Something clicked, a switch flicked back on or a weight-trap triggered, and suddenly the world came flooding back in an abrupt crescendo of light and colour and noise, so much that it almost hurt- no, it did hurt, everything hurt, and someone was shouting out there…
"Hey! Get over here quick- I don't- I don't know-"
A young man's voice. Envy tried to open their eyes, but the lids were sealed shut with dried fluid (pus? Or blood? They were so disgusting right now) and all of their joints were locked up from lying in the awkward position they had fallen in. Fallen- oh, oh no, that was very bad- how long had they been asleep? Had he found them?
Welcome back.
Kimblee's voice in their head was not soothing, though it was welcome, and that boy was still shouting, calling for help. Why? Did he know who- or what- they were? Other footsteps approached, other voices, and in a sudden panic Envy wrenched their sticky eyes open and tried to push themself up with trembling arms, their entire body screaming in protest, Kimblee silent and apprehensive in the back of their mind.
"In God's name- look, he's alive-"
Envy's dry gaze flicked up to meet the speaker and they were met with brown skin and red eyes; a youth in dirty clothing with the marks of Ishvalan breeding. They could feel Kimblee stir inside them like a snake, his natural curiosity raised, and Envy tried to make a noise but nothing came out. Other Ishvalan men were coming from a door down the alleyway, exiting what they guessed was a warehouse (they had gotten to the shipping district somehow, without knowing) and gathered around them with expressions of horror; a squashed bug on the sidewalk, was that what they were? That stung, to be looked down on like this-
"Quick," said one of the older men, and the others turned to face him, his bearing that of a leader. He began pointing at those gathered, each in turn, doling out tasks with the efficiency of a factory manager. "Get some water. Find a blanket, or something that can be used as a stretcher. Check, do we have any medical supplies left?"
It seems they're trying to save you, murmured Kimblee, tendrils of his presence arching up their spine and around their neck, like a caress. How ironic.
The boy who had found them returned first with the water, and helped the order-master try to get Envy into a sitting position, bringing the mouth of a bottle to their lips. The flesh of human palms stung where they were touched, but they accepted the water eagerly, sucking it down as they had Pride's core back in the Underground.
"What happened to him?" said the Ishvalan boy, his eyes wide and horrified and pitying. The man had a dark look on his face- concentrated, his brow furrowed, eyes fixated on Envy's miserable and trembling form. They didn't know what that meant.
Perhaps he recognizes the handiwork.
Had they not been in so much pain they might have giggled at that- he was certainly old enough, wasn't he, to remember the Flame Alchemist in Ishval. If he did, then perhaps Envy had a chance here. An angle. A chink in the wall to aim for.
The other men (younger, most of them, than the one who acted as their leader) returned swiftly with a large swath of tarp from inside the warehouse, laying it out on the ground and touching them gingerly, trying to roll them onto the semi-clean material as gently as possible. Envy obeyed- there was nothing else that could be done, not in this condition.
"We have some bandages," said one of the Ishvalans as Envy was settled into the center of the tarp. "But that's not good enough. We need to take him to a hospital."
The sound of that made the pit of their stomach tighten up again, anxiety breaking out in painful spikes along their back. That's not a good idea, said Kimblee, and they very much agreed- an Amestrian hospital was not a safe place for them, not a safe place at all. With one stiff arm they tried to wave at the man who had made the suggestion, breathing coming out thick and raspy from their throat, like air in a clogged drain.
"N...no…" they hissed, shaking their malformed head, the simple gesture cracking open scabs that had formed in their sleep (that still scared them, they didn't know how long it had been, how could they not know-) and the oldest Ishvalan seemed to understand, fixing them again with his too-intent gaze.
"No hospital?" he said, his voice gentle, and he nodded along with Envy as they tried to reaffirm their stance, his nostrils flaring in thought. The others all faced him, expectant, not one questioning the why of the matter until he spoke; well-trained dogs, purred Kimblee, I remember that about them.
"We all understand the need to hide," said the man, his gaze kinder now. His palms trailed through the air around Envy's body, hovering over the sections of skin where their true shape was showing through, glimmers of green scales under grey human skin. They wondered what he thought. "We'll take you back to our camp, instead. Our medicine woman will care for you- and we won't ask anything you are unwilling to answer. Is that better?"
Envy nodded weakly, trying to portray an image of meek gratitude, and they were pondering what sort of character to forge when one of the younger men spoke up, his uncertain voice seeming to surprise everyone in the group (Kimblee included, as they could feel in the warm place underneath their lungs).
"But he's- we don't even know who he is-" he sputtered, shuffling his feet, and the leader fixed him with a stern look, like a wolf facing down an errant pup.
"He's a child of Ishvala in need of help," he said, his tone firm and decisive as he stood. "That is all we need to know."
With a gesture from him the other men started to pick up the sides of the tarp- and now Envy could see clearly the intention, they were to be carried this way, but they knew it wouldn't work. They inhaled painfully, wondering how best to inform the Ishvalans of the problem (or if they even should, let the fools try and deal with it on their own), and with one firm and organized pull from the men they were lifted-
-what-
-the feeling was like having their insides drop out, the alarm and sickening fear hitting them with the force of a train. In their head, they could feel Kimblee's shock as well, as clearly as they felt their own, piercing in presence. This was very wrong.
No one should be able to lift them this way.
There was a reason why the national safety code for stairs and elevators in Amestris had such high weight requirements. There was a reason why the upper floors in every government building were fortified enough to support something with the average mass of a tank. Father had designed the country that way- after all, how convincing could a deception be, if the deceiver couldn't walk on the upper story of a house without falling through the floor?
If these simple Ishvalan men could lift Envy with nothing but their arms, then something was very seriously wrong, and this knowledge made their skin crawl.
"No one here will hurt you," said the old man, mistaking the origin of their distress, and Envy could do nothing but stare at him. Something was missing, and they didn't know how or what or why and the uncertain feeling was wriggling over their skin like a plague of insects.
Perhaps the rest of you was burned away, said Kimblee, and the soft (almost pitying) way that he said it made Envy want to cry, but their tear ducts were too scorched to complete the task. If you cannot change, then perhaps this is now your maximum mass, he added, and they could hear the scientific mind in him activating, whirring to life like a machine, drifting away from the realities and emotions of the situation. He had always been so interested in their abilities- genuinely interested, fascinated even, and in the past that curiosity had been more charming to them than any base human flirtation. But right now they didn't really want to hear it. They didn't want him to tell them that everything was wrong, even if they knew it was, and knew that hiding from it wouldn't make it better. Kimblee may be a man of science, capable of clear rationality and the disconnection of the heart, but Envy could never be that way- they felt things, they felt everything, from joy to sadness to fear with the strength of a storm, and it often ripped them apart inside.
With some awkward shuffling the Ishvalans were able to take Envy in their makeshift stretcher within the cool belly of the warehouse, but they barely noticed what was happening, so overwhelmed as they were with their own misery. It was only when they were set to rest in the back of a truck (a beaten, dirty old vehicle, with more rust than original metal) that they stirred, wondering for the first time properly why the people of the desert were in Central in the first place.
They were gathering things, boxes and papers and traveling supplies- what was it, on that large sheet they were folding? A map? A transmutation circle? Even, perhaps, only a single transmutation point? They had heard that Ishvalans had been creeping into Central in the days before the eclipse. Ah yes, now they remembered more clearly, standing before the great double doors in the Underground, at the time smug and satisfied and pleased to see such a strong fighting force before them. Strong enough to defeat Father. Strong enough, as it had turned out, to defeat them.
('But still, it looks like you guys really showed them who's boss- the FullMetal Alchemist and the Flame Alchemist. In addition, Scar.')
So maybe that's how it was. Maybe these men were working with him- and that thought made them uncomfortable again, they certainly didn't want to run into Scar in this condition. But what was to be done of it? They could barely move; all of the walking from before, through the dark and ruined tunnels and then through the winding backstreets of Central, had exhausted them. Their injuries were too great. If anyone found them now, hell, even one of Kimblee's stupid chimeras, they could very well be done for. It was horrifying, but suddenly they were having trouble feeling horrified anymore, as though they were simply too tired to work up the energy to stress over it.
Are you going to go to sleep again?
Kimblee's thoughts were gentle, but apprehensive, his presence suddenly stronger, tighter and more controlling. He clearly didn't want that- and Envy understood, it must have been horrible for him when they had collapsed, and they knew they shouldn't close their eyes when in such a precarious position but they couldn't help it, lying down here had made them so sleepy…
"M'sorry," they mumbled to the man in their mind, trying to shift around on the rough surface of the tarp and wake themself, but even that pain was starting to become dull in its constance, too continuous and unending to spark new lights in their nervous system.
No...you do need to rest.
The Ishvalans were putting away their little camp in the warehouse, packing away bags into their dusty vehicles with calm efficiency, preparing to disappear from this place like so many desert wraiths. One of them brought Envy a blanket, tucking it gingerly around their destroyed form, and the effect of it only made the weight on their eyelids increase.
I just wish I could watch over you.
Envy almost smiled, their lips twitching with the shadow of the motion, the pain and deformity in their melted cheeks making the full range of the gesture impossible.
"Sweet," they whispered, their voice barely more than a sigh. "Make you one...make a new bo...dy..."
And with that thought finished they fell into unconsciousness for the second time that day, their mind slipping away into dark crevices where no light nor sound nor touch could reach them.