with him for the entirety of that night. Roy never spoke of it, but that didn't mean he had forgotten.

And for the shit to happen to those boys…how was what had happened to them justified…his thoughts kept returning to the bloodstains, and this big bright room wasn't helping.

"Colonel!" Havoc suddenly shrieked.

He turned around and dropped to his knees. Edward had collapsed, and the cuts on his arm were starting to bleed heavily.

Every other thought left his mind as he dove forward to pick up the boy and drag him out of this Hell himself. And then he would return to roast every fucking person in there alive without mercy. That would be something he would do alone.

Alphonse wanted his brother. He wanted to feel safe at home in Resembool with Mama and Brother and everything would be alright. That is what he had promised himself, and the only thing that was keeping him from screaming out aloud.

He nuzzled against the warm figure that was carrying him. His guardian angel. Out of the depths of his Hell, this person had taken him, lifted him from the ground and carried him out of there into a paradise. And the Sun had beamed down upon his face, and Al had felt like he had been born into an entirely new world. The smells…the colours, so wonderful and bright…and the light that danced against his skin showered him. He was surrounded by its protection like a gauze. It was a wonderful sensation, better than getting his body back. He would spend hours crying because he wanted to see the Sun for a second, to remind him that he was alive.

But there had seemed to be no end to the torture for Brother.

He wanted his Brother.

He struggled feebly, but was soothed by the touch of his saviour. The Lieutenant Colonel was likely talking to him, but he couldn't hear because he had been a bad boy…

"Bad bad bad," he thought and muttered under his breath. And suddenly, the summer's day felt colder, the shadows lengthened and the clouds in the bright blue sky darkened. He could see the shadows wrapping themselves around him, waiting like a panther to pounce and strike and he would be gone.

It was going to happen he knew it he was going to be punished because he had been a bad bad boy…

Al thrashed and started to weep, struggling to free himself from the torturous mind set Turinene had bestowed him with. He yearned to forget the torturous weeks of watching his brother being used and he would sit there helpless…he had needed to sleep desperately, and when he had fallen asleep for five minutes was when they would come…bad bad people who did bad bad things to Edward it was terrifying.

And only Brother understood. He had been there with him and looking after him when he had woken up.

Alphonse never wanted to have to fall asleep again so he kept biting his lip and the pain would keep him awake for a little while longer…

His world was becoming so much darker though. And he realized that was because his eyes were becoming droopy and he was falling asleep. The rhythm of being carried lulled him into a sense of security, and he latched onto that comfort, the touch of another that he had been unable to feel for so long after it had been ripped senseless from him when he was ten. When that ability returned, he had been locked away in a dungeon without being able to feel warmth and the cold of the basement reminded him of the night they had attempted to bring their dead mother back to life-

He groaned at the pain inside of his head, but he couldn't hear the sound he made. He had likely whimpered because he was a weak, pathetic and bad bad boy-

Someone tapped him on the shoulder. He stirred from his semi-slumber and raised his dreamy head, gazing at Hughes' finger which was pointed towards the sky full of fluffy white clouds, and then his hand moved downwards towards the west.

Al's eyes widened in surprise.

In front of him were…clouds. Clouds on the ground.

They were standing and walking in pastures overlooked by a giant mansion. There was ivy trailing either side of the main entrance, which boasted a fountain with the Armstrong crest on it. However, Alphonse's attention returned to the dancing clouds which appeared to be alive. He realized that they were sheep, a fairly mundane sight after having grown up in the countryside, but to someone who had been locked in the dark for six weeks, the house and the cloud-like sheep moved Al to tears.

This place was safe. It could be his cloud refuge.

And with that he closed his eyes, the last thing him seeing was the fluffy white sheep pelts, and he allowed sweet dreams to take him for the first time in an eternity.

This one was initially quite hard to write, but after the writing flow came, this chapter came out fairly quickly. However, we still have to wait and see if the brothers get the happy ending they deserve.

Chapter 12 Trial and Error should be out soon. I look forward to seeing you then.