I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or Death Note
Chapter 7
When he finally opened his eyes, L thought he was blind.
He felt his eyelids move, but all he could see was darkness. Either he was blind or the room was pitch black. He hoped it was the latter.
L tried blinking but nothing changed. So when he regained motor function, he moved his arm to reach for his eyes. His left hand brushed against something covering his eyes, a blindfold perhaps, his arm flopped uselessly against his face.
He sighed and let his arm rest by his side, wondering how exactly he was alive. L remembered the flames and the explosion. A cannon shell. It had to have been an Amestrian cannon from the artillery line.
But how? The line of Artillery was securely guarded from Ishvalans who sought to steal weapons to even the playing field. If even one cannon was stolen, it could be disastrous.
The possibilities of this cannon being stolen was relatively low, 23%, L reckoned. And even if the thieves had somehow gotten away with this theft, they couldn't possibly know their position to fire at, they wouldn't even know how to operate the deadly device.
L frowned as he tried to chew his limp thumb, it was difficult to think when he kept accidentally slapping himself.
If the Ishvalans had truly gotten away with the cannon theft, escaped the armoured vehicles that would surely pursue, on foot no less. And then somehow tortured a high enough ranking officer to tell them L and company's whereabouts. And after all that, managed to operate a machine that could explode in their faces if they didn't know how to operate it, and they didn't know how to.
All that effort, and for what? To kill a couple alchemists and some snipers? With firepower like that they could do major damage to Amestrian bases or even control a supply line. A single shot would give away their location. They could have been over eager renegades on a suicide mission, revenge perhaps?
Roy alone had made many orphans and widows with his flame alchemy, especially with his renown to make him a known target.
The Hero of Ishval
L couldn't quite see what was so heroic, but then again he was possibly, slightly cynical. Maybe.
It wasn't a stretch to think Roy may have killed someone or others brother or sister and this was their revenge.
36%, L thought, was the chances of this attack being Ishvalan.
2% said it could have been a misfire, the cannon had been aimed at the wrong target, sabotaged, any other possible reason for friendly fire.
64% said it was treachery.
Someone wanted them dead, so they'd hijacked a cannon and fired it at their shelter.
Someone who knew their hiding place. Someone who could command control of cannon.
L pondered who.
Kimblee, he realised. Kimblee might want me or any of the others dead. He knew, L thought, Kimblee knew L was suspicious of him since day one under his command, so before L could find something damning, Kimblee had him killed.
Or tried to at the very least.
L tried again to pull the blindfold covering his eyes off and know if he was blind or not.
As he reached up another hand grasped his wrist.
The hand felt warm, the hand of a person who frequently used small instruments, L thought as he felt callouses on her hands against his thin wrist. He could assume it was some doctor or nurse at his bedside, often wielding scalpels or syringes.
And hope it wasn't his torturer.
"Don't try to pull the bandages off yet." A voice scolded him gently. Feminine and motherly, likely belonging to the hand that had placed his left hand back down by his side.
L listened to their commands, vulnerable and weak as he currently was.
"Yuriy! Dear, do come over, he's woken up."
L felt some slight déjà vu.
Fortunately, the man's footsteps were light and his voice was cheerful and light. "Ah! Good! Good!" The man stood beside him. "How do you feel?"
L licked his dry lips. "Better. Was I unconscious long?"
The man laughed. "Only a week. It could have been longer, considering your injuries."
A week. That was probably the longest L had slept in sometime. Granted, he was unconscious.
"Who are you?"
"Doctor Yuriy Rockbell. This is my wife, Doctor Sarah Rockbell. And you? You're a soldier aren't you? We found you in you uniform." He sounded slightly disapproving of his position in the military.
L tensed. He didn't like being disadvantaged, giving away information on someone else's terms.
"Sergeant L Lawliet." He refused to give anymore information.
They were silent before Yuriy spoke up. "Well, why don't we get those bandages off, eh?" He reached over and gently unwound the bandage around his eyes, his wife propping L's head up as he did so.
L relished in the feeling of relief as his sight returned to him. A small stone room of Ishvalan architecture and dim lighting. The two doctors stood above him, blonde hair and kind smiles.
Yuriy grimaced.
"Now. Take it easy, don't panic, stay calm." Sarah raised his right arm, unwinding the bandages around his noticeably paler right arm.
The bandages fell away and L looked down.
He felt truly shocked for possibly the second time in his life.
Following along his pale arm showed healed cuts and healing scars along the length of his limb. Not too bad till it got to his wrist.
Or what was left of it.
L stared uncomprehendingly at his missing hand, completely gone with a stump right before where his wrist would be.
"I'm sorry. Your right hand was too badly damaged, we had to amputate it." Sarah Rockbell's words were of little comfort. His right hand was completely gone.
L frowned, raising to his mouth and chewing air where his thumb would be.
That wasn't good, it didn't work as well if he used his left thumb.
He wondered about how calm he seemed about his missing hand. Probably the sedatives.
"Oh. I see." L said aloud while still staring at his missing hand.
"I understand how stressful this all must seem, but you need your rest now." A needle entered his arm and L relaxed as sedatives we're pumped into his bloodstream.
L wondered if he snored.
He went on like this for a while. Slipping in and out of consciousness to see the Rockbell's standing over him, mending his smaller wounds or leaving to tend to another patient.
In this haze he couldn't tell how much time had passed.
When he fully regained consciousness he waited a while before sitting up and pulling himself onto his legs, wincing at the atrophied muscles.
He stood, gazing tiredly around the room.
L spotted a curtain door and slowly plodded over, he peered through the gap.
Ishvalans.
He jerked back. Waited to see if they saw him before looking through the gap again. L saw Ishvalans. Wounded Ishvalans.
Some missing limbs like himself. L winced as he saw the burn victims and thought of Roy and his fire-based alchemy.
Amongst the dead and dying, the Rockbell's weaved. Caring for each Ishvalan delicately, handing out medicine and bandaging wounds. L thought of their care of himself and yet also their current Ishvalan patients. People of both sides of this war.
L returned to his bed, determined to catch one of them and announce his leave. It was the least he could do for those who saved his life.
It was Sarah who first came to check on him, surprised to see him awake.
"I'm going now."
She frowned. "You don't know where we are."
L thought for a second. "True. Do you know where the nearest base is?"
Sarah scowled at him. "You just lost a hand, why are you so eager to go back?"
L felt uncomfortable at his own reasons. "I need to find my friends. They survived the blast." 'I think' went unsaid.
Friends. Again, L realised he had friends. People who could be just as strange as him, and accept that. L couldn't distance himself from others this time. And at the very least his mental health benefited greatly.
"I see. I can't stop you then, can I?" L shook his head. "Oh, alright then."
She gave him supplies, food and a filled canteen. His rifle and pistol had been mangled in the blast, completely useless now. He didn't care, they were standard issue.
L didn't know how to feel when Sarah handed him his knife. The one that tried to kill him.
It had survived the blast, its sheath torn but held together with stitching. The weapon itself was largely undamaged, aside from a few extra scratches along its face.
He accepted the knife nonetheless, citing something false about sentimental value to persuade her to give him the weapon.
Eventually, he parted from the Rockbell clinic, but not before Yuriy insisted on telling him something.
"You know of automail, correct?"
L did. It was an impressive creation, an artificial limb connected to the nerves so the subject could use it as if a limb hadn't been lost in the first place.
"The Rockbell's have been automail engineers for generations, I assure you, we can replace your hand. If you want a new hand that is. But if you do, go to Resembool when you return to Amestris. Find Pinako Rockbell, my mother, tell her Yuriy sent you for automail." L nodded.
"And while you're there." Sarah interjected. "Tell our daughter Winry, her parents will be home soon."
L agreed and they parted, leaving him on his way in borrowed clothing.
The journey to the base wasn't far, but on foot in the blistering heat, it felt like hours. As he walked through destroyed buildings and rubble, bloodstains and bullet holes, L thought of things to pass the time.
Anything really. Guessing how a firefight may have proceeded based on the blood and bullets left behind. L hadn't heard of Resembool before, he wondered where it was.
But his mind was constantly drawn back to the Rockbell's makeshift clinic. More specifically, one of their patients he had seen beyond the curtain.
A tall muscled Ishvalan man, scowling even in his sleep. The large scar in the shape of an x lay across his forehead.
Something about the man had unnerved L, even now the man gave him chills down his spine. And he couldn't understand why.
L finally intercepted some scouts leaving the base and persuaded them of his identity. He was led into the base and greeted the commanding officer, a tall man with a thick moustache, who smiled at his reappearance.
"Warrant Officer Lawliet, I am glad to see you well."
L raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "Warrant Officer?"
The commander laughed. "Indeed. You were to be promoted but you went MIA before you could be awarded it. Your comrades said you were hit by stolen artillery fire, yet you survived."
L winced. He couldn't tell them about the Rockbell's being Ishvalan sympathisers.
"I was found by a medic specialising in battlefield injuries." Even that was risking it, but he couldn't lie to a superior officer, only half-truths.
"I see." Thankfully the man wasn't the skeptical kind. "And your uniform?"
"Destroyed. Along with my rifle and pistol."
The man glanced down at his missing hand, the observation was unsaid.
"Considering the state of you, I think it's time you return to Amestris." He clapped L on the back. "You've served well, lad."
L couldn't help but feel glad he could leave this thrice dammed war.
Amestris
L found he truly appreciated the lush green colouring of the Amestrian countryside after weeks fighting in a desert. The cool autumn air was a sweet relief after the constant blaze of the sun.
Resembool, as it turned out, was a small, rural town in South Eastern Amestris. The town made its profits supplying wool to Central to be used in the production of military uniforms.
The town was surprisingly, possibly dangerously, close to Ishval. As such, L had heard that last year, Ishvalan terrorists had snuck into the small town and destroyed the train station and much of the surrounding area.
The train he was currently on was headed towards the newly rebuilt station in Resembool after his debriefing in East City.
Finally, L had been given time off duty to rest and recover. So L immediately changed out of the Amestrian uniform and slipped back into his usual clothes of a plain white shirt with a stretched collar and jeans. He relaxed as he was finally barefoot again after weeks of wearing tight boots. His right sleeve hung uselessly past his missing hand.
L sat in his signature posture, knees tucked into his chest and chewing on his left thumb.
It was a relief that he could finally have coffee again, his seventh cup was already on the table before him. In Ishval he'd had to content himself with stealing coffee from superior officers and even then it was military ration quality. The Rockbell's had denied him any caffeine while he was in their treatment.
He had been dying for good coffee again, and now that he had it, he wasn't going to stop drinking.
East City had given him a small handgun for self-defence while off duty.
The Ishvalan knife felt heavier than it was in his pocket.
As the train neared the station, L held a takeaway cup and stood.
The door swung open with a ping and he stepped off the train.
L had never been one for sights, but he could still admit Resembool was a homely place. Warm and quiet in that way that urban cities could never truly be. The rolling green hills were filled with sheep that were the town's main life stock.
L meandered through the sleepy town, buying sweets and coffee as he visited confectioners and cafes, asking directions to the Rockbell household.
The people of Resembool spoke fondly of the Rockbells, surgeons as well as automail mechanics, kind doctors who'd saved many lives.
When L finally reached the door of the Rockbell household, he finally felt good again, with all the caffeine in his system he felt very prepared.
The gun and knife in his pockets helped.
The Rockbell home had been repurposed to be a shop but it wasn't immediately obvious. The large, two story house was larger than many other buildings in Resembool. The coat of paint was light in tone and rather pleasing to look at, light hues that didn't contrast with the surrounding grass. If not for the large sign outside that read, Automail, L might have dismissed it entirely.
Confident that he'd found the right place, L stepped up to the door and rang the bell. He heard light footsteps beyond the door as someone moved to answer it.
The door swung open and there was no one there. L blinked and looked down.
Holding the door open was young girl, of around nine years old. She had long blonde hair in a ponytail and blue eyes, a large grin adorned her face as she looked up at him.
"Hi there mister!" Her voice was high as to be expected of a girl her age, yet it ground his nerves all the same. "Are you here for automail?"
"Yes. Is there a Pinako Rockbell around?"
The girl nodded eagerly. "Yup! She's my grandma." She stuck her hand out. "I'm Winry!"
He stared at her outstretched hand. "L Lawliet."
"Oh! A customer!" An elderly woman appeared behind Winry. "Do come in."
The woman was incredibly short, almost comically. Pinako, as L could only assume she was the person in question, was shorter than the girl who had been introduced as her granddaughter. The elderly woman's hair was grey and had a peculiar combination of a bun and a ponytail.
A dog rushed from its place besides Pinako to eagerly greet L. Thankfully, the dog was intercepted by Winry, who held it back by its collar, L never had the patience for animals, especially excitable ones like dogs.
More noticeably, one of the dog's front legs had been replaced by what he assumed was automail. He hadn't seen automail before but L could tell it was good quality. The metal was clean and the joints didn't squeak horrendously, the limb appeared to work naturally in conjugation with the other natural legs.
L heeded Pinako's words and stepped inside, closing the door behind him and following Pinako out of the corridor and into the main room.
The room was filled with metal parts, discarded or prepared for use, the floor and table had many scrap pieces. An operating seat was set up, likely where they installed the automail for patients.
Pinako eyed his right sleeve. "Missing hand eh?" He nodded in reply. "How'd you lose it then?"
"Is that really relevant?"
Pinako shrugged as she tottered over to a particular table. "Not really, just asking." She glanced back over to him. "Ishval?"
"Yes. I was caught in an explosion."
"Whoa!" Winry had rejoined them in the main room. "You were in Ishval? My parents are in Ishval! Are you a doctor too?"
L considered her words, meeting Pinako's disapproving gaze, she had likely guessed that he wasn't a doctor.
"No, I'm a soldier." Winry frowned.
"But you're not in uniform."
L gestured to his missing hand. "I got time off. I couldn't exact shoot very well with one hand."
Winry blushed in embarrassment as she realised what he meant. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you or anything. I just meant-"
Fortunately, the doorbell rang again and Pinako shooed her granddaughter off to answer the door, who in turned brightened and hurried away.
"She meant nothing by it, just a girl too inquisitive for her own good." L nodded. "Come over here, young man, I'll need your measurements to design the automail."
L walked over and she held a measuring tape to his arm, measuring the width and whatnot.
"How do you want your automail? Slim? Bulky? Lightweight? Weaponised?" Pinako enquired as she scribbled down some notes after removing the measuring tape.
"Lightweight, as close to my original hand as possible would be best. Perhaps a small storage compartment or two."
Pinako nodded and scribbled some more. L heard noise coming from the doorway, he leaned against the nearby table.
Soon enough, two young boys accompanied by Winry entered the room.
"Hey! Old lady Pinako!" One of youths entered yelling.
The two boys were remarkably similar in appearance, short blonde hair and peculiar gold eyes. Their demeanours were noticeably different, one standing proudly with his chin slightly tilted up. The other stood behind him, slightly nervously following as Winry rolled her eyes at the boys calling out to her grandmother.
L glanced at them and raised an eyebrow from where he leaned against a table. The blonde boy met his gaze.
"Hey! Who are you!" He jabbed an accusing finger at L.
"Brother! Don't be so rude!" The timid boy scolded his brother.
"Yeah, Ed, he's a customer!" Winry cuffed the boy on the side of the head and Ed winced.
"Sorry." He grumbled under his breathand turned back to L. "Well? Who are you?"
L watched their small discussion in boredom. Far be it beyond him to understand the arguments of children.
"L Lawliet." He would say no more, his attention returned to Pinako.
"L? That's a weird first name." The boy pointed at himself. "Well I'm Edward Elric." He crossed his arms and seemed rather pleased with himself.
Ed's brother nodded. "Alphonse Elric. I'm sorry for my brother's rudeness, he's doesn't mean anything, he just doesn't know any better."
"Al!" Ed accused his brother.
L waved off his apologies. Pinako cleared her throat.
"Well, I think it should be ready in a couple of days. We have a guest room you can stay in the meantime."
The two brothers seemed to just notice his missing hand.
"How did you lose your hand?" Ed inquired, Al too intrigued to correct his brother's manners. L sighed.
"I fought in Ishval, I was caught in an explosion."
"Ishval? Are you an alchemist? Because I heard that they'd sent alchemists to Ishval. Will you teach me? I'm an alchemist but I need a teacher so-"
L peered down at the young boy who slowly approached him, cation forgotten as he questioned him.
"Aren't you a little short to be an alchemist?"
End
Boom. L loses a hand, goes to Resembool and meets Ed and Al. As far as I can tell in terms of cannon timeline, the events of this chapter take place in 1908, two years before Ed and Al attempt human transmutation.
There you have it, chapter 7, the longest chapter so far. I don't know if I should keep them this long so I can consistently update quickly, or make them longer, which means longer waiting time. Leave a review and tell me what you think.
Special thanks to WildfireDreams and Nifawiwa, who were the first to favourite this story and have been consistently reviewing since the start.
Thanks a lot you guys and to everyone who's reviewed, favourited or followed, it really means a lot to see all this positive feedback and useful criticism.