Hello...? Is anyone still there...?
I know I have said it before, but I will apologize again for the sloth like pace this story has taken on, and attempt to reassure you that I will not leave you hanging forever. In fact, the end is in sight, only a couple more chapters to go! So without further ado... on with the show!
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Chapter 8
Time to Go
She sat beside him on the cot, her heart felt like it was in a million tiny pieces, but she was cried out, she had no more tears left. As she leaned heavily against him, she thought he may have cried also, but it was difficult to tell, soaked as he was from the rain. He would catch his death if he went with them like that...
Without much thought, she began to unbutton his shirt. Her mood had changed drastically since the last time she'd done it... Finishing with the buttons, she pealed the thin fabric away from his clammy skin and shook it out before hanging it above the small iron heating stove to dry. When she returned from that errand, she took his still quite damp pants, leaving him standing by the cot in only his shorts, as she hung them to dry by his shirt.
When she returned this time, he'd sat back down on the edge of the cot. She noticed that despite his best attempts to control it, he had begun to tremble. It was the addition of cold, to the mixture of hunger and exhaustion they both felt, that had finally done him in. When he looked up at her from his seat, she could see the shame he felt from this perceived weakness, reflected in his sad eyes. She ran her fingers through his hair, smoothing it back from his face, though it was still damp, at least it was no longer dripping...
Once upon a time, she had dreamed of doing these things for Edward, of caring for Edward the way she now cared for him...Once... It seemed so very long ago...
She had little to offer him now, in the way of comfort... She had no food to feed him, and she could not conjure up an eight extra hours of sleep for him, but her warmth she could share, and share she did.
He made no move to resist or protest when she laid her hands on his shoulders and pressed him back onto the cot... Pulling the blanket up over them both, she lay down beside him. His arms slid around her once more, and she kissed his chest, tasting the salty remnants of her own tears as she did.
Their lovemaking this time was not as frenzied as it had been the first time, then their actions had been spurred on by need, now they were tempered by fear... Now she wanted nothing more than to feel, savor, remember. He seemed to be of the same mind.
Running her hands out across the expanse of his chest, she more closely examined the scars that marred it... The ones that had made him a man she'd once hated, then forgiven, then come to respect, and finally to love. Their entire fatally entwined history had been carved into the planes of his body, the same way it had been branded onto her soul. As her hand grazed across his breastbone she felt a strong steady rhythm against her fingertips... Undeniable proof.
There was a time, not long enough ago, when she would have sworn by all that was holy in this world and the next, that he didn't have one... That it didn't exist.
But it did...
It was a fragile thing, scarred many times over, and broken more times than she could ever know... Even so, she hoped it was not beyond repair.
Responding to her touch, his hands moved low across her ribcage, raising goosebumps in their wake. Still new to these sensations, her body felt as though it was made up of a million tiny match heads, each set alight, one by one, by the friction of his touch. Then his hands slowed, passing gently over the spot where that horrible man had gouged in the barrel of his gun. It had darkened to a deep plum. She saw the pain in his eyes, the 'I'm sorry' on his lips as he dropped them down to lay a feather light kiss on the injury, perhaps in hopes that the act would somehow help to heal it.
Reaching down to cup his cheek in her hand, she lifted his face so she could brush her lips gently across his. She saw that same fear she'd seen in his eyes several times before, and she began to understand it. He was afraid of hurting her, it was a fear she found she now shared with him. They'd broken each others hearts so many times before it was difficult not to. So she did her best to quell his fears.
'Dog of the military'... that's what her grandmother had called him. It had been a curse spat at his feet, upon their first real meeting, some ten years ago. He truly did match at least part of that description, and perhaps it really was a curse after all. To love those he trusted so wholly and unconditionally, to want to protect them with all his strength and valor, even though it was sometimes well beyond his ability to do so... She knew now that she was one of the people he would fight, even die to protect, and realized with a strange clarity, that she had been for much longer than most. In fact, one of the few that had come before her, was the only other one he had failed... What pair they made.
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"Harper, for the love of god, would you please tell me what's going on in your head?!... And stop pulling, I can walk just fine by my self!"
Harper did release his arm, but did not slow his pace.
"Carter, most of the medical staff is still out helping with the camp survivors. We're short staffed"
This came out in a rush, but he said it as if it explained every thing. Carter was having none of it.
"Yes, short staffed, not UN-staffed." He countered pointedly, but Harper seemed unfazed by it so he continued. "Buxton will never approve a civilian refugee when there's a perfectly good military alternative available"
Harper, not to be defeated, replied
"Normally, Carter, I would agree with you, but in this case we have a bit of leverage in our corner..."
"Really, what's that?" Carter demanded.
He couldn't help himself... This seemingly lunatic claim left the Staff Sargent wondering if his young corporal had finally gone round the bend. Before him he saw nothing remotely resembling leverage, only yet another nasty reality of war...
"Alphonse." Harper replied, looking rather pleased with himself, but when this answer failed to garner a response from Carter, he began to elaborate. "He's been ill, Carter, barely fit to travel... So I'm well within my rights to expect 'help' caring for him in transit."
"Yeah, and there's a whole truck load of medics just a few miles up the road. What on earth makes you think Buxton won't to just commandeer one of them on the way by?"
"Because we have Winry right here... Winry, a women, who on one hand knows the brothers intimately, not to mention their most recent whereabouts, which makes her a liability if we leave her... But on the other hand, this same women has medical training, has in fact treated the Elrics in the past, and is romantically involved with our current and only translator, which as a bonus, makes him a hell of lot more amenable to this whole scheme... All together, I'd say that makes her an invaluable asset, but only if we bring her along... the choice seems pretty clear to me..."
Carter was dumbfounded for a moment at the simplicity of it. But in his continued silence, Harper's bravado seemed to fade, and he began to look anxious.
"... Am I wrong, Carter?"
They had reached their destination, and Harper paused in front of Buxton's door, clearly trying to gauge Carters reaction
"Well" Carter said finally breaking his silence. "It sounds convincing enough to me... come on Harper, let's go inside and see if we can sell it to our pet bureaucrat"
With that he pushed open Buxton's outer office door...
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She wasn't sure what had done it, maybe a noise, she couldn't tell, but something had drawn her out of the building she now called home...
Despite what one might think, it was hardly silent in the cavern that housed the 'lost city'. The sound just one single drop of water made after falling hundreds of feet to the streets below, often sounded just like a gunshot... But it was never just one single drop, this cave was leaky as a sieve... And then there was the sound all that water made collectively, as it flowed down to the more flooded portion of the cave, that trickle become a gentle but constant roar that filled the stone confines like the static between radio channels. She'd even begun to notice the rumble of heavy vehicles filtering down from the streets overhead.
Still something had brought her out... The building she'd chosen was near to the array. She supposed it was so that she could be there if they ever came back. Now as she stepped out into the square that housed the immense design, she spied a figure dressed in military blue, crouched at the far side of the perimeter.
She gave a disgruntled sigh as she spotted a silvery flash near his hand. Typical souvenir hunter, she growled internally. She'd seen them down here a few times before, but she'd always been too exhausted to confront them until now, and by 'them', she meant the men who had been tasked with protecting this place from people that might sneak down here to defile it. It was ironic, she knew, but also so infinitely predictable...
She'd had enough, it had been a very hard day, and her patience was gone. She set off across the square at a quick pace, intending to give the bastard a piece of her mind... How the hell were they supposed to get back, if pissants like him kept chipping away at the array? Pretty soon there wouldn't be anything left!
So intent was she on her mission, that she wasn't especially careful about keeping an eye to the ground she was walking on... About a quarter of the way across, she stumbled on an uneven patch of stone. Her momentum carried her to the ground, and she landed hard on her hands and knees.
'Smooth, Winry' She said, quietly scolding her self.
Her one knee really stung from where she had scraped it on the rough earth... But as she sat back on her heels, lifting her hands from the ground to brush her self off, she felt something sticky on the fingers of the left. Turning it over, she saw a thick red-brown substance coating part of the palm and three fingers... Her eyebrows drawing together, her focus fell to the ground or more specifically to the line on which that hand had landed.
'What in the world...?'
Then she caught a whiff of a metallic odor.
'Blood?'
She leaned down to get a better look at the line. It was, and it was fresh, or at least fresher than the lines it repaired, but who could have done this...
As the pieces clicked into place, she looked up at the person she had come to berate. She was close enough now to make out his features.
'No' She whispered as he placed his white gloved hands flat on the ground with clear purpose...
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"Do you think she knows?" Harper whispered surreptitiously to Carter, following her with his eyes as she crossed to the wood stove in the corner.
It was almost time to leave, and they had come bearing a change of clothes and food trays, as Harper knew they had not eaten the night before.
"Did you miss the way she glared at us when we came in? If looks were daggers, my friend, we'd be Swiss cheese..." Carter replied, also keeping an eye on her.
Their reception had been decidedly chilly, she'd barely acknowledged it when they entered, and had yet to utter a single word to them... Deciding it might be better to deal with Mustang directly for now, they set down the trays, and made their way to the corner cot where Mustang still lay sleeping. But as Harper reached out to wake him, she came quietly up behind them.
"Don't touch him." She said harshly. Her sudden appearance caused them both to jump, as she pushed between, going to kneel beside the cot. Gently she reached out with one hand, to rest it on his shoulder, her other arm bore the clothes she had just now taken down from above the stove.
"Roy, Harper and Carter are here..." She said softly.
After a moment his eyes slid slowly open, a smile crossed his lips as she came into focus. The one she gave him in return was melancholy but warm, and for a moment he could nearly forget they weren't alone. He reached up to touch her face, but noticed Harper and Carter shifting uncomfortably behind her...
Dropping it, he pushed himself stiffly into a sitting position, then rubbed his face with both hands in a vain attempt to wipe the exhaustion away. She placed his now dry clothing beside him on the cot, and he shot her another weak smile of thanks as he began to pull them on. The exchange was not lost on the two observers, but as she reluctantly rose to leave them alone with Mustang, Carter spoke up.
"Winry, will you stay please? What we have to say concerns you too..."
For a instant, it looked like she might refuse, but finally, grudgingly, she took a seat next to Mustang. Though she remained silent, her eyes lost none of their venom as she glared up at them.
"Well, go on and tell them Harper, it was your idea after all..."
Carter then abandoned him to retrieve the trays, making Harper the sole focus of her ire. He shifted uncomfortably, and cleared his throat twice before he began.
"As you may or may not have surmised, Carter and I went to see Buxton after we spoke last..."
This he addressed mostly to Mustang, but she responded first.
"Yes, get on with it" She said, her words clipped to illustrate just how short her patience had become. So, with a swallow and stammer, he got to the point.
"W-well... After careful consideration, Colonel Buxton has agreed to let you accompany me as my assistant, owing to your medical qualifications, and prior knowledge of the patient..."
Watching her face carefully, he saw it turn first from anger, to confusion, then disbelief, and finally, joy. Releasing a squeal of gratitude, she leapt to her feet and hugged his neck. He couldn't help but grin at her enthusiasm, as he patted her arm. While Mustang was a touch more reserved in his thanks, standing to warmly shake his free hand, Harper could see in his face that he felt just as strongly.
"Thank you, thank you both." He said to them, as Carter returned, bearing the trays.
"Don't thank me, it was all Harper's idea, I just went along to show my support" Carter answered nonchalantly, setting the trays on the cot across from them.
"Then will you at least accept my apology..." Mustang asked when Carter had turned once more to face him "What I said to you before, about following orders, it was inexcusable..."
But Carter just smiled wanly and shook his head.
"Think nothing of it"
Mustang started to protest, but Carter waved him off.
"Eat up and get changed, We'll be leaving in half an hour"
"Changed?"
Carter gestured to the rolls of clothing Harper had been carrying
"Buxton said 'Your drafted, you should look the part'..."
He nodded to Harper, who returned it.
"We'll leave you to it"
Then they both took their leave, going out the way they'd come.
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Twenty minutes later they heard the splash of vehicles pulling up outside. The rain had let up a bit, but the damage was already done. The sudden excess of moisture was quickly turning the dusty track outside into a quagmire.
At the sound of the trucks, Mustang opened the door at the front of the ward. Across the way he watched Hanson and Bailey lead Edward out of the stockade and help hoist him into the back of the truck.
"I think it's time." he said turning back to her.
Just straightening after rolling up the cuffs of her new, too long pants, she nodded and walked to him. Taking his hand, she smiled up at him as he pulled the door shut behind them, and lead her down the stairs. She swung their entwined hands playfully back and forth as they approached the rear of the truck, but all motion stopped dead as Edward, already seated in the back of the truck, entered her view. She fell back a step, tucking behind Mustang like a shy child meeting a stranger, but she did not let go of his hand, instead her grip tightened.
"Miss Rockbell, so nice to see you again... We very much appreciate your assistance in this matter."
Unnoticed until now, Buxton sat across from Ed, studying them both carefully. Also unnoticed 'til this very moment, were the chains that hobbled Ed, and the manacles that bound his wrists...
"Same goes for you Mr. Mustang, a pleasure as always..."
Something about his easy tone left Mustang feeling decidedly uneasy, it was almost sinister. The sound of more approaching footsteps and the jangle of chains alerted them to the arrival of the second brother. They turned in time to catch the last of a glare Harper had aimed at Buxton.
"I don't see the point of this, Colonel, in his condition he's hardly a flight risk!"
But his outrage was overlooked, as Buxton's attention was riveted on Al's reaction to seeing Winry.
"So she really does know them... I thought maybe Carter was going soft on me, when you and he asked to bring her along..."
Winry, oblivious to this comment, dropped Mustang's hand and went to Al... She embraced him with a tearful smile, and they probably would have stood there together for some time, had Harper not spoken up.
"Winry, he's not well, we need to get him in out of this weather." He said gently, putting a hand on her shoulder.
She lifted her head from his shoulder and nodded, as she stepped back. Together, she and Harper helped Al into the truck. Then, after Harper had climbed up into the truck himself, he offered his hand first to Winry, then Mustang. Bailey and Hanson quickly climbed up after them, and they all took their respective seats on the two benches that sat parallel to the side walls. Winry on the left between the brothers, he, Harper and Buxton on the right in that order. Bailey and Hanson sat on the ends facing outward with guns at the ready. Carter and Harry climbed into the jeep behind them, then he watched Dell and Hicks walk towards the front of the truck. Shortly there after he heard two doors slam then the engine rumbled to life, and with a jolt they were rolling.
They hadn't gone more than a mile when Buxton clapped his hands onto his knees, then turned to Mustang.
"Well, let's get on with it, shall we?"
"Sir?" Inquired Harper.
"I don't see any reason not to use this opportunity, do you?" Buxton said, turning to address the corporal. "It'll be a long ride, why not take advantage? Mr. Mustang, if you please...?"
Without further hesitation, he turned to the brothers, and began to speak, with the clear implication that Roy should begin translating immediately.
"Here's what is going to happen... I've been authorized to offer you a nice safe comfortable new home in the states, free from prosecution for any misdeeds you might have committed during this conflict. In return, you are going to help us learn everything there is to know about this project you two were working on, and if possible assist in developing it further."
As mustang finished the translation, Ed gave a look of disappointment and shook his disgustedly.
"You may be a different partner," He muttered in German. "But it's just the same old song and dance"
"If you won't do it for yourself, do it for Winry, wouldn't you want to see her safe? You could take her with you? From what Harper says you three were very close, she must be like a daughter to you..."
An amused look crossed ed's face, and he laughed sarcastically.
"Go to hell, I'm done helping mankind destroy itself."
Ed's response, once translated, caused Buxton's face to darken, and there was a coldness that came into his voice as he continued.
"How ever you view her, I don't believe you wish her ill... Just as I was sent here to offer you the protection of the United States government, let me assure you that if you choose not to cooperate, I am also quite capable of making things decidedly Unsafe for you and anyone you have ever held dear..." The edge of menace in his even tone was quite clear, as he threw a meaningful glance toward Winry, but Ed only laughed again, muttering in German...
"You bureaucrats are all the same... money, power, the bottom line. You could care less about the damage it causes, the human cost... You make me sick."
Inwardly at least, Roy agreed, and would have applauded his veracity, had Ed not made such a fatal error...
Shocked speechless by the implied threat to Winry, Mustang had failed to translate this last part before Ed replied to it.
"Thought so..." Buxton said quietly, a sly and sinister smile slipping out onto his lips. "I believe we can dispense with your services now Mr. Mustang, Edward and I understand each other just fine without them..."
Elbows on his knees, Buxton hunched forward to eye Ed predatorily. "Lets get down to brass tacks, Ed. You say I'm a bureaucrat only concerned with the bottom line. Rightly so... It all comes down to cost, monetary, material, personal, emotional. Everyone has a price and my job is to find yours. I happen to be very good at what I do-"
As the truck rounded a curve in the road, the moonlight that had been streaming in through the back was lost, casting them into darkness and cutting off Buxton's ugly monologue.
"Dammit, now I can't see his face! Light one of those lanterns corporal, I need to see his face." He demanded, turning to Harper.
"Sir?"
"Light the lantern corporal!"
"Colonel, Are you sure that's wise?"
"Give it to me, I'll light it myself!"
In a huff, he snatched the lantern from Harper's hands.
"Honestly corporal, the front lines are miles from here..." He said, popping open his lighter as he lifted the guard to access the mantle, then as it blazed bright, he continued. "There, see? Perfectly safe"
The moments following this statement would remain surreal to all those involved for many years to come, as his words were followed almost instantly by the strangest sound.
At first none of them could identify it, that strange metallic tink. Then as the colonel slumped forward, a grenade blast gave clear indication of just how unsafe they really were.
The shock wave rocked the truck, but somehow it kept to it's wheels and remained upright. As it's passengers were thrown to the floor by the blast, the lantern fell from Buxton's lifeless hands and rolled under the bench, blessedly dousing the flame as it did.
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Well that does it for this installment. I hope you enjoyed it! Please read AND Review. Thanks!
