THREE WISE MONKEYS
Hey! pale-blue11 here!
The next chapter's short, so I'll post it on Tuesday (7th of April) if this chapter gets 7 reviews :) the next chapter would be posted Friday the 10th, but after that I'm going away for the holidays. This is pretty much the half-way mark for the story :D
Happy Easter to those who celebrate it!
WARNINGS: Character death, blood, and language.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or its characters.
CHAPTER 9 • The Third Saturday
"Boss!" Breda yelled, standing up so fast his chair clattered backwards. "Colonel! I've got it!"
Roy lifted his head off of his desk, blinking against the early morning sunlight streaming in through the window. "Huh?"
"I've got it, Colonel!" Breda gathered up the files in front of him and waddled over to shove them in Mustang's face. "See?"
"I don't see anything," Roy mumbled, wondering if he could get back to sleep if he tried. "What is it?"
Breda gave a large grin. "I've found Jeremy Colt's brother."
"What?" Roy was instantly awake. "You found him?"
"Yes! That's what I said, isn't it?" he asked of the stirring lieutenant. She straightened up with a stifled yawn and smoothed down her uniform. "It was a little difficult, you see, 'cause they're not actually brothers. More like half-brothers."
Roy was flicking through the notes and files as if possessed. His eyes had a bright gleam to them, and they barely paused in reading, even while he spoke. "This is incredible, Breda. These are... How did you even think to use these?"
Breda shrugged humbly, yet his expression was anything but. "There wasn't much else to look at. I thought that domestic noise complaints could be useful, but I didn't realise how useful!"
Riza took a few sheets from Roy's desk and read through them with a stern expression. When she was done, she pointed at a name on the list. "This says Arthur Summers. Aren't we looking for an Arthur Colt?"
"Half-brothers," Roy repeated. "They must've had different fathers, right, Breda?"
"The reports don't go into that much detail, Colonel."
Most of the team was awake by that time, and Falman wandered over to join them at Mustang's desk. "This is him?" he asked, receiving several nods. "When do we leave?"
Roy stood with a confident smirk. "Same as before. We leave as soon as possible, using the same strategy."
"But there'll be two of them, now," Havoc piped up from his chair. His head was still down. "Shouldn't we have more men or something?"
Fuery joined in, "We could have the local police set up road blocks? Or bring Alphonse?"
"Right!" Havoc agreed enthusiastically. "Alphonse is worth three men, I'd say."
"No," Roy said, effectively shutting off all chatter. "Alphonse won't be coming on this one. We sent him back to rest, not worry. And if it turns out like the last one..."
He didn't need to say it. Everyone knew.
"B-but this won't be like last time," Fuery said with such conviction Roy himself was convinced. "We haven't got it wrong this time."
"Yeah." Havoc grinned around the cigarette in his teeth. "We'll have the chief back in no time!"
"All right, then." Roy looked around at his team, meeting each of their eyes. "We meet at 32 Seaview Road at ten-hundred hours. Just like last time."
And just like good little soldiers, they all raised their hands and snapped a salute. "Yes, sir!"
XxX
The house at 32 Seaview Road was almost identical to the first that Roy and Riza had searched. The garden bed was overrun with weeds—the path was invisible as a result—and the fence was a simple construction of rusted, interwoven wire. Arthur's property had a dirt path, trampled by passage to and from the street, and the gate was wide open. Roy wouldn't go as far as to call it 'welcoming', but it was more promising.
A single pair of mud-covered boots rested beside the door. They looked as though they hadn't been touched in several years, which was probably the case.
Riza's gun clicked as Roy reached for the handle, ready for any surprises. And the first began with the door: it was unlocked.
They entered carefully. The house was eerily quiet, yet showed signs of life. An empty mug of coffee or tea sat next to a threadbare couch, and an old pair of socks were balled up next to the door to what Roy guessed to be the kitchen. A messy stack of newspapers lay beneath an old table. As before, he and Riza split, but more cautiously. Roy took left, and Riza chose the kitchen.
Left led to a corridor with four branching doors. It was slightly longer than the one in Colt's house, but no more furnished. All the doors were closed, except the one at the end. The corner of a bathtub watched Roy approach, perhaps warning him to stop—he wouldn't like what he'd find.
Roy opened the first door he came across, and decided he should have listened to the bathtub.
Fullmetal slumped in the far corner of the room, eyes closed. He wore nothing more than a pair of... shorts? The word didn't seem right. It looked as if someone had made them with a large pair of dull scissors. Dried blood flaked off his skin, and for a moment, Roy thought he was dead.
And then he noticed the rest of the room.
It wasn't large, but the stain in the centre was. Dried blood coated the table, the floor, even part of the walls. It stunk, too, like something Roy couldn't identify. He started breathing through his mouth. A mattress was propped up on an angle, and Mustang wondered why Ed wasn't sitting over there—it must be more comfortable—until the boy's eyes opened and flicked over to the doorway.
They were hollow and exhausted, just like his voice. "Oh," he said, but there wasn't much emotion in it. "You're back."
Of all the things Roy had been forced to do in the military, crossing that bloody room to collect his missing subordinate was one of the worst. It rated high on the 'top ten things I never want to do again' chart, right up there with the Ishbalan War. The worst part was how Edward's stare followed him, and the flinch he gave when Roy touched his unharmed shoulder.
"I'm here to get you home, Fullmetal." He spoke slowly, gently, but Ed didn't appear to understand.
"They've never..." Ed's voice was horribly small, and it rasped as if the inside of his throat was made of sandpaper. "Al didn't touch me."
Roy frowned. Ed was obviously delirious. "Alphonse was here?"
"About a week ago," he answered thoughtfully, talking to the corner of the floral mattress. "He said he'd get me out then, too. But it wasn't Al."
They weren't getting anywhere, and it was making Mustang jittery. They needed to leave, but Ed couldn't walk—not without a leg. It filled him with an identifiable feeling of disgust—or perhaps guilt—but there was no other choice.
A flash of the normal Edward Elric shone through when he felt Roy lift him, but it barely lasted a second. "W-wait! What are you doing?"
His indignant voice was soon trumped by a gunshot in the lounge area. Immediately, Ed went quiet and compliant. That, coupled with the second gunshot, stunned Roy so much he forgot to move.
"Colonel!" Riza called. Her voice was steady and calm—she had it under control.
Mustang grunt and hefted Fullmetal higher. He carried him bridal-style, but with Ed's expression, the picture was more of a scared child in the arms of his parent. Something terrible must have happened.
Edward made a small noise, like a whimper, when they found Riza. At the end of her gun, one of the men from the photograph stood with his back against the wall. A briefcase lay by his feet, as if he had dropped it in a hurry. He probably had, seeing as the front door was still open.
"Jeremy Colt," Roy said in a stony voice, "I presume."
Ed buried his face into Roy's neck, maybe trying to hide. "I don't like this," he said miserably.
Jeremy glared at the bundle in Roy's arms, then glanced up to Riza again. "I'm guessing neither of you are Alphonse, are you?"
Riza's gun clicked again, and Jeremy shut up quick. Roy preferred it that way. There were already two bullet holes in the wall, and he didn't want to add a third, if he could help it.
"Edward's automail is in the bedroom on the right," Riza told Mustang, then she strode forward and efficiently cuffed Jeremy's hands behind his back. The man made no noise save for an annoyed grunt, then scowled at Roy, who immediately shifted to block the exit.
Riza returned just a few seconds later, holding a metal arm and leg, and with a blanket draped over her shoulder. She handed the blanket to Roy, easily supporting the automail appendages with one arm while the other was occupied with her gun.
"Your brother," she asked. "Where is he?"
Jeremy gave a large shrug. "I don't have a brother."
"Arthur Summers. Where is he?"
Roy had to admire his subordinate's patience. If the bastard had said that to him, he'd be nothing more than a mound of ash.
"Arthur's gone," Jeremy replied almost reluctantly. Obviously, he didn't want to answer any questions. "He went and left me this house. He won't come back."
Riza looked to Roy for permission, and he gave a slight nod. At once, she directed Jeremy out into the street and Roy followed. The sun was warming up, promising to be a nice day. Roy wasn't so sure.
"Chief!" Havoc scrambled up from the sidewalk and tossed his cigarette away. Ed's grip on Roy grew tighter. "Chief! Are you okay? You—"
"Not now, Havoc," Roy interrupted before he could start a scene. Jeremy was still crossing the road, tailed closely by the lieutenant. She directed him into the backseat of Breda and Falman's vehicle, her gun never leaving the back of his head.
Breda opened his window. "Colonel! Is he alright?"
Roy's lips thinned. "Just get that man to headquarters, Breda. Put him in a questioning cell."
"Sure, Colonel," Breda agreed, though his face clearly displayed what he wanted to do. A few seconds later, the engine started and they rattled away.
Roy turned to Havoc. "Do you know where Fuery is?"
"On his way," he said. "What happened in there?"
"Hell if I know." Roy shuddered, remembering Ed's cell. "But this whole house'll need to be sealed off as evidence. Can you organise that?"
"Yes, sir."
"Thank you."
Just then, Fuery's car appeared. He seemed to pause and slow down as took in Ed's blanketed form, but soon recovered. The car was left idling by the footpath as he rushed out to help. Roy winced when Fuery approached and Ed's hold tightened, until it felt like he might choke.
"Colonel?"
"Come on," Roy said, voice a little strained for breath. "We'd better get him to a hospital. Soon."
Fuery nodded and ran across to open the backseat. The handle stuck, but a heavy kick fixed that. He quickly shuffled out of the way, allowing Mustang to get through.
"Let go, Fullmetal," Roy calmly requested. But while the boy flinched, he didn't budge at all. An unwilling groan escaped him and he started to shake his head, hiding it further beneath the blanket. "You have to let go. Edward. Just—"
"Why?" The question came out weak and muffled. "No. Don't wanna."
Roy glanced up at Fuery, who took a moment to understand, then hurried over to Havoc. Sighing, the colonel stared down at his subordinate. After a few long moments of nothing, a single golden eye looked back. It was so red, as if he had been crying. Maybe he had been, Roy decided, as he spotted the damp mark on his shirt. The thought tied his stomach up in knots.
"If you're not getting in the car…" he struggled to keep his voice steady beneath Ed's relentless gaze. "Then… at least tell me what happened to make you like… like this."
Edward pouted slightly, and shook his head again.
"Fullmetal—"
"I did what the colonel asked." Ed's arm was shaking. Whether it was from the strain of holding on so long, or from his week locked in that room, remained a mystery. "I got the evidence. But now I'm stuck."
"Stuck?"
"He'll come back when I wake up." A fresh tear rolled down his face. Roy had no idea what to do—Fullmetal never acted like a child. It wasn't normal, and it scared him. "But I don't want to sleep either. Sleeping's painful." He stared imploringly at Roy, begging him to understand. "I keep seeing Alphonse, and Mother, and Nina, and you."
"Fullmetal, it's not—"
"Why do you keep doing this?" The scream, so full of distress and torment, echoed down the street and across the entire neighbourhood. Havoc dropped his hand-held radio, and Fuery's glasses threatened to jump right off his face. Roy himself had a hard time holding onto the boy, who had taken that as his cue to start struggling.
"Fullmetal!" he yelled as the blanket slipped away from his head, revealing the empty automail port and a silvery, unusual scar. "Fullmetal, stop thrashing about! You're gonna hurt yourself!"
"I-I—" There was a wild expression on Ed's face. An expression that pulled the lips away from the teeth, rolled the eyes back and forth, and drained the skin of any remaining colour. An expression that was, quite honestly, terrifying. "I've changed my mind! Let me wake up! I wanna wake up! Please! Don't make me—"
Roy had had enough.
He grabbed Ed by the roots of his dirty blond hair, ignoring the brown flakes that shed onto his gloves. "Edward Elric!"
The boy stopped immediately, like a trapped animal. Then he sighed, and the agitation seemed to flow out of him. The empty state that Mustang had found him in replaced it.
"Well," Edward said, completely monotone. He sounded even worse than before. "I guess it doesn't matter anyway. It'll end soon."
"Stop with that philosophical crap, Fullmetal," Roy snapped, earning another flinch. At least it was an emotion. "Just get in the car."
"It doesn't matter."
"Then do it anyway."
"But it's—"
"Pointless?" Roy offered, more than a little irritated. Slowly, he manoeuvred Ed into the seat, just as he did for Elicia when she was younger. "Tell that to Alphonse."
Edward huffed, his arm still holding tight to Roy's shirt for support. "He's not here."
Roy observed his downturned eyes for a second. Nothing he could say would lift them, so why try? Alphonse stood a better chance.
So, he disentangled himself from Ed's grasp and closed the door. Asking him to do the seatbelt up would most certainly be a wasted effort. Instead, Roy watched him the whole way to the military hospital, ignoring Fuery's questions just like Ed did. There would be time for more interrogation once they were sure Colt hadn't done any physical damage. Ed appeared to be fine, but Roy was a soldier. Anything could happen in battle.
About ten minutes away from headquarters, Ed's drooping eyelids finally closed. There was no fanfare, no celebration, but a lot of relief. Getting him in the car had been hard enough. Getting him out in the same state… To put it simply, that wasn't something Mustang was eager to experience.
But there was something much worse lurking in the distance. He could feel it. And it wasn't pleasant.
XxX
Alphonse wasn't happy.
It was one thing to exclude him from such important missions, but it was another thing to find out what was happening afterwards. And all he heard was:
'Edward's in hospital'.
That's all he stayed to listen to.
Why hadn't the colonel said anything? Why hadn't anyone? They must have known where Edward was, and that was why he was sent home to 'rest'. They were just pushing him out of the way. But Al was sure it wouldn't take them long to realise that stopping a seven-feet-tall suit of armour wasn't easy. Especially when his brother was in danger.
"Where is he?" Al burst into the military hospital, slamming his gloves on the front desk a little harder than planned. "Where's Edward Elric?"
The soldier manning the reception recoiled so quickly his chair almost overturned. People in the waiting area started to poke their heads around the door, curious about the racket.
"The Fullmetal alchemist?" He was losing patience—and fast. Did that soldier really not know who he was talking about? "Short. Blond hair?"
"Y—yeah I know who you mean," the man finally stammered, earning a sigh of relief from Al. "He came in about half an hour ago."
"Half an hour?" Al echoed. Oh, he had to be the worst little brother in the history of little brothers! But, to be fair, his tardiness wasn't entirely his fault. "What room's he staying in?"
The eavesdroppers lost interest; the show was over. Al could hear their chairs scraping as everyone returned to them, and light conversations erupted. He blocked them out.
"He's on the third floor," the soldier started to scribble directions onto a sheet of paper, but Al knew exactly where he was going. "Room 310. He should be—"
"Thanks." Alphonse was being rude, and he knew it. He just didn't care. Ignoring the half-finished directions, he bolted towards the stairs. An elbow hit the wall in his hurry, leaving a sizeable dent, and he continued. He needed to get to 310.
Finally, the plaque was in sight. The door hung slightly ajar, but not in a welcoming way. More of a 'please make up this room' manner. It gave off a sense of foreboding, simply because of the heavy silence within. Was his brother really in there?
He had to be.
Alphonse took a few moments to compose himself, then entered the room. It was white and sterile, like every other in the hospital, with one bed and two uncomfortable chairs beside a small window. Edward lay in the bed, asleep and frowning deeply. There were two depressions where his arm and leg should have been.
Roy looked up from one of the seats. "Alphonse. Was it you I heard downstairs?"
Al searched for the familiar smirk that would have normally accompanied such a statement, but none appeared. Roy was worn out, despite it only being midday, and he could barely keep his worried eyes off his subordinate. The anger that Al held started to fade away.
"Why didn't you tell me you found him?" he asked quietly, still looming in the doorway like an uninvited guest.
Roy hesitated. "He needs his sleep. We didn't want anyone—"
"Waking him up, right?" All at once, his anger returned. "Well that's okay. I'm here now and I promise not to wake him. You can leave."
"Alphonse, you—"
"No, no, it's fine." His words were sharp and clipped. "I didn't help at all this morning, so let me at least do this."
Roy didn't reply. His expression was unreadable, but Al thought he had him beat. A few seconds later, the colonel silently got to his feet. "You're right," he said, doing a stiff nod. "I'll see you in a few hours. Good day."
'Is it?' Al had to wonder. 'Is it a good day?'
Sure, Edward had been found and brought back, but there was something in Roy's eyes. Something Al probably didn't want to know, but had to nonetheless.
"Oh, and Alphonse?" Roy spoke when they were side by side, staring straight ahead. "If he wakes, I don't recommend being there."
"What?"
And with that final piece of advice, Mustang left.
The chair creaked when Al sat down, but it would hold his weight—he knew from experience. There was no need to worry about that. Only his brother. What would happen when he opened his eyes?
The blanket was slipping with every restless turn of Ed's head, his hospital gown following its example. Carefully, hesitantly, with Mustang's warning fresh in his mind, Al reached forward to pull them back up. On top of… whatever happened, the last thing Ed would need was a cold.
Brother always had a lot of scars. The most spectacular were those around his right shoulder and left thigh, but the rest of his body was covered in burns, puncture-marks, knife wounds… Yet Al had never seen the one on Ed's collarbone before.
It was old and quite faint, as if it had been done in childhood. The scar tissue was a pretty silvery-white, making it more prominent in certain lights. It formed a word. A name.
FULLMETAL.
If he could, Al would have frowned. Instead, he dropped the blanket and just stared at the scar, as if it could provide him with some answers. When had Edward gotten it? Did he do it himself? The last was impossible, Al knew. His brother had a high tolerance to pain, but not that high. Carving his title into his own collarbone—and so deep as to leave a scar like that—didn't sound like Ed.
And it must have been at least a year old—how come Al hadn't noticed it before? He could almost see his chances for 'brother of the year' running out the door.
But old scars weren't important, no matter how disturbing they were. Making sure that Ed got some rest—that was his aim. And when he finally woke up—
'I don't recommend being there.'
—Al would be the supportive, caring brother he always strove to be. They'd get past whatever Colt did to him, and find their bodies.
That was the goal, after all.
I hope you liked it :) Please review!
Now the fun part starts