Author's Note: Two uploads in one day?! Damn, I love the end of college (only two more days to go! ^_^). I've almost finished my written catch up. Chapter four has been partially written already, so expect it tomorrow when I get back home. That'll be afternoon time GMT.
Anyway, Enjoy!
Present...
"He did WHAT?!" Winry shrieked, her legs threatened to collapse.
"We were just as shocked as you are," Lieutenant Hawkeye mentioned.
"It scared the heck out of all of us," Al confided. "I'd never seen Edward like that."
"Then why didn't you call me five days ago?" Winry demanded, stopping to stare at the trio before her.
"What would have been the point?" Mustang asked her, a serious tone in his voice. "What would we have needed you for?"
"I- I guess you have a point," Winry quietly admitted.
"Alphonse, Lieutenant, would you continue your account," Mustang ordered gently.
"Sure," Al nodded as they set off again. "Well, Brother changed his grip on the knife and then went crazy."
"Who did he attack?" Winry asked fearfully.
"Himself," Hawkeye answered. "Or, more precisely, his automail."
5 days ago...
Al stared, unable to speak, at his brother. Most people on the table were staring at Edward. Everyone else was staring in his general direction, wondering who had just yelled like they'd been about to kill someone.
There was Edward, his left hand firmly grasping the handle of the knife that had been forcefully plunged into his right forearm. A look of utter shock was on his face as he pulled the knife out of his arm. His arms flittered further up his arm, and, as a frown formed on his brow, he let out another yell and stabbed himself higher up.
As the second attack occurred, Al snapped out of his stupor and felt fear fill what had been numb for only a few moments ago. He was afraid of his brother's next strike.
"Brother stop! What are you doing?!" he cried fearfully.
Again, Edward ignored him and turned his attention to his left leg. After dislodging the knife from his arm, he aimed for his knee.
By now, nearby officers has retreated to a safe distance. No one wanted to be near this clearly disturbed young man, and the fact that this young man was also a State Alchemist was ensuring that no one felt brave enough to stop.
However, there were four officers that were dumb enough to try and intervene. Three pairs of hands latched onto Edward while a fourth pair managed to tear the knife out of his grip. Now holding the weapon, Fuery stood back and allowed Havoc, Falman and Brosh to subdue the eldest Elric brother. While the trio had been expecting Edward to struggle, they weren't expecting what came out of his mouth.
"What have you done to me?! What did you do to my arm and leg?!" Ed shouted, straining against the three grown men who were trying to pin him.
"Brother, what are you doing?! Stop before someone gets hurt," Al pleaded. Had he been able to, he would have been crying.
"Al?!" Ed thrashed with more ferocity. "Where is he? Where's my brother?!"
It was at that moment that Havoc's grip slipped slightly, giving Edward the opening he wanted. He managed to grab Havoc and he pulled with all his might. The sudden movement caught Havoc off guard and he was sent sprawling onto the table top with a crack that did not sound good for the table.
Brosh and Falman knew what this would mean for them, but also, they knew they had no chance of escape. So, they tightened their grip on the alchemist, closed their eyes and waited for the storm to break on them. Sure enough, they felt their feet drag and then lift off the floor as Edward spun round, trying to dislodge them. A cry told Brosh that Falman had lost his grip and the several grunts of pain a second later told him who his colleague had collide with.
Then, there was a tearing sound as the sleeve of Edward's coat broke the thread that was connecting it to the rest of the coat. Brosh felt himself in midair before crashing into something very hard, which he rightly assumed was one of the benches by the tables. Still recovering from cracking his head against the bench, Brosh hesitantly opened his eyes, and immediately wished he hadn't.
There was Edward towering over him, for once. The young man's face was dark with anger, but Brosh couldn't help but feel that it was a front to hide Ed's confusion and fear. Ed leaned down and grabbed Brosh's collar with his left hand and raised his right arm so Brosh could see it clearly.
"You're gonna tell me where my brother is," Ed ordered in a deadly serious tone. "And then, you're going to give me back my arm and leg. You're going to agree to this before I count to three."
Brosh fearfully wondered what hitting the bench had done to him, for he couldn't speak and his body didn't want to obey any orders from his head. He was completely paralysed and mute; all he could do was stare at this deranged psychopath that had taken over Ed's body.
"One," Ed began his count, and waited for a non-existent response. "Two," he continued, moving his right arm up near his head, his hand closing into a fist.
Brosh was screaming for something, anything, to come to his rescue.
"Three!"
Crack!
Edward loosened his grip on Brosh, his eyes wide with shock. Then, as if the world had gone into slow motion, Edward collapsed, narrowly missing his head on the bench. Seeing him fall mobilised Brosh so he caught the boy. Wondering what had just happened, Brosh looked up.
There was Lieutenant Hawkeye standing over them. In her hand was her gun. From the position of her hand, Brosh easily realised that she'd hit Edward round the back of the head with her gun. Her face was blanched and she was trembling slightly.
"What's going on here?!" a familiar voice demanded.
A few seconds later, the crowd of officers parted and allowed someone to pass into the scene of insanity and destruction. Everyone shrank away at the sight of him, afraid of what might happen.
It was Colonel Mustang. At first, he looked exceptionally pissed off, thinking that this was a brawl between officers. Then, once he had taken in everyone who was involved, his expression changed to concern. Finally, once his mind had comprehended the Lt. Hawkeye, his Lt. Hawkeye, was standing over Edward Elric, whom was currently unconscious, he felt his mind go blank with shock.
"What's going on here?" he asked again.
"It seems you were right, Colonel," Falman answered as he and several bystanders regained a standing position. "It seems Fullmetal isn't as fine as the doctors said he was."
"He- He attacked his automail with this, sir," Fuery continued, showing Mustang the knife, which was covered in motor fluid. "We decided to stop him before he did any real damage. He completely flipped out on us, sir."
Mustang didn't respond, but instead approached the benches. He saw Lt. Hawkeye hadn't moved since the struggle had ended. He gently laid a hand on her shoulder. He told himself not to take it to heart when the lieutenant flinched at his touch.
"I don't think he's going to get up any time soon, Lieutenant," Mustang noted, sadly missing a gentler tone.
"Yes sir," Hawkeye responded, holstering her gun.
"You did what you had to, Lieutenant," Mustang murmured quietly for her ears only. "No one will hold it against you."
Hawkeye didn't reply, but looked imploringly at the colonel. They stared at each other for a moment before Mustang closed his eyes and gave Hawkeye a supportive pat on the shoulder.
A groan caught Mustang's attention and he opened his eyes to focus on Lieutenant Havoc, who seemed to be contemplating whether or not he should make an attempt to move. The guy did seem to be in a lot of pain, and Mustang felt a considerable amount of pity for him.
"For someone so small, he's quite strong, isn't he?" Mustang joked lightly.
"I swear: I'm never gonna call him short again," Havoc moaned dramatically, joining in the joke. He saw Mustang's lip twitch into a slightly smile.
"All the same, I think you should stay put until a doctor gives you the O.K. That goes for you too, Brosh," Mustang ordered, inclining his head to the officer who was crumpled at his feet.
"Yes sir," the pair acknowledged gratefully.
Mustang then turned his attention to the last person involved in the carnage, who had disappeared from Brosh's side. With a quick glance around, he saw Edward lying in the protective arms of his brother, Al.
Mustang allowed himself a moment to wonder how Al had moved and retrieved his unconscious brother without him noticing, but decided that it didn't matter. With his musing over, he walked quietly over to the brothers.
He stopped short when Al raised his head. Despite being in a suit of armour, the emotions coming off the younger brother were unmistakable.
"Why?" Al whimpered broken-heartedly. "Why did he do this?"
"I don't know," Mustang admitted, kneeling down to look at Al. "If you can carry him to the hospital, I'll be damned if we don't find out."
4 days ago...
"I came as soon as I could," Major Armstrong reported to Colonel Mustang.
"And I'm grateful," Mustang replied honestly. "If there's a repeat of yesterday's performance, I need as many people as can handle him."
"How are Lieutenant Havoc and Second Lieutenant Brosh?" Armstrong inquired.
"Second Lieutenant Brosh has a concussion, and Lieutenant Havoc has some spinal injuries. They'll both be out of action for a while," Mustang explained.
Major Armstrong nodded reverently. He made a mental note to visit the pair when he had the chance. After all, a good bedside manner was a trait that had been passed down the Armstrong family from generation to generation.
"I shall visit them later," Armstrong announced. "But first, I will see to the Elric brothers."
Mustang nodded affirmatively. He patted Armstrong's bicep, being too short to reach the man's shoulder and walked away. He wanted a word with the man who was treating Ed.
Major Armstrong watched his superior's retreating back. When the colonel was gone, he breathed in and steeled himself for seeing the brothers. No one had given him specific details, only a vague account of the previous three days events, so he had no idea what to expect.
Calmly and slowly, he opened the door and walked into the room. He closed the door behind him.
The room was filled with a dim light; the blinds had been drawn to create twilight. Armstrong remained motionless as his eyes adjusted. Soon, shapes appeared from the darkness.
There was only one bed in the room, its occupant motionless, and beside it was a large figure, a suit of armour. AS Armstrong approached, Al looked up, but neither of them spoke. Finally, Armstrong stood beside Al and turned his attention to the person on the bed.
Ed was still, his eyes closed and his breathing was slow, rhythmic and normal. Someone had changed him into green, hospital scrubs and untied his hair. He was lying on his back, his arms lying by his sides. From his shoulders to his ankles, Ed was covered with thick, leather belt straps.
"They're there to stop Ed from hurting himself when he wakes up," Al explained quietly, sadly.
"I see," Armstrong replied before turning to Al. "Has he regained consciousness yet?"
"Yeah, a couple of times," Al answered. "When Ed first woke up, it was when the doctors were first seeing him. I guess it spooked him and he started to struggle."
"What happened?" Armstrong inquired, trying not to think about possible scenarios.
"Brother didn't get very far. They gave him an injection of something that would calm him down. He went back to sleep soon after," Al explained.
"And the second time?" Armstrong asked, looking back at Ed.
"He was only awake for a few seconds. He looked around the ceiling, me, and then went back to sleep," Al answered.
"Did he go to sleep straight after looking at you?" Armstrong asked.
"Yeah, I guess the medicine was still keeping him sleepy," Al admitted.
"How long ago did he wake up?"
"About an hour ago, why?" Al inquired.
"Then he should be awake in a few hours. Come, Alphonse, let us see what they are serving for lunch in the hospital cafeteria," Armstrong suggested jovially.
Alphonse did not reply, instead the sound of metal clashing against metal and metal making contact against porcelain tile echoed about the room. The footsteps quietened slightly as Al crossed the room and stopped. The handle was turned and the door opened. The footsteps continued for a few paces before stopping again. A second set of footsteps joined Al and the door creaked and closed with a click. The footsteps began once more and faded away.
Then, all was silent.
Ed opened one eye slightly and looked around. When he saw no one, he opened his eye further and, once positive that he was alone, he opened both eyes fully. He moved arm so he could rub the tiredness out of his face, and froze when he felt himself straining against something. He raised his head slightly so he could look down at his body and started when he saw the restraints.
The sound of approaching footsteps made Ed look up. He tried to look nonchalant, but wasn't sure how well he'd pulled it off. His expression didn't change as Major Armstrong walked up to him. The major stopped at the foot of the bed, watching Ed cautiously.
"That was pretty clever," Ed smirked maliciously, "Pretend that you left the room with that guy in the tin can and wait until I move. That's pretty good, I can't believe I didn't see it coming."
"That's your brother you're talking about," Armstrong stated factually.
"Yeah right!" Ed sneered. "And who are you pretending to be?"
Armstrong blinked in surprise. Of anything Ed could have said, he had not been expecting that. And, it wasn't just what Ed had said either, it was the meaning behind the words that shook the older man.
"Edward Elric, are you saying that you don't recognise me? Me, Alex Louis Armstrong, the Strong Arm Alchemist. Is that what you are telling me? And are you saying that you could not recognise your own brother?" Armstrong asked, his eyebrows raised high.
"Do you really expect me to believe that? I know Major Armstrong and I know what he looks like, " Ed retorted. " You are not Major Armstrong."