ONWARD!
I woke up…about an hour later, maybe?
That medic guy - Shaydin, right? - is gone. I've somehow managed to be magically teleported from the place I passed out to right beside Lieutenant Hawkeye.
Grumbling under my breath, I try to reach up with one hand to rub my face, but then remember I'm shackled and end up clumsily trying to brush the sleep out of my eyes with my shoulder.
Then I remember I got shot in the shoulder.
Can I just say 'ouch'?
I sit up and look around, feeling sluggish and light-headed. It's night out, as I speculate from the complete and utter lack of light, apart from the flickering fire outside the door, (which has somehow managed to burn the whole way through to now - has that sleepy fat dude been putting wood on it all this time?) and the others seem to be sleeping soundly.
Now, when I say sleeping soundly, I'm sort of stretching the truth a little.
Riza's lying on her side, facing the opposite direction, so I can't see her face. But she's shaking, it's clear even in the dark. And I don't think it's from the cold.
Roy's still on his back, his jaw clenched so tightly I can see the stress it's putting on his facial muscles. He's red in the face and sweating, using his jacket as a pillow now. His shoes have been removed too, I notice.
Feeling awkward in such close proximity, I grab my mattress and shuffle a little further away, cursing at the pain in my shoulder and ankle.
I lie back down on my side, facing the wall.
Just as I fall asleep, thinking of Alphonse, I notice that I haven't moved quite as far away from them as I thought I did.
"On three," I whisper, flicking my gun at the door lightly. "One…two…three!"
Edward draws his arm into a blade, and there's a shout as the flash alerts whoever's outside. He lets out a wordless battlecry as I slam through the door and the three of us burst into the open…
…and stop dead.
You know, most people would suppose the click of one gun would mean a couple of men… Apparently most people would be wrong.
We're confronted with well over eighty men, all of whom are fully armed and pointing guns straight at us.
"Well, f***."
You can probably guess who graced us with this well-informed observation.
"Drop your weapons, military scum!"
Riza and I slowly set the guns at our feet and Edward restores his arm to it's original form, his golden eyes darting all over as if to find some means of escape.
Sorry, Ed. Way ahead of you.
Stealthily, as not to arouse suspicion, I slip one hand up to the inside of my sleeve and grab hold of the small, rectangular object stowed there.
"Who are you and why are you here?" comes the question from one of the men, an older one who's seemingly the leader.
"Just passing through," I say, moving my hand around at an angle to get a firm grip of the thing and begin to work it open. "A couple of officers and a kid."
"Names, man!" he shouts. "I want names! Give 'em to me!"
"Well," I say, mentally cheering as I manage to achieve my goal. "This is Lieutenant Gofuk Yorselfs, and Major Yora Doosh. My name would be General Go Die-in-a-hole."
Click!
Shwip!
Bang!
Snap!
BOOM!
The noises happened almost in the exact split second, and then we were sprinting.
Click - The gun was aimed.
Shwip - I struck a match.
Bang - The gun was fired.
Snap - The flames flew straight across the street.
BOOM! - They exploded.
Riza grabbed the two guns from the ground and we sprinted, making a run for the closest place we were able to regroup. The lieutenant peppers them with bullets as we run, most of them getting hit as they try to evade the flames and smoke.
I kicked into a door full-force, and smashed right into what appeared to be an old, concrete store-house, panting.
"I thought…your gloves…were wet," huffed Edward, pulling his coat tight over his shoulders and cringing.
I don't bother pointing out that all his efforts to hide the wound on his shoulder are pointless if he's dripping blood all over the floor.
"That wasn't my gloves," I explain hastily. "That was the last in my supply of emergency matches…"
We allow ourselves a few moments to catch our breath before beginning to construct a new strategy.
"How much ammo have we got left?" I ask.
"Not much. The mission was only to investigate the rumours; no one actually believed the group existed," Riza tells me. "It was more of the higher-ups playing with you again."
"Damn them!" I hiss, running a hand through my hair. "If they hadn't sent us out here we wouldn't be in this mess!"
"It's your own damn fault for being such a freakin' bastard all the time!" Edward growls. "And it was your stupid idea to run out there in the first place!"
"I didn't hear you protest!" I snap back. "In fact, you were eager to go! What did that shout sound like again? Was it like 'Graaaagh!'? Or was it more like 'Nyaaah!'?!"
"At least I don't scream like a girl!"
"Oho! Are you—"
"Sirs!" Riza snaps. "We don't have time for this!"
"I agree one hundred percent!" Edward barks, shoving his face up in mine. "Shut up, Colonel!"
I cuff Edward over the head start to formulate a plan. "Alright. Here's what we're gonna do…"
I tell them about my plan, trying to keep my cool with Edward's constant snarky interruptions and snide comments.
Just as I get to the end, there's a cry of "In here!" and we're stuffed. Well, I suppose the plan was a little bit of a long shot anyway…
About twenty of the men charge in and we hold our ground, guns and alchemically-transmuted fighting staffs at the ready.
Out of habit, I keep my other hand raised and poised to snap, even though nothing will happen if I do.
Bar an embarrassing puff of steamy smoke…
"Surrender now, while you still can!" shouts one of the men, his gun pointed right at me. Actually, pretty much all the guns are pointed at me. Sometimes I hate how powerful I look.
"Alright," I say softly to Riza and Edward. "I think we should turn ourselves in. There'll be less chance of us getting hurt—"
"Yeah, right!" Edward yells, charging forward.
I gape at him before shaking my head as the rage builds within me. There's just enough time for me to shout;
"Goddammit, Fullmetal!"
The guns fire.
SNAP!
"Ah, s***!"
I drop my arm from it's extended position, clutching my side gently and letting out a shuddering, painful breath. Sitting up is probably one of the most excruciating things I can do to myself right now.
This is the third time tonight I've woken up trying to kill the wall.
"Ouch…" I reach out with my right elbow, leaning back on it and easing myself onto the ground as slowly as I can. Moving makes me dizzy.
"Aah…" I huff, closing my eyes and breathing quick and light to minimize the amount of movement my chest makes. Feels like there's a great lump of rock sitting on my chest.
I open my eyes and turn my head to the left.
Riza's blonde hair blurs before my eyes. I've moved my head too fast, and now everything's sliding in and out of focus and rippling like I'm looking at it through water. I hate water.
Feel like I'm gonna throw up.
Groaning, I crane my neck and clench my jaw, rubbing my bare feet against the ice-cold floor at the end of my mattress. "Urgh…"
Close your eyes, Roy… Close your eyes, I tell myself. You'll feel better.
I listen to myself, unintentionally twitching my head from left to right.
"Oi. Bastard. Open your eyes."
Open your eyes.
The same voice. What?! That's… That's crazy! It was him?!
I force open an eye and look at Edward, who's staring down at me and scowling. "You're not dying, are you?"
I don't respond, too busy trying to endure the pain and nausea.
Edward stretches his left hand (and right, seeing as how they're shackled) forward, flinching a little, and touches the back of it to my forehead, frowning. "Well, that'd be why. You're burning up."
He blows out his cheeks, sighing. "I don't know the first thing about treating something like this. All I know is that you gotta cool down. So…"
He uses his other hand to pick up the whole weight of the shackles, since his auto-mail isn't functioning properly, then moves it to set the metal prosthetic gently on my forehead. I can feel a couple trailing wires, and I'm pretty sure he's only got two and a half fingers left, but it really does feel nice and cold against my burning skin.
It's freezing. It's freezing, and Edward hasn't complained once. I call him all kinds of names, like pipsqueak, shrimp-cake, shorty, obnoxious little squirt, irritating bean-sprout, loud, grumpy, hot-headed, rash…
But really, he's strong. Really strong, inside and out. I mean, if one were to consider all the events in his life and count out how many terrible things had ever happened him, one would probably feel like giving up and get depressed thinking about it.
I look at Edward with one eye. He's still scowling, looking stubbornly at the opposite wall. Ha. I think he must be embarrassed to be helping me.
Not like I can talk though.
I'm just as embarrassed as he is. I mean, I'm supposed to be his superior, and yet here I am lying on the floor and letting him tend to me.
Ffft. The world is dumb.
Just. Dumb.
Before I know it, I'm asleep again.
"So. You know the rules, dog. I'll go o'er 'em again, like yesterday, even though I'm sure a smart woman like yerself can remember. Ya can either bark, or we torture it outta ya. So, are ya gonna howl, dog?"
I sat stoic and silent, my nonchalant hazel eyes fixed on the face of my captor. I'm bound hands and feet, sitting on a dodgy wooden stool in a dark room.
I raise one lone eyebrow in a wordless challenge, enraging the man further.
He isn't handsome, with skin reddened by years of endless snow and oversized tomato of a nose. His teeth are yellowed and the rest of his face eerily resembles a bulldog.
"No."
With that one simple word, I nearly manage to send the man into a fit. Good.
We'd been through this the night before as well, the ugly brute trying to beat the information out of me with huge, bony fists.
He was clever, though, managing to do it in such a way that he only left bruises underneath my clothes so that Roy and Edward wouldn't notice. He took me out in the middle of the night last night, when they were asleep. He'd threatened to bring them out and put them through the same if I told them.
Even if he hadn't said that, I still wouldn't have told them. Especially not Roy.
Now, Roy is a smart man (most of the time), I'll give him that. But as soon as it's got anything to do with his comrades being hurt, he loses any sense of logic; all that strategy, science and cunning he's practised over the years fly right out the window to be replaced by a deep-seated grudge.
As soon as the words left my mouth, he'd be struggling to get up and give those men a piece of his mind. Which, in his current condition and without gloves, is most definitely a bad idea.
I'm not sure what Edward would do, but I am sure he wouldn't sit by quietly. Even if he did manage to figure that he couldn't physically get at my torturers, he'd definitely scream and shout for a long while.
And besides, if Edward knew, Roy would know.
But the added threat of them being beaten as well told me I most certainly couldn't let them figure it out.
"Alright, y'ignorant cur, if you won't talk Imma just hafta beat it outta ya."
Thump!
The first blow has me off the seat and on the floor. This one was right in the back of my head, under my hair.
"I'm a-gonna ask, and you're a-gonna answer, girl. That's how it works. For ev'ry question ya don't answer, Imma hit ya. Understand?"
"Yes. As you said, I am a smart woman. It doesn't take much to figure out the plans of a barbarian such as yourself."
Whack!
Right in the stomach. Oh, how I wish I could fight back. But I've already tried; the man tossed me back down like a wet rag, and with this leg remaining in a standing position is difficult for me anyway.
"So, girl, what's your name?"
"That's classified. I'm not allowed to tell you."
Smack! A slap to the face as I rise to my knees.
"And yer commander? The li'l pup in there? What's they called?"
"Also classified. I could give their code names, but I don't particularly want to."
Bam! He's mad now; I can tell because he's no longer aiming for under the clothes. That kick hit right in the side of the face. And, after a full night of this yesterday, I can understand why he's upset.
"Tell. Me. Your. Name!" he growls, the full extent of the stench of his breath reaching me as he grabs me by the hair and holds my face in front of his.
I spit on him.
"Ack!" I'm thrown against the wall opposite, sliding down onto my side. I push myself up shakily, standing up to face him.
I will not remain on the floor as if I'm worthless, as if I have no pride, dignity or honour, as if he is superior to me.
As if I'm some kind of animal.
This goes on for a couple of hours, and by the end, I'm sure every inch of skin underneath my uniform must be covered in bruises.
I'm pretty sure all the info he's managed to gather so far is that I'm quite tenacious.
Finally, he shoves a blindfold over my eyes and pulls me through the corridors back to the cell I share with Edward and Roy. He whips the thing off my eyes and shoves me into the room, locks the door and leaves.
I stumble in, clutching my side.
My ankle is indeed, most definitely broken, and now it's hurting pretty fiercely. Luckily, I managed to keep it out of the way of most of the man's blows, so it should be more or less okay. The splint Shaydin secured it with has remained in place as well. Good.
I make my way over to my bed and discover something surprising on the way. I'd noticed Edward had moved closer to Roy and fallen asleep there, but I myself was half-asleep when they'd grabbed me and I hadn't noticed exactly why he was there.
I smile wearily as I see Edward's beaten auto-mail resting gently on Roy's forehead, and the shackles having been slid down to the middle of his forearm so they didn't get in the way.
I drag myself over to my mattress and settle there, utterly exhausted and in pain. I close my eyes on the sight of the two sleeping peacefully beside each other, both blissfully unaware of my watching eyes.
It's been about a week, I think, since the night Edward helped me. The morning after, he'd moved the whole way over to the corner of the room again.
He's like some wild animal, I think, and you have to build up some sense of trust before he'll come near you.
I no longer have to turn my head at the speed of snail, so I'll suppose this means I no longer have a concussion, and Edward has returned to his usual, snarky, annoying self. That's good, I reckon. In some way, shape or form.
There's one thing that does concern me about him, though. He's jumpy. Moody. Too reserved. And there's a lag time of roughly three and a half seconds between the uttering of the word 'short' and his eruptions of apoplectic rage.
The Lieutenant is unusually quiet as well, even for her. I'm a little worried about that.
Shaydin has turned up a few times in the week, and he appears to be happy with how my wounds are healing. He says it's the fastest he's ever seen an infected cut start to clear up, and that my fever's definitely fading.
I told him I was an impatient person.
He and Riza spent a long time together talking, which I happily broke up by sliding myself between them and giving the medic a mild death glare.
I think he understood.
Edward's arm is healing well and now he's taken to furiously trying to remove the shackles he's wearing. He couldn't scratch a circle onto them, with his hands (or teeth, so he's found) and had resorted to rubbing them along the floor, stating that he'd wear them away eventually.
This was up until Riza and I forbade him from it because the noise was atrocious.
Anyway, most of our meals have consisted of bread and water or milk, with the occasional cold soup or meat. It wasn't fun trying to make Edward have a drink on the day they brought milk, I'll tell you that much.
Anyway, I've decided that today I'm going to try sitting up.
I'm tired of lying here belly up on the floor like some kind of silly old ragdoll. Feels exposed and I don't like it.
I slip my left hand to my side, wincing at the ache in my formerly dislocated shoulder and try to push myself up on my elbows.
"Colonel! What are you doing?!" Riza's voice shoots across the room from where she's currently redressing Edward's shoulder with the bandages Shaydin left.
"Mnf," I grunt.
She hands Edward his bandages and limps over as fast as she can, but not fast enough. I'm already sitting.
"Ta-da," I pant, grinning but cringing a little at the same time. That hurt.
She shakes her head at me, sighing. "Please don't rush yourself, sir."
I never imagined there'd be a day where I'd count managing to sit up an achievement.
Edward gives a sort of smirk, and he finds a way to look both bemused, impressed, humoured and relieved at the same time. Except for the spark of anxiety behind his smile, a tiny glint of rust in gold eyes.
I don't know if it's for me or something else.
Later that day, Riza waves us over to Edward's corner, glancing up to make sure our lazy guard is still being lazy.
He is.
Let me tell you something, if that man was on my platoon, I'd be hammerng some diligence into him quick - I'm the only person allowed to slack on my team. I need the rest to do the work.
Oh, yes, and I suppose havig organised, responsible troops to fight for out nation might be a helpful factor too.
"Alright," Riza says quietly. "A while ago, I asked Shaydin if he'd help get us out of this place."
I, propped against a wall at this point, give her a stare. "What? You—You what?"
Riza makes shushing movements with her hands. "It's okay; I made sure he was on our side. Don't worry about betrayal. He was never actually with the rebels to begin with."
I gape at her. "But… But still…! You shouldn't have just… They could have… You should have gotten my permission first."
"You were unconscious," she deadpans. "You were unconscious because you 'were sleepy'."
"Point to Riza," Edward says solemnly, closing his eyes all-knowingly and nodding. "The Flame has been burned."
I glare at him before raising a hand and smooshing my fist into his face. "I am Colonel Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist. I will be Fuhrer. Burning things is how I make a living. Your argument is henceforth invalid and rejected."
He says nothing, too busy being smooshed by the awesome power of my fist. Then he utters, "You are also unable to stand, have no flame alchemy, and are more or less useless."
"Gak!" The heavy weight of something that feels suspiciously like helplessness and self-depreciation slams into my head and I double over.
"Enough you two!" hisses Riza, slapping my hand off Edward's face. I shake the unknown object off my head (I watch it fly across the room and discover it is the word 'useless') and look at her.
"Yes?"
"He's agreed to send an S. O. S. message to Eastern Command for us."
"Did you send it in—"
"Yes, it's in our frequency and code."
"And it gives—"
"Our approximate coordinates supplied by Shaydin."
"And you sent for—"
"At least enough soldiers to take one hundred and fifty men."
I struggle to think of anything else she might have forgotten. A thought hits me and I straighten.
"Yes, I've included a request for a pair of ignition gloves. I'm sure Lieutenant Colonel Hughes will remember where they're stored."
Lieutenant Hawkeye knows everything. How is that? How does she know everything? It baffles me.
"I've sorted it all, sir," she says firmly.
I search her face for a few seconds before breaking into my characteristic smirk. "You have a wonderful ability to get things done fast and effectively, do you know that, Lieutenant? Good job."
"Thank you, sir," she says with a salute. "My apologies for not informing you of my plan earlier."
"Well," Edward says with a wide, toothy yawn. "I suppose all that's left is to try and heal as fast as possible while we wait for the cavalry charge."
I nod. "Yes. I s'pose so. And didn't I tell you we'd find a way out of this?"
"Technically, the Lieutenant found a way out, but whatever," Edward responds, shrugging. "I just hope Al doesn't get too worked up over it."
"I wouldn't worry," Riza breaks in. "Alphonse is well aware that you can handle yourself. It's the reverse I'm more concerned about."
"What do you mean?" Edward cocks his head, puzzled.
"Remember the time Alphonse went missing for a day?" I say, smoothing out my hair.
Edward's face immediately becomes devoid of all emotion and he dully states, "What about it?"
"You went mad," Riza and I state in unison.
"He's a seven-foot suit of armour. What harm could possibly have befallen him?" she says.
"The kid's near invincible. He's an alchemist, plus he's got crazy skill in hand-to-hand, not to mention quite an intimidating appearance," I add.
"Plus, we were in the middle of a populated area and he'd only been gone for just over six hours."
"And he did say he might be a while."
"But he's Al!" Edward protests. "Al! Alphonse! He's just…Al."
The boy lapses into silence looking at his boots. "He's Al."
Riza and I exchange a glance.
"So," I begin with a slightly sarcastic undertone. "He's Al. This much we have figured out. This makes it different how, exactly?"
"It's hard to explain," Edward mumbles. "It's different 'cause he's Al."
"Elaborate," I order.
"He's younger than I am. I'm his older brother."
"That's been established."
"And I don't like it when I don't know where he is."
"Because…?"
"Because I can't protect him if I don't know where he is. It's scary, not knowing. He could be anywhere. Anything could happen and I wouldn't even know."
"I see," I said, even though I sort of didn't. I think Riza did though. "Pretend I don't get it and explain further."
"Put it this way, sir," Riza starts. "If I were to suddenly be announced M. I. A., how would you feel?"
And I understood. "Oh. Okay."
"Get it?" Edward asks, fiddling with the velcro strap on his shoe.
"Yeah," I respond, nodding. "I get it now."
"It's more like an instinct than anything else," Edward mutters. "And I'm always edgy when I'm not with him."
That much I'd seen for myself. The quietness, the jumpiness, the moodiness, the even more stubbornly stoic attitude…
All were signs of the nerves Edward had just described.
We all fall silent.
Edward plays with his shoes.
An owl hoots somewhere.
I look at the ceiling.
The fire outside the cell flares unexpectedly.
I sigh.
Edward fiddles with his remaining fingers.
There's a loud curse and a snap as he breaks one.
And now we're the ones lying in wait for our prey to fall into our trap.
Like animals.
"This is the last straw, girl. Talk!"
"No."
My friendly torturer has taken me out for the fourth time since the night I found Edward at Roy's side. It's been a week and a half, I think. This time, however, I'm tied to a rickety wooden chair.
"Fine! Fine!" he throws his hands up in the air in an exasperated manner and stomps over to the door. "Norm'ly I wouldn't consider usin' a tactic so low down..."
"You? Low down? No way," I bite out sarcastically.
He gives me a glare. "But for someone as stubborn's you, I'm a-gonna make an exception."
I cock my head slightly, immediately suspicious.
He slams a fist against the door, shouting, "Bring the runt in!"
I'm terrified by the words I know are going to come roaring through that door.
"WHO ARE YOU CALLING A RUNT SO SMALL YOU NEED TO GET DOWN ON THE FLOOR TO HEAR, YOU BRUTE?!"
"No…" I whisper weakly. "Edward, no…"
The boy in question is shoved into the room, stumbling forward and glaring at anything and everything. His eyes widen as they meet mine.
"Lieutenant?!"
I return his gaze, a horrible sense of foreboding flooding my body.
"Now, will ya bark and whine, or'll I hafta beat the pup?"
I shake my head slowly, still staring at Edward.
He seems to grasp the situation, the confused shade of his expression fading into cold realisation. His face hardens.
"Don't tell him anything! Don't say a single word! No matter what he does, don't you dare talk!"
I nod faintly, anxiety rising in my already cramped chest.
From this point onward, Edward takes the bashing. After about five hits, he jumps back up and swings his his shackled arms at that beast of a man's head.
I know from experience that fighting back is a bad idea.
Edward yelps as he finds himself thrown roughly at the wall, trying to protect his shoulder from the impact.
Tomato (as I have inventively dubbed him) kicks him back across the room where he skids to a stop at my feet.
His eyes flicker up to my face and he mutters, "Not a word", before staggering back to his feet.
I wince at every blow he's belted with, biting my lip to keep from shouting for them to stop.
Finally, an hour later, Tomato gives a frustrated roar and gives up, storming from the room.
We're left in painful silence, the only noise Edward's grunting as he pushes himself up. He sits up and looks at the door the monster left through, blows a stray strand of hair off his face and huffs, "Who took a dump in his breakfast?"
I wrench my hands around in the ropes that bind me, but fail to loosen them. "Come here," I order with a flick of my head.
Edward complies, limping over and standing in front of me. "Yeah?"
"Are you okay? You're not seriously hurt anywhere, are you? None of your cuts opened?"
"No," Edward says with a shrug. "I managed to shield myself with my auto-mail for the most part. I'll have a few nice new bruises for sure and Winry's gonna beat me to a bloody pulp, but apart from that…there's…"
Suddenly Edward's on the floor. "...nothing…"
"Ed! A-are you okay?! What's wrong?!"
He shifts his head a little. "I think I finally broke myself. I can't move."
I sigh. "You're just exhausted."
"Oh."
Clack.
We both give a start as the door opens again and someone steps in. We relax a little as we see it's Shaydin.
"Evening," he greets us with his usual softness.
I return it, but Edward gives a simple "Nf."
The young medic drifts over, case in tow. He unties me from the chair and helps Edward to his feet.
"You look wrecked," he comments as we hoist the boy's limp frame onto his feet. He stands unsteadily, leaning heavily against my side. "And Miss Hawkeye, I sent the message as you requested."
We make our way back to the cell, Shaydin telling us he didn't think blindfolds necessary for the two corridors we needed to traverse.
He opened the door and we went in, all cringing at the sight that awaited us.
Burning black eyes, teeth glinting in a half-drawn snarl, a nose screwed up with anger.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
The only noise is the soft drumming of fingers on cold concrete.
"Where. Were. You?" Roy growls, finally breaking the silence, his tone low and his voice lit with impatient anger. He's sitting against the far wall of the cell, glaring at us.
The rage is imminent in his eyes, but I'm sure we can all see the fear and anxiety behind it. The coal-black depths burn across the room at the three of us, both Edward and Shaydin wilting under the ferocity of his look and tone.
I don't reply, simply keeping my eyes locked with his as best I can.
"Respond!" he snaps, slamming a palm on the ground without flinching. "That's an order!"
"Yes, sir," I say softly, helping Edward over to his mattress. Shaydin hovers near the doorway, looking unsure as to whether he should stay and check us or leave whilst Roy's temper flares.
"We had a meeting with a violent, beastly man who very much wanted information on our military," I say quietly, neatening up Edward's hair for him and keeping my face as unreadable as I am able. "That's all."
"So you were tortured." Roy's fury sets his words alight with malice, and I get the feeling he could set something on fire even without his gloves. "Did he get anything out of you?"
"No, sir."
"Good. How many times has he pulled you out for this without me knowing?"
"Six. They only took Fullmetal this once, though."
"And they beat you? Both of you?"
"…Yes, sir."
"And lastly, why was I not informed of this?!"
There goes all that hard-earned logic. "They threatened to hurt you if I told you. Both of you. And in your condition, I didn't think we needed that."
"If it makes any difference," Edward adds. "I didn't know about this either."
Roy ignores him, instead leaning forward and putting all his weight on his left hand. Before I nor anyone else can stop him, he's on his feet.
"I'm going to burn them," he says decisively. "Slowly and painfully. Each and every individual one of them. Who was he? What did he look like?"
He shoots metaphorical spears across the room with his eyes and Edward shrinks away from him. "I… I didn't really see. It was dark…."
I nod. "I'm sure they'll all get what they deserve eventually."
"I'm going to make that eventually into a right now."
"Without gloves?" I retort, abandoning my efforts in brushing Edward off to stand and face him. "Without gloves, barely able to stand and with two broken ribs? How do you hope to pull that off?"
"I don't know! But I will! You just watch." He steps forward, surprisingly swiftly for someone in his physical position (his limp is barely distinguishable and you would never be able to tell his chest is even hurt), and points at Shaydin, who has now moved directly into the centre of the doorframe to deny Roy passage. "You. Boy. Move. Now."
You know he's serious when he gets down to single syllabic sentences.
"I am afraid I cannot comply," the medic responds, his voice gentle and quiet, as usual.
Roy bares his teeth in a blatant snarl, taking another step forward. "If you don't move, so help me, I'll—"
I grab his shoulder tightly, bringing his wild glare back to me. "Sir. I advise that you don't take that course of action."
"Refusal to obey your commanding officer, Lieutenant?" he murmurs, his voice a complete contrast to the burning black abysses of his eyes. "That's not like you. Not like you at all."
I maintain my composure. "When the situation calls, I am prepared to take the necessary actions to protect the mission and my comrades."
Roy's eyes flare. "Really? You know you can get—"
"You two!" Edward shouts. "Stop fighting right now!"
Both of us fall silent and watch Edward out of the corners of our eyes. He's sitting bolt-upright, looking furious and yelling at us.
"How the hell do you think we're gonna make it, all locked up in this tiny little room if we're all snapping at each other's heels?! Yes, bastard, you are staying in this room, and yes Lieutenant, the brute with the tomato for a nose will be burned to a crisp the moment the opportunity arises! Until then, both of you kiss and make up, then shut up, then sit down and stop acting like a couple of wild animals and more like civil humans!"
He breaks off panting, then fixes us with a gleaming golden death glare that even Roy himself melts under.
We both went a little red in the face at the 'kiss and makeup' line, but calm down and become quiet nonetheless.
I nod, removing my hand from Roy's shoulder and he immediately loses the stiffness he'd previously exhibited, slouching and closing his eyes.
The fire has burnt out.
"Right," he mumbles, trudging back over to his mattress and sitting down, facing away from us all. He places his head in his hands and sighs heavily. "Apologies. I was being stupid. All I wanted was to go and hurt whoever had touched you two. It was just the anger doing all the acting…like an animal. Sorry."
He falls silent, running his hands through his hair and closing his eyes again.
Edward's brow is creased, and his gaze is fixed stubbornly on Roy's deflated form. "Better."
"I'm being told off by a kid," comes Roy's muffled, dejected voice. "This is definitely a low point in my life."
I make my way to my own mattress and settle there, crossing my legs and looking at Shaydin. "Are you going now or would you like to check us?"
"I will check you. I might as well, seeing as I am here now."
He heads for me first, probably since I seem the least volatile, and starts with my ankle. He says he's shocked by my endurance, and that I really shouldn't be able to walk.
I told him I had a high tolerance.
Having to put up with a large group of immature men has that sort of effect on you. Especially when the leader of said group is none other than one Roy Mustang.
He gave me some ointment to put on the cuts and bruises all over my body before moving on. He heads towards Edward, but all he manages to get the boy to do is show him the wound on his shoulder before he promptly falls asleep.
And that's probably a good thing, taking into consideration the fact that he's young so he needs a lot of sleep, it's the middle of the night, and he's utterly exhausted beyond comprehension.
When he gets to Roy, he comments on how he's glad of how rapidly the man is improving, but only gets a few half-hearted 'mm-hm's in reply.
He turns Roy's limp hands around to inspect his skin, looks at his leg and changes the dressing, checks his broken wrist is still setting right (it is; the splints he makes are strong. I can tell as the one supporting my ankle is still intact, even after so many beatings) and takes a look at his broken ribs.
Roy stares blankly at his hands the whole time.
Shaydin announces that all of us are healing at an astounding rate, and he's surprised we haven't sustained extra injuries from the interrogations. He adds in a lower tone that our soldiers should be here in just over a week.
So, all in all, the outlook is bright.
But I fear for the next time someone comes to take me away.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
"Remember, don't kill 'em! We need 'em as hostages!"
There's a flash of alchemical reaction and suddenly Edward's created a concrete wall in front of us to act as shield against the bullets.
Riza and I dash for it, slamming into it and ducking down. I can't see Edward anymore, so I suppose he's gone over to take them on.
Riza pops above the wall a couple of times to take a few shots at the men. I can hear shouts as she hits a few, but it's pointless. We're so heavily outnumbered, she doesn't stand a chance.
They're just toying with us.
I shoot around the side of the barricade, but I'm out of ammo in a short time. I can hear the sounds of Edward's fighting, but the second I try to take a look, a bullet whizzes by my ear.
"Okay," I say to Riza as she ducks back down. "It's risky, but I've got a plan."
I hazard a glance up and catch a glimpse of Edward's red coat flapping around in the midst of the enemy, and flashes of light illuminate the room as he transmutes.
"I reckon my gloves are dry, but there's no way I can take aim without either burning down the building or hitting Fullmetal. And you know those guys are shooting to take us down, but not to kill us. They need us alive. There are only twenty or so, after all. We might be able to bring them down in hand-to-hand."
Riza nods, her face lined with worry. "Are you saying you want us to run right out there?"
I nod. "They can't shoot at us in a close fight; they'll risk hitting their own."
She sighs, but grips her gun and nods in return. "Roger that, sir. When will we go?"
I frown at the barricade. "…Now!"
We leap out of hiding and sprint for the rebels, Riza shooting the whole time.
Edward is flying about the group like some kind of acrobat, clapping his hands and leaving blocks and hands of cement sticking out off the walls, floor and even the ceiling. I can see blood dripping from his body, though.
I feel a slight twinge in my right arm, but I ignore it. The adrenaline of the situation sets my heart racing and I bodily slam right into the closest man, shouting at the top of my lungs.
Riza stays at my back and we fight in a tag team formation, both of us keeping a subconscious eye on Edward.
There are about five men left standing apart from us when ten more flood into the building, guns blazing.
Edward reacts fast, slapping the ground and sending a wave of concrete rippling across the room and knocking them all off balance.
We try to evade the bullets as best we can, but I can see blood pouring from my arm, and immediately the pain kicks in.
I've been shot.
Luckily for us, there are less guns in this group, most of them being armed with blades. Edward quickly transmutes his arm and charges for them flipping and zig-zagging to evade whatever bullets are being shot at him.
Once again, my opportunity for flames is eliminated.
I shrug and follow Edward, Riza at my side. The ten fresh enemies surge forward and I allow for Riza to take aim and fire away at them before she stops to conserve her ammunition and we go back to our close combat.
By this stage, blood is streaming down Riza's arm from a bullet graze and there are bruises and cuts all over her skin.
I can now tell I've been hit in the arm and in the leg. There are bullet grazes all over me, and there's a nice big slash on my leg.
I start trembling as the adrenaline wears off and the exhaustion and blood loss sets in. But I keep going anyway, determined not to leave the whole fight to Riza.
"Sir, are you able to continue fighting?" asks Riza, panting.
"Affirmative, Lieutenant," I tell her, striking out with an elbow to hit a man in the face. "And you?"
"I can keep going."
"Fullmetal!" I shout. To my disappointment, I don't get a response. "Fullmetal!"
"Whaddaya want, bastard?!"
Phew.
"You okay on your own?!"
"Hell yeah! I'm grea—S***!"
"Fullmetal? Fullmetal?! Fullmetal!"
I whirl around just in time to see a huge, muscled man swinging a wild hammerfist at Riza's head. Her back is turned to him; she's got her hands full with two other men.
"Lieutenant, look out!" I yell, and jump for her.
"SIR!"
Wham!
How'd the ceiling get where the floor is? Holy crap, what just happened…? It just moved…without even me moving…and I just…ow…
What the hell?
The whole world is blurring and twisting around me as I try to find the floor. I reach out forward and claw at the concrete, staggering to my feet, my ears ringing like fire alarms. Fire alarms…
"Ugh…"
"Colonel!" Riza's voice echoes in my ears as I try to figure out where I am and what I'm trying to do.
Who are these people? Why is everything…so blurry…and why can't I… Why is the world on a tilt?
I stumble sideways, clutching my head. Fear rockets through my body as I try to work out why I'm so dizzy.
"L…Lieutenant…!" I call out, watching her take on another man.
"Colonel!" she shouts to me. "Are you okay?! What happened?!"
I stumble again, tripping this time and don't even feel anything as I land on my chin. I can see Edward's face. He's down too, staring at me.
He's mouthing something, but I can't hear his words over the ringing. I blink several times, trying to bring the room into focus.
What on earth…? Did I just… Did a bomb just go off or what? Bombs. Bombs and guns… Like Ishbal… Like the war…
War - I have to flame them, right…? That's what I have to do, isn't it? Just kill them…?
I stretch forward my hand, shaking with effort, and try to angle my hand into the position I need. Almost… Almost there…
"Mustang, don't do that! Stop!"
It's Edward shouting at me to stop. Wait, Edward? No, if he's here, then this isn't the war. What am I thinking?! I could have killed us all with a flame like that!
"Fullmetal…" I call to him softly. "Fullmetal, what's going on…? Why can't I stand…? Why am I so…"
Dizzy?
I slide my arms underneath my chest and try to push myself up. A heavy weight slams into my back, pushing me down.
"And you'll stay down there, if you know what's good for you," says the man on me.
I roll myself over, snatching his leg and pulling him down with me. I swing a punch at his head and it hits home, but then I'm pulled backwards and a foot is stomped down onto on my side.
A great, burning pain flows over my chest and I let out a sharp cry. Half the world is covered by fuzzy darkness, and the rest I can see is smudged and impossible to make out.
"Colonel!"
I strike out randomly in futile attempts to hit the attackers, but it's like fighting shadows. I can't see, can't hear, and everything is just white pain.
Bam!
I shout again as another bullet lodges deep into my arm.
"Stop shooting! He's done for!"
An endless barrage of blows hails down on me, and I take swings at anything I can. I'm not done yet! This…isn't…how…it's gonna…end…!
I swipe out one last time, my arm screaming in protest. Something grabs hold of my wrist and forces my shoulder back at an angle it's not meant to go to, and a hot snap of pain drives through me.
I fall limp. I can't do any more.
I crack open one eye and I can just see Edward off in the distance, sprawled on the ground. Someone grabs his hood and lifts him up, shouts at him, but he's already gone.
I shift my glance to Riza. She's still fighting. I'm crushed by my inability to come to her aid. I can't bear to watch her struggle like this. I can't bear to look away.
"Lieu…te…na…nt…" I whisper, hearing my own pulse in my ears and seeing my own blood pool on the ground before me. "Run."
The last thing I see before everything fades away is her eyes watching me; she's shaking her head. "Never."
Clunk.
It's the middle of the night. I jerk awake, angered that I fell asleep whilst pretending to rest. The noise causes me to snap into a sitting position, and I turn my head just in time to see a huge, hulking man grab slap his hand over Riza's mouth and pull her to her feet.
She looks at me, her eyes lit with both fear, horror and shock. But it's not fear for what will happen to her, I can see that. She'll take anything she has to, do anything. She's strong.
It's fear for me, because she knows what I'm about to do.
I can't see Edward anywhere, so they must have already taken him. I leap to my feet as fast as possible and charge for the man's back, a snarl held in my throat escalating to a ferocious cry which sounds almost inhuman.
"Raaargh! Don't you dare touch her!"
THUMP!
SMACK!
THUD!
I land one wild punch on the back of his head before I find myself flying across the tiny room to the back wall.
An agonising bolt of pain burns all around my body, sending a horrible, cramping, stabbing sensation deep into my chest.
"Ugh…" I moan, trying to push myself up but sliding back down into a crumpled heap.
"You stupid idiot!" comes Edward's enraged shout from somewhere in the corridor. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"
As I gasp my breaths in short, painful bursts, the rebel looks back at me with a sadistic, gleeful sneer and growls, "And stay down, ya filthy cur."
As I watch Riza being torn away from the room, my entire body seethes with a deep, sinister unfathomable rage.
All the hatred I thought I was capable of feeling surges as I watched his back disappear down the hallway, and Riza casts an anxious glance back at me.
I'm going to hurt that man in ways he doesn't even know possible.
I wait for three long, difficult hours, having struggled to a sitting position and leaning on the wall I'd previously been thrown against.
Finally, my subordinates are returned to me.
The first thing I do is muster all the strength left in my body and haul myself to my feet to stumble over to them, my heart racing.
"Are you okay?"
SLAP!
Riza lowers her hand, glaring at me. She states coldly,"Yes, sir. I apologise for my breach in etiquette, sir."
I smile a little. "I guess I kinda deserved that…"
"You definitely deserved it. To the moon and back," she says stonily, her face harbouring a dark anger.
Suddenly, it all melts away and is replaced by a flood of relief. "You… You idiot. I was worried sick about you the whole time we were out there! He threw you into a wall!"
I let out a shaky breath. "I was worried about you two, as well."
Edward nods exhaustedly, taking a step forward. "Good job not dying, bastard."
He slaps me on the shoulder and makes a beeline for his bed, collapsing onto it with a pained exclamation. "Geez... They don't hafta be such jerks about it... I mean, if they want intel...they should try asking nicely...then I might...actually...answer..." And with that, he's out like a light.
I reach out with one clumsy hand, now feeling quite tired myself, and pat Riza on the head like I haven't done in many, many years. "Good job. You came back safe and sound... That's all I needed."
That's the last I remember of that night. I think I blacked out.
Head hurts.
I sit up and look around, then lie back down.
Too tired for this. It's still the middle of the freakin' night. Being beaten about again last night was about all I could take. I only vaguely remember it; most of it's just a haze of pain and thoughts of Alphonse.
Alphonse… Where are you? What are you doing? Are you safe? Do you miss me? Do you even know how badly things have gone?
I look around the room again from my lying position, taking in the fact that Roy's face is no longer tense with the effort of dealing with the pain (quite the opposite, actually; if only Hughes were here… The pictures of Roy drooling in his sleep would be all over Eastern Command) and that Riza is lying on her back with her hands balled into loose fists.
I think she might be smiling.
I roll over to go back to sleep, but then I start shivering. Cold.
I look out of the cell door and see that the fire has gone out. That's why it's so cold…
I curl myself in as tight as possible, keeping my arms as close as I can to my body and close my eyes again, hoping to get some more sleep.
But it's so damn cold!
This stupid arm of mine (sorry, Win)… Can't wait 'til I'm finally rid of it. I lie awake for a while longer, shivering like some kind of hyperactive guitar string and cursing under my breath.
My breath itself has already become puffs of fog.
So…cold… Blah. There's no way I can warm up; I don't have extra clothes or blankets or anything. Dammit, dammit, dammit! So frikkin' cold!
"Here."
I jump at the unexpected voice and the feeling of something soft and warm being draped over my shoulders.
My eyes snap open and I turn my head to find Roy standing over me, looking down with a face that betrays nothing.
He almost looks as if he's trying to pretend he didn't just do what he did. I sit up and pull off his jacket, handing it up to him.
"I don't want it," I tell him firmly, but quietly so Riza won't hear. "Keep it. Or better yet, give it to the Lieutenant."
"She's already got a jacket," Roy points out. "And she's not over in the corner freezing her ass off."
"I've got a jacket too," I protest.
"If you won't take it, at least wear it 'til I light a fire," Roy says decisively.
"A fire?" I scoff. "What with?"
"I'm the Flame Alchemist, genius," Roy bites out with a scathing glare in my direction. "I didn't spend half my life studying particle theory, energy transfer and heat conduction, convection and radiation only to figure out how to light fire in one way."
"But what'll you bu—"
"Watch. Just watch."
He drags the spare mattress out of the corner and pulls it over to the space between Riza and me, then sits down for a few seconds to catch his breath.
He walks around the room a few times and gathers some loose rocks.
Then he sets them in a small ring and settles himself beside it. He selects one of the stones and scratches it in a circle within and around the rest of the stones, and adds more marks as he goes.
I crane my neck and make out a salamander and flame amongst several straight lines and triangles. It's a transmutation circle, I think. Yeah, it's his flame alchemy.
"But don't you need a—" I start.
"Shhh."
He tears open the mattress with a loud shhhrip, and I'm surprised the Lieutenant is still sleeping. He reaches into it and starts piling the straw stuffing inside his circle, panting.
"There," he says, huffing a little. "Setup done. Now…"
He picks up his stone again and scratches another circle on the ground. This one is a simple circle, it's one to draw a certain type of element from a mixture.
Roy touches the circle lightly and it flashes, leaving a little dirty grey rock in a small dent within the circle.
"Flint," Roy states dully, picking it up and showing it to me as if it's something I've never seen before.
He duplicates the last sequence and holds up another stone. "Flint."
"Observe." He holds them both above his pile of straw and says, "Friction."
He strikes them together a few times to produce a spark, then lets it settle on the straw before he slaps a hand onto a small section of the circle outside of the stone ring and the straw bursts into flames.
"Behold; fire," he says with a flourish of his hands and a tired smirk. "Not as flashy as I like, but effective nonetheless."
I look at him, surprised. He's better at alchemy than he lets on. But it looks like that last transmutation took a lot out of him; I wouldn't be surprised if he can't move.
"Plus, the straw's a little damp so it won't burn that fast. It should go for a couple of hours at least," Roy explains, his breathing still laboured and his face strained with the exertion. "Oughta keep us warm 'til sleepy-head over there realises his fire's died and lights it up again."
He looks at me and waves his hand in a half-hearted beckon. "C'mon. Drag that thing closer."
I obey, standing up and pulling my mattress across the floor to the small fire. Now I'm situated on the left of it, Roy just in front of it and Riza sleeping off to the right. Roy's mattress is away on Riza's right, so I walk over and fetch it for him.
He gives me a grateful nod and a mumbles, "Thanks."
Sitting on the straw-stuffed thing, he inspects his right wrist, rubbing around the wooden splint tenderly. "Ouch. My wrist hurts now," he says.
I pick up the stone he used to light the fire and inspect it. "So you can transmute. Flint, at least."
"Or something similar," he replies, pursing his lips and placing his chin on his palm. "I'm not exactly sure if it's one hundred percent flint or not... I haven't had to use that method in years." He shrugs. "But it got the job done, and that's all I needed."
He lies down on his back to look at the ceiling. "Hah. That was tiring."
I lie down too, also on my back. My shoulder still stings from the bullet wound and my other arm's auto-mail and it hurts to sleep on. I'm used to it by now, but the bruises on my side are giving me trouble and sleeping on my back seemed the most easiest way to go.
"'Night," I say.
I think Roy mumbled it back, but it might just have been a snore. Either way, it's enough for me.
ALMOST THERE!