Pace
"What a hit!" Havoc exclaimed from the window he was positioned at. He looked around the corner of his shoulder, watching as maids and staff of the Armstrong mansion bustled around as quickly as they could, doing their best to fulfil the wish of their mistress' orders. Many of the requests were perplexing, especially when the order of portable mirrors to be directed to certain bedrooms had been issued by Viola.
Havoc had been confused at first too. However, when he discovered that was she was going to utilise the power of the beacon of light shining towards them by redirecting the beam, Havoc had whistled in amazement. That was a cunning idea.
When Hawkeye had left with the first wave of soldiers (Havoc knew that she would race on ahead to get to the Colonel. She was protective like that.), he had volunteered his help where he was needed. And because he had proficiency with firearms, he had been delivered the task of firing the bullets after the light's trajectory had been altered by the mirrors.
Intel from the battleground itself was scarce. There was no radio equipment and signals were not effective in the dark without giving away their position to the enemy. They had been forced to rely on their trust for each other and ability to follow orders. While he wasn't the best at finding love, this was something that Jean had been trained for, and he was confident in his abilities to fire rounds of bullets in a path literally lit up for him.
Havoc had to focus on playing his part. He would place his doubts in a closet and do his best to help where he was needed. He was by no means a pawn. If he was issued an order that he had queries about, he would raise them with his superior. That was what was great about the Boss. He listened. Hawkeye, Hughes and even the Chief were the same. He respected them for that.
An unsettling sensation rose inside of him. The Chief had been terrified…frozen and numb in fear and shock…over the presence of his brother. Havoc had not shared a similar relationship with his siblings, and a part of him had been jealous of the bond the Elric brothers shared, especially when Havoc saw them when they were younger. It stirred his memories and caused the rifts that had formed between his siblings to resurface.
As the name implied, the Elric brothers were a duo. Without one, the other one would not be able to continue on their journey to get their bodies back. They were dependent on each other for their very survival, and that was a bond conveyed by their actions every day. However, they were independent souls too. Alphonse and the Chief had separate identities, characteristics and passions. While the younger brother (obsessed with wearing a suit of armour as part of his alchemy training for some reason unknown to the Second Lieutenant), was quieter and more sensitive, the elder was rash and impulsive. Havoc had come to respect Alphonse over the years he had known the kid, but he shared a special relationship with the Chief that consisted of many witty remarks and subtle insults about the Colonel. Those were some good times.
Havoc scratched his chin. He was craving for a cigarette.
His fingers twitched and moved instinctively to his pockets. He fumbled for a packet, but it was empty. He tried the other pocket. Nothing. He knew that Hughes wouldn't smoke (something about bearing the responsibility of being a family man with a young child at home) and he was the only one on the team that smoked (when sober that was). He sighed and scanned the horizon for signs of movement, but parts of the ground were really goddamn bright and the rest was bathed in indigo-midnight darkness.
He hoped that the Boss was alright.
He shook his head quickly. He could spend his time fretting like his mother did, or he could do something. And being one of the only members of the team not to be maimed, he knew it was his responsibility to stay healthy. He didn't like to be baggage.
And then his head cocked to the side as he heard the signal. It was a bell chiming at midnight. Havoc groaned like an elderly man as straightened up, and after he had loosened his neck and shoulder muscles, he swung his rifle over his shoulder and kicked the doors down with his foot. He wasn't too sure if the door had survived or not, but he did not look back. It could have been the unending adrenaline that had him all jittery; he blamed the lack of cigarettes.
Of which he was craving so much at that moment.
He hurtled down the stairs three at a time and hopped onto the ground floor without pausing. Jean didn't know the way; he simply followed the maids that were hurrying in one particular direction. And Havoc had always had a weakness for pretty women. He couldn't help but grin. Even though he didn't have his beloved cigarettes to smoke, he didn't have the Boss nagging at him about his love life. Sweet bliss…
"Watch where you're wandering!" a man hissed as Havoc nearly bumped into him. His brain didn't register that he was about to walk into someone. It was like he was having such a lovely dream. The man looked at him, scowled and pranced towards the front of the mansion where the great doors stood. The pretty Armstrong doctor was standing there, but from his previous dating experience with Armstrong women or lack thereof. Havoc would rather be subjected to hearing Major Armstrong ramble on about so and so Armstrong doing something incredible…and that is all that the Second Lieutenant remembered from that particular conversation, of which there were many…than romantically involve himself with the Armstrongs again.
The man that he had bumped into had made his way to stand by the blonde doctor's side and Viola, who had been looking out into the night, turned around to address the people who had gathered around her. Havoc swallowed, bile rising at the back of his mouth.
"The troops have arrived, and our plan was flawless," she started, but before the room could erupt into cheers, the people regained a sense of trepidation when she raised her hand. There was more to come, "Kimblee is acting alone. And from what intelligence we have gathered, this is very in character for him. However, the lack of offense from the enemy concerns me…"
Viola trailed off and glanced over her shoulder into the thick of night. Havoc strained his ears trying to discern sounds coming from outside. He could hear the odd gunshot but oddly there was hush. It was unnerving.
"We need to figure out what the enemy is planning, and fast. But we must not alert the MPs," the man by Viola's side added and she nodded firmly in agreement.
"Someone has to cross over to the enemy's location. That beacon needs to be destroyed. It will not be long before they reposition it and our defence becomes useless. I need my medical team here to tend to the wounded. The Crimson Alchemist is a man with a violent name to him," Viola Cadence then turned to look at Jean Havoc. She glanced at him with deep blue eyes that couldn't be described with words. The closest that were accurate were dark teal.
"I assume that person will be me then," Havoc shrugged and then added, "I'm not a doctor."
"In fact, we did not think about you stepping to investigate enemy territory. I just wanted to alert you that your allies are safe; they have temporarily been evacuated to a safe location," Viola looked close to rolling her eyes but refrained. Her expression implied that the temptation to was great however.
"Oh…OH!" Havoc exclaimed and scratched his chin. It was a nervous habit he had picked up (and he needed a goddamn cigarette). But he found that the welling pit of anxiety in his stomach that had been making him feel nauseous all evening ebbed a little. Knowing that the Chief, his brother and the Lieutenant Colonel were safe was reassuring. That was an understatement. He was relieved and the nerves literally left his body as he exhaled deeply, revelling in the feeling. He didn't want to be the only member of the team trapped here. He needed to be out there where he could see and protect what was important to him.
"Will you do it?" she asked him formally, fully turning her body in his direction. The crowds parted so there was a clear path between the two individuals. She had an aura of presence and stature about her, and despite his being taller than her, he knew who was the dominant figure here. He met her gaze willingly.
"I will," he said earnestly.
"Good. Then you must change into this," she threw him a hideous black outfit that he assumed had been plucked straight out of a child's nightmare and woven into this article of clothing. He shivered, but if it protected him, he would wear it begrudgingly.
"Miss Armstrong?" he called out. His hand rested on the door to a bedroom where he was going to change. Anticipation flooded through him as it had in the old days.
"Yes?" she asked.
"Where are they?" there was no need to add more detail for her to understand.
"There's a hidden passageway in the kitchen. It connects underground into a network of-"
Havoc's mind flashed with images of tunnels and crying boys and blood everywhere why was there so much blood they were only children. His vision swirled back and he staggered on his feet. Was he drowning in blood? He could smell it in the air. Every vile stench in the world. The tunnels reeked of them. The tunnels below Turinene…which the Armstrong mansion was apparently connected to…
Ed.
Havoc threw the hideous black costume on the floor and started running as if his life depended on it. Maybe his didn't…but theirs did…
Fuck run faster Jean.
Faster, faster, faster and don't stop.
They had walked straight into a trap.
He could hear Kimblee's breathing. He could hear the footsteps. All around him at every moment.
He couldn't sleep and he couldn't escape. How could he escape when the world was dark? It was confusing and that made him scared. The times when he didn't know what to do were the most frightening by far. And considering that that was now every waking and dreaming moment, the world had become a terrifying place.
He could hear breathing. He knew it had to be Kimblee. The air was cold and damp as it was in the tunnels. There was never an escape route. Why would there be for someone like him?
Ed had been given the afternoon off. He had produced an excellent alchemic voltage that morning (it could have been night it could have been morning but he knew knew knew it was Hell) and therefore Kimblee had given his body time to rest for the afternoon.
He hated alchemy. It was both a sin and an abomination. A malignancy that infected his body like the infection was coursing through his. It channelled evil throughout his soul, giving him the power over the earth to wield and manifest. Alchemy belonged to the Devil. And if alchemy flowed through his body like it was an extension of himself, he had to be some demon. He deserved to root in those tunnels, in his own persona underworld.
Edward glanced at the walls and closed his eyes. He had become accustomed to the smells and the sights. They didn't do anything wrong to him. It was just those goddamn footsteps that he could hear coming to seal his doom no don't touch me-
He could hear them now.
Dah dun dah dun dah dun.
That was his heart.
No, those were the footsteps. What else could it be?
Drip drip drip.
Running water? Just like…rain? It had been so long since he had felt a breeze, just like the summer days in Resembool…that was a pleasant thought…
When had he last felt refreshing rain on his face? Would they be able to wash away the tearstains that left his skin red and raw?
But he could still hear the footsteps. His head swayed from side to side like a doll and he didn't know where the sound was coming from it was hard to see but he knew that they were there and they would be coming to get him after all.
Kimblee would be back. He would chain Edward up to his machine again and work the wonders of demons.
There was no rest for the wicked.
Not ever ever ever-
"Ed" a voice called, snapping Edward out of his daydream. The dream had been so vivid though. He was crying again. He tried to wipe away the tears but his arm was too sore so he didn't move. But this was one thing that he could do by himself, so he reached up painfully, ignoring the sharp shooting pain that trickled up and down his spine like a leaky pipe.
Drip drip drip drip.
He could definitely hear that. The air around him was damp and there was the distinct dripping of running water that seemed to ruminate all around him. He would never forget that sound. He had heard it in his dream…which was a memory.
It was all a memory. None of it could be a bad dream when the nightmares were real and lived on. No mercy. Never any mercy for Edward Elric.
His ribs complained as his body swayed up and down. He could feel pressure against his skin and there was direct contact between him and another human being and that repulsed him because what right did he have to be in the presence of another human being and he panicked and squirmed to get out of the person's grasp. He twisted as far as he could go before his skin was screaming and he was screaming and he could hear Kimblee he was coming to get him.
Dah dun dah dun dah dun.
"Ed, it's alright…"
Was that the Lieutenant Colonel?
Hughes? His thoughts pondered wearily. He had been conscious for two minutes and already the effort was immense and his grip to this world was tenuous and fraying, splitting like old rope. He repeated the thought out aloud.
"The one and only, kiddo," Hughes replied, and Ed felt his heart flutter for a moment (that was what the noise was dumbass your heart Kimblee is gone and you're never going to see him again stop forgetting goddammit Elric). His heart rate began to slow and he relaxed in Hughes' grip.
Hughes was panting. He then realized that the Lieutenant Colonel was carrying Edward at a brisk pace. And there really was water dripping.
Edward wasn't completely losing his mind.
-Too late for that.-
Just shut up.
A couple of droplets landed on Edward's head and his body stiffened before he adjusted to the rhythm of the swaying motion and the sparkling sensation of water hitting his forehead. Without a head of hair to protect the back of his neck, he could feel the chilly air nip him at his shoulders like a wolf's fierce bite. The air was heavy, and for all he knew he was at the entrance of a beast's lair.
"Al? Al, where are you?" Ed moaned, and almost instantly Ed felt a hand clasp his own, if only for a moment. Al was there. Al was safe. They were going to be alright. But where were they going?
"Keep still, Ed. Al is here but he is very tired at the moment," Hughes said.
"Can we stop?" Ed asked, clasping his hand close to his chest. He wanted to keep it safe. Just in case of Kimblee. He always had to remain on his guard.
"There has been a situation," Hughes started, but when Ed groaned in response, Hughes knew he had to give the kid the full answer if he was going to have any piece of mind. And if Maes Hughes could do anything to help a torture victim, even if that was running to the moon, he would do it, provided he could have one of Gracia's home-cooked meals and an undisturbed sleep for three days. Then he would be able to manage it. He had exceeded the boundaries of exhaustion, so his mind was filled with a numb, mindless sort of bliss. Maes licked his lips. He was salivating just thinking about Gracia's cooking. With his free hand that wasn't hoisting the older Elric brother over his shoulder; he slapped himself across the face.
"Hughes?" Ed asked again and the man nearly forgot what he was doing. Sleep did sound like a wonderful prospect.
Ed too wanted to sleep, but when Hughes starting talking, Ed finally felt his mind come to its senses into a state of lucidity he had not experienced in a long time.
"We were at the Armstrong mansion in the outskirts of Turinene. We took you there after we found you in the tunnels below the town," Maes carefully avoided too many precise details. He didn't want Ed to slip away from him, especially when it took every ounce of the kid's strength to stay fixed to reality. He continued: "You lost a lot of blood and so the doctors needed to give you some more. You were recovering, but there was a commotion outside. It wasn't safe for us to stay. We are travelling along a hidden passageway below the mansion. It will take us somewhere safe."
"Are the others…?" Ed trailed off.
"They're helping to keep the bad people away from the mansion. If the building was damaged, I don't think that Major Armstrong would be too impressed, would you?" Maes was speaking to Ed as he would his daughter, but already he was speaking with more maturity as Ed's mind gained more and more lucidity.
"No, he wouldn't," and Ed laughed. It was a weak laugh that could have been mistaken for a cough. But it was a laugh alright. It filled Maes' tired core with a dancing light.
Ed heard a sound ahead of him, the place where Al was. Al couldn't be running though. Ed then heard a groan and a clack.
"Phillip, are you alright?" Hughes called out, coming to a halt. He kept hold of Edward as he lowered his hand to help the Armstrong servant back to his feet. The man had come along because he knew the routes that the tunnels took; he used to explore their cavernous depths when he was a boy. Phillip was strong with a builder's frame and he could easily carry Alphonse and supplies while maintaining speed.
"We'll take a five minute rest. I'll have a look at that ankle, Phillip. I know you come from a household of doctors and I am not qualified, but I have learnt first aid…" Edward felt himself be lowered delicately and slowly to the ground. He came into contact with the rocky earth moments later. Despite the cold floor beneath him, there was a warm presence by his side and without a second thought Ed pushed himself closer to that warmth and buried his head onto Al's shoulder.
He couldn't leave his brother alone. Al still cared for him. As he did for Al. Out of anyone, Al would accept him for whoever he was…even if that person was a monster…
Ed recoiled and pushed himself away from Al with his left hand, but before he could move he felt something grasp his shirt. Al held him tightly.
"S-stay brother," Al murmured.
Ed's heart ached. His stomach swirled with love for his brother.
Do you mean it, Al? Can I stay by your side, like we did before? Can we continue our journey together…so we can smile again?
"Al," Ed whispered and he shakily pulled himself closer to Al.
"W-warm…" his little brother said. But in that place, they didn't have to speak. They didn't have to look and they didn't have to listen. They could just be.
...
Across the narrow gap that separated one side of the tunnel from the other, Maes deftly pulled out a bandage from his bag of supplies. Luckily there was no swelling and nothing felt broken, so Phillip would be able to move. There would be an angry purple bruise in the days to follow, but scars would heal.
Maes yearned to shut his eyes for five minutes and dream. But he knew that the moment he surrendered to sleep, he would not be able to wake up. Even though he had suffered through the sleepless nights of Ishval, when he had returned to Gracia's arms every night, she helped to soothe him into a lulling trance. The nightmares became less and less vivid. And after a year of returning from the line of duty, he could finally have an undisturbed sleep. He became a very heavy sleeper, even after the arrival of the cutest baby girl in the whole world.
He smiled fondly. Hell, he was lucky. Roy and Hawkeye had not been as fortunate on that front; he knew that they were plagued constantly with nightmares. Nobody could just "get over" Ishval. The psychiatrist he had been recommended had treated his experience in Ishval as a phase, a part of the natural cycle one's mind meandered down.
He pictured the beautiful smiles of his girls. He was the luckiest man in the world. It was a clichéd thought, but Hughes knew that it was true.
"Where are we now exactly?" the Lieutenant Colonel asked dozily. He rested his head against the tunnel wall, but rock was uncomfortable. There was a cold breeze behind him, and he attempted the best he could to wrap his coat more closely around him, draping it over his shoulders. Some loose water dripped down his back too. Hughes rubbed his eyes wearily. He shuddered and woke up fully.
His sharp eyes suddenly glanced around. The ceiling here had become significantly taller than what it had been when they had first left the Armstrong mansion several hours ago. It was likely due to where the tunnels approached the town. In days long past, these tunnels could have been a major mode of transport before the days of cars and trains.
He then realized his teeth were chattering. That breeze behind him was sharp. But why would there be a breeze in these tunnels?
The air should be stale and musty. So why…
Maes felt the breath rip from his throat. There shouldn't be a breeze.
He scrambled quickly to his feet and turned around, pivoting on the spot rapidly and he nearly tripped backwards. The wall here was incredibly thin. He placed a hand on the surface of the wall…and it slipped away. There was a flash of blue light and a figure manifested out of the shadow.
"Maes Hughes, excellent! You were just who I was looking for!"
…
Edward stirred. He. Knew. That. Voice.
Kimblee.
The doctor.
The madman.
The torturer.
His puppeteer.
His darkness.
Fuery's voice called out to him.
Al's voice.
His mother's. All of the voices calling out to him, begging for his help.
"Help me, Edward. I need your power. I need it more than anything else in the world!"
Kimblee. NoName. Monster.
Nonononono NOT AL BAD!
…
"Maes Hughes, excellent! You were just who I was looking for!"
Einar Kimblee stepped forth from the crumbly space between the main network of tunnels and the set he had established over the years. They were littered underneath Turinene. He had complete control over them.
"Oh, Edward. You are here too! I have missed you," Kimblee said excitedly in Ed's direction. Al's eyes opened and he screamed, scrambling against the wall. Ed bristled in fear like a stray dog, hairs raised and teeth bared. His glazed eyes stared angrily at nothing, but it felt like they saw so much more than grey.
"Don't you touch them," Maes said, his voice weak. Why had he goddamn fallen for this trap? He was supposed to protect them and now look what he had done. He let a dagger slip into his hands-
Kimblee saw the slight movement of Maes' wrist however. With a blank expression on his face, he walked up to Maes and punched the man in the gut. He didn't say a word. And Maes didn't cry out.
Edward was petrified. But he heard the familiar sound of someone being winded. Ed panicked and his chest tightened in fear and pain but he had no other choice, he would have to transmute-
-Fuery needed your help.-
-Hughes needs your help.-
-He has a wife and child. Does he deserve your protection, oh mighty Fullmetal Alchemist?-
"Phillip, we don't have any more use of the Elric brothers. Take them back. They gave me alchemy and I will give them freedom. Equivalent Exchange!" Maes watched in horror as Phillip, the man he had trusted, knock the Elric brothers unconscious.
"You, Maes Hughes, will be the key to our next target. The infamous Flame Alchemist," Kimblee's eyes clouded over and his tone suddenly shifted and became personal, malicious, "Colonel Roy Mustang."
Roy felt...sick. His stomach curled inwardly on itself. Kimblee had advanced a few steps, but Crimson had stopped and was looking out at the night.
"This is a beautiful night for destruction," he said sweetly, and he closed his eyes and raised them to the heavens.
"You'll be destroying nothing here, damn you," Roy swore. Kimblee licked his lips and placed the Philosopher's Stone between his teeth.
"Oh I cannot wait!" the prisoner exclaimed.
The beacon behind them suddenly extinguished.
"But that is my signal to go! It was nice to see you again, Flame. I'll be seeing you again sooner than you think," Kimblee's voice vanished. Roy snapped his fingers to create a light, but it was too late. Kimblee was gone.
And the sickening pit in his stomach became that much deeper. He felt like he was sinking in the sand...just like he had in Ishval.
He trusted his instinct; he knew that something terrible had happened.
This is the end of Arc One! It doesn't have a name yet, but I'm sure it will soon.
I am so sorry for the cliffhanger as well. All of the team are being affected :(
I really wanted to explore the friendship between Maes and Roy before LBYL proceeds to Arc Two. I think it'll be important to the story. So I have decided to start a short story entitled 'Desert Days' that will be up on my profile soon. It is a side story to LBYL really, so if that sounds like something you're interested in, have a quick read!
Thank you for reading and I'll see you next time :)