Chapter 19
She didn't remember it being this far. This felt like it was taking forever. Her lungs were burning dry and her legs were threatening to fold up under her. But as soon as she saw the green pennant snapping in the wind over the big top tent, she felt a surge of strength and her legs pumped harder.
The desert scrub and drooping meskaa trees fell away and Danika ran across the open area toward the tents. She didn't see anyone immediately, but she could hear voices in the distance, either from the midway or somewhere beyond the tents. She slowed down and went on cautiously, keeping her eyes on the tents ahead. She didn't think Papa was in the same tent where she watched the circus last night. It had to be one of the others behind it. With another cautious look around, she made a final sprint across the open ground. As she got closer to one of the tents, she heard low rumblings and growling and she smiled. It came to her as a great comfort knowing that Papa had Hyacinth and Petal and Snickers to keep him company.
She thought she heard a couple of human voices from inside the tent as well, and she stood very still to tell if she could recognize them, hoping that one of them was Papa's. She did not want to end up having chosen the wrong tent and have to explain why she was there. Then she thought she heard rustling sounds from the surrounding vegetation and she frowned toward the expanse of scrub, cactus, and trees that surrounded the circus grounds just a few yards away. She didn't see anything, so she dismissed it as the wind. She turned her attention back to the tent, moving stealthily along the side, running her hand along the expanse of canvas. She drew closer to the tent flaps and stopped.
"Papa!" she called out as loudly as she dared. To her dismay, there was no immediate reply. She began to lose heart and she called again, this time a little louder and with desperation in her voice. "Papa!"
One of the tent flaps was flung aside and the sound made her jump and back up a few steps. But there he was! From his stern, scarred face, to the golden gleam of the talismans that hung at his throat, to the chuva bravely emblazoned across his chest, to his tall, indomitable figure, he was the embodiment of everything wonderful and comforting and safe. He looked astonished at seeing her, and she was afraid that he would scold her and send her straight back home, but then his features softened. He stepped away from the tent toward her and dropped to one knee, holding out his arms.
"My dear one!" he breathed.
Danika gave a soft little cry and flew into his embrace, throwing her arms around his neck and holding him as tightly as she could. She had meant to be very brave. She had come all this way by herself, after all, and she had been rather clever about it, too. But she couldn't help crying just a little.
"I ran away from school, Papa, and I didn't tell anybody, and I'm really, really sorry, but I missed you so much!"
He kissed her above her temple. "I missed you, too, little one," Scar told her softly. His voice was so warm and not even a tiny bit angry.
Danika loosened her hold around his neck and rested her hands on his broad shoulders and gazed mournfully into his face. "I had to come, Papa!" she explained, the words all tumbling out. "I had such a bad dream last night where that Kimlee man took you away! I know it was just a dream and it's not real, but I just had to find you!" She gave a little sniffle. "You're not mad at me, are you?"
Scar cupped her face in his hands, brushing a tear away with his thumb. A look of deep tenderness crossed his features. "My poor little blackbird! How unhappy you've been!" he said softly. "No, I'm not mad." He smiled and kissed her forehead. "Not at all." He searched her face. "Is your mother all right?"
Danika gave a little shrug. "Mostly. But she's been kinda grouchy."
Scar raised his eyebrows, a bit amused. "Grouchy? Your mother?"
Danika nodded emphatically. "I know, huh?"
Scar's eyes closed for a moment and he pulled Danika a little closer to touch his forehead to her. "Oh, my dearest!" The way he spoke made Danika wonder just who he was talking to. "I wish I could have spared you this."
He sounded so sad. Danika patted him on the shoulder. "But it'll be all right, won't it, Papa? When all those people go home, it'll be all right."
"I suppose it will," Scar replied wearily. "It will only—" He stopped suddenly and frowned past Danika's shoulder, his eyes scanning the desert foliage some distance behind her. With a wary expression he started to rise. "You'd better come—"
The next instant he threw his arms around her and crouched down, holding her close against him. With a deep snarl, an orange and black blur flew over them and disappeared into the desert. There came the sound of crashing and rustling, followed by a chaos of shouts and screams as a horde of people came flying out into the open. Snickers bounded after them as joyfully as a kitten with all the balls of yarn he could dream of. He picked one individual out of the crowd to finally knock down, and he then sat on him, looking extremely pleased.
The rest of the reporters froze, but since the tiger was no longer chasing any of them, several of the photographers had the presence of mind to point their cameras at Scar. The big Ishvalan had straightened up to grimly survey the scene before him. He did not move to offer any aid to the reporter whom Snickers had chosen to sit on, but neither did anyone else.
Struggling under the tiger's weight, McGraw grunted out, "Greggs! Take the damn picture!"
Greggs looked from him to Scar, then back again. He raised his camera and pointed it at McGraw , pressing the shutter. "Sorry, I couldn't pass that up," he said, advancing the film. Then he pointed his camera at Scar and snapped.
Danika stared in dismay and confusion at what was unfolding in front of her. It came to her as a complete shock that any of the Amestrian reporters had been anywhere in the area. Had they been waiting out in the desert all night for Papa to finally emerge, or had they—
Danika drew in a slow gasp. Did they follow her? Had she led them straight to Papa? "Oh, Papa!" she breathed in a horrified whisper. "I didn't know!"
Scar didn't reply, but he placed his hand reassuringly on her head.
Heinkel stormed around the side of the tent, roaring at Snickers. "Get over here, you damn overgrown tabby!"
Snickers blinked at him, then obediently, if grudgingly, got off of McGraw and padded over to Heinkel's side. The chimera glared helplessly at the crowd of reporters. "Damn!" he muttered, leaning toward Scar. "Don't you think you ought to make yourself scarce?"
Since it appeared that they were in no danger of being eaten alive, the reporters advanced cautiously, staring with fascination at Scar, snapping pictures or scribbling furiously in their notebooks. He shook his head, regarding the reporters with distaste and dark resignation. "I'm done with hiding."
Having retrieved his hat and brushed the dirt from his clothes, McGraw was the first to come forward, undaunted. "Well, I, for one, am glad to hear that," he remarked, taking out his notebook and pencil. "I think we can dispense with the obvious." He considered Scar with a cordial, somewhat exultant look. "So, Scar, if you don't mind me calling you that," he began. "You have, shall we say, an impressive record to your credit, the deaths of a considerable number of state alchemists and perhaps a few other casualties along the way. What have—"
Scar cut him off. "Am I on trial?" he growled.
McGraw paused as though the question surprised him. He shook his head and smiled blandly. "Not by me. This is just an informal interview. But since you mention it, do you foresee yourself being put on trial?"
"Is that why you're here?" Scar asked in reply. "To see that I am?"
"Oh, no," McGraw assured him. "I'm nothing more than an objective observer. I let others do the editorials."
The other reporters, heartened by McGraw's boldness, pressed further. One man held up his pencil. "Was it strictly revenge that led you to commit all those murders?"
Another called out, "Were your actions premeditated? Did you stalk your victims?"
"How did you manage to locate all those alchemists?"
"Was this some sort of religious crusade you were one?"
Scar glared with mounting, desperate fury as the reporters bombarded him with their rapid-fire questions. He finally drew breath to speak, but Heinkel nudged him.
"Don't!" the chimera muttered. "You don't have to say a damn thing!"
McGraw's glance flicked to Heinkel and he pointed the tip of his pencil at him. "You appear to have some supporters here," he remarked. Then his gaze fell on Danika. "Not to mention some family." He looked back at Scar. "Is your little girl aware of your past?"
Scar drew Danika closer to his side. "My family has nothing to do with my past." The tone of his voice grew menacing.
Danika wasn't sure why they were saying those things about Papa about or why they wanted his picture so badly. She didn't quite understand why the hand on her shoulder felt so heavy or gripped so tightly. She was confused and felt a growing dread. She had prayed that she should find Papa, but she didn't think about what might happen after that.
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Roy rolled up the window and settled back in his seat. "Well," he declared. "This should be interesting." He pointed to his left for the benefit of the driver. "Head up this road here, Lars, and take it easy. We don't want to get too far ahead of our friends back there."
"We don't want to lose any more time, either," Riza said from the back seat.
Roy looked over his shoulder at her and at the other passengers in the large black car. It was a very fine automobile, Amestrian engineering at its finest. Despite having travelled all night, it had been a comfortable ride. Even on this bumpy dirt road, the suspension on this machine was smooth as cream. He could definitely get used to this.
Even Mrs. Bradley, who was not a young woman, was showing no ill effects from this hastily planned road trip. She seemed to be quite enjoying herself. "This really is thrilling, isn't it?" she remarked. "Really, General Mustang, I can always count on you to make things exciting."
Roy laughed quietly. "Do you know something, Mrs. Bradley? I think I could say the same thing about you."
Mrs. Bradley turned to peer out through the heavily tinted back window. "That is Edward Elric, isn't it?" she asked.
Roy grinned. "It is, indeed. I had no idea he was here, but it seems very fitting, don't you think?"
Selim stood on the seat, wedged between his mother and the other bodyguard, Bruno, who kept a secure hold on his young charge. The little boy bounced excitedly on the seat and pointed out the back window. "Mama! Look!" he piped. "A horsie!"
"Yes, dear," Mrs. Bradley replied patiently. "But you should sit down properly now."
Roy turned again and peered through the darkened glass. He chuckled and settled back in his seat. He couldn't have planned this any better.
In a matter of a few more minutes, they reached an open area cleared of vegetation. Ahead of them stood the large tents of Circus Chimera. Off to one side stood a cluster of people grouped by one of the tents.
"All right, Lars," Roy said to the driver. "Pull up right there."
The black car slid to a halt and Roy opened his door and stepped out. Reaching back into the car, he pulled out the long jacket of his dress uniform and shrugged into it. He quickly did the buttons, keeping one eye on the road they had just driven up. Pushing his hair back, he donned his military cap, completing the ensemble. He turned away from the car and strode with leisurely confidence toward the crowd of people, his dark eyes making a quick assessment of the scene, which definitely seemed tense. It looked rather like a standoff.
He raised an eyebrow. Elephants, huh? Well, why not?
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McGraw glared impatiently at the large, rather annoyed elephant that was being held back by a young man with a slight build that seemed singularly inadequate for the task. Amazingly enough, though, he seemed to have the situation in hand, considering there were two other elephants just behind the first one and were apparently taking their cues from her. It was quite possible that with one word from that kid, they could all be trampled. This was a lawsuit waiting to happen, and with as much satisfaction as he might get from that, considering the hardship and total lack of cooperation he'd suffered to get this far on this story, McGraw put that thought aside.
"You know," he said with some frustration, addressing Scar. "I'm gonna level with you. I'm gonna write this story whether you answer my questions or not. But if you at least throw me a bone, I promise I won't misquote you."
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Danika recognized the man who was talking as one of the men that spoke to her the night before. The two men just behind him were his companions. She instantly despised them. She hated all these people. Why were they saying such hateful things about Papa? It wasn't right, and her small, slender frame filled with a rage that she couldn't contain. She began to tremble and her heart started to pound wildly, and it frightened her. Her eyes welled up with tears and she felt a weight press against her chest. She hadn't felt this way in such a long time, not since Papa told her she was a good girl and she didn't have to be afraid or angry anymore. But this was different. These people were trying to hurt Papa somehow, and Papa didn't even seem to be able to do anything about it. Well, she would!
She pulled away from her father's side and stepped forward. "You stop it right now!" she cried with breathless fury. "You leave my Papa alone!" She spied a small rock on the ground and she lunged forward to grab it. Just as her fingers closed around it she felt herself scooped up into Papa's arms.
"Danika, stop it!" he warned her.
"No!" She struggled with uncontrollable anger and threw the rock.
The reporter in front held up his notebook and the rock bounced off of it. He fixed Danika with a look and she glared back at him, struggling in her father's arms, her blue eyes on fire.
"She sure seems like a chip off the old block," he remarked as surprised, amused, and even a few angry murmurs rumbled behind him. To Danika he said, "Are you planning on taking after your old man?"
If Danika thought she was angry, she stilled when she heard the hiss of breath that Papa sucked in. It was not even a loud sound, and maybe she was the only one who heard it, but it was filled with more ominous peril than anything she could manage.
"Keep this up," he told the reporter, his voice low and scary, "and you'll see what I did to—"
"Hey!" One of the other reporters dropped a hand on McGraw's shoulder and jerked his head to something beyond their gathering. "Get a load of the fancy set of wheels!"
She didn't feel as though the situation had been remedied in the long term, but Danika was still relieved at the momentary distraction. Still gripped in her father's arms, she turned to look at what had attracted everyone's attention. A big black car had stopped a short distance away and one of the doors opened up. A man stepped out, then reached into the car again to pull out a long blue coat. When he straightened up, Danika gave a little gasp.
"Papa!" she whispered. "That's—"
"I know," Papa whispered back. The menace hadn't entirely left his voice, but now he sounded a little puzzled as well.
"Holy cow!" Greggs remarked under his breath, quickly advancing his film. "That's Brigadier General Mustang! What's he doing here?"
"What do think?" McGraw said in a satisfied tone with a nod toward Scar. He made a few rapid notes in his book. "Now we're gonna get some serious copy!"
General Mustang put his cap on his head, and clasping his hands behind his back, he strolled over to the tent. The crowd parted to let him through, and the reporters eagerly blurted out more questions.
"General Mustang! Sir! Have you come to finally arrest the fugitive, Scar?"
"Brigadier, how did you finally track him down, and why did it take so long?"
"Are you going to try to apprehend him by yourself? Did you bring reinforcements?"
"Were you planning on using your flame alchemy?"
Danika went from jubilance to astonished fear and outrage. Was that why Zhaarad Roy was here? She stared at him in disbelief. She thought he was their friend!
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Other than to raise his hand, Roy ignored the questions. He was impressed and gratified with the way the crowd parted for him. It was all he could do not to grin like an idiot.
He approached Scar, who looked like he'd had a rough night. Danika hung in his embrace, her father's tattooed arms tightly around her. Judging by the way the little girl was glaring at him, it appeared she was getting the wrong impression from his sudden arrival. He gave her a ghost of a smile and a wink, then turned his attention to her father.
"Good afternoon, your honor," he said in a calm, carrying voice, then added as an afterthought, "Goodness, it is after noon by now, isn't it?" He pulled his silver watch from his pocket and flipped it open. "So it is." Snapping the watch closed, he looked up again to meet Scar's wary gaze and gave him a disarming, if cryptic smile. He then turned to face the assembled reporters.
"I'd like to thank you all for being here today," he announced. "As soon as our company is complete, we can commence—ah! Here we are!"
The thunder of hoof beats heralded the arrival of Colonel Miles, who reined up near the edge of the crowd and dismounted. His crimson eyes flicked from the black car to the crowd, then took advantage of the parting of the crowd to stride up to General Mustang. He brought his heels smartly together and snapped a salute.
"General Mustang, sir!" His deep voice was crisp.
"Colonel Miles! A pleasure as always!"
Miles didn't seem to entirely reciprocate that sentiment, although he kept his crimson gaze enigmatic. For the sake of expedience, Roy had to leave out a number of crucial details when they met briefly on the road. He just told them all to follow the car. The reporters were growing increasingly bewildered and, unable to contain themselves, a few of them ventured to call out more questions.
"Colonel Miles, were you aware that—"
"Was this part of a covert—"
"Thank you, ladies and gentleman!" Roy cut them off. "If you could just bear with us for a few more moments."
Two rickshaws came trundling up and stopped, their pullers winded. With one of her twins held tightly in her arms, Rada stood up and was helped out of the rickshaw by her fellow passenger, Stanno. The instant her foot hit the ground, she ran through the crowd to her husband's side. She was followed not just by Stanno, but also by Edward and Winry, who held the other twin. Both toddlers gabbled with delight at the sight of their father.
"Mama!" Danika cried.
Scar stared in amazement at the newcomers. Danika squirmed in his arms and he distractedly set her on her feet. The little girl threw her arms around her mother. "Mama! Mama! I'm so sorry I—"
"Hush, baby!" Rada whispered to her soothingly, stroking her hair. Her attention was more focused on her husband, who held his arm out to her. The look on his face was a mixture of relief, affection, resignation, and tension, a look that she shared with him. He pulled her closely to his side and faced the crowd in front of them. Scar also exchanged a brief glance with Miles, who was unable to either enlighten or assure him.
Roy gave Rada a warm smile and a polite inclination of his head. "How are you, Mrs. Ruhad? You look lovely as ever, if I may say so."
Rada gave him a confused, helpless look, her dusky features a little pale. She clung possessively to her husband with one hand and her baby with the other. "I…uh…hello…" she stammered.
Roy then turned to the other newcomers. He held out his hand to Stanno. "And the chieftain of Kanda! Thank you so much for coming, Master Stanno!"
The carpenter clasped Roy's hand. Being something of an opportunist, he seemed to be taking all of this in his stride, even if he had no idea what was going on. "My pleasure, Brigadier!"
"Fullmetal! What a pleasant surprise!" Roy grabbed Ed's hand, pumped it a few times, and shoved him to the side.
Ed had to take a moment to regain his balance. "Brigadier, what the he—"
"And Miss Rockbell!" Roy went on, cutting Ed off and steering Winry toward him. "How nice! Can I have you stand over here next to Ed? Thanks."
Roy stepped back to admire the tableau before him. He couldn't have arranged this any better if he had tried. He secretly gloried in the bewildered, anxious looks on the faces before him, but the elephants were absolutely the icing on the cake. He would have to get a copy of one of the photos that were being taken. He turned back toward the reporters, who had now been joined by a number of the members of the circus. "If I could ask you all to step back just a little? We're getting a bit crowded up here. Thank you!"
He turned toward the black car and raised his arm, making a beckoning motion with his fingers. The doors of the car opened again and two large men in dark suits and dark glasses stepped out. A little boy in a dapper short and vest ensemble hopped out of the car and looked around with wide-eyed wonder. Roy could hear a couple of quick intakes of breath behind him, but he kept his attention on the approaching party. On one side of the car, one of the large men held out his hand to help Mrs. Bradley step out. Even the reporters, who had probably seen their collective share of world-shaking events, murmured with amazement and waited with tense anticipation.
On the other side of the car, the other man was assisting Riza, who, despite her youth, was moving a little more slowly than the elder woman, being largely pregnant. Under one arm she carried a green velvet box. Mrs. Bradley waited for her, and the two women finally approached, the two bodyguards, Selim swinging gleefully from their hands between them, following up behind. As they drew closer to the tent, he let go of one of the bodyguards' hands and pointed excitedly.
"Mama! Mama! Look!" he piped. "Effelints!"
Mrs. Bradley beamed affectionately over her shoulder at him. "Yes, dear, elephants," she enunciated for him. "Aren't they lovely?"
Roy greeted Mrs. Bradley with a smile and a slight bow, stepping aside to make room for her. He spared one more glance at Scar, who was frowning with puzzled wariness at Selim. Scar returned Roy's look with a distrustful glower, which Roy answered with nothing more than a lift of his eyebrows. He turned to address the crowd.
"This is not something that happens very often," he announced. "And I, for one, am immensely pleased and honored to be here. I will now turn over the proceedings to our own dear Mrs. Bradley."
With another bow, Roy stepped aside and Mrs. Bradley came forward. She beamed at the crowd, who craned their necks to get a look at her. Roy was filled with admiration for her. Her appearances were somewhat exclusive, but she had public relations down to an art. No, Roy corrected himself, it just came to her naturally.
Mrs. Bradley waited patiently for the last few murmurs to die down. This had turned into a rarer opportunity than any these reporters could possibly have expected, and she allowed them to gawk a little longer and take a few more pictures before she finally spoke.
"A little more than two years ago," she began in a clear, sedate voice, "our nation was faced with a very grave and terrible assault. Corrupt officials in my late husband's cabinet sought to overthrow the government and bring death and destruction to the country. A number of brave souls stood up to these vile monsters." She looked down for a moment. "My dear husband lost his life in the struggle to protect his people," she said, her voice tinged with a grief that would never completely leave her. Then she raised her head, continuing bravely. "But there are many who survived. One of these valiant souls stands before you this very day.
"Despite the unfortunate circumstances the war brought to this land of Ishval, despite the injuries inflicted on his people by the Amestrian military, this man was able to put aside his grievances and play a crucial role, one that only he could perform, in halting the wicked plot of those who conspired against the people of Amestris. Truly, this man saved us all from certain doom. And I am here as a spokesperson of the Amestrian government and people to offer our deepest gratitude and appreciation."
Mrs. Bradley turned to Riza and gave her a nod. Riza held up the green velvet box and opened it. Mrs. Bradley reached into the white satin lining of the box and took from it a medal of white enamel on gold. The pendant was in the shape of a rampant dragon, and it hung from a thick triangle of emerald green grosgrain ribbon. She held it up momentarily for everyone to get a good look at it, and then she turned to Scar, smiling up into the scarred man's face.
"Governor Andakar Ruhad, on behalf of the nation of Amestris, I present you with the Order of the White Dragon, the highest award for valor that this country can bestow."
She reached up and carefully pinned the medal to Scar's shirt. Roy glanced over and caught Miles' eye. The Ishvalan commander now had a slight, knowing smile playing on his lips. Scar, on the other hand, was frowning down at the medal on his chest as though expecting the dragon to sink its teeth into him.
Haven't you figured it out yet, you big dope?
Mrs. Bradley smiled warmly up at Scar, holding out her hand. "Congratulations!"
Hesitantly, Scar raised his hand and clasped hers. "Thank you," he murmured as the bewilderment finally began to lift.
Mrs. Bradley turned to shake Rada's hand and stroke Little Winry's cheek with her finger, then she stepped back and patted her elegantly gloved hands together. Roy promptly started clapping enthusiastically, followed quickly by Riza and Miles. Everyone else variously followed suit. The members of the circus cheered and the elephants and even the tigers joined in. The reporters, glancing at each other questioningly, applauded obligingly, if not vigorously. Roy stepped up to Scar and gave him a hearty handshake and a grin. He pointed to the medal.
"Looks good on you!" he remarked, needing to raise his voice over the applause, the trumpeting, and the roaring.
Scar gripped his hand and pulled him closer. "You are going to explain this, aren't you?" he growled.
"All in good time," Roy replied quickly under his breath. "Now cheer up and smile for the cameras."
He felt a firm tug on his coat and he looked down to see Danika clutching a handful of his uniform. "Zhaarad Roy! What happened?" she demanded anxiously. "What did that lady do?"
Roy ruffled her hair and gave her a reassuring grin. "Something kind of brilliant," he told her.
Mrs. Bradley turned to the assembly of reporters with a benign smile. The awe she inspired in them was on an entirely different level from what they felt on seeing Scar. After a few more flashbulbs went off, the reporters politely raised their hands. Mrs. Bradley nodded to one of the men at the front of the crowd.
"Nathan McGraw, Central City Times," McGraw introduced himself. He glanced down at his notes with a frown, then looked back up to consider Mrs. Bradley. "Honestly," he began, "I'm not exactly sure where to start. Uh…" He leaned slightly to one side to take a look at Scar. "The…um…individual standing there behind you is—was—to the best of my knowledge, wanted for a string of murders. Just now, we all witnessed him receiving a highly prestigious award from the Amestrian government." McGraw paused for a moment, and the other reporters hung on his silence, since it seemed as though he was speaking for all of them. He spoke his next question carefully. "Is this medal being granted in lieu of a pardon?"
Mrs. Bradley's smile faded a little and she took on the expression of a school teacher before a not-quite-bright student. "Young man," she replied. "Were you listening to what I said just now?"
McGraw flinched slightly, partly at the question posed to him as well as Greggs snapping another flash photo right next to him. "Yes, ma'am, of course I did. It's just—"
"Then I think there's really no question as far as a pardon is concerned, don't you think?" Mrs. Bradley said. Before McGraw could reply, she went on. "It seemed to me that it would be a much more positive and constructive gesture to award a man for a deed of tremendous heroism than to pardon a man for deeds that were…well, shall we say, not so heroic."
She waited a moment while the reporters all frantically scribbled in their notebooks. "It's not just Ishval that needs to be rebuilt, but really, all of Amestris. I don't just mean rebuilt physically. At one time, this county looked up to its leader, my dear husband. Since his passing, this country needs a new set of heroes." She raised a hand toward Roy. "Heroes like Brigadier General Mustang." She turned toward Miles. "Colonel Miles, not to mention his former commander, Major General Armstrong." She tilted a smile toward Ed. "Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist." She gestured with a gloved hand toward Scar. "And of course, Andakar Ruhad of Ishval. It is on this rather substantial set of shoulders that the future of this great nation rests. To consider the issue of a pardon is to dwell too much on a past that had been manipulated by those who sought power at the expense of this country's people."
Beaming with gentle satisfaction at her audience, she waited politely to be bombarded with further questions. The hands of nearly all the reporters shot up, but a number of them didn't wait to be called on.
"Mrs. Bradley, were you sent here at the request of Fuhrer Grumman?"
"Mrs. Bradley, would you say that your late husband would have made the same decision?"
A number of other questions were blurted out, and Mrs. Bradley nearly blushed as she tried to sort them all out. Then one question rang out apart from the others.
"Mrs. Bradley, have you considered running for Fuhrer when the elections come up?"
Mrs. Bradley gave a little start of surprise. So did Roy. Then Mrs. Bradley took a moment to consider the question. Roy stood with a faint smile stuck to his face and he could feel a trickle of sweat run down his back.
Oh, God! Ishvala! Whoever! Please! No!
Finally, Mrs. Bradley smiled and shook her head. "No, I don't think so. I have rather enough to occupy my time as it is," she said. "But," she added with conviction, "rest assured that whoever occupies the seat of authority over this great nation of ours, I will be more than willing to offer what wisdom I possess or whatever help I can supply."
Roy let out what he hoped was not too obvious a sigh of relief.
:) :) :)
"Andakar, what does it all mean?" Rada hissed to him in Ishvalan. "Does this mean you don't have to hide anymore?"
Scar surveyed the crowd before him. The focus seemed to have shifted from him to Mrs. Bradley as she held court, but he still held himself tensely.
"I think that was the point to all this," he replied. He tightened his hold around Rada's waist and she pressed close to him. "I love you!" he murmured to her.
"Oh, my dearest!" she breathed in a choked voice, turning her face into the hollow of his shoulder.
He hoped he would not be called upon to speak or answer any of these insipid questions. He could not trust himself to not rage at these reporters and tell them to never set foot on Ishvalan soil again. This bit of metal and ribbon may have served to lift one burden from him, but it placed a new one on his shoulders. He would miss being anonymous.