Under a Black Sky Under a Black Sky: Ch 2, a fullmetal alchemist fanfic

Doctor Rockbell:

Enclosed are the latest notes on Maj. Elric's recovery, as provided by our medic, Doctor Knox. He informs me that, and I quote, "that brat's lucky he got sent to Chiron- the Rockbells make the best prosthetics in the system." I certainly owe you and your staff a debt of gratitude for your excellent treatment of my subordinate.

As you will see from the reports, Edward is walking unassisted now for short distances. It cheers the squad greatly to see him on his feet. Hopefully, his improvement will continue apace, and you will find no cause for complaint in our treatment of your patient.

With greatest esteem,

Col. Roy Mustang

I thought you might want to know that the Colonel's lead was total shit. We found an abandoned Arthroid base, but no way to tell whether Al was there or not. I've asked Mustang why he's so fucking useless, but no response so far.

I hope it's okay that I'm writing you. If it's irritating, just tell me, and I won't waste my time. I don't even know why I'm doing this, except that I used to talk to Al about everything, and he's not here anymore, and I can't just chat with the people here. Especially not now. They all look at me like I'm a goddamn cripple. I thought you promised I wouldn't be a cripple when you were done? Oh, yeah, I left before you were done- It's like I can hear your voice in my head. Must have been all that yelling you did at me in phys therapy; left an imprint or something.

Other than that I'm okay, I guess. Upside of everyone tiptoeing around is that they're mostly leaving me alone, which is nice. I've been doing a lot of research- mostly looking for leads on Al, of course. Ship gravity's even easier on the leg than Chiron's. Yes, I'm doing my time in the centrifuge. I know I've got to get my strength up; I don't need you to tell me that.

Anyway, I'm tired of typing one-handed. Hunting and pecking is bullshit. I hope things are okay on Chiron.

Your letter finally caught up to us when we hit dirt on Phoebe. No, I don't mind hearing about hospital shit. At least it's different than the military shit I'm dealing with all the time.

I can't write a long letter right now, but I wanted to let you know that we got another lead on Al. We're on our way to Tethys. It's Arthroid territory, so it might be a bad time. Maybe Al's there; we don't know for sure. Mustang says I'm not allowed off the ship during the op, but fuck him- Al's my brother. I'm walking really well now, too. You'd be proud.

Doctor Rockbell-

I can understand your worry, and it's no trouble at all to respond. Please, feel free to contact me sooner next time if you're concerned about Maj. Elric's well-being.

In any case, I'm sorry to inform you that part of the reason that Edward has been so remiss in responding to your letters is that he was wounded during our operation on Tethys. I know this must be distressing news, but I assure you that he (and your excellent prosthetics) are recovering admirably, and should take no long-term ill-effects from the incident.

My XO encloses a photograph of Maj. Elric, so that you can see that his worst problem at present is ill temper- a condition that I fear is without cure.

With warmest regards,

Col. Roy Mustang

Bastard said you wrote him. Sorry- I meant to write back sooner, but I just didn't know what to say. Tethys was a fucking shitstorm. I guess the bastard told you I ended up in the hospital again. MB Eos isn't as nice as Chiron. You can tell Nurse Ellen I missed her.

We found the cell they were holding Al in, but no idea where he is now. There was human blood in it, and Knox says it's definitely Al's. So, fuck. I don't like thinking about that.

Hand's doing better. Maj. Armstrong has me trying to juggle. He says it'll help me achieve the same physical perfection he has. You don't know him, but he's a nutcase- he's about the size of a house and takes his shirt off at every opportunity. Especially around me because, I quote, I "need the inspiration of a perfect physical specimen to stimulate my healing." I guess I need to stay out of the fucking hospital so I don't have to get any more inspiration from him.

I can't tell you much about my work. It's all classified. I can say that I'm not just a lab monkey, but you probably already knew that. I didn't lose my arm and leg in a lab, right? And yes, I got your message about maintenance on the arm and leg. Yes, I'm doing it. Believe me, Mustang's up my ass about it all the time.

Still nothing on Al. I can't stop thinking about him. He's never been apart from me so long, you know? He's got to be so fucking scared. And there was that blood. It better have been from him stubbing his toe or something, because if they're hurting him, I'll... I don't know what I'll do. But I design machines that kill people. I'm sure I can come up with something special for those motherfuckers.

I don't know why you're so curious about the ship and the crew and all. It's boring as fuck.

Okay, since you wanted to know, here's how it works. We're on a military ship, right, but we're not actually the crew. That's the Navy; we're Army. Pretty much the Army and Navy avoid the fuck out of each other, except that us officers have to have dinner with the Navy officers. Their Captain is the boss of all of us as long as we're on board, even though technically he's just a Captain and me and Armstrong (Majors) and Mustang (Colonel) all outrank him. There's also Lt. Hawkeye, and then 2nd Lts. Breda and Havoc, and then the enlisted officers, Fuery and Falman. Lucky bastards, they get to eat in our part of the ship, and no one expects them to have manners all the time. You should see how the Captain looks at me when he thinks I'm using the wrong napkin or some shit.

So that's everybody. Traveling on space ships is boring. It's pretty much chores and wasting time. Mustang made them set us up a lab, too, but mostly we can only design and there's only so far we can get without any place to do tests. Still, it's alright to spend time in there with Mustang. It's pretty much the only time he's not a total bastard, and he actually knows his tech. His nickname with the troops is Flame, did you know? His specialty is fire manipulation devices. It's some pretty freaky stuff. Not my thing at all.

This took me two days to write with my one stupid hand. I hope you're happy.

Dr. Rockbell-

As requested, here's Elric's files. Stubborn little brat's improving faster than I thought he would. Now if he can just stop throwing himself at laser pistols, maybe he'll actually heal up at some point.

Cheers-

Knox

Still bored; still no leads. It's making me crazy, this waiting. I want to go off on my own, but I still can't pilot a shuttle on my own with the fucking hand how it is. I know you keep saying that it needs time, and I have to be patient, but it's been fucking months. And Al's still out there, waiting for me.

Sometimes I have dreams that he's not. Fuck that- that's just my brain lying to me.

Breda and Havoc have organized a shufflepuck league. Armstrong's in the lead right now, followed by Hawkeye. We're kicking those Navy jerkwads' asses. Well, except me, but I'm a cripple, so no one expects too much. There's a lot of betting, and there's long odds on me. I think I can still come up from behind, though.

I liked the book disc you sent; it caught up at our last fuel stop. It was pretty funny. You can send more anytime. I can't keep too many of them after I read them though; we only get so much mass allowance on ship, and most of mine is already taken up by reference book discs.

Oh, sorry to hear command are being such jackasses. I hate asking people for things, so I sort of know how you feel. If I could kick their asses for you and make them give you your supplies, I would.

Still typing one-handed-

Doctor Rockbell-

Thank you and your staff most kindly for your care package for the squad. It has been some time since my men had either a shipment of new pistol fuses or home-baked goods, and they were both very welcome. My XO, Lt. Hawkeye, thanks you especially for the fuses.

Thank you also for your congratulations on our win in the ship-board shufflepuck tournament. It is no surprise that our Army men were able to best the Navy, but it is nice to know that we're being cheered on from afar all the same.

I have included a photograph of the squad enjoying your cookies. I hope you will not think me out of line if I point out that Maj. Elric was particularly touched by the gesture.

In gratitude,

Col. Roy Mustang.

Thanks for the cookies. Everyone liked them. Breda kept sneaking extras when he thought no one was looking.

We stopped at Rush Station last week. Maybe your Granny already told you; I went and visited her. She's kind of a scary lady, huh? Knox says they used to call her "the Panthress of Rush Station". Then again, you're kind of scary too, so maybe you don't notice. Anyway, she gave me tea and asked all about you. I said you seemed happy on Chiron, even if you're frustrated with the brass sometimes. She doesn't seem to like the military very much. I guess I wouldn't either, if they'd gotten my son killed.

Yes, I'm keeping up on my phys therapy. Not like there's anything else to do on board ship. Especially now the shufflepuck season is over.

Oh, I typed this with two hands. It's still slow, but faster than bullshit hunt and pecking.

Shit, Winry. I don't even know how to write this. I think I got someone killed. He's dead, and it's all my fucking fault. I'm going to have to visit his wife and kid, and what am I going to say to them?

It's Lt. Col. Hughes. Fuck. I guess I mean Brigadier-General Hughes. They promoted him posthumously. I think you met him once- he came and visited me on Chiron. He was a good guy. I asked him to look into some shit for me, leads on Al, right, and next thing we know, someone pushed him out an airlock. Mustang's out of his head- him and Hughes were close. He hasn't left his quarters in days. I think Hawkeye's going to have to go in and find out whether he's dead of alcohol poisoning soon.

I miss Al so damned much. I can't help feeling like it would all be better if he were just here with me. He'd know the right shit to say.

I can't let this happen again. I'm going to find Al, and I'm not going to let anyone else get hurt in the process.

Hughes' funeral was today. We made it back to Central Station in time. It's the first time I wore my dress blues since I can remember, and I was wearing that fucking funeral sash over it. I swear the only reason Mustang got through it was because Hawkeye was practically carrying him.

I talked to Mrs. Hughes a bit. I fucking made her cry, but she didn't seem mad at me. I don't understand why.

Why the fuck do people keep forgiving me when I screw up?

Doctor Rockbell-

I have forwarded your correspondence to Maj. Elric. I assure you that he is well, even if not writing regularly. Your continued interest in an old patient is admirable, but not necessary.

Col. Mustang

I'm sending this with a friend of mine who, as you can see, needs a new arm. Her name is Lan Fan, but her files probably say something different.

I'm sorry about that letter Mustang sent. We still don't know who killed Hughes, but there's something going on with the brass, and with the government. It isn't safe to transmit in the clear, and I don't trust the military encryptions. So, I sent you one copy of this book- I know, it's a print book- and I have the other. If I want to say something in code, I'll do two numbers: the page and then the number of word. It's a stupid code, but as long as they don't have a copy of the book, they can't crack it. I don't want to put you in danger, but if there's something I need to tell you, I want to have a way to do it. You probably shouldn't write very often, though.

Be careful, okay? Just... don't go off by yourself. And don't trust anyone that you haven't had around for a while.

Dear Dr. Rockbell-

Yes, I'm doing my maintenance. Four isometrics exercises, twenty reps, right? I was doing 3 and 40, but I think it was overdoing it. Just so you believe me, let me give you the rundown: I'm drying everything as soon as I get out of the shower; I'm oiling both limbs at least twice daily; I'm using the #34 driver to tighten screws as they get loose. I've only had to do that three times so far.

Thanks for your concern about my medical condition.

Maj. Elric

Decoded: still safe stop worrying

Hey, Ellen!

How are you doing? Busy, probably. You better tell that boss of yours what for, and get a vaca-
186 131 106 73 185 20 92 15 86 175 136 114 105 85 113 72 45 110 149 102 56 169 74 112 121 177 8 118 44 159 163 8 172 175 81 106 81 180 190 117 150 109 168 51 25 196 121 82 7 27 18 162 77 84 152 135 79 32 43 13 28 166 81 13 95 53 120 173 50 189 83 175 126 30 97 52 15 145 109 143 79 83 155 176 183 177 27

Decoded: I'm sending this from someone else's machine I know what they're saying about us but I couldn't let you think we're traitors they are they sold us all out everyone in the goddamn system it's not just about my brother anymore watch your back

Havoc Freight
Fastest Freight in the System!

Shipping Manifest:
cryopod (1)

Delivery Address:
Dr. Winry Rockbell
Med Base Chiron
LID #: 9472327

Doctor Rockbell-

As the entire system is aware, things are becoming quite dangerous for us. I'm so very sorry to ask this of you, but Sgt. Fuery needed more care than we could give him if he was to survive, and so we've sent him to you. In this envelope, you should also find false papers for him. Hopefully, the brass don't know of your connection to us, and you and Fuery should be able to weather the rest of this in safety.

Edward sends his regards. He has greatly missed your letters these last months. I assure you that he is as safe as any of us are.

Please destroy this letter when you have read it. It would not be safe for the higher-ups to find it in your possession.

Forever in your debt-

Col. Roy Mustang

It's all over. I mean, I know you know that, everyone knows that, but it only seems real now that I'm sitting and writing it to you.

I guess it's been nearly a year since you had any contact from us. We got your message about Fuery a few months ago. I hope things were okay for you after that.

It's still hard to believe that the Arthroid War was started by our brass to keep everyone in line. All that blood on both sides, and no point to it except to keep a bunch of fat bastards in power. Thinking about it makes me sick. Hughes is the one who found out first, by the way. I don't think they've publicized that. Turns out the Arthroids figured out that some of us are sensitive enough to learn the psi parts of their language, and Al was one of those. That's why they took him, because they were hoping he could be a translator and maybe stop the war. All those Arthroid transmissions on the news were just so much bullshit the brass was feeding us. Anyway, Hughes found the brass out and they killed him for it. Mustang is trying to find out who actually did it. I think Hawkeye's really scared of what he's going to do when he figures it out.

We found out that the last time the Arthroids had Al was back on Tethys, by the way. We were so close to rescuing him- if it wasn't for my stupid fucking arm and leg, maybe-

Anyway, our military took him. We still don't know where he is now. It's safe to write again if you want. I wish I could visit, but Al's still waiting for me.

I'm so tired, Winry. It's not fair. We fought a war, and we won it, and things are better for everyone else, but I still can't find my brother.

Some days, I just don't know why the fuck I bother getting out of bed anymore.

I'm sorry. Geez, you didn't have to send a vox letter. A loud one, with shouting. I'm not suicidal or anything.

I haven't given up. I'm going to find him, and then I'm going to bring him back to you, and then I'm taking all of us home to Resembool to see those blue skies, just like I told you about. It's a promise, okay?

I've got a lead.

Probably won't pan out. Who knows. It's nice to have a little hope, though.

Don't worry. I know you're worrying, you worry all the fucking time. I'll be fine. If I'm not fine, I'll tell Hawkeye to send you a letter or something this time. Or better, I'll tell them to ship me to Chiron so you can put me back together.

Dear Dr. Rockbell:

I'm very sorry to have to tell you this, but Edward has been missing for two weeks now. He took a shuttle, and we don't know where he went. We have no reason to believe that he's been killed or captured, but neither have we had any word from him. I would not have wanted to worry you, but before he left, Edward left me a note making me promise to write to you if he didn't come back after a certain amount of time. That time has now passed. He also left a message for you, which I am forwarding unread.

I know that Edward would never have told you this, but your correspondence with him over the last few years has meant the world to him.

With regrets,

1st Lt. Riza Hawkeye

Sealed message:

I'm writing this in case I'm wrong, or I fuck up again, and either way, I don't come back.

I'm sorry. I wanted to see you again. I wanted to take you to Resembool, and show you that green grass and blue sky. You and me and Al, all together. I guess I'm breaking my promise after all.

You'll find this out, but I made you the beneficiary in my will, given that no one can find Al. Major's pay is pretty good, and I got all my assets back after the rebellion, so there's a lot of it. Take the money, and set up your own clinic or something, okay? You shouldn't have to work for the military unless you want to.

Edward