Title: The Forged Alchemist
Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist.
Summary: The Homunculus have left Amestris in shambles, and the new Fuhrer is an incompetent who is leading the country to downfall. When all hope is lost, Edward puts to the test a theoretical array, and enter Edwin Auric, the son of Hohenheim of Light, and elder half brother to Edward and Alphonse Elric.
A/N: Ok, just so you know, this chapter is going to have a lot of timeskips. I won't go into detail about what takes place out in the field, so I leave that top your imagination. This will be the last chapter about Ishbal before the story finally gets started.
Chapter 5
February 2, 1896; 1896 Hours
Ishbal
Roy stared at the child huddled against a table a rifle clutched in trembling hands. He swallowed hard, struggling with himself. How was he supposed to kill a child, even if it was one with a firearm? Then the child made his choice for him, fear overcoming his body, and he jerked the rifle up. Roy could only watch in horror as his body acted reflexively, and his fingers snapped, and the child screamed as he was engulfed in flames.
Oh, dear God! How in the hell did Edwin endure it? How could Riza still care so much, watching what he did from her riflescope? How could Maes bear to be near them, knowing what they did firsthand?
A hand fell onto his shoulder and Roy turned to see a grim faced Edwin.
"You asked me a while back how I deal. Well, one of the reasons just arrived. Look outside," the aureate man said through gritted teeth.
"What?" Roy couldn't concentrate, the boy was still screaming…
Edwin seemed to realize the problem, and he tugged off one of his own arrayed gloves and slipped Roy's gloves from his left hand, and pulled it on and snapped. The screaming stopped and the flames, lacking fuel, dissipated. The blonde pulled the glove off and waved his right hand, the array on his own gloves, stitched in off-white, glowed and a breeze whipped up, blowing away the stench of burning meat and carrying through the window the scent of blood and smoke and native night blooming flowers. But the alchemically generated breeze had carried something else through the window…
"Is that… Zolf?" Roy glanced at his golden friend in confusion, taking in the tightness of the skin around golden eyes and the disapproving frown. "Is he laughing?!" Roy knew he was becoming hysterical, but couldn't muster up the strength to care, "Why is he laughing?!"
"Bloodlust and previously dormant sociopathic tendencies," Edwin's voice was tight as he took off Roy's glove and tucked it into the dark haired alchemist's breast pocket and pulled his own glove back on, "The fool has allowed the power he has with the enhancers to go to his head. Not only that, he was already stretched to the breaking point. By the time the amplifiers were handed out, he was already showing signs of obsessive-compulsive disorder and mid range psychosis. Unfortunately, as long as Kimblee's mental state leaves him capable of following orders, we can't do anything about him."
Roy couldn't stop shaking. Edwin's eyes turned gentle, "Come along, Roy." The dark haired alchemist felt some tension in his body vanish at the sound of his name leaving the blonde's lips. Edwin rarely ever used first names for some reason, and the few times he did… "Let's get you back to camp. I'll see if we can't requisition dose of sleeping pills for you just this once."
"I don't think I'll be able to sleep, even with drugs."
A tawny gaze bored into him, and Roy could practically see the gears turning as Edwin turned an idea over in his mind. The blonde must have made up his mind about something as he reached up and placed his flesh hand on Roy's face.
"You'll manage," Edwin smiled sadly, "and if not, I'm sure we'll think of something. After all, what are friends for?"
Roy couldn't help but be confused. "Are you propositioning me?"
Edwin's laughter was one of bitter amusement as he guided Roy out of the now uninhabited house, leaving behind only the memory of its former occupants and the atrocities committed by soldiers within. "Oh, Roy, I'm offering to be your friend by helping you by whatever means necessary. And if that's what you think you need, then I don't mind offering." The dark haired alchemist needed never know that the blonde alchemist was repeating the same words that an older Flame Alchemist had told him once upon a time on a war torn border outpost.
Roy flushed, his hysteria fleeing as embarrassment took hold. "Ah, no thanks."
Edwin felt true pleasure flood him as he noted the hint of whatever was left of innocence in the other alchemist's embarrassment. Yes, no matter how many different ways he pointed out how he coped, Edwin would never tell Roy that this was what was keeping him sane, seeing the people he loved alive and well with even this hint of innocence peeking out from behind swathes of shadows every now and again. He would try to ensure that that little spark could be preserved, so maybe, just maybe, his old friends would not be so drawn and tormented when, in a near future, a cocky brat thoughtlessly delved into bad memories in his quest to save his brother.
~*~
Edwin dropped off Roy at the edges of the camp and took off after being sure that Maes would keep the dark haired alchemist from offing himself. He joined up with the other three alchemists who had tested the amplifiers with him fifteen minutes later.
"Where the hell did you go, Forge?" Rock Grove asked, "One minute you were behind us, the next minute, you're gone!"
"I found a little Flame on the verge of being extinguished," Edwin murmured.
"You should just let him put himself out of his misery, Forge," Corundum murmured.
"I'm not willing to do so," Edwin replied, "I care too much, unfortunately."
"And somehow you're still sane," Goldenlake muttered, "Color me amazed."
"I assure you, Goldenlake, that you are not the only one," Edwin murmured, "I am often amazed at how sane I am myself."
"This conversation is just getting too surreal," Corundum muttered, "I mean, do you really have to talk about going nuts like that?" Edwin smiled and Corundum blanched. "No, don't answer that!" he said hastily, and added, "Come on, let's get this over with."
"Get what over with?" Edwin cocked his head in confusion.
"Forge must've made one adorable brat, doncha think?" Rock Grove whispered.
Goldenlake blanched, "Don't even think about it!" he hissed, "The thought is horrifying!"
"But he had to have been a brat at some point!" Rock Grove argued quietly.
Corundum and Edwin sweatdropped, "I think they've forgotten where we are," Edwin said. Then he added wryly, "I should set off an explosion to remind them that we're in hostile territory."
"Ah, leave them," Corundum shrugged, "They can catch up later."
Edwin blinked and shrugged, and followed Corundum who was making his way down the street, completely disregarding the two quietly arguing alchemists. There was always some lightheartedness somewhere in the muck and darkness of war, and wasn't it just his luck to find himself surrounded by the extreme of both?
~*~
February 8, 1896; 0500 Hours
Ishbal
"What a way to wake a man after several days of little to no sleep," Edwin grumbled as Roy roused him from his bedroll in the tent they shared with Maes.
"You know, Ed," Maes said thoughtfully as he held out a wet towel, "I've seen you napping in some of the oddest places at all times of the day and night, and I know you spend some time in this tent, but I don't think I've ever seen you actually sleep in your bedroll."
"He does sleep in his bedroll," Roy protested, "Or he did, but that was in the beginning."
"With respect," Edwin scrubbed his face with a corner of the towel, "The Brigadier gives me some of the weirdest schedules… In this case, it does not pay to be a son of Hohenheim."
"So, letters from home today with dinner," Roy said with forced cheer, "Anything to look forward to on your end?"
Edwin shook his head, "I heard from my mechanic's wife that my stepmother's sent her a recipe that she wants to try out. How she intends to do that with rationing in place I have no idea. I suspect, though, that Uncle must have called home about my wonky schedule. Why Granny let that get through to Trisha I don't know, she should be resting, not worrying about me." The towel dangled from limp fingers as Edwin frowned, and Roy snatched it from his hand before it could slip and hit the ground.
"Hey," Maes poked the two, "Cheer up! It's letters from home!"
"Ha," Edwin muttered darkly as he deftly twisted his hair into a braid at the nape of his neck and pulled on his boots, studiously ignoring the look his two friends exchanged.
"Ed," Maes started, but stopped when Edwin shook his head at him.
"I have Clinic duty today," the blonde said.
Roy grimaced, "Clinic duty, after all the shit you pulled over the past week? Messy or not, be glad for the soft work!"
Edwin pinned his friend with a baleful look and said, "Yes, but I'm the one who has to deal with the family that lives on the other side of the hill on a daily basis in a warzone. To make things worse, their mother is my mechanic," he threw up his hands in exasperation, "Every visit is, "Oh, Ed! Why must you abuse your automail so?!" or "Oh, Edwin! You haven't been sleeping again! Do you need some pills?" or, "Ed! Why must you be so reckless? The human body only has so much blood and you can't afford to loose it all!" or my all time favorite, "Oh, Eeeeeeddddddddddd! Look at the pictures Mummy sent us! Aren't the children just so cute?!" I simply can't escape!"
He shrugged on his jacket and batted aside the flap and strode outside, leaving Roy and Maes to scramble after him. He stood still long enough to allow the other two soldiers to catch up before moving through the camp in the direction of the civilian clinics. "Not to say I don't love them, I do," Edwin's voice was gentle, "But I don't think they entirely comprehend how hard it is for alchemists out on the field, especially not how high the demand for skilled alchemists is. And we die off in droves every time a lucky insurgent or shell gets past us, and no one seems to care that alchemists, no matter how capable, are still human. It's tiresome."
He grinned Roy, "And there you have my primary coping mechanism, Mustang. I go running to family friends when things get to be too much."
~*~
Edwin was ready to scream. Halfway through clinic duty, the Blood Iron Alchemist decided that, No, the Forge Alchemist is wasted on soft work, he really must be sent out into the frontlines because there are no other alchemists willing or able to walk into an Ishballan Temple in the middle of Service, and walk out unscathed several hours later smelling of smoke and roasting flesh and splattered in blood and dirt and soot and gore with a handgun clutched in a white knuckled hand and a pocketful of bloody and ash coated bullets dug out of the floor and walls and the corpses because there simply was not enough resources to leave perfectly good ammo in an Ishbalite cadaver only for one of their countrymen to dig it out of the corpse to use against Amestrian soldiers.
He was not, however, so caught up in wading through the distasteful task of digging bullets out of cadavers that he did not see the two children hiding behind the statue of Ishballa on the alter. He did not acknowledge them, however, and rather, allowed his eyes to slide over them as though they were not there as the older of the two pulled the younger through a trapdoor. It did not bother him that two of his intended victims had escaped the temple proper. There would be other soldiers somewhere at the other end of the trapdoor to take care of them most likely. Edwin hoped fervently that the soldier that came across the two children would let them go.
~*~
Sheftu was five years old, not on the cusp of adulthood like his brother, but not entirely into the prime years of childhood just yet either. His brother Baki was older than him by six years, and was four years from being a man grown. When someone had entered the Temple during Service, Sheftu had been awed by the gall of that person to come late, and later, when everyone was screaming and there was a terrible loud noise like thunder and the ground shook and rumbled and blood was everywhere, and Baki was pulling him toward Ishballa on the alter and the Priest whispered about the trap door, and mama and papa were sleeping, how strange! Baki had whispered about heretics, and had cursed the pale man with eyes like dessert sand and gold hair, like the sun! then a rock had come out of the Priest's chest, sending him flying, and Sheftu felt a thrill of horror as he realized that the strange man was killing them! Surely he and Baki and that man were not the only ones still alive in Ishballa's Temple? But they must be, because the man had pulled out a knife and was prying little shiny things from the walls and ground and from the bodies of the other people.
Baki pushed him against the wall behind Ishballa and dragged open a trapdoor, and then Sheftu was being pushed toward the trapdoor while Baki whispered, "Hurry, Sheftu! Hurry before he sees us!"
But Sheftu knew it was too late, because he saw the man looking at them, and eyes the color of dessert sand had widened a little bit and the man had stumbled a little. Then the man looked away and continued prying the little silver things out of the bodies and Sheftu was pushed into the trapdoor by Baki. He wondered if he should tell Baki that the man had seen them, but had let them go, but when he remembered the man invading the temple and killing mama and papa and the priest, he decided not to, because Baki was almost a man grown, and even if Baki had seen the same thing Sheftu had, he would probably not believe him.
They came out into the sun to find a dark haired man in blue looking at them. His lips twisted in a grimace as he snapped his fingers, and the world exploded in fire and heat and Baki was screaming and Sheftu was in pain. Then, there was only blessed unfeeling darkness.
~*~
Edwin glanced at Roy as they sat on their respective bedrolls, staring at the entrance to their tent, waiting for Maes to return.
"So much for soft work, huh?" the blonde murmured.
"Two children came through a trapdoor on the perimeter of the grounds," Roy whispered, "I figured that they didn't so much give you the slip as you'd let them go… I was going to pretend I hadn't seen them, but Gran was there watching…"
Edwin stood up, crossed the two feet between them and pinched the dark haired alchemist's ear between his flesh fingers and pulled.
"Owowowowow!!!!" Roy cried, fingers scrabbling at Edwin's hand in a futile attempt to pry the fingers off his ear.
"Shut up, Roy," Edwin sighed. "If the Brigadier was there, then it couldn't be helped. The sin of those two children's deaths lies on him, not you. Understood?" He emphasized this by shaking the Flame, who yelped in pain.
"I get it! Ow! Let go!"
Edwin did exactly that and sat down and laid his head on the Flame's shoulder. "Such things do happen," he murmured, "But really, now is not the time to go all to pieces." He closed his eyes. "There's too much riding on us, on you surviving to change this country, on Hughes to gain you your advantages, and on me to knock down your obstacles. I was given the task, but I'm just the catalyst, but Mustang, you're the King on this board."
"Do I get a say in this," Roy's voice was faintly amused.
"If you won't become Fuhrer, then I will," Edwin yawned, "But you're better looking than I am. Who wants a Fuhrer that's half metal anyway?"
"I would," Edwin could practically hear Roy's smirk as he continued, "But I suspect your sudden whimsy is due to exhaustion. Get over to your bedroll and get some rest, Auric."
"Mm," Edwin replied sleepily, "Think I'll stay here. You make a nice pillow… I had a mentor who used to practice fire alchemy you know… You remind me of him sometimes… Look like him too, pompous, arrogant, womanizing, manipulative, lazy ass bastard that he was…"
"Oh, now I know you're delusional, Auric."
"Mmhmm," Edwin sighed, "Wonder if he was like you when he was our age too…"
"I don't know if I should be flattered or concerned that you're comparing me to this person."
"Flattered, definitely. Royce was a good man, took care of me at the expense of his good name…." Edwin yawned again, "Now shut up and let me sleep. You can dump me on the floor when you get sick of me."
"And get my head ripped off, thanks but no thanks."
His only reply from the blonde on his shoulder was a quiet snore. Roy glanced at the blonde and shook his head in wry amusement.
"Always pushing yourself beyond your limits," he whispered as he lowered the aureate man to the bedroll, "I can't help but think that you might one day kill yourself for some grand ambition that no one understands."
"He's asleep then?"
Roy jerked and spun around. He glowered at Maes who was at the entrance.
"Jeez, Maes!" he hissed, "You scared the hell out of me!"
Maes blinked placidly at the Flame and said gently, "I got here right as he was telling you that you made a good pillow. Ed noticed me and he was halfway to dreamland." He crouched down next to the two alchemists and added, "I hate to do this right after he's fallen asleep, but if we don't go right now, we'll miss the letter distribution."
~*~
February 16, 1896; 2354 Hours
Ishbal
Edwin gently pushed aside the flap of the tent and peeked in to see Maes sitting on his bedroll, cradling Roy's head in his lap. The dark haired alchemist's face was stained with tears.
"Hey, Ed," Maes murmured.
Edwin scraped the underside of his boots free of mud on the rubble beside the tent before stepping in and crouching next to the two men. "What was it this time?"
"You know how some doctors treated the Ishbalan wounded as well as Amestrian?"
"Yeah?" the word was wary.
"Brigadier General Gran had a whole slew of doctors executed for caring for Ishbalans. Called it treason…"
Edwin's face paled. "No."
"He forced Roy to execute the couple in Clinic D…"
Edwin shook his head as he got to his feet, "No…."
"Ed… It's not his fault."
"Dammit, Maes!" Edwin hissed, "The Rockbells were the family on the other side of the hill! Their daughter plays with my brothers! My automail is Rockbell automail!"
"You knew this might happen eventually, isn't that why you kept telling them to not get caught? Ed…"
Edwin shook his head and rose. "Later, Maes. When I'm not busy suppressing the irrational urge to roast him." He performed a perfect about face and marched out of the tent.
Back in the tent, Maes looked down to find that Roy was awake and new tears were streaming down his face.
"Roy?"
"He'll never forgive me…" the dark haired alchemist whispered.
Maes sighed as he hugged his friend closer. He knew that Edwin had known for a while that Roy would kill the Rockbell couple, and that Ed had forgiven Roy for it a long time ago. Maes frowned. He knew that Ed wouldn't blame Roy, but the man in question didn't. He hadn't anticipated such a violent reaction from Ed though, but it figured that the aureate alchemist would be much more affected this time. As Roy continued to weep quietly, Maes hoped fervently that Ed would get a hold of himself and tell Roy that he had his forgiveness soon, or Roy really would fall apart completely if he was allowed to believe one of his friends had left him entirely.
~*~
February 17, 1896; 1335 Hours
Ishbal
Roy was exhausted and miserable. Auric had not returned from wherever he had gone to grieve and Maes had left for his patrol as soon as the sun had risen. The bespectacled man wouldn't be back until dusk. And only Auric knew when Auric would return, although Roy was sure the man was requesting a reassignment right about now. He was alone.
Suddenly, there was the sound of boot steps on loose, dry sand, and a shadow grew on the tent wall as whomever was outside approached. Roy sighed. Just another alchemist back from a bloodbath somewhere. Whomever it was would walk past the tent on their way to their bedroll and their fair share of nightmares. It was probably too much to hope that it was Auric coming to tell him he was forgiven because it wasn't his fault like he always had in the past. The shadow stopped in front of the tent and Roy felt his heart sink as a gloved hand shoved the flap aside and Auric stepped in, his face expressionless.
"If you're going to roast me, get it over with," Roy muttered into his blanket.
Auric snorted, "Oh, you just wish I was here to roast you. Get up, Flame."
No response. Edwin frowned. Hawkeye had once told him that while Mustang got to be gloomy and reticent whenever he started brooding, he had been worse in Ishbal. Worse was putting it lightly. The man was downright pathetic.
The one eyed Brigadier General that Edwin had known materialized in front of him and murmured, 'Pot. Kettle. I was there with you in the early days of Drachma remember?'
'Fuck off, Mustang,' he growled mentally, 'I'm a bit busy dragging your younger self out of a funk here.'
'I'm a figment of your imagination, Fullmetal. You created me to respond the way you remember the Flame Alchemist used to. Or will. Or was it does? Hmm… Rather confusing isn't it?'
'Getting off track, Mustang! And stop distracting me!'
The visualization of an older, more jaded Roy Mustang laughed as he vanished. 'Very well, Fullmetal. You know where to find me if you need me…"
Edwin sighed. "You're pathetic, Mustang, you know that? Get up."
Still no response and Edwin crossed his arms over his chest in irritation. He could see the man's dark eyes looking at him, so he definitely wasn't asleep. "Don't make me manhandle you into an upright position, Mustang," he growled, "I'm in no mood to deal with your theatrics today. You've orphaned a little eight year old girl and killed my only link to home that I could trust in this entire godforsaken dessert. Don't you think you should show some professional courtesy and at least sit up and look at me when I'm talking to you?"
Roy swallowed hard. Damn the man for his logic. When he put things in that perspective, good manners dictated that he would have to respond. He breathed out heavily and sat up, and blinked as the tent swayed and spun around him. A pair of boots came into his vision and tawny eyes entered his line of sight as Auric crouched next to his bedroll and cool fingers splayed over his forehead.
"No fever," Auric murmured, "When was the last time you ate, Mustang?"
Good question. When was the last time he'd eaten? Roy tried to remember. Oh, right. Breakfast, a very early breakfast, the day that he'd… He choked off the thought.
Auric sighed impatiently as he placed his hand on his knee. "Damn you Mustang. Don't you know how to take care of yourself?"
Oh. Had he said that out loud?
Auric rolled his eyes, "I can't, in good conscience, lambast you when you're in this state. Get up, get dressed, and we're going to get you some food. Once I'm sure you're not about to faint, then I'll yell at you."
Couldn't he do that just as well here? Get it over with?
"You are delusional from hunger, Mustang," Auric snapped, "and I would like for you to be coherent when I yell at you for being an absolute idiot. Now stop spewing every damned thought that crosses your mind and get up."
Um… When just sitting up made him dizzy?
Edwin threw his hands into the air in frustration as the Flame made a confused remark about being dizzy and stalked out of the tent. He snagged the first Corporal he saw and sent him to the kitchens to get a cup of broth and toast for Mustang. He sighed as the corporal ran off. This was not how his conversation with Mustang was supposed to go.
He turned and studied the entrance of the tent speculatively. But who would have thought though? He'd never imagined that at any point in his life, he'd have the capacity to destroy Roy Mustang. Sure, if he was careful and caught the man by surprise, he'd be able to take him down either with a gun or alchemy, but never, in his wildest dreams, had he ever imagined he'd be able to make or break Roy Mustang.
But he had the power now. At some point in the past year, he'd somehow become someone who could either stop Mustang's development as a soldier, alchemist, and person, or he could actually build the man up.
How had that happened?
"Forge?"
Edwin turned and blinked in surprise to find a harried looking Tim Marco behind him, clad in civilian clothes and carrying a suitcase.
"Crystal Alchemist," he replied coldly.
"Ah…" he looked uncomfortable, "Is Major Mustang alright?"
"He is ill with grief and delusional with hunger," Edwin said in the tone one would use to discuss the weather. "I have sent a corporal to fetch him sustenance from the kitchens."
"Is he well enough to have visitors?"
"Yes."
"Ah… May I?"
"Major Mustang needs rest. He has a mission briefing with Brigadier General Gran in three hours."
"I-I see," Marco looked downcast. He made as if to turn.
"Major Marco," Edwin said.
"Ah-Yes?" the older man glanced at Edwin, whose face was impassive.
"Are you intending to run?"
"If I said yes, would you let me go?"
"Protocol states that I would duty bound to prevent your attempt to depart as well as report you for dereliction of duty."
"Oh, that's a no then…"
"Major Marco," Edwin said blandly, "If you wish to attend to Major Mustang's illness, you may. It must have been your intention to do so from the beginning if you crossed the full length of the camp with your alchemist's kit."
Marco gaped at him before smiling weakly. "It seems you're not as cruel as certain rumors make you out to be."
"I pay no heed to trivial things," Edwin said coldly, "Those who are envious of my skills and paternal heritage may attempt to slander my honor and reputation as they like, but in the end, I am the better man as I do not heed such foolishness."
Marco responded with a slightly more confident smile before ducking into the tent. Edwin took several steps away to give the two alchemists a semblance of privacy, and after a moment of conversation in low tones, Marco came back out.
"Well," the Crystal alchemist said, "He should be feeling a little better when he goes to that debriefing."
"Thank you for your time, Major Marco," Edwin said. "I will not take anymore of your time. I am sure you have others to see to."
Marco nodded and strode away. Edwin shook his head and looked up in time to see the corporal he'd sent off approaching in the distance, and noted the cup of broth and plate with toast. He reached out and took the plate and cup and nodded at the corporal once he arrived.
"Thank you, corporal. Don't let me keep you from your duties."
He ignored the corporal who saluted and jogged away and turned to slip back into the tent. Seemingly, Marco's little visit had bolstered Mustang a little as he was still sitting up and looked a little less wan and ill.
"Here," he placed the plate next to Mustang and held out the cup, "Drink this before you eat anything."
Roy blinked and worked his hands free of the blanket to take the cup and stared into the liquid. Slowly, he took a sip. There was a rustle of cloth from beside him as Auric shifted from a crouch to sit with a knee pulled to his chest and his arm hooked around said knee.
"Maes knows me too well," Auric murmured, "He knows the both of us too well I think… My class stopped approaching me after I made it abundantly clear that I didn't wasn't to be bothered, but Maes was the only one who didn't know how to stop." He chuckled bitterly, "The fool's going to get killed one day because of it."
Roy cautiously snuck a look at the blonde from the corner of his eyes, and found the Forge staring up at the ceiling of the tent.
"As a child, I always had a habit of pushing every negative emotion into anger and then acting without thinking," Auric said gently, "My mentor did his best to beat it out of me without actually laying a hand on me, not to say I never got burned for it, I did. There was this one time when I screwed up and he was yelling at me for it, I found an opening and brought up something I shouldn't have, and he was so furious… I realized too late that I'd stepped onto forbidden ground, and he snapped. I was so shocked that I didn't even feel the heat much less think to use alchemy. I nearly died from the pain alone because the nerve plates in my automail were melting. I eventually learned to keep my mouth shut and to look before I leap, but there are times when we all just… slip… You know?"
The blonde sighed and rested his chin on his arm. "I knew that something like this was going to happen from the moment they started treating Ishbalites as well as Amestrian soldiers. But what was I supposed to say to them? Screw your oath and treat only Amestrians so you won't get killed later for some shit excuse? It would hypocritical of me, wouldn't it? After all, they were the ones saving lives, and I'm the one destroying them. Everyone who came out here knew what the risks were, us soldiers especially. The moment the civilians started treating Ishablites, it was only a matter of time before one of the higher ups decided that they were committing acts of treason. None of us could have stopped it. Not you, not me, not them…
"I… I might be angry with you for a while longer," he said quietly as he shifted to his knees and reached out to grasp Roy's chin and gently turned his head to face him, "But I know you too well to think that you did this on purpose. I don't hate you, Roy Mustang. I know why you did what you did, orders are orders, but it doesn't mean I have to like it when it affects me and my family. So take care of yourself Mustang, and one of these days, when we've recovered from everything that's happened out here, you'll be coming with me to Risembool to apologize to Granny Pinako and little Winry, alright?"
Roy swallowed hard, trying to draw moisture into his dry mouth to speak, but gave up and nodded as best as he could with obviously metal fingers grasping his chin.
Auric nodded in approval and released him and stood up. "Good. Finish up, get dressed and get out. We have another mission at dusk."
He brushed off imaginary dirt and smoothed out nonexistent wrinkles on his uniform and strode out of the tent. Roy watched as the flap fell in between them, blocking off his sight of the straight-backed, confident posture of the other alchemist.
~*~
February 21, 1896; 1403 Hours
Ishbal
Edwin stared at the paper in his hands, reading the contents for the third time. He closed his eyes as he folded the letter and tucked it into its envelope before slipping it into his pocket.
"Damn it all," he growled. "And while I'm out here, too…"
"Bad news?" Maes asked.
"Trisha passed away," Edwin sighed, "Damn it all… And the Rockbells were just executed not too long ago also…."
"Oh… It's starting isn't it?"
Edwin sighed. "Yes, it's starting indeed."
~*~
February 27, 1896, 1523 Hours
Ishbal
"Over the past fourteen days, all State Alchemists have been required to surrender the amplifiers to the military," Basque Gran said as he looked over the eight assembled alchemists, "all except one. Major Zolf F. Kimblee, the Crimson Alchemist. In addition to the theft of military property, he has deserted his post and is in the process of a killing spree. You six are being loaned amplifiers to ease your work in apprehending and subduing Kimblee. You will bring him down by any means necessary. Your mission begins now. Dismissed."
The six Alchemists, the Nightshade, Forge, Flame, Strong Arm, Rock Grove, Glacier, Wind Blade, and Goldenlake alchemists saluted and promptly left the command tent.
"We should begin a search in a radial pattern from the last known location of Kimblee," Edwin said as they left, "Teams of two just in case."
"Agreed," Rock Grove said, "The pairs should compliment each other and still be an advantage against Kimblee."
"Nightshade and Rock Grove. Strong Arm and Wind Blade. Goldenlake and Glacier, and myself and Flame," Edwin mused quietly, "It might work."
"My poisons in a trap set by Rock Grove, Strong arm to hold him while Wind Blade cuts him, Goldenlake to drown him and Glacier to freeze him; and you to trap him while Flame roasts him?" Nightshade asked, "You're right, Forge, it just might work."
"We're agreed, then?" Wind Blade asked.
There were nods all around, and Goldenlake added, "We should keep in radio contact. That way if we get ambushed by Kimblee, we can call for help."
"Then if we're ready," Glacier murmured, "We should set out before Kimblee kills any more people."
~*~
And as it turned out, they hadn't even needed eight alchemists sweeping through the ruined Ishballan city in an attempt to find Kimblee. The moment he'd caught wind of Edwin and Roy, he'd come straight at them. The resultant battle between the three alchemists had been spectacular, and had brought the other six members of the retrieval team running. None of them had known that the Forge Alchemist had so many weapons hidden on his person, and they'd only ever seen him use a regulation sidearm when ordered to and otherwise, he'd used alchemy. The Flame Alchemist proved that he was very much worthy of his title in the display of his mastery over fire. The speed and control that each tongue of vibrant flame licked at Kimblee's hair and clothes while Edwin's own fire glowed on the blades that he flung and the stone and metal spikes and walls that he transmuted to form an obstacle course that only the mind of either a madman or genius could navigate was mind boggling. The flames that danced along the tips of the cage of charcoal and peat that Edwin had transmuted, Mustang regulated, and what little moisture was in the air had been stripped away to form a thick wall of ice that glistened as it melted in the heat and glowed in the light of the sun and the glow of the flames. The glowing of the amplifiers on the two alchemists' fingers told a clear tale of how much energy was being used in this battle.
Common foot soldiers fortunate enough to be within sight of the battle and the snipers watching from their posts were reminded that all alchemists were geniuses of a sort, no matter how mediocre or weak they seemed.
In the end, the other six alchemists turned out to be unnecessary when Mustang put a collar of flames around Kimblee's neck to stop him from swallowing the amplifier and Edwin transmuted a massive stone hand to hold the rogue alchemist in place.
"I am not reaching into his mouth for the red stone," Edwin said stubbornly after the look that Roy gave him.
"We can't leave it in his mouth!" the Rock Grove cried. "What if he chokes?"
"Let him," Armstrong growled, moustache twitching. "The risk is too high that he might try to transmute us into living bombs if we touch him."
"Drag him back to camp and let Gran deal with him!" Goldenlake snarled, throwing his hands into the air. "We're alchemists! We can undo his transmutations if we act quickly enough!"
As it seemed the only feasible action to take where Kimblee was concerned, they agreed, and they took Kimblee back to camp. Of course, Wind Blade and Nightshade proved helpful whenever Kimblee tried to make a run for it while Rock Grove and Strong Arm threw up barriers to slow Kimblee. Glacier and Goldenlake got fed up with the escape attempts halfway through camp and froze Kimblee in a cylinder of ice from knees to neck.
When Roy and Edwin returned to their shared tent later that night (or morning as it was almost four in the morning) and described the events to Maes, the bespectacled man found the entire thing hilarious and fell into uncontrollable giggles to the shared disgust of the two exhausted alchemists.
~*~
March 1, 1896; 0834 Hours
Military Express from Ishbal to Central City
There had been no fanfares, no joyous cheers or celebration or even extra, better quality rations, no decisive battle to show that the war was over. Just orders to rank upon rank of exhausted, grieving, bitter, soldiers to pack and wait at the station for the train back to Central. They were being shipped home, and the word from the above was that the war with Ishbal was over. The alchemists and soldiers had finally finished completely destroying the Ishballan culture and way of life to the pleasure of their commanders, and most soldiers could not seem to make up their minds if they were happy about it.
Edwin himself could not be happier that it was all over, and apprehensive of what would come next. If all went according to the plans of the higher ups, the Military Express would arrive in Central and each and every returning soldier and alchemist would be required to undergo psychiatric and physical evaluation, hand in their report, and most, if not all, would be put on leave. If Edwin was lucky, he'd be one of the soldiers put on leave, and if he left quickly, he'd arrive in Risembool in time to apologize to Winry and Pinako for not being able to protect Elaine and Jonathan Rockbell before helping to plan Trisha's funeral.
~*~
TBC…