Chapter Title: Meeting
Pairings: None! I can't write romance for the life of me!
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Cursing
Disclaimer: I wish I owned it, but I don't. Darnit.
A/N: Nar, this is late…stupid college applications, keeping me from writing…-grumbles- Anywho, this chapter was interesting to write. Hehehe…the Mustang Gang is fun. They never cease to amuse me.
It had been a little over seven hours since Scar had last been injected with the cursed drug that had plagued him since he'd been captured, and now for the first time in a long time he was free of its influence. Or, at least, he mostly was; after two weeks of being constantly drugged, it would take a few more days for him to be completely back to his former strength. But for now he was more than grateful to be able to think quickly, to walk without stumbling or needing support, to understand, to recognize, to remember…to be himself again. He was not afraid anymore.
"Scar? Hello? Is there anyone in there?" Ed's voice, accompanied by a gloved hand waving in front of his face, snapped Scar out of his musings, "We're here. I swear, one of these days you're going to run into a wall, and I'm going to laugh."
"Hnn," Scar shot him a mildly annoyed look, then gazed around at the surroundings he hadn't been paying any attention to until just then. He, Edward, and Alphonse were standing in a very military-looking hallway outside a wooden door, which presumably led to Colonel Mustang's office. He'd gotten a much-needed shower and meal about an hour ago, was back in his old clothes, and could think properly. He was ready for this…or at least, that was what he was telling himself. He reached over to open the door, but before he could it burst open from the other side. He barely moved out of the way in time to avoid getting hit by the door, but wasn't quite fast enough to evade the person who had been going through it. Caught off guard and off balance, the Ishbalan was knocked backwards onto the floor in a flurry of paper; as he stood up, he saw the person who had run into him had also fallen. It was a small man in military uniform, with short black hair and large, rounded glasses; when he looked up and saw who he'd run into, his eyes widened and he very visibly paled.
"Ah, I…I'm sorry!" the man practically squeaked, standing up and then immediately crouching back down to pick up all the papers he'd dropped, frantically apologizing all the while, "I didn't think there would be anyone there, and I was in a hurry…I didn't mean to run into you, really!" he kept dropping papers every time he picked up another sheet; he looked terrified out of his wits. Scar just stared.
"It's all right, no harm done. Here, let me help you," Al finally took the initiative, kneeling down and helping gather up the sheets. With his help, the papers were quickly up off the floor and once again in a semi-neat stack in the man's arms. Al tilted his head and suggested happily, "Why don't you introduce yourself?"
The man looked like he wanted to sink into the floor as he stared up at Scar and stuttered, "Um…I'm Sergeant Major Fury…I…I have to…go…" he trailed off, then turned and walked very quickly down the hallway, nearly dropping all his papers again.
Ed looked after him curiously, "Looks like he's scared of you too. Well, let's go," Ed opened the door the rest of the way, and the three of them filed into the large room on the other side.
There were several desks in the room, and on the opposite wall from the door was a gigantic window that took up almost the entire wall. Directly in front of the window was a desk, larger than the others, covered in stacks of paperwork. The right wall was all a line of file cabinets, and the left wall was bare save for another door and a clock which showed the time to be nearly 6:00 PM. Three uniformed men were working at the desks, one of whom Scar recognized as the one from before…Breda, that was it; the other two, a spiky haired man with a cigarette and an older white haired man, were unknown to him. There was also a serious looking blonde woman standing near the big desk, looking through the sea of paper.
"Hey, we're here," Ed gave a casual salute as the three of them entered. All eyes in the room were immediately on Scar; it made him immensely uncomfortable, especially since they were all in military uniform, and he suppressed the instinct to adopt a fighting stance.
The woman straightened, and gestured at the other door, "The Colonel is in the meeting room," she looked at Scar, "You can go in now."
The Ishbalan steeled himself, then walked towards the door, away from the Edward and Alphonse, practically feeling the other eyes in the room follow his every movement. Every step he took seemed to echo loudly in the silence, and the relatively short path to the door seemed to lengthen into an impossible distance; his instincts were screaming at him that around him were soldiers, deadly enemies, and that he must either fight or flee, or he would die. He did not like this, not at all. But despite it all, he kept his head held high and his pace steady, flatly refusing to show any signs of weakness. He would not quicken his steps, lower his gaze to the floor, or retreat back to the relative protection of the Elrics, no matter how much his instincts wanted him to. When he finally reached his goal, he very nearly breathed a sigh of relief that his small ordeal was finished…but contained it, reminding himself that there was another trial waiting for him on the other side of the door. Slowly he turned the knob, pushed the door open, and walked through, closing it behind him. He was on his own now.
"Sit down," a black haired man that Scar recognized immediately as Colonel Mustang, the Flame Alchemist, gestured to one of the squared black couches sitting a little ways into the room. He was sitting behind a desk, also with quite a collection of paperwork atop it, and looked almost irritatingly relaxed. Scar shot him a brief glare before walking over to the couch and sitting; it wasn't very comfortable, and it had probably been made like that on purpose. Mustang continued, his tone slightly bored and his eyes turned towards the wall, "I see that you're looking considerably better than you were," when he received nothing but stony silence in reply, he looked over at Scar. Their eyes met for a brief second, and, at seeing the Ishbalan's defiant glare, Mustang gave a very small, slightly triumphant smile, "Good, so your spirit hasn't really been broken. After what Havoc and Breda told me, I was worried; after all, you're no good to us as a frightened, half-dead, empty shell."
"Hnn," Scar glared; he was beginning to be more than a little annoyed with the Flame Alchemist and what he was implying. Unconsciously, he tightened his right hand into a fist; Edward and Armstrong may have earned his forgiveness…but this man, a State Alchemist whom he knew had been at Ishbal, was far from it.
Mustang noticed this, "Old habits die hard, don't they?" he dropped the rhetorical question casually and met Scar's eyes again, this time holding the angry crimson gaze instead of looking away. His relaxed tone remained, but Scar saw that his eyes were all seriousness, "But these habits you are going to have to break yourself of. You have quite a few good reasons to hate us, and I can understand how you must feel-"
"No," Scar interrupted, speaking through teeth clenched in what was almost a snarl, "You do not understand. You could never even come close to comprehending…" his eyes were positively blazing with fury. This man, this State Alchemist who had killed so many of his people, who was the cause of so much of his pain…how dare he claim to understand.
Mustang seemed unfazed, "Your arm is glowing," he pointed out nonchalantly, "Are all Ishbalans as short tempered as you are? I'm surprised there wasn't a rebellion sooner."
Scar was now literally shaking with barely suppressed rage; he had very nearly jumped up and killed Mustang right then, and it had taken every last ounce of his self-control not to. He hadn't noticed the faint red glow emanating from his right arm before, but now it was impossible to miss; the light had gotten bright enough to shine right through his coat sleeve. Did Flame have no sense of preservation? Was he really arrogant enough to disregard the danger he was putting himself in by saying these things that seemed almost designed to infuriate…wait. Scar could almost hear the mental 'click' as he figured out just what Mustang was doing. The man was purposefully goading him, trying to push the Ishbalan until he lost control of himself…Scar then realized with a cold jolt just how close he had been to succeeding. Forcing himself to calm down, Scar lowered his gaze to rest on what appeared to be a coffee stain on the floor next to his left foot, not quite trusting himself to continue looking at Mustang.
"Good, so you've figured it out," Mustang's tone had changed from being infuriatingly relaxed to simply neutral, "But not quickly enough."
"I…" Scar was in something akin to shock. It was frightening, how quickly and easily he'd been pushed to the point he had been, "I almost…"
"Lost control? Yes, I saw. You're lucky that this was only a test…a warning, if you will," Mustang rested his chin on his hands, now completely serious, "There are many who would employ upon you the same tactics that I just used, but their reasons will not be nearly so benign. They will bait you, goad you, try their hardest to make you lose control and attack. They want you to appear dangerous and unpredictable, too much so for such young boys as the Elrics to control. These people either want you back in prison, or, if they are like most State Alchemists, want you for themselves. You cannot afford to have as short a temper as you just demonstrated, or their job will be all too easy."
Scar raised his eyes, the crimson orbs narrowed in distrust and suspicion, "Why are you telling me this? Why warn me?"
"Hm," Mustang made a noncommittal noise, a small, almost unnoticeable smile appearing on his face, "Well, I suppose it might be that since I am no longer able to atone for what I've done by having my brain exploded, I might try helping you out a bit."
"I don't need your help," Scar glared; he didn't trust this man in the slightest.
Now Mustang smirked, his tone amused, "And what do you think would have happened if I hadn't warned you, and you reacted in that fashion when it was a real trap? But, then again, I don't blame you for not wanting my help, or for hating me. You have good reason to," he was serious now, more so than he had been for the whole conversation, "Edward, however, is a different story. You don't know how lucky you were when you were assigned to him; I highly doubt that you haven't noticed how lenient he's been with you already. You are entirely lucid, unrestrained, and unguarded, not to mention the fact that he's allowed you to get cleaned up and wear your old clothes; I'm assuming that he's making an attempt to gain your trust, to get some semblance of cooperation from you rather than forcing you against your will to follow his orders. If it had been anyone else, this would certainly not be the case. Trust me, you want to stay with him. And that means that you can't kill him, sabotage missions, or try to stop him from performing alchemy."
"I will not harm the boy, but," Scar's eyes narrowed, "I refuse to become an obedient tool of the military."
Mustang shrugged, "Fair enough. But if you cause an unnecessary amount of trouble, you will find yourself reassigned."
"Is that all you have to say?" Scar's expression was unreadable; he was tired of listening to this man tell him what he should do, and he just wanted the lecture to be over.
"It would have been, but there is one more thing," the intensity of Flame's gaze seemed to bore into Scar's very soul, and there was the barest hint of pity in his voice when he continued, "I was told what happened on the train. Or at least, part of it. But in order to pursue any kind of retribution against the…perpetrators, I am going to have to know the whole story."
Scar was surprised, and it very clearly showed in his voice, "They would be…punished?" He had not expected that. He was a criminal, a State-Alchemist-killing Ishbalan criminal, and hadn't thought that the military would care enough about what happened to him to give more than maybe a few stern words to his tormentors. But…an actual punishment?
Mustang gave a brief, amused smile, "Yes, they would; not executed of course, but most likely demotions and probation. Officially it would be because they greatly jeopardized what little chance there is of you cooperating with Edward, as well as very likely causing you to be even more adverse to alchemy and the military than you already were. Personally, however," his eyes hardened in something akin to anger, "what they did was inexcusable. But you need to tell me what happened, or nothing can be done."
Scar gave an almost inaudible sigh, turning his gaze down to rest upon the coffee stain once more; he would rather forget that it had ever happened at all. In a quiet, deadpan voice, he began to recite, "I was just sitting on the floor. I hadn't done anything…I think they were just bored. One of them asked for chalk, and said something about how his friend was injured in the massacre, and that he was going to test how much Ishbalans hated alchemy…" unbidden, the image of the guard's cruel grin flashed into Scar's mind, and he swallowed dryly, a small tinge of fear appearing his eyes, "I moved backwards until I was against the wall, and he followed. I closed my eyes…then I felt the chalk on my face and kicked the man in the leg. He called the others over, and they…pinned me against the floor," …strong hands, stronger than he was, forcing him down, holding him, trapping him…his heartbeat quickened; the fear had grown and was beginning to become apparent in his voice, "I couldn't get away. I was weak and they were stronger, and I just couldn't get away…they held my head still and drew a transmutation circle on my cheek. I knew, I knew what was going to happen but I couldn't get away…all I could do was close my eyes…" …a bright blue flash and a sound like lightning, stone changing against his face, can't get away from it…Scar shuddered, unconsciously bringing a hand up to grip the side of his face where it had happened; he had forgotten who he was talking to, forgotten where he was, lost in the nightmare memory "They used a stone…I…I could feel it changing…and once it was done they made it change again, over and over…" …it was disgusting, warping and shifting and never stopping, can't get away…his breath started coming in shallow gasps, and his voice shook, "I was afraid…I was screaming…I wanted somebody to come, to find me and make it stop, but they covered my mouth and no one could hear me…"…horror and fear and desperation, cruel laughter rising over his own muffled screams, oh God please let someone hear, let someone come, make it stop changing…"I don't know how long it went on…it felt like years. I didn't even have the energy to scream anymore…I was afraid…so afraid that it would never stop…" suddenly he was aware of a hand being placed on his shoulder, and he jumped slightly, startled. He looked up to see Mustang standing in front of him, expression a mix of anger and pity.
"That's enough, I know the rest of it," Mustang gave a reassuring little smile, but on the inside he was seething; it was worse than he'd thought, if it had affected someone like Scar this much. He'd just seen the man go from glaring defiance to panicked fear, and, serial killer or not, that wasn't right; there was no excuse in the world good enough to redeem this kind of cruelty. But even if they got the worst punishment possible, the damage had already been done. Mustang sighed, "I apologize; I should not have asked you to relive it after so short a time. Does Edward know about this?"
Scar's eyes hardened, "He doesn't need to. Neither of them do," the Ishbalan's tone and expression were guarded. He couldn't believe how much just telling what had happened had affected him; his heart was still racing, and the fear hadn't completely left him yet. And that fear had made his tongue quite a bit looser than it should have been. He gritted his teeth as he realized just how much weakness he had shown in front of this State Alchemist…he'd lost himself. And he didn't want the Elrics to see that, didn't want them to know that anything had ever happened. Alphonse would be depressed by it, and Edward…would probably go on some kind of murderous rampage. It was better if they didn't know, better if he bore this burden on his own.
"I see," Mustang nodded; he wasn't going to force the man to describe what had happened again. The Elric brothers would find out eventually; they were good at that. But there was also something else about Scar's statement, a barely noticeable hint of protectiveness in his voice, so small that the Ishbalan probably hadn't even noticed it himself. Just seven hours with the pair and Scar, of all people, was becoming protective of them. Maybe this next year wouldn't be quite so impossible after all. Mustang gave another small smile, turning and walking forwards a few steps back towards his desk, "I believe that this concludes our meeting. I'll let you know when the punishment for…those men is decided. Oh, and I almost forgot: you aren't allowed anywhere alone until you've left East City. I have no control over this, nor was it my idea; I'm just passing along the message."
Scar didn't bother protesting; he'd expected something like that. Feeling more than a little relieved that the meeting was over, the Ishbalan stood and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. In the main room were Edward, Alphonse, and all the soldiers who had been there before, including the small one who had run into him. The second he walked in, all eyes were upon him; it made him just as uneasy as it had the last time, but he managed to walk calmly almost all the way back to where the Elrics stood. About five feet from them, he stopped, finding himself facing a small dilemma: both brothers were standing almost among the soldiers, and to get back to them he would have to get uncomfortably close to people who had been deadly enemies to him for years. And they didn't look too happy with the idea of him getting any closer either.
Ed looked back and forth between the two groups a few times before sighing, "They," he said to Scar, pointing to the soldiers, "are not going to kill you," Ed then turned to the soldiers, "And he," he pointed at Scar, "is not going to kill you," he turned back to Scar and pointed at the ground in front of him, "You. Over here with the rest of us."
Scar blinked and stayed right where he was. Ed repeated himself, more emphatically this time. Scar didn't move. Ed marched over to him, and after a few seconds long glaring match, grabbed his left coat sleeve and pulled the Ishbalan over to the others.
"First Lieutenant Hawkeye, Second Lieutenants Breda and Havoc, Warrant Officer Falman, and Sergeant Major Fury," Ed pointed each of the soldiers out in turn, then left the group, heading to the door that Scar had just exited, "I have to go meet with the Colonel. Don't have too much fun without me," and with that, he walked through the door and was gone.
Now surrounded by soldiers whom he didn't know enough to trust at all, Scar took an instinctive half-step towards Alphonse. He was going to get Edward for this later.
A/N: Ohnoes, poor Scar-san. Only not really, because the Mustang Gang isn't that horrible. Hehehe…the bastard ex-guards are gonna get punished! Oh, and also yay for Mustang, who is being helpful in his own very special way. Y'know, Scar and Ed have remarkably similar personalities: they're both stubborn, independent, very firmly set in their opinions and beliefs, and short-tempered (but Scar is about a hundred million times more mature). Wow, none of these sentences have a thing to do with each other. Anywho, the next chapter might take a while, since I've got tons to do right now, but I'll get it up as soon as I can!