Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist and all its amazing characters and happenings still belongs wholly to Hiromu Arakawa. I do own the camels though - the feisty one's name is Perry, if it amuses anyone to know.
Author's Note: And here I thought that Lan Fan/Ling lovers were few and far between! I was touched to see so much traffic to this story, and a sincere thank you goes out to those who added "Dirge" to their Story Alerts. (An even more sincere, and deeply happy, thanks goes to those who took the time to review. I love y'all!)
Day Four
Camels were, unarguably, the very worst animals in the entire world. Ling was sure of it. For all their reputation as the desert-crossing-transportation-animal-of-choice, they remained absolutely terrible creatures.
They spat, and moaned, and smelled like rancid mold. Every time the animal took a step forward, a blast of sand was kicked backwards and onto Ling's ankles - the exposed skin between his pants and shoes felt raw and blistered. And his poor stomach! He still had not gotten used to the constant back-and-forth motion of the camel's loping gait, lurching him sharply enough to sour his gut and rattle his nerves.
Ahead of him, Lan Fan's camel calmly lifted its tail and relieved itself on the sand, and Ling's walked through the waste without a care. It flicked its head slightly though, as if to say, "So what? I'm not going to have to scrape it out of my hooves later."
Ling pondered the practicality of adding camel to the list of Xingese foreign delicacies.
He quickly vetoed the idea – he would rather eat Edward's other boiled shoe than something so foul.
Probably.
Sighing, the Very Honorable Future Emperor of Xing rubbed his empty stomach, cast a glance around at the dark and barren desert, and slumped forward in a very dishonorable fashion. Mei would have reprimanded him severely, had she been awake.
The young princess, having taken the final watch before the group had set out again, was allowed a few extra hours of slumber – her camel tied caravan-style to Ling's as she slept. They had devised this system the second night into their traveling, discovering that they all appreciated the rest after a long watch.
Well, Ling and Mei appreciated it – Lan Fan bluntly refused to sleep while they were moving.
Ling frowned, dried sand crackling and pulling at his skin from the motion. Lan Fan was starting to worry him.
When Fu had been there to help, the journey from Xing to Amestris had taken just over two weeks. While it had been equally grueling, and sand-filled, the expedition had progressed much more efficiently under the precise routine of Fu and Lan Fan's cooperation.
Like clockwork, his two bodyguards had danced around Ling – organizing rests and meals and routes – with a proficiency that falsely suggested ease. Now Fu was gone. Alone, Lan Fan had to move twice as fast to keep the system running, even more so with the addition of Mei Chang and Xiao Mei. She carried all of Fu's burdens. (The ash-laden urn chinked lightly in Lan Fan's saddle bag, and Ling tried to ignore how literally she carried the weight of her grandfather.)
Where Fu would have stood guard while Lan Fan hunted, she now faced the paradoxical situation of serving as both forager and protector. Ling remembered how she had hesitated the first morning they settled down to set up camp. He had watched – amused at first, before growing increasingly concerned – as Lan Fan looked back and forth between him, Mei, and their dwindling supplies. But before either he or Mei could offer to hunt, Lan Fan had crouched down low and sprinted away in a flash.
She had returned a short time later with two small sand moles, dropping them by the fire pit unceremoniously. She had then stared at Ling for a moment to assess his health, before taking a deep breath, only to dash off again. This pattern had repeated itself for the past few days, Lan Fan struggling with the impossibility of staying with Ling at all times while providing the group with food.
Every morning, no matter how tired she may have been from a night spent in an uncomfortable saddle atop Ling's new most-hated animal, Lan Fan hunted. She took multiple short runs, never gone for more than ten minutes before returning panicked and desperate to Ling's side – with considerably less food than was possible without interruption.
Ling would have gladly just gone with her to solve the problem, but he was afraid of Lan Fan's reaction to the idea. His friend seemed consumed with thoughts of propriety and duty, insisting on tending to Ling and Mei with a voracity that alarmed him.
She alone scouted ahead before dusk each night. She alone hunted, cooked, and served their modest meals. Mei had had to resort to physical persuasion just to convince Lan Fan to share in the duties of setting up camp.
She wasn't sleeping well, nor eating much, and she had rarely spoken in the days since Fu's cremation. As they trudged through the rough sand, Ling felt her presence like a sorrowful and wounded shadow.
The silence was wide and yawning; he found himself filling the void with the words he imagined Lan Fan would say to him, if honor didn't stay her tongue:
"I have sworn to protect you"
Trudge.
"follow you"
Trudge.
"faithfully."
Trudge.
"Because of you"
"my grandfather died."
Trudge.
"I saw it."
Trudge. Scuff.
"Protecting you,"
Trudge.
"and your selfish and foolish wish,"
"it killed my grandfather."
Trudge.
"Because of you"
"the one person I have ever loved is gone."
"My honor is reduced to rags, sopping up the mess you have made with your folly"
Trudge.
"How can I ever forgive you"
Trudge.
"I hate you"
"Lan Fan!" Ling cried desperately when his imagination grew too cruel. Or, too accurate? His gut twisted at the thought. Ahead of him, he saw her stiffen, startled.
"Sire?"
Snapping the reins, he urged his camel forward – it bent its head backwards to regard him, and promptly spat. Damn beast. With a sharp kick, he forced it into a trot and came level with Lan Fan. "You were so quiet! I had to make sure you hadn't fallen asleep on me!" His teasing grin was strained as he looked at her. "Bored, are you?"
The Yang mask looked away quickly. "No, my Lord. I assure you that I have not grown lax in my duties. To neglect your protection in such a way would be to shame myself."
His camel groaned, actually groaned, and Ling was forced to agree that perhaps indirectly insulting her vigilance was not the right way to go about initiating conversation. Still, the response was so typically Lan Fan, and her missed voice such a treat, that Ling felt his smile widen naturally.
"You were daydreaming then, I see."
"No, Sire. Impossible, since it is night." Her response was clipped and bitter, Lan Fan spitting the last word like poison. The sky was overcast, diminishing the visibility of the desert to coal-hues and pitch-silhouettes. Still, Ling was a warrior of Xing, and he could see Lan Fan's aura as easily as her face – were she not wearing the damned Yang mask.
Her chi swirled in a tempest, curling in on itself, folding and twisting with anger and loathing. Ling's smile melted off his face.
"Lan Fan?" Her mask remained facing away. "Lan Fan, I can tell that something is bothering you. Has been bothering you." Silence. "You are angry. Tell me why."
"You must not concern yourself with –"
"Well I am concerned," Ling interrupted. "Will you lie to me then, Lan Fan?"
"No Sire!"
Ling took a deep breath of the cold desert air. "Then you must tell me – what is troubling you? Is it Fu?"
"N-no. Yes. No, of course I am grieved, but," she stuttered, as always whenever Ling forced away the barriers of servitude and formality she so loved to hide behind.
"But?" he prompted, bracing himself. ("I hate you.") He swallowed; whispered, "tell me."
"It is, it is only," her head dropped, shoulders hunching forward as she curled in on herself. When she spoke, her voice was high and light: "I am ashamed – and so sorry, my Lord!"
Ling started. "What?"
"I am not, I cannot," Lan Fan was babbling now, as if she could not stop the flow of speech once un-dammed. "The return journey is taking so much longer, and it is because of me. I know that we travel at night to spare my arm from the sun, but it cuts several miles off of our progress. The longer we take getting you and the Philosopher's Stone back to Xing, the more danger you are in, and it is because of me.
"You and the Lady Chang are constantly tired and hungry, and miserable, because I cannot provide for my sovereign and one small girl. I am incompetent, and…and truly useless to you. If my grandfather were still alive, surely he would be able to fulfill his duties. I am nothing now - not even, not even a whole human anymore." Ling heard a faint whir as she clenched the fingers of her mechanical arm. "And this limb that is meant to protect instead jeopardizes our entire mission. I am a disgrace. What kind of servant hinders her master?"
She was quiet for several moments, before awkwardly adding, "my Lord."
Ling sat back in his saddle, stunned. Mind racing to find the right thing to say, he instinctively fell back on his usual way of dealing with Lan Fan – teasing. "Well, you've certainly left me speechless," he joked. "What a switch, eh? Me with nothing to say, and you giving long speeches!"
Lan Fan said nothing, and his camel moaned. Mockingly. Ling glared at what little he could see of the ugly bobbing head, but conceded the point. Tact. Be tactful. He told himself sternly. If she's seriously upset, then be serious with her in return. He tried again.
"But you know, Lan Fan," he said, looking at her dark and hunched figure. "I don't think that way at all. You're far from useless. In fact, to me, you're an amazing and wonderful person." To his horror, Ling felt the back of his neck warm slightly. Baffled, he rubbed at his nape and made a note to cover his neck better during the day. Obviously too much sun-exposure had given him a sunburn. Either that or he was blushing, which was impossible. Lan Fan was the one who blushed when he complimented her – which made it, of course, extremely fun - not the other way around!
"You must not," she stuttered, and Ling swore he could feel the heat of her blush warming the cold night air. He grinned. There. She was flustered. Good. "Y-young Lord, you should not – please, my Lord, your kindness is not necessary."
"'Not necessary'?"
"It is your concern for my grief which makes you so cautious, so forgiving. My Lord…I will not lie and say that the memory of my grandfather comes without pain. However it has been quite some time since his honorable death. I have mourned and am doing as well as can be expected. His cremation was a reminder of loss, but not a fresh wound.
"So please do not walk so gently with me, my Lord. Besides being unworthy of such regard, I have already begun to rally."
So this was how she had been feeling these past few days? Now that he thought about it, Ling berated himself for not having seen this coming. It was so typically Lan Fan: desperately taking on all the duties to disprove any weakness, sternly disciplining herself for her perceived "failures", all the while dealing with shame and grief and a serious physical handicap.
Not for the first time, Ling felt his heart go out to his painfully-dedicated bodyguard. She was always so eager to prove herself and even more willing to blame herself, almost as if she ran on duty and guilt.
Well, if guilt was what Lan Fan responded to, then Ling had no qualms against using that to his advantage. "I'm disappointed with you, in that case, Lan Fan." She jerked upright in her saddle, and her camel grunted with surprise. Ling looked towards her silhouette, barely visible in the dim starlight, and summoned his not-entirely-faked anger. "Do you have so little faith in me?"
"S-sire! What –"
"A ruler is nothing without his people, remember? And you are one of my people. Your duty may be to see to my protection, but my duty is to care for you in return. How do you expect me to rule our entire nation, if I cannot provide for the well-being of one vassal?"
Lan Fan sputtered incoherently.
"I appreciate your dedication, Lan Fan. It is truly commendable. But you are working yourself to the bone, and it isn't necessary. I may not be as capable a fighter as yourself, but I'm certainly not an invalid. Neither is Mei. We can help you, work together, to make this journey together.
"As for you slowing us down – do you remember the last time we crossed the desert? The heat was unbearable. I never plan on traveling in the desert during high noon ever again. If it's safer, then who cares if it's a little slower? I don't need to worry about the Philosopher's Stone when I have you to protect me.
"We worked together crossing the desert to Amestris, and we can certainly do so now. You don't have to prove yourself, Lan Fan. To me, you are already indispensable."
Ling's camel bellowed out a long yawn, snapping him back to himself. He suddenly noticed the lack of distance between the two of them as he'd drawn closer, barely an arm's reach, and registered just how disturbingly soft and deep his voice had subconsciously grown. He reared back, eyes wide.
"S-so stop being so stingy, and share the workload!" He plastered a smile across his face, heart pounding. "I'm supposed to be the greedy one, remember? Don't steal my act!"
Lan Fan said nothing, but Ling could feel a definite shift in her aura: less constrained and more relaxed, peaceful. A high-pitched panda squeaked behind them, and Ling sensed Mei's presence stir as she awoke.
"Servant," she called blearily. "What time is it?"
To his immense surprise and delight, Lan Fan snapped in anger. "'Servant'? I am not your servant! I am beholden to the Yao family, and answer only to Master Ling!"
Mei, despite her drowsiness, riled quickly. "And I am a princess of the Chang family, far above you in rank. I can call you however I please!" Ling didn't have to look to know that her small little nose was pointing high in the air. "And anyway," she snipped. "I wasn't actually talking to you."
Ling leaned back, grinning happily as Lan Fan turned with outrage to hiss at the young girl. "Am I to take it then, that you mean to say, you were addressing Master Ling as your - !"
"No, of course not! It's only that I used to call Mr. Scar 'servant', and I traveled with him for a very long time! It was a force of habit!" Mei seemed taken aback at this, Lan Fan's first show of emotion in three days.
"So long as you know your place," Lan Fan sniffed surreptitiously.
"My place?" Mei's voice reached an impossibly high pitch, topped only by the indignant squeal of her panda as it bellowed its offense.
Ling leaned forward to pet his camel's flank cheerily. "My my! I am indeed a lucky man! To be attended by such high-spirited ladies!"
The camel spat.
Sometime past midnight, when the temperature had dropped to an uncomfortable chill and the camels began to stumble wearily, Ling, Lan Fan, and Mei huddled around a tiny fire. In a generous gesture of goodwill, Mei magnanimously asked Lan Fan to please brush out her voluminous hair; Xiao Mei bit the tail of Ling's camel when it spat too near the panda's resting place; Ling amused them all with an epic retelling of "The Man who Fed the Emperor a Boot"; and Lan Fan, as she untangled Mei's braids, took off her Yang mask.
She did not smile, did not even look at Ling, but her ears were slightly pink when she accepted a sliver of dried mole-meat from Mei. Ling grinned, and leaned back on his elbows to stare at the murky black sky.
It was a start.