Title : Whispers of a Nightmare
Genre : Anime/Manga
Category : Full Metal Alchemist
Disclaimer : Nope, this one belongs to someone else as well.
Summary : Takes place after the incident with Nina. Something's wrong with Ed, and Al just can't quite figure out what it is. Serious situations and angst ensue.
Warnings : Angst, mild language, violence, and other issues that shall go unnamed for now. I don't want to give away too much of the plot just yet, now do I? ;)
Rating : T
Chapter 6 : Traces of a Ghost
Precise, rhythmic footsteps echoed softly against the aged oak walls. They passed the winding staircase that ended into a quiet lobby downstairs; passed the window where stray rays of sunlight that had managed to escape the thick, grey clouds highlighted by dust particles that floated lazily through the air; though, they did not pass the desired location, Room number 305. They stopped at a dead halt, in usual military form, though did not even bother to announce their entrance into the near empty room.
The footfalls of Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang subsided indefinitely as he eyed the room with a narrowed brow, his true suspicions being confirmed. But there was no telling just how long it had been since the two brothers had left the room.
He knew he should have acted on the feeling sooner, though dealing with Hawkeye going on about his paperwork and how he needed to be investigating further into the case at hand, he left the thought of the two boys behind, discarding it appropriately.
His eyes drifted from the unmade bed to the apparently long forgotten about pajamas that had been tossed carelessly on to the floor. Ungrateful little brat… the thought streamed through his conscious thoughts, though he was hardly bitter. Now he had two things to partake in; the solving of the case, and finding the Elrics. As if his job could get any worse.
"You boys just don't know what you've gotten yourselves into, do you?" he muttered to himself, turning around and closing the door behind him, all his plans for the rest of the day shot straight to hell.
&&&&&
"Ugh…Brother?" Al murmured, pushing himself up off the ground. A fine mist had settled in over night, giving the withering forest that surrounded him an eerie twinge. It swirled up from the dewy ground, twirling around his steel support beams, also known as legs. He moved slightly, hearing the steel reluctantly creak around him. "No! I can't be rusting!" he shrieked, looking down at a few pieces of tinting metal. "Brother's going to kill me! Wait…where is Ed?" he asked himself, looking around. "The last thing I remember…" his voice trailed off, fear singeing his soul.
"Brother!" he called out worriedly, his voice fainter than he'd expected. "Brother!" he tried again, though it's volume didn't raise that significantly. If he had a heart, it would have been beating out of his chest by now.
He was surrounded by towering trees, and grass that was slowly fading away in the din of fall's plight. The sky that hung above him was painted a grayish white, with darker clouds hovering low. The rain had ceased, giving hope to a few faint rays of the sun, though they quickly diminished, passed over by the thickening clouds.
He moved quite loudly through the early morning air, his movements more jerkier and twitchier, almost spider-like due to the fact of the slightly rusted metal. Panic snaked through his soul as he realized he was alone, no sign of his older brother in sight.
He broke off into a run, forcing the steel to bend and move at his will, no matter how loud it clanked beneath him. At that moment, he longed for his body as he did most times when he ran. He wanted to feel the air against his skin, which from the looks of it was most likely chilly and sweet with dew; and the wind whistle through his hair, blowing it from his face just as it did when he was younger. But unfortunately, he was still trapped in his metal confinements, with only a glimmer of hope of escaping settled somewhere deep within his soul.
He stopped momentarily, thankful that his blood seal had not washed away. He quit movement altogether as he tried to figure out how that had been possible when he had been up to his neck in river water. Something wasn't right, and as per usual, a feeling of wariness wrapped around him like a blanket, and he clung to it as he knew he should.
He took a few more steps, pondering the new found thoughts that streamed through his mind. There was very little chance that he had just washed up along the shore, free from the river's rushing current. In fact, now that he thought about it, the river wasn't even in sight.
"This is not possible," Alphonse whispered, metal body shaking slightly, as if the cool air was actually affecting him. His vision darted from his beginning point to where he was at, another chilling thought running rampant through his being; the last thing he remembered was falling off the bridge and into the water and hearing his older brother cry out for him. That had to be hours ago according to the early morning sky, and it hadn't been that late when he'd wanted to turn back…
"What is going on?" Fear gripped his voice and held onto it tightly, choking him from the inside out. More thoughts began to race through his mind, competing for his unwanted attention. How could he have blacked out? He'd never had the need for rest before, and he'd surely never lost consciousness. He didn't have a body so that would be deemed impossible.
But that didn't explain how he woke up in the middle of a clearing, surely a ways away from the river that had supposedly deposited him there. And on top of it all, Edward was no where to be found, the feeling of worry almost crippling him.
Sure, they'd been separated before, when they were young, when Ed had to have a briefing with Mustang, but not totally separated; especially not to the point of not knowing at all where the other one was at. Not like this anyway…
He could feel a shudder overcome the steel suit, reminding him that he still had emotions, feelings, even if he couldn't visibly show them any more, he could still express them with his voice, as small as it might be at times.
He suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to cry. Even though he knew he couldn't, a few whimpers still escaped the armored exterior. He knew he sounded pathetic, but he wanted his brother, he wanted answers, something instead of just being dropped in the middle of nowhere without a clue as to what the hell was going on. He felt the metal clank miserably underneath him, but he didn't care. It wasn't as though he had the ability to act like a child when the feeling arose. After all, that's exactly what he was. An eleven year old boy trapped inside a gigantic tin can, with no means of escape.
His soul-filled eyes that consumed the hollowed holes of the armor seemingly blurred for a moment, as though real tears were truly pouring from them. He put the head of the armor in his gloved hands, wishing that he'd become invisible to the world, even if it was only for a few seconds. Just to shed real tears…
His head snapped up as a foreign sound invaded his hearing. He looked around, unable to see anything at first, though a faded figure arose from the mist several feet away, a large lake edging into his view. Why he hadn't seen it before, he didn't know; and why that person was there also drew a big question mark. He couldn't quite make anything out about the stranger, just the fact that they were clouded in the thick mist that was seemingly refusing to dissipate.
He shakily stood to his feet, now slightly annoyed at the sound of his armor. Hesitantly, he started walking in the direction of the individual, something stirring within. This was just one more piece of the puzzle that didn't fit nor make any sense whatsoever. A part of him kept telling himself that maybe this person could give him some answers; something. But then there was the other part of him, the more rational and cautious part, that kept nagging him to stay away from the stranger. That it was dangerous and he'd be better off discovering things on his own. Unfortunately, the devil on his shoulders won again, much to his dismay.
"Excuse me?" he called out, making his way across the dying grass and out towards the edge of the lake, sounds of insects and other tiny creatures invading his hearing. He listened for a moment, almost paralyzed by their serene music. It took him a moment to shake the melody from his thoughts, but he did, focusing on the person who was slowly walking towards him.
He went to speak again but stopped when the stranger came into clear view. He couldn't tell whether it was man nor woman, due to the fact that they were clad completely in armor, just as he was. Swirls of mist surrounded the unfamiliar guise, appearing as though the metal was being soaked in hot water, though it was just the opposite.
In reflex, Alphonse took a step back, fear running mad circles around his being. He didn't know if it was just from being lost and separated from his brother, or whether he truly had reason to not want to be around this person, but something kept him from moving forwards.
The armored stranger was coming closer now, letting Al see the strange markings that were painted on its left arm and underneath its right eye. He could've sworn he'd seen those in an old alchemy book somewhere, but he couldn't remember why. The distraction was enough for him to lose possible precious seconds as the person approached him, deathly silent.
"E-Excuse me? I was wondering, have you seen a, well, uh, a blonde boy around here, about this tall," he motioned with a gloved hand, regretting that his voice was shaking so badly, though no matter how hard he tried, could not retain his composure.
Silence slid in between the two for a moment, letting the other distracting sounds of nature break in before the figure slowly nodded its head.
Shock nearly overwhelmed the young alchemist as he realized the possibility that Edward might be close. In a most childlike tone, he let out, "Oh, thank goodness. Where?" He knew deep down he shouldn't be talking to this…this person, but his naiveté got in the way, and the only thing he could feel was relief, for a second.
He watched as the person pointed to some place back from the way he had came; the slow, too cool movements instantly making him remember why he had been so frightened in the first place; though as he took his eyes off the stranger, for just a second, he knew he had made his mistake. Metal clashed against metal as the stranger struck Alphonse across his faceplate, a shriek emanating from inside the armor as a sickening crack resounded through his hearing. Without thinking, he retaliated immediately, without any strategic planning.
Using as much force as he could, he punched the stranger directly where his diaphragm would have been underneath the ice cold sheet of metal. The blow didn't even leave a scratch, leading him to the acknowledgement that he was way in over his head, in a seemingly Edward-like situation.
A grunt escaped the hollow shell as he received a gift to the chest plate, fine-lined crevices slowly appearing. He didn't bother to look down. He could sense the damage without even giving it a glance, and needless to say, he was feeling much more than panic at the moment; and that fear that had burrowed itself deep within his soul only grew as he was knocked to the ground, the figure towering above him, emerald green eyes burning into his soul lit ones.
"Brother…" he whimpered as he watched one of the gauntlets come down towards his helmet, moving at a speed far too fast for him to be able to move out of the way.
&&&&&
Darkness encompassed his vision, though at the moment, he felt too weak to open his eyes. Everything on him ached, from his head to his jaw to his limbs. Hell, even his automail pained him, the nerves that were connected to the steel machinery jolting every now and then, his teeth gritting in reflex.
His head was swimming even though he was laying down, red splotches and blue circles dancing around his lidded vision. And breathing was seeming to be a chore in itself, his chest feeling heavier than usual; and it didn't help that the air around him felt thick and hard to inhale; humid almost.
He could feel his whole body tingling, more than likely from laying in the same position for so long. His brow narrowed as he realized he didn't have a clue in hell as to where he was. The last thing he remembered was running down stream, chasing after Alphonse; but instead of getting to him, he only made things worse by falling in himself, the chill of the water making him shudder at just the thought. It felt like he'd bathed in ice, then let himself get poked by pins and needles repeatedly until he passed out. He could hear Alphonse's faint cries for help before they faded out of his range. And that was the last of it.
He knew he was on dry ground, though whatever he was laying on sure as hell didn't feel like wet grass. Instead, it felt more like a cushion of some sort, a mattress, perhaps. It took him a minute to recognize the way the cotton felt on his still somewhat cool skin, immediately knowing that this wasn't the same cotton he'd been accustomed to at the inn. This felt rougher, used; and more than likely littered with a few moth holes.
A quiet sound immediately filtered through his ears; the sound of wood cackling in a fireplace. It almost brought a sense of calm to him except for the fact that he knew there were no private fireplaces in the inn rooms, immediately making him long for unconsciousness.
It didn't take long for a certain thought to strike him. "Alphonse," he breathed, his voice barely audible. He could hardly even hear it himself. He tried again, his mouth surprisingly dry. "Al?" He swallowed, noting there wasn't much saliva to recycle, and tried again. "Al," he called out a little louder, though his ears were still met with a much too weak voice, and the sound of wood timbers burning away in the din of fire.
Slowly, he opened his eyes, everything doubling and tripling, his vision blurred worse than ever. A trivial amount of sleep still incrusted the corners of his eyes, the feeling slightly irritating, but he could manage. Gradually, his sight fell into place, he finally being able to make out his surroundings.
He was in a cottage, knowing immediately from how tiny it was. From where he was laying, he could see a small kitchenette off to his right, very near the entrance to the home. It looked almost bare from his view, catching a glance of a bowl of fruit on a dusty counter top, a few closed cabinets, and a small wooden table with two chairs seated at it.
His eyes drifted lazily across the cracked wooden walls and into the room that he was in. There was a rocking chair positioned in the far left corner, and a small door not too far away from that, most likely a bathroom. Off to his right there was a small bed, neatly made and extremely clean, the sheets the color of perfect snow. He raised an eyebrow at this, but didn't give it a second thought.
His vision tried to swim again, but he retained it, concentrating on the few pictures that were the only décor that appeared to be in the place. He squinted, able to make out three faces; a brown haired woman, a black haired man, and a young boy who looked eerily like the man. Obviously it was a family, but he considered the thought on how all three could fit into a place that confined when he caught sight of a ladder leading up to a little area just above the bed. He could make out what appeared to be a pillow and a blanket. So that's where the kid sleeps. That's…strange.
Though chills were coming and going down his spine, he could feel beads of sweat trickle down his forehead and down the sides of his face, annoying him more than he would have thought. At the same time, a polite coughing fit wracked his petite body, forcing him to sit up, dizziness becoming his constant companion. He went to move his hand to his mouth when anther noise echoed throughout his ear drums. At first, he silently prayed that it was just his automail banging into something by accident; but as his eyes slowly crept to the source, the feeling of having the breath beat out of him rang clearly through his shaking body.
Attached to both of his wrists were shackles, rusted and reeking with the odor of iron and other metallic elements. His dry throat suddenly became consistently drier. He was speechless as the indentations and raw skin around his left wrist became critically clear. He didn't know why he hadn't felt it at first, but the moment his golden orbs took the sight in, pain seared through his veins.
He was about to explode when he realized that two more identical chains of confinement were attached to his belt, one on each side, preventing him from moving more than four or five inches. His eyes traced the outlines of his two legs that were hidden beneath the thin sheet, knowing before seeing that they too were shackled; each chain connected to six stakes that had been simply nailed into the floor.And eachof the stakes wereconnected by more chains,creating a perfect circle.Though try as he might, there was no way in hell he could pull free; but that wasn't the only thought that struck his mind. He nearly fainted at the next sight that befell his eyes. Drawn underneath him was a transmutation circle, one so complicated that not even his prodigy induced intelligence could make him understand it.
He wished this were just another bad dream, another nightmare he could wake up from. He wanted to close his eyes and return to that state of unrest, and even though it might have been uncomfortable, at least he had a small peace of mind. At least then, he didn't know what he had inadvertently gotten himself into.
His brain raced with questions that his intelligence could not answer. He could hear his heart, pounding in his ears, reverberating through his senses. He could almost hear the blood rushing through his veins as it realized that its time might be futile. And he thought he'd felt trapped before. He didn't like the fact that his fate was being directed by someone else, as though he was just a puppet letting his strings get pulled. This was not how he planned to live his life, and this was just another one of those unfortunate happenstances that seemed to sneak up on him, reminding him of who he was at what he was supposed to be doing. And what he had lost.
He absentmindedly pulled on the chains again, a pained grunt escaping his crimson lips. It was as though he was running in circles, without a way out of the impossible maze. He struggled against the metal confines, even the three times as strong automail arm unable to even loosen the stake. Who only knew how deep they went down…
Nausea was slowly creeping up on him, and he knew it, though he was too consumed by the thought of escape to care. It wasn't as though he had anything to lose out of his stomach. It had been empty for longer than he cared to remember. It had even given up its means to announce that it needed something to fill it, remaining silent for awhile now. Though dry heaving hurt worse than the actual spewing of contents from his throat.
He closed his eyes and remained still, trying to take in as much air as he could, though the constant struggle still remained. His sinuses were trying desperately to close up on him, and the more he tried to take in air from his mouth, the more the dizziness taunted him, blurring the corners of his vision. He was going no where fast, and with fruitless results. The fire cackled louder in his ears, mocking him from its comfortable perch. He wanted to scream, just let all his emotions out, fear, helplessness, terror, sadness, longing. But just as he was about to utter any nonsense that would come to mind, the front door opened, a lone figure stepping over the threshold.
He watched the person with contempt in his golden eyes, knowing full well that they were the reason why he had chains keeping him company instead of his brother. A low growl evaded his throat, bits of spittle parting his lips, but before he could say anything, they spoke first, the voice chilling him.
"I see that you're awake," the woman's voice came in to his ears, her tone soothing though hanging on the edge of menacing.
He kept silent, observing her every move, though biting on his tongue was starting to hurt worse than the shackles keeping him pinned to the ground. She was quite tall and thin, albeit a little too thin. Her long, graying hair was pulled back into a loose tie, stray wisps falling just past her shoulders, revealing a few brunette strands. Her attire consisted of a floor-length dress, obviously black at one point in time, but after years of ware, had fallen into a state of dull grey. A button-up off-white sweater completed the outfit, hanging loosely on her gaunt-like frame. His eyes slowly drifted upwards, meeting her bright emerald green ones. He felt his heart skip a beat.
"Where's my brother?" he spat out without much thought, anger burning in his fiery, golden orbs. He pulled on the chains as he spoke, though they didn't budge, much to his dissatisfaction.
"Your brother is doing just fine," she cooed, an unnatural gleam streaking through her eyes. "In fact, he's playing with my son as we speak," she added, a wickedly perfect smile haunting her features.
He felt his stomach turn as thoughts of his own mother and the nightmare that had taunted him for the past few years surged through his head. But he knew that this woman was nothing like his mother, not in the least, the only common factor being they had both given birth and that was pretty much it. His brow narrowed more as she came closer to him, bile teasing his tongue.
"My brother doesn't play with murderers!" he spat, struggling against the heavy metal chains once more with no avail. He could feel his muscles screaming bloody murder in his ears, but he ignored their pleas and continued to yank on the thick chains, chaos ensuing in his head.
The expression on the woman's gaunt face changed from strangely charmed to morbid anger. He watched as her brow declined, the lines on her forehead finally showcasing her age. She appeared to be around the age of fifty, possibly older, but then again, having a murderer for a son could do horrific things to your youthfulness. She advanced on him quickly, slapping him across the face, her long nails tracing blood lines into his pale skin. He flinched but held his ground.
"My son is not a murderer!" she shrieked back at him, her eyes dancing wildly with madness and bewilderment. "How dare you speak such blasphemy, dog of the State!" More strands of hair escaped from the leather tie, falling compliantly into her strained visage. "If anyone's a murderer, it's you, you pathetic excuse for an alchemist! I can't even fathom why they'd let even you join their ranks. They must have gotten desperate," she added, the wicked smile sliding back onto her face as she saw his cheeks flush with anger.
"I'm not the one going around killing innocent people, now am I?" he spat back, feeling the warm blood chill against his skin. He continued to work on his confines, but they only rubbed harder on his flesh, sending a burning sensation flooding through his wrist.
She flashed her too perfect teeth at him again, her eyes seemingly the only thing alive on her. "Innocent people?" she questioned, an airy tone to her voice. "Those were not innocent people, for the simple fact that no one is innocent, not even at birth." She stood there, glowering down at him, arms crossed against her chest.
"I watched him murder a blind man! A man that didn't do anything to anyone! An innocent man--" he emphasized the word, "And without any conviction of any sort! Your son is a cold-blooded murderer and doesn't even deserve to practice alchemy!" he exclaimed, a coughing fit rendering him temporarily speechless, much to the woman's delight. She stood there waiting patiently, her grin widening as he started to wretch.
"Foolish child," she laughed, her voice deepening for a moment. "It's people like you who don't deserve the precious gift of alchemy. Wretched thing," she ticked her tongue, shaking her head as she came closer yet again, bending down to one knee in front of him.
"You filthy-" he paused, more coughing interrupting his torrent of insults. "Evil witch!" he continued, inwardly feeling embarrassed as spit and phlegm littered his chin and the sheet beneath him, which only made him angrier. "Disgusting, no good, awful--" This time his words were cut off as she gripped his flesh arm, digging her blood-tainted nails into his skin. A cry of pain parted his lips, she laughing as a retort.
"You are a practitioner of taboo, of forbidden alchemy. Those artificial limbs that pollute your body are results of your actions, are they not?" she inquired, her eyes gleaming again, her nails digging deeper. Without waiting for him to answer, she continued. "My son never hurt a soul. He was the kindest, most gentle boy a mother could ever wish for. He was destined for great things…great things," her voice trailed off, her mind revisiting another time.
He tried to jerk his shoulder away from her seemingly strong grip for a woman of her stature, but it only tightened and dug in deeper, cutting and tearing more layers of skin. The sudden movement removed her from her fantasy, the far away look transforming into one of tormented anger and corruption. Then the smile reappeared again, the corners of her mouth twitching erratically.
"And those great things will come to pass. Very soon," she said, sounding as though she were talking more to herself than to the pained boy sitting in front of her. Her eyes drifted slightly, the grin growing more wicked and out of place.
He was silent for a moment, letting a question travel to his tongue. "I just have one question," he stated, a hint of a smile tainting his features. "Tell me, how can a dead man murder someone?" His eyes flickered with a slight touch of victory, but it was quickly distinguished as she replied.
"My son is not dead. Maybe his body is, but his soul isn't," she answered, madness tinting her tone. Her grip loosened, though her hands stayed dangerously close.
Edward's eyes widened in reflex, terror flooding his stomach. He wanted felt the urge to vomit once again, but it was held back as her hand clenched tightly around his throat, a tiny grunt escaping his lips. "You transmuted his…," he managed to leak out before his vocal cords were squeezed off.
"That's right," she stated, a few of her stray hairs tickling his face, hers within inches of his. She was so close, he could see the veins throbbing in her neck, the flicker of true insanity in her emerald orbs.
"But…but…his eyes…" he choked out, his vision darkening due to the lack of oxygen he wasn't receiving.
"Oh, yes, they're beautiful, aren't they? They were the only part I kept of him. The rest was useless, but his eyes. I couldn't dare rid him of his most beautiful feature, now could I?" she asked, her own matching ones filling the young blonde with instant terror and goosebumps.
"E-E-Equiv…" he tried to spout the law, but it was useless. She loosened her grip, taunting him with her power over him, thoroughly enjoying every minute of it. "I…I don't understand," he whispered, his throat sore with pain. "What could you have possibly given? You're…you're not missing anything…"
She grew eerily still at his question, as though he was already supposed to know the answer. She straightened up a bit, a hint of the grin returning to her lips. "Why, I gave my husband, of course," she answered, as though it simply should have been that way and no other.
"But…you wicked old hag!" he tried so hard to shout, but his voice went in and out, only passing for barely above a whisper, making her laugh once again.
"Hardly, child," she replied, staring into his golden orbs. She was silent for a moment, letting her warm breath breeze across his face, knowing all the while how much it sickened him, much to her amusement.
He stared into her eyes, a scowl marking his woe-filled features. The next question that erupted from his mouth rendered him completely still, not wanting to hear anymore. "What am I here for then?" he wheezed out. "What do you want with me and my brother?" he spat, his voice still hovering on the barely audible side.
"Oh, I want nothing of your brother. He's just an empty shell, just as my son is. Though that will all change," she said, pulling something from her pocket. Edward's heart stopped beating as a small, red stone fell upon his eyes. "But you on the other hand, will prove quite efficient, even if you do have two fleshless limbs."
"What are you getting at?" he questioned, a lump forming in his throat, his voice starting to shake.
Her grin widened, almost to the point that if it got any bigger, he was sure her teeth would break.
"It's quite simple. With the help of this completed stone," she said, the small red object giving off a slight glow between her fingertips. "My son will have a new body tonight. Yours."
He froze, a thought surfacing in the back of his mind. This woman was going to kill him, and he didn't even know her name.
Author's note : You're probably reading this and going WTF? And then you're asking yourself, well, if she has a stone, why can't she just bring his original body back, right? Well, I won't go into too much detail, but I'll give a hint : all humans are composed of the same thing, therefore, you could have all the elements and even the soul, but the genetic makeup still wouldn't be what it was before, and could considerably alter what the person looks like. After all, there weren't ever any successful human transmutations, were there? Plus, Ed- wait, saying too much there, you'll just have to read the next chapter to find out, if you don't know already.
Apart from all the technical talk, I just want to thank each and every one of you who reviewed, and that goes for all chapters. And also to those who put this story in their alert list and favs. The support means a great deal to me, and I appreciate every single word of it, constructive or not. So please, let me know how I'm doing. If it sucked, if it rocked, whatever. I'll take whatever comes. Until next time.