The Waters of Lethe
Disclaimer: I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile
Author's note: post series. Some movie events may happen, but differently
Warning: May contain movie spoilers. Will contain violence and death, maybe sex.
Beta: Moi
44. Come Fly With Me (Gekommene Fliege mit mir)
His full name was Harold William George Ffolkestone-Higley.
"But you can just call me 'Biggles' if you like," he said, right after he walloped Ed on the shoulder with enough force to nearly knock him down. "I consider it a badge of honor, wot?"
Edward just smiled and nodded weakly. Biggles. The stereotypical British flying ace of the Great War. He recalled Patrick reading some boy's magazine that featured serializations of the adventures of this Biggles character. The stories were harmless fun, but Edward didn't ever expect to meet a Biggles archetype in the flesh.
He wanted to go back to bed,. No, he wanted to hide under the bed.
"So, Edward, how do you like my kite?" Harold ("Just plain 'Harry' is fine too.") swept his leather gloved hand in the direction of the plane. "I call it the 'Flying Nefertiti'. Isn't she the most beautiful thing you ever laid eyes on? Well, I mean," the visible portions of Harry's face flushed red, "After Khadija, and Djura, of course."
The compliment made Khadija broaden her already brilliant smile. She was not a vain woman, but flattery was nice. "Harold, this won't get you into trouble, will it?"
"Pish-posh, I have to fly to Morocco anyways, a passenger now and then is allowed and will be good company." He turned to Edward and frowned slightly. "You have a coat, but that won't be enough at ten thousand feet. Hang on a tic, I have just the thing!"
He walked back with long strides to his plane and came back with a white cable knit sweater, and he popped it over a startled Edward's head without warning. It must have been made for a giant because the bottom hem drooped past his hips while the sleeve ends hung down well past his fingertips. Harry stepped back, and with hands on his hips beamed at Edward. "Excellent, now just put on your coat and button it all the way up and Bob's your uncle!"
He is? Edward thought just before something came slamming down on his head, obscuring his vision and pulling his hair unti it hurt. "OW!"
"Oh, sorry, old chap. You're going to have to do something about that ponytail. Here, why don't you let me cut it off?"
"NEVER!" Any suggestion he bow to convention and cut his hair just made Edward more determined to wear it long. He reached back to pull out the hair tie, and re-do his ponytail lower. His bangs would get crushed underneath the flying cap, but that was all right. Edward re-adjusted the cap before he secured the buckle under his chin. Harry just grinned at his defiant glare and handed him some leather gloves. Edward pulled them on over the white cotton ones he wore, but they still came well past his wrists.
Edward wondered if he would have to put his suitcase down by his feet, but Harry unlocked a door in the side of the 'Flying Nefertiti' to reveal a small storage compartment. His suitcase was stowed next to a smaller one and the door was re-secured. "Well, then," Harry said as he straigtened up, "This is cheerio for now, my dear Khadija. Tell Alonzo I'll pop in on my next return trip, all right?"
The goodbyes seemed to take forever. Edward was obliged to kneel down awkwardly and hug each child. They had gotten attached to him in the week he'd spent recuperating, and the younger ones were in tears. Those grabbed his arms and begged him to stay, and it took some time for Khadija and the older children to peel them off. Harry had hugged Khadija without reserve, but Edward settled for a more formal bow before boarding. He used the handholds on the side of the plane to climb up to the rear cockpit, but despite his slight frame, it was still a tight squeeze. Harry climbed up and showed him how to buckle the straps before he clambered into the front seat and secured his own belt.
One of the oldest boys got the honor of turning the propeller. "Contact!" he shouted and the engine came to life with a roar. Edward ducked his head against the sudden rush of air and pulled the goggles down over his eyes. Everyone on the ground was waving to him and Edward waved back while the plane began to roll forward. Harry aimed the propeller east and the 'Flying Nefertiti' gained speed, and the engine roar became louder.
Edward looked over the side and saw the ground rushing past in a blur. He thought he heard Harry shout, "Up we go!" and suddenly Edward felt weightless. He looked over the side again and gasped at the sight of Egypt rapidly receding beneath him. His heart leapt into his throat when Harry banked hard left, and the plane kept climbing into the air.
They passed several hundred feet over Luxor and the plane raced north towards Cairo, following the rail line. A trail of smoke gradually came into view, and then the noon train to Cairo could be seen steaming along. Harry flew over the entire length to the engine, which tooted as if in greeting. He waggled the wings (this made Edward very nervous) in a salute before veering left on a straight westerly course towards the continent of Africa.
Several hours later, an enraged Ernst Draco was throwing objects: paperweights, an inkwell, framed photographs, and several pens about his office after receiving a phone call from Cairo. His henchmen were in position, ready to follow and then capture Elric, but there was a slight problem. He wasn't on the train! After the Pullman sleeper door opened, Dr. Forbes, his assistant - and a lady in a black chador emerged. When the trio came abreast of the Germans, the lady turned to them and pulled a blonde wig from the folds of her garment before she triumphantly waved it in their faces and laughed.
Ernst leaned against his desk and ran the fingers of one hand through his tangled hair. "I'm so sorry, so very sorry. I really thought we had the Shambalan this time!" He started when an opened cigarette case was brought up to his face by his visitor. Ernst selected one with trembling fingers and stuck it between his lips before leaning forward to ignite the cigarette when a light was also offered. He took a deep puff and exhaled a vast cloud of smoke which circled lazily towards the ceiling. He rubbed at his gritty eyes with the heel of his free hand. His visitor, an unremarkable looking man with brown hair, brown eyes, and a narrow brown mustache regarded Ernst with a bland stare.
"I'm sorry too, Herr Draco. You are a nice young man, but you had more than three chances to complete your mission Failure is not an option." The man pulled a silence equipped automatic pistol out of an inner coat pocket and shot Ernst Draco once between the eyes.
He died instantly, yet his wide open eyes seemed to register astonishment at the neatly smoking hole in his forehead. Ernst slid to his knees before he toppled forward. At the last second, his body went sideways and he landed on his back. "Well," his killer grunted. "At least he died like a German."
The third man moved towards the body, but was called back. "Leave him, Rudolph. The others will see he gets a proper burial. I must report to Berlin before I start tracking this Shambalan down. He's a wily fellow and I do so enjoy the thrill of a good hunt."
"Ja wohl, Herr Doktor."
Author's note #2: Any guesses as to the new player in this game?