Disclaimer in previous chapters. Please see Author's Notes at the end.
- x -
Rather ironically, his first thought was to wonder if he could somehow render the mechanical armor immobile. Judging by his patient's expression, only crippling him was going to keep him in that bed.
Of course, he very nearly was crippled.
"No." He said it as firmly as he could manage. He knew by their sudden lack of careful speech that whatever they were discussing was extremely important. Something that would make them throw caution to the wind, as it were, as there were two guards in the room that he knew full well were not part of the Prime Minister's normal security team. They were openly discussing something they shouldn't, and whatever it was, it had to do with his patients.
Which made it equally important to him. If they were going to speak so plainly, he probably had no choice but to follow suit.
"You were in surgery for two hours with that shoulder, Elric." Two painstaking hours of removing bits of concrete and fragments of bone. The armor alloy had done an incredible job of slowing the strike; without it, the arm would have been completely removed. After puncturing the steel 'port', all the blade had managed was a partial piercing of his clavicle, mercifully stopping before it bored down into the scapula beneath. The superior ligament that stretched above the scapula had been damaged, however, which meant limited range of motion. Even with the arm in a sling, moving around now was all but guaranteeing the small tears would get worse.
Clear golden eyes flicked to him, almost calculatingly.
He'd not seen Edward in this condition before, and while he would never miss the subdued, agreeable patient he'd first had in Edward Elric, a feisty one was almost as bad.
"And the rebound you experienced almost killed you. I know you feel pretty good, but you're not. You can't do any good out there."
Then he turned on the Prime Minister, stepping forward as Mustang had the audacity to reach for the shunt in his arm. He neither saw nor heard motion, but abruptly an iron clamp crushed down atop his shoulder, effectively stopping all forward movement.
He didn't even try to resist, freezing dead in his tracks. "Tell me what you know, and I'll make sure the right people hear about it." If Mustang knew what had happened to these two patients, and expected more –
More would be a catastrophe. They were already stretched to their limits caring for the people sickened by the radiation. And any type of massive circulatory failure of this nature was going to result in serious illness or death, and possible removal of the affected limbs. If they were talking about amputees in the hundreds –
Because thousands would be unthinkable.
Mustang turned away from Elric to look at him, and he could see the narcotic had already taken some effect. His pupil had dilated beyond what the dim light in the room would precipitate.
"You can't give orders at this time, Prime Minister." How many times had he repeated it?
The Flame Alchemist paused, staring at the line in his arm a moment. He probably wanted to rip it out anyway; the combination of steroids, antibiotics, and anti-inflammatories stung quite strongly. Usually they slowed the drip so it went in a little easier, but as fast as they needed to get it into his system . . .
"What's happened to those people?"
Mustang looked up again, this time at the two bodyguards in the room. His face never changed expression, but his voice was even more hoarse than it had been before when he replied.
"You said they came from different sites. Where?"
He'd already tried matching these victims to something, with little success. "The 17 year old male collapsed on Plantir, which I understand was the site of some of the heaviest radiation. The second patient is a fifty-three year old woman who lives on the east side, on Palladin."
The other four men in the room were silent, and Patterson continued staring at the Prime Minister. "What do you mean, the old man said . . .?"
"What were they doing? Do you know?"
He glanced in irritation at Edward. Why was it no one ever took him seriously? Didn't they realize how utterly miserable he could make their stay here?
"The young man was walking home from work. The grandmother collapsed while doing the laundry."
His two patients exchanged another look.
"Water," Edward finally said. "The kid might have had some before heading home. He put it in the water."
So some old man put something in the water? To destroy what Bradley had been working for?
What substance would cause such a reaction, though? There were muscles in the abdomen that contracted, assisting with blood flow to the lower extremities. He'd already determined that system was being paralyzed, but he couldn't explain the sudden, huge buildup of proteins on the eyes. Proteins were in normal tears, but these were bonding together like . . . well, like glue.
There was no substance he could think of that would cause both symptoms. Not to mention, there was something else at work, to stop circulation so quickly. Likely it was also weak in the other extremities, just not as pronounced –
But even if someone had contaminated the water supply purposefully . . . it was already too late. The young man had been near the scene of the attacking alchemist's death, but the older woman had been doing her laundry more than eight blocks away. If it had truly spread that far through the water subsystems –
Then it was already too late for half the city.
"If that's true, it's already affected hundreds." Accepting that they had an epidemic on their hands, the next thing to do would be limit the damages. "I'll alert the hospital administrator to have the water main cut off. The Speak of the House can get on the radio ,and warn everyone the city water's been contaminated." But getting potable drinking water into the city, on such short notice, with as many as were bound to be sick –
It was the best they could do. "General Hakuro is likely still in the building, he can handle the military portion."
"The main supply house." Mustang swallowed painfully. "Tell them. They may be able to isolate it and dilute the water in the pipes."
The less toxin, the less serious the symptoms. He nodded, unsurprised when the hand clamped down on his shoulder released him. "I'll make the appropriate calls."
He didn't wait for an answer; no need. Whatever they did now, containment was the most important thing. It didn't matter who had done this, or why. He'd need to be a bit careful on his phrasing, but he knew his department head had personal relationships with enough of the government officials to figure out who needed to hear what. It couldn't sound like it had come from the Prime Minister, but he doubted it would need to.
And no matter how quickly the government acted on this, they were looking at mass panic and high casualties. Whoever this old man who wanted to 'reduce it to dust' was, he may well have gotten his wish.
- x -
"It's not gonna cut it."
Mustang let his eye close, trying not to enjoy the sudden absence of the penetrating throb in his skull. His arm still burned, and he clung to that pain as tightly as he could.
It was the only way he was going to keep a clear head.
"I know." God, if the poison had gotten that far into the pipes, they were looking at a death toll in the thousands. Not counting panic, evacuation of the city into outlying villages, and the gleaming opportunity for the military to demonstrate it hadn't changed since Bradley. If the people fought the curfew that had been imposed in their attempt to flee the city, and some captain somewhere got the bright idea not to let them go –
Irving had said that he was going to see them in every home, around every corner, just as Elric had passed out if not before. Which meant he'd already put the plan into motion, before he'd even met them. Hawkeye had said the letter had been delivered that morning, so had the same person who delivered it visited the city utility station?
If so, why hadn't anyone fallen sick before now?
There were many solids a poison could be contained within that would take time to dissolve in water. If he was that good with compounds, doubtlessly Irving could ensure the poison entered the water supply only when he wanted it to, and not before, no matter how early he'd had to plant it.
Obviously, if 'Bradley' had honored his part of the deal, Irving had probably meant to swing back into Central to get it, or place an anonymous phone call warning the utility teams of a suspicious object or package. Which meant at some point, this poisoning had been reversible.
Roy opened his eye again, staring now at the two bodyguards, still regarding them silently. He could swear them to silence and they'd probably keep to it, since technically he outranked the Speaker . . .
"Hey, guys. Do you know where I can get some clothes?"
Roy picked up his head to stare at Edward, who had somehow sat up in the interim and was tentatively moving his left shoulder in small circles. His expression was almost blank, but the stilted way in which he moved clearly gave away the discomfort. Two long rows of black stitches were visible along his back, one crossing his spine at the downward angle, the other trailing straight down from the top of his left shoulder. He'd spoken to the guards, looking between the two of them as if he thought they might actually respond to him.
Where the hell did he think he was going?
. . . was he thinking of transmuting the poison out of the water . . .?
Elric couldn't transmute that volume of water in perfect condition, let alone now -
"No." His voice was slightly stronger, but not much. There were literally tons of materials that made up a three-story building. Trying to find the old man's body – and his amplifier, which obviously wouldn't taint the water like the one Havoc was guarding – was a fool's errand. It would require him to transmute.
An odd expression flashed across Edward's face. "I was thinking chemistry." His tone was dry. "If he hit the main water supply station, we can boil down samples, see what we're dealing with. At least if the unaffected alchemists know what they're looking for –"
There weren't enough suitably skilled non-certified alchemists in the area for that. "It's too close to human transmutation-"
"Kimblee used that method to blow up his own soldiers, and that bastard never paid the Gate," Edward shot back. "Do you have a better idea?"
He stared at Edward for a long moment before his brain was capable of processing the argument. "Kimblee didn't remove the materials, he transmuted them within the human body."
Edward hesitated, still searching the room, presumably for something to wear. "Even concentrating a toxin to one part of the body would be better than nothing. I'm certain these people wouldn't lament the loss of a toe if it meant their lives."
That was probably true. It was still going to be difficult, but perhaps if the doctors knew what sorts of toxins their patients had come in contact with, a combination of medical science and alchemy could save the lives of some.
"A regiments' worth of uniforms was brought in from headquarters."
The voice was completely unfamiliar, and Roy contemplated that a moment before he realized the speaker was, in fact, one of the Speaker's bodyguards.
Edward looked neither surprised nor pleased. "Military uniforms?"
"Your rank is major, correct?"
Mustang continued staring as the shorter of the two guards pulled open the door and strode out. It closed with a snap, leaving them with a single mountain of guard. The guard returned his gaze after a moment, raising an eyebrow slightly. Mustang gave up, and leaned back against the pillows again.
No matter how much he wanted to do anything but lay here, he knew he couldn't afford to make another stupid decision.
That was what Edward Elric was for, apparently. A pity Alphonse had already left.
"Call one of the chemists." There was no point in sending Edward out into the streets at this time of night, certainly not as injured as he was.
"Curfew," Ed reminded him. "None of the chemists in the Academy are technically in the military. It would take them too long to get there. I want to get there before the utility station closes down the pumps."
Of course, the engineers could take the samples – but they didn't know what they were looking for. In a way, Edward was right; both the ink on the letter and the poison on the knife had had a glistening quality, like a cured gel. Perhaps this one would, too. In any case, a trip to the utility station, which was less than a mile from the military hospital, was unlikely to get the man into any more trouble than pacing the hospital was going to.
Roy shook his head once, slightly alarmed at his own rationalization. This is what Patterson considered a mild narcotic?
"There should still be five or six lieutenants in the lobby. Take them with you." That, at least, significantly lowered the chances of Edward getting into trouble. It would also facilitate their getting through checkpoints.
Edward snorted, but didn't protest. "I'll take the samples to the Academy."
He just nodded. "Tell Hakuro what you're doing."
Mustang could feel the glare he was receiving, almost like radiant heat. ". . . are you kidding me?"
"Extra personnel." The general would give Edward all the manpower he needed to communicate his findings as efficiently as possible, and possibly enough to transport key physicists and chemists from their homes to the Academy, if an antidote could be easily determined. The military's cooperation would be key, and despite their distaste for one another, he couldn't imagine the general balking when he realized the seriousness of the situation.
Unless he wanted to hold Edward to the letter of the law . . .?
Surely, with the city in this state, he wouldn't dare. He obeyed authority, and he'd know damn well Edward's authority was coming from him. Incapacitated or not.
The door opened without ceremony, admitting the missing bodyguard. His counterpart did not react at all, which Mustang found a little odd, considering the consistency with which he'd otherwise acted. Had they really worked together so long?
These men were almost worth stealing. They wouldn't have let him get away with his little stunt this morning.
"I'm not certain of your size," the guard explained, offering a neatly folded, dark blue cube that contained dress pants, an undertunic, an overcoat, the appropriately ranked tassels, socks, and combat boots. A proper uniform.
He wasn't actually sure that Edward had ever worn his military uniform. Alphonse had possibly worn one before Ed had. Not officially, of course, since it had been the uniform of a officer of much higher rank, used in an illegal sabotage of a uranium bomb.
He almost commented on it, but his throat really hurt too much. Edward seemed to infer it, though, glaring at the uniform for a moment before unabashedly throwing the sheet aside, shaking out the neatly pressed and folded uniform.
"Don't think it's going to happen again."
No one responded to his gripe.
Despite his lack of experience, the injured Elric made quick work of the uniform he'd been given. The bodyguard had chosen the right size; probably larger than Kain's, but not much. Roy had barely blinked before Edward was seated at the foot of his mattress, easing his other boot on.
"What's this for?" He put his armored foot on the floor, shoving it down to get the rest of the boot on, and held up a neat folded square of white cloth, far too large to be a handkerchief.
"A sling," the shorter bodyguard informed him.
They'd respond to Elric, but not to him?
. . . definitely worth stealing.
Ed just raised an eyebrow, in the act of dropping it back onto the bed when that bodyguard took a single step towards him. At that point, it seemed to occur to Edward that he was being allowed to leave the room, rather than making a decision to do so. And at any time, either of the guards in the room could change their minds.
He sighed, picking it back up and shaking it out. "Funny, the last time I got my ass kicked in Central my automail ended up in a sling, too."
Roy almost smiled. It seemed like a lifetime ago, and he'd had more important things to do than visit his subordinate, especially considering what had happened almost directly after –
That was the second time that day Edward had reminded him of Maes.
"Be careful."
Elric gave him another odd, un-Edward-like look, choosing to put the sling over his neck before gently laying his almost useless right arm into it. He stood slowly, clearly not entirely sure where the floor was, and then dug up an arrogant smirk. "Don't think I can boil water?"
Assuming the poison would actually be left behind, rather than go up with the steam – but Edward was a scientist. He didn't need the reminder; he'd already suffered once today because of those poisons. Still, once the announcement went out that the water was unsafe to drink, that uniform would make him a target. He'd need to get to the supply station and back onto military grounds as soon as he could.
"That was the first thing I ever did without a transmutation circle," Edward said suddenly. Then he smiled, a little sadly, and shook his head. "I'll be careful."
Mustang watched him walk, amazingly steadily, to the door, and the shorter guard gave him a once-over before opening it, permitting him to leave. "I notified the lieutenants," he remarked casually, as if giving an update on the weather outside.
Ed just lifted his left hand. "Thanks," he called over his shoulder. Then the door was closed behind him, and once again, Mustang was alone with his two bodyguards.
He'd have to ask them their names. He knew they'd been given to him, but it was a long time ago, and his attention had been too divided to properly commit them to memory.
Mustang closed his eye again, constructing an aerial map of Central in his head. Assuming a mass exodus from the city, their best option was to provide secured routes for those wishing to flee to do so. Open routes would mean less panic, the people would see that the military was looking towards their safety, which might calm them. In fact, they might want to ensure those routes were open before the Speaker addressed the people, but he wasn't sure his military could be coordinated that quickly. It was most imperative to stop anyone else from drinking or coming in contact with the water, particularly to the east parts of the city –
No knock on the door, this time. He heard it open, and opened his eye in time to see Patterson glaring at the shockingly still bodyguards. They had made no move to impede his entrance to the room.
How had they known . . .? Were they listening to footsteps? Had they learned his that quickly?
"Where's Elric?"
Roy glanced over at the bed, then tried to feign surprise.
It was clear the young doctor didn't believe him. "Damn it!" He tossed a clipboard on the empty bed, rubbing his face briskly with his suddenly free hand. "He's going to be in bad shape in about twenty minutes." It was muttered, partially obscured as he dragged his hand down his face. "Once the drugs work their way out of his system –"
"He can handle it." In twenty minutes, he should be safe in the Academy walls. They could probably have some of the chemists picked up from their homes by the military and waiting for him when he arrived. If Edward had done as he'd asked and notified Hakuro, the general would probably have come to the same conclusion.
Of course, that was a big if.
"I know," Patterson said quietly, still standing by the foot of the empty bed. "Want to tell me what was so important that he had to go?"
"Samples."
The doctor shook his head, approaching his bedside, and slowly reached out for his face. Mustang held still as the doctor pried his eyelid up, staring intently at him for a moment before frowning. "You should be out like a light," he muttered, almost to himself. "Your chest isn't hurting, is it?"
Mustang carefully kept his expression blank. The doc had already admitted he couldn't do anything about the rebound anyway. "Can't tell."
"I'll bet." The doctor released him, fishing around in his coat pockets. "You need to sleep, Prime Minister."
He shook his head even as the searching came up with another syringe. "No."
"You forget, you have no official authority anymore," the doctor reminded him, circling around the bed to his left. "Worrying is not going to help. Trust me."
If someone put him out, he was probably going to be asleep for days. "Not yet." His voice was far too coarse for the plea to come through, but Patterson heard it anyway, reluctantly pausing.
"Listen to me, Roy. This situation is bad enough. Every hour you continue like this, you're adding days to your recovery time. You have a lot of fine officers in your command. Trust them."
The needle was in the long tube before he could formulate a reasonable protest. There really wasn't one. Parliament had kept Amestris together for years. Hakuro and Patterson had enough information to take the appropriate steps. Elric would do what he could to nail down the poison, and there was enough trust among the State Alchemists now to do what had to be done.
There really was nothing else to do but wait.
The burning in his arm disappeared completely, but after several breaths he found he was still awake. Patterson was studying him, regretfully capping the syringe. In the dim light, he could see it was still half-full.
"I am an idiot," Patterson announced quietly. "We'll wait an hour for news, if you promise me you'll stay in this bed and rest."
Roy inclined his head. "What happened to the old woman?" He'd called her a grandmother . . . so she had a family, as well. If she'd cooked them a late dinner, if one of them was drawing a bath –
Patterson pursed his lips. "Her husband's with her."
So, dying.
"Any more?"
He shook his head. "Not yet."
"What about Heymans and Kain?"
The doctor laid a hand on his shoulder. "Promise me you'll stop worrying, too."
This time he didn't move. That wasn't a promise he could keep. "They're no better?"
"They're stable for now." An ambiguous answer if ever there was one.
Roy took a deep breath, trying to fight off a sudden chill. "How did the old woman get here?" Were they called, could they expect more? Did they need to set up some kind of radio relay system with the soldiers already out in the streets, to triage the sickened?
"Her husband brought her in." Patterson sat on the edge of the bed, apparently deciding answering his questions was going to be more effective than leaving him in the dark to imagine the worst. "He'd just gotten home, so they hadn't eaten yet. It doesn't appear he was affected."
So they were going to have to rely on people bringing them into the hospital. With the curfew, few would venture out until the symptoms were bad. They needed a method to get them to clinics as quickly as possible while still keeping the peace –
Roy blinked. It was nearly midnight, what old man would just now be getting home, and what wife would wait so patiently to eat until then? The husband was still here, he'd said . . .
"Can you do me a favor?"
Patterson nodded. "Anything you need."
"Can you ask the old woman's husband where he was earlier?" If she was doing laundry before they even ate, perhaps he'd been part of the cleanup efforts, in which case maybe this really was somehow related to the feedback. It was a one in a million chance, of course, given Irving's threats and the poisons, and the symptoms of the illness, but if for any reason it wasn't the water –
Patterson just nodded. "Sure. I'll be right back. If you go anywhere –"
He'd probably be unconscious for the next week, when the doctor caught up with him. "I'll be here."
- x -
Author's Notes: So they have a plan! Ed's in a uniform! But WAIT! What if they're wrong? . . .yeah, that's my sad attempt at trying to make this chapter interesting. I tried. ; ) It's late, and I'm a terrible author. I looked for typos, and there shouldn't be many, but I apologize for the ones that are there, and hope that you nice readers will point them out to me! It's wrapping up. The next chapter really should be the last. Really! You've never heard me say that before, right? . . . right?