Boom!

Here we go.

-o-o-o-

Part 5: Wave of Woe

New to the harness thou dost back and Plunge.
Snap at thy bit and fight against the rein.
And yet thy confidence is in a straw;
For stubbornness, if one be in the wrong,
Is in itself weaker than naught at all.
See now, if thou wilt not obey my words,
What storm, what triple-crested wave of woe
Unshunnable shall come upon thee.

Aeschylus – Prometheus Bound

The sound of falling water came to him through the darkness. The dripping noise seemed to echo hollowly in his ears. He felt so cold - an unrelenting chill settled deep in his bones. And he ached; each breath tore at his chest. It took him a long time to remember where he was: Shackled in a cavernous prison, in the clutches of a madman. Roy shivered. His shirt clung to him wetly, whether from blood or sweat, he did not know. He didn't care to look. He wished he could at least tuck his arms about his chest to warm himself, but his wrists remained bound to the wall, frozen and stiff.

Roy tried to open his eyes, but only managed a single slit. The other remained swollen shut. It worried him. He wanted to reach down to touch it - to make sure the delicate bones surrounding his eye were not broken. One of his war buddies got kicked in the face during a vicious skirmish in the Ishvalan campaign. Both of Sergeant David's orbits were shattered. He never saw again.

Roy swung his head to peer into the gloom. A new torch was wedged in place of the old; its flickering light danced over the stones but offered no warmth. Ethon was nowhere in sight. The only noise was the incessant fall of water into a pool somewhere in the echoing darkness. He squeezed his eyes to shut out the maddening sound.

There was no telling how long he'd been in this place. At his best estimate, it'd been at least a day, if not two. Certainly long enough for his team to realize he was missing. He hoped so, at least. He comforted himself with the thought of his subordinates springing into action. Havoc would be all hasty bravado and half-made plans. Breda would be more steady, quietly chewing on a toothpick as he ruminated over the next step. Falman and Fuery would wait, wordless - ready to act at the first command.

But mostly Roy thought of warm brown eyes made hot with fury. Of delicate fingers wrapped around the grip of a gun. Of a calm voice saying threatening things. He started to smile, but stopped when it pulled at his split lip.

Roy shook his head. He needed to focus. He shifted and the chains clinked softly against the wall - an austere and unnecessary reminder of his predicament.

He needed to escape before Ethon returned. If only he had his gloves... even a piece of chalk. If only his head wasn't so stuffed with fog. The beating had taken its toll on him; it was a struggle just to focus. His world felt clouded and swollen. Roy let out a wheezing chuckle. He always made himself out to be so clever - so confident and self-assured. If only his enemies could see him now. They would finally see his true form instead of the man he pretended to be. He was nothing without his alchemy and subordinates to guard him. He was weak. Vulnerable.

It hurt to move. After hours of unconsciousness, his muscles were bunched into aching knots sending lightning stabs down his arms and into his shoulders. The cuffs cut into his already-bloodied wrists. He didn't care. This pain was nothing. He'd endured far worse. But he could not help the vengeful, bitter thoughts that stole into his mind. Thoughts of hurting Ethon. Again.

Roy settled against the chill wall, tipping his head back against the stone. His eyes slid shut and memory rushed in to fill the void. He saw a quiet, stocky boy. He saw a half-finished array. He saw fire. He hadn't meant to betray Ethon. He wasn't proud of what he did, but in spite of everything, his intentions were true.

Roy pushed the thought away and opened his one good eye. Above him hung his wrists: bound by steel, blood quietly dripping into the cuffs of his shirt like a horrific ink. It gave him an idea.

Roy laughed again - this time bitterly. Sometimes it was uncanny how quickly his mind went to the macabre. He allowed himself a full smile. His lip split anew, but he was too focused now to care.

Time to get the hell out of here.

-o-o-o-

He always liked the library. It was quiet. He never enjoyed being out in the open like the other boys; he didn't shout or play the scrappy games they relished. The library was safe. Constant. He loved wrapping himself in the quiet; how the only things that broke it were the sounds of hushed voices and shuffling pages. His was a world filled with the scent of parchment and dust. A world stuffed with books. A world of quiet, still things. There was no room for hunger or mothers with sad eyes. It was a welcome escape.

But not today.

Ethon hunched over the text. Today the library was not a place of solace. A nervous ball of energy wrenched in his stomach and his palms were slick with sweat. Tomorrow was the State Alchemy exam: His one chance for an entire year. He couldn't wait to have access to the State libraries. He needed to get this right the first time.

Shaky, half-drawn arrays lay scattered on the table before him. He made fire - impossibly, wonderfully, again and again - but the equation was still too inefficient. There had to be a better way. Ethon reached up to run shaky fingers through unwashed hair. He could barely move after hours of experimentation, but he'd made some progress: He no longer had to borrow heat from his body to make the array work. But the effort had taken everything from him. He had nothing left. He was utterly spent. Only determination kept him upright in his chair.

"Ethon."

Ethon jumped and turned toward the voice, blinking heavy-lidded eyes and squinting into the quiet darkness. Roy stood between a pair of bookcases, hands in his pockets, beautiful as ever in his easy nonchalance. "Hey," Roy said, tossing his head at his classmate in a simple, boyish greeting.

"R- Roy!" Ethon stammered. Apparently he uttered the word more loudly than he intended, for a female cadet sitting at a nearby table glanced up from her work to give Ethon a severe look. He smiled apologetically and dropped his voice to a near-whisper. "What are you doing here?"

"Thought we were going out for some drinks...?" Roy muttered, glancing disinterestedly at the books on the shelf beside him. He seemed to be avoiding Ethon's eye with studious care.

Ethon's face paled. "Oh! I... I forgot! I'm sorry. I've been so busy preparing..." his eyes skittered over the work before him. "I wanted to make some alterations... I still have so much..." His voice slowed as he got caught up in an unfinished away. "I don't think I can join you," he said distractedly. "You go on." He hunched over his work again.

Roy didn't move. He simply stood, staring at his classmate with something like disbelief. He seemed to be waiting for something. "Ethon... I..."

"Hm?" Ethon hardly glanced from the array in front of him. He drew a line, shook his head, and cast the ruined drawing away. Another replaced it in an instant.

"I... wanted to talk to you," Roy said. His voice was uncharacteristically serious. "And... apologize." The last word seemed to come out with some effort.

Ethon's hand paused over the page and he glanced up to stare openmouthed at his classmate, the arrays completely forgotten. "Apologize? To me?"

Roy scuffed his shoe on the floor, again drawing the attention of the female cadet. At first the girl's mouth was firm - as though she were ready to frown - but her expression softened when she caught sight of Roy. She gave him a shy smile and a little half-wave. He smiled back in that easy way of his. She blushed. Roy turned his attention back to Ethon as though the exchange never happened, expression suddenly somber. "Yeah," he said simply.

"Why?"

He took a deep breath. "I.." Roy's voice trailed. He seemed to have an internal struggle; emotions played over his face too quickly for Ethon to understand, and his mouth opened several times to utter words that never came. After a time, Roy ripped his eyes away from Ethon's. He cast them about, as though trying to cling to something solid - to find an anchor to brace himself for what he needed to say. Inevitably, Roy's eyes settled on the transmutation circles scattered over the table. "What are... ?" Roy stilled. His mouth moved in a silent whisper as he worked through the equations that galvanized the circle. After what seemed an eternity, Roy gasped. "What are you...?"

Ethon leaned forward to gather his drawings with shaking hands. His arms felt like lead. "They're... they're not quite finished yet, but - ."

"You're not planning on using those, are you?" Roy stepped to the table and snatched a sheet before Ethon could stop him. His eyes widened. "Ethon, these are dangerous."

Ethon shrank back, but he shook his head. "They work. They do. I need them to pass the test."

"At what cost?" Roy said, not looking up from the the array. "Look at this. You can't draw power from that! It's nothing but a giant heat sump! You'll burn everything!"

"I know," Ethon whispered. "I know, Roy. I swear I can control it. I just need to make a small fire. To show them that I can do it. Once I have access to the -"

"Do you plan on killing someone?" Roy pointed at a pentagram at its center. "Look at how unstable this is! It's not ready!" The female cadet at the nearby table huffed loudly. She no longer seemed to find Roy charming. She glared pointed at the young men and gathered up her books. This time Roy ignored her. His attention was only on Ethon. The heat and intensity of Roy's eyes pinned the younger cadet to his chair. "You can't use this."

"I have to," Ethon said, his voice building. "You said you would try too... if you were me."

Roy shook his head. "Not this way. I wouldn't use this. It's not worth it."

"It is worth it!" Ethon said, his voice more strong and clear than it'd been in years. "It's worth it to me!" He snatched his array out of Roy's hands. "I thought you of all people would understand. I have to do this!"

"Ethon..." Roy began.

"No!" Ethon shrieked, drawing the attention of a group of students gathered quietly at a table across the room. "Stay out of my business! You're just jealous, aren't you? You're jealous that I'm going to be the first Flame Alchemist."

Roy's mouth worked silently, eyes wide. But he did not deny it, and Ethon saw the growing guilt on his classmate's handsome face. So that was it. Now he knew the truth of things.

Roy never meant to make friends. He didn't care. He was just like the rest of them. Roy: the handsome, popular boy. The petty saboteur. The jealous rival. Ethon sent him a scathing look and gathered the rest of his arrays with angry, trembling hands. He stuffed them into his satchel before his classmate had a chance to steal more of his secrets.

"Wait..." Roy said weakly. "Ethon -"

"Stay away from me," Ethon hissed. "I'm taking that exam tomorrow, Roy. You can't stop me. Don't you dare try."

He stalked out of the library without a backwards glance.

-o-o-o-

A new noise filtered through the incessant sound of dripping water. The sound was something distinct: More measured, more weighty. Deep and hollow. The noises grew louder - louder - and cold clarity struck Roy like a boot to the gut.

Footsteps. And they drew closer with each stride.

Roy's breath quickened. He needed to hurry. He glanced up at the shackles that bound his wrists. He could hardly see his half-sketched array from this angle. He was forced to draw at the topmost part of the cuff - from his perspective on the ground, the transmutation circle was upside down and inside out. There was no time to second guess the array. He had to hurry. Panic coursed through him and his hand shook, slipping enough to nearly ruin the still-wet array. Roy sucked in a breath. He needed to be careful - he might have only one chance at this. Even the smallest error in its design could blow his hand from his arm instead of unlocking the clasp. A gruesome sort of freedom, indeed, but he preferred leaving the experience with limbs intact. Not for the first time, he wished he spent more effort learning metallurgic alchemy.

Roy strained upwards and gripped one chain with his left hand, lifting himself from the cave floor so the shackles that bound his right had enough slack to reach to the opposite wrist. His arms shook from exhaustion, but he managed to reach over to his left wrist and dig a finger between the place where metal met skin, reopening his still-raw wound. Soon the finger was wet with his new medium. In some things, alchemy was not discerning, and blood worked as well as ink so long as the array was right.

The sound of footsteps drew nearer, and with it came a swelling roar like the sound of a distant battle. A chill breeze rushed over Roy's face. Strange, he thought, but he did not dwell on it. Instead he strained upwards, pulling up on the one chain to brace himself and steady his hand as it went about its gruesome task. Spots of blood dripped from his wrists and onto his face, but he would not be distracted. He was a soldier and an alchemist.

Almost there, he thought as he slowly started the final line - a single slash that cleaved the array in two perfect halves. Almost... there.

The roaring grew louder. Soon it drowned out the sound of approaching footsteps. But he knew they still drew closer by the moment. He had to hurry, but he refused to destroy all his work in haste. A rising panic gripped him, threatening to swallow the logic that sustained him. An unbidden, desperate cry flew from the back of his throat, and his hand slipped on the chain. He dropped back to the stony floor, grunting in pain as the shackles cut into his wrists anew. He had not finished.

"No!" he spat. A half inch! Only a half-inch more and the line would have been complete. A half inch away from a functional array. A half inch away from freedom. Whatever gods existed, Roy was certain they were mocking him. There was no time to complete it now. The cave walls vibrated with the strange, rushing sound, and he knew his enemy was upon him.

Roy gathered himself and squinted at the unrelenting darkness. He had only his wits and an unfinished array at his disposal. He did not know how long he might hold out this time. Not long, he thought grimly. Not like this.

And still the roaring grew louder, like a nearing storm. Like a brewing avalanche. Like a great river that ended in treacherous falls.

-o-o-o-

"The waterways," Kate gasped. She let out a strangled cry as the blonde twisted her arm higher up her back. "Fuck! I swear! We took him to the Kaucas Waterways. In Oldtown. I don't know what happened to him after."

The one with the glasses flipped the push knife in his hand and tucked it up his sleeve. "There, was that so hard?" The boyish grin seemed out of place on his grown up face. "Thank you for your cooperation."

Kate spat at him, but he dodged it almost lazily. "Fuck you," she said. "Asshole." She let out an affronted gasp as the blonde released her arm and pushed her to her knees.

"Now, now," said the man with the glasses. "Be nice."

"Where's my husband? What have you done to him?"

The blonde smiled down at her, merry eyes mocking. "Our ladyfriend took care of him. Don't worry. He'll wake up in an hour or so. After we've gone, you'll be free to go to him." He reached into a pocket to pull out a cigarette. "We dumped him in an alley... somewhere."

Kate growled. She hated the blonde most of all. No matter. He was dead anyway - they all were. Mustang's soldier-boys - loyal as they were - headed into into the worst kind of doom. Not that she cared. Fuck Ethon. Fuck Mustang and his band of merry men. She was a survivor. And there was no surviving once Ethon caught word of this betrayal. She already resolved to find Beau and escape into the country at the first possible moment. She would flee this place and never look back.

"I want nothing to do with you bastards," Kate said. And for once, she did not lie.

"Let's keep it that way." The blonde puffed out a lazy ring of smoke.

"Alright, alright," said the man with the glasses. He stared at Kate from behind the rims, studying her in a way that made her feel exposed. "Listen. We don't bother you from here on out, and you don't bother us, got it?" His face broke into a smile, and Kate fought back the urge to rush up and strike him. Though the entire interrogation, he never lost his cheery expression. None of Kate's veiled threats seemed to affect him. He merely stared at her with his vapid, disbelieving smile, calmly telling her that if she was not interested in cooperating, he could arrange for something more... uncomfortable.

But Kate was no hero. She would not risk herself or her husband for an insane bastard like Ethon. And so she willingly spilled Ethon's secrets, knowing that in doing so she forfeited her life to him. Assuming, of course, he caught her. Maybe she would be lucky. Maybe she could get away in time. Maybe Mustang's men would solve her problem and kill the lunatic for her.

She doubted it.

The man with the glasses nodded at the blonde, then glanced down at Kate. "We're heading out. Wait ten minutes after we leave. Any earlier, and I can't guarantee your safety." He glanced up at the windows that overlooked the alley. "The Hawk's Eye is watching tonight." He smiled pleasantly. "Well. So long." He turned toward the street, the blonde following just behind.

Kate half-rose to her knees, but stopped as a bullet whizzed past her ear. She let out a surprised cry and plopped unceremoniously back to the ground. She glowered at the retreating men. "You're idiots!" she called after them. "Ethon's in his element down there. It's a death trap. He'll kill you! He just wants Mustang. Don't sacrifice your lives for that selfish bastard!"

The man with the glasses merely waved a lazy hand, not even bothering to look back. He strode forward with calm purpose.

Kate shook her head. Fools.

-o-o-o-

"Next," said the attendant.

Ethon sucked in a breath in an attempt to steady his already-frayed nerves. He wished his stomach would stop twisting and tumbling so. His hands shook at his side, sending up little puffs of chalk dust left from his last hasty sketches on the pavement where he waited outside.

He pursed his lips. Now was not the time for doubt.

Ethon shuffled up to the attendant. It took several attempts before he could find his voice. "T- that's me. I'm next."

The woman looked him up and down, eyebrow arched speculatively. "Aren't you a little young to be taking the State exam?"

Ethon said nothing. His nerves would not allow it. Besides, anything he might say would likely prove her right.

The lady sighed and pointed to a pair of gilded doors. "Through there. Once you get in, step into the center of the room and wait for the examiners to address you."

Ethon nodded to her mutely and turned towards the entrance. The doors loomed over him, simultaneously deriding and inviting him. Daring him to enter. Ethon steeled himself and pulled at one handle with all his might. It fell open easily on well-oiled hinges. Overbalanced, he stumbled and nearly fell. He heard the female attendant laugh behind him.

"Good luck," she choked.

Ethon shrugged off his embarrassment and stepped into the darkness.

A formidable, bald man with a large mustache sat behind a long table at the other end of the room. Next to him was a man wearing thick glasses and a bored look. Ethon could see several others seated to either side, their faces hidden in shadow. A single pool of light lay at the very center of the room. He stepped into it hesitantly, faltering steps echoing in the empty space. The light blinded him and sweat began to bead on his brow.

"Name?" said the man with the thick glasses.

"Cadet E- Ethon Arnold, Sir. Here for the State Alchemy Practical."

"Clearly," she man said. "Hm... Arnold." There came the shuffling sound of papers. "Arnold... I know that name…"

Ethon's stomach twisted anew as hope began to blossom in his chest. They'd heard of him! So his discovery of fire alchemy did not go unnoticed. Maybe he had a chance…

"Ah," the man said. "Here we are, General." Ethon could see a dim flash as the bespeckled man pulled out a single sheet and set it in front of the larger man to his right. An attendant came to the table with a single candle; the light glittered off the numerous accolades that adorned the larger man's uniform. His arms were bound in metal and etched with the language of alchemy. Ethon nearly gasped. So this - this - was the infamous General Grand.

"I see you've passed the written examination," Grand grunted as he surveyed the paper. "But only just…"

Ethon swallowed thickly. He suspected as much. The exam was harrowing at best. But he only needed a pass to get by the written exam. The difficult part was getting through the practical.

There was a long silence as Grand continued reading the sheet. "This is... unusual," The General said in a disinterested tone.

"W- what's unusual, Sir?" Ethon managed. He tried to ignore the sweat that dribbled into his eyes and down the back of his collar.

"It says here I should bar you from taking the examination."

"Wh- what?"

Grand looked up at Ethon. "Cadet," he said sharply. "Control yourself."

"S- sorry, Sir. But -"

"Silence," Grand rumbled. He held out a hand. "Let me see the array you planed to use for the examination."

"Sir..." Ethon said, aghast. What Grand asked was offensive - even in light of the yawning chasm between their ranks. Alchemy was a field wreathed in secrets, and keeping them was of the utmost importance to even the most ameteur practitioners of the art. To ask for another's array was like asking a man to allow his wife to be bedded by another. It was obscene.

Grand seemed not to care. "The array, Cadet. Now."

Ethon drew forth a folded sheet from beneath his coat with trembling fingers and stepped forward to hand it to his superior. The General smoothed the paper on the tabletop.

"Huh," the General grunted. "Right."

Ethon nearly whimpered. Everything - everything - he'd worked for seemed to be slipping away. "Please, Sir. Tell me why -"

Grand looked up at the cadet, eyes piercing. "Let me make this utterly clear. You are not to use this array, Cadet. Not for this examination or for any transmutation ever again. Ever."

Ethon felt anger rise in him, hot and burning. The intensity of it shocked him, but filled him with a strength he never knew. "Why? How did you know about my array?" As an afterthought, he added a sullen, "Sir."

"One of your classmates informed the board of your... experiments," Grand said, tearing the paper with merciless ease. "They were right to report you."

Ethon's voice darkened, taking on a pitch it'd never had before. "Who was it?"

"I am not at liberty to say," Grand rose from his chair. "Confidentiality is important in the military. It allows a lowly cadet to report suspicious behavior without fear of repercussion." Grand's eyes narrowed. "Suspicious behavior like yours."

"What do you mean, you can't say who it was?" Ethon's words came out different: suddenly smooth and clear where they were once weak and stuttering. "Don't I have the right to know?" A dark thought entered his mind. "Was it Roy Mustang?"

"Cadet, you cannot use these arrays." Grand's voice was measured, unmoved. "Exit the testing room. You may attempt the test next year once you are better prepared." He turned away. "Dismissed."

-o-o-o-

"Tut, tut, tut."

Roy looked up to see a figure just outside the ring of torchlight. "Ethon..."

The thin man stepped forward so Roy could see his face. He was furious. "Roy," he drawled. "What have you been up to while I was away?"

Roy twisted his wrist in an attempt to hide his unfinished array. "Ethon, please just listen..."

Ethon smiled. His tawny eyes flicked to the blood-writ cuff. "Trying to escape, are we?" He shook his head. "No, not yet, Roy."

There was a brief crescendo in the underlying roar and a trickle of water spilled into the circle of light, racing over the rocks as though drawn by a magnet. It curled around Ethan's feet and began to pool there.

"There is no escaping from this," he said. "There is no escaping from what you did to me." Another stream of water darted from the darkness, joining the first. The puddle grew quickly, spreading in a perfect circle at Ethon's feet. Soon it was large enough to lap at Roy's heels.

It was then that Roy spotted the array, blue thread embroidered on a black glove Ethon wore on one hand. It was of a design he'd never seen before, but he knew enough of alchemy to catch it's meaning.

"You like this?" Ethon whispered over the rush of water at his feet. He lifted his hand to give Roy a better vantage. "I had to find something while I waited for your secrets. I thought it would be fitting to study the thing that is your weakness. Water and fire: always opposed." Blue lightning enveloped Ethon's glove. A tendril of water rose from the pool and arced towards Roy like a silvery arm. It brushed over Roy's cheek in an unsettling, wet caress. "Like us, Roy. Always opposed."

Roy jerked his head away. The water lost its supernatural tone and splashed to his shoulder. It soaked through his already-damp clothes and Roy shuddered with the cold. "I'm not telling you anything."

Ethon's smile never left; he merely shook his head. "You will." More water rushed from the darkness. It rose, higher and higher, now brushing against Roy's thighs like lover's hands. "You will."

A pillar of water sprang behind Ethon, thick as a tree trunk. The water unfurled to either side of him like opening wings, and Ethon's smile widened, ravenous.