The Waters of Lethe
Disclaimer: I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in its world and torture Ed for a while.
Author's note: This chapter and the next will have shifting tenses as I switch between viewpoints of different characters. So buckle up, 'cause it's gonna be a bumpy ride, buttercup.
Warning: violence and death in spades this time. This chapter contains plenty of bad language too. No sex - hetero nor yaoi - no, not even if you squint. This is your last warning, here there be monsters!
Beta: Took-baggins. (have a great vacation, you earned it!)
Chapter 75: Awakening (Aufbruch)
Where am I?
He crouched and stared dumbly at the ground which rumbled as if an earthquake was convulsing it The sound of his labored breathing was loud and harsh in his ears, almost, yet not quite drowning out the rapid thud of his heart. A pitched battle was raging all around, rifles crackling, bullets flying, shells bursting, people yelling and screaming. But all outside sounds came muffled to him as if he was underwater and hovering just a few inches below the surface, his arms, and legs treading silently. He raised his head and looked over at the enemy lines, but not really seeing the figures in blue uniforms several feet away, he thought he was just imagining them. Clouds of smoke drifted through the air and through his mind, obscuring clear sight and thought. Those uniforms looked familiar, like he should know them, but his pummeled brain couldn't make the connection.
Someone close by was shouting at the top of his or her lungs. He thought the words were directed at him, but he couldn't be sure. All this seemed so unreal, maybe he was just dreaming, and if he closed his eyes and opened them, he would finally wake up. Something pulled hard at his upper body and made pain flare in his neck and shoulders. Pains just sharp enough to break through his meandering thoughts and line them up like tin soldiers. He believed he could just make out the words; someone - his master - wanted him to stand up. Bu he was tired, so very tired, yet must obey, maybe if he did what he was told, his master would let him lie down and rest.
His muscles didn't want him to move, they were comfortable where they were, but the wrenching force around his neck came again. He sighed and reluctantly began to lever himself upwards, tendons and ligaments protested all the way until he was more or less vertical. Something slammed at high speed into a nearby building which seemed to crumble in slow and fast motion at the same time. Shattered pieces of bricks came bouncing and whirling past him on the cracked macadam surface. A burst of hot air sent smoke and fine particles into his eyes; he blinked rapidly and shook his head in a vain attempt to clear his vision. Pain flared in his neck again and he slowly turned his head to look at his master. She was angry with him, her face distorted in a perpetual scream as she pointed to the people in blue uniforms. She seemed to be shouting something like "Destroy them!" but it took his sluggish mind, stupid with exhaustion, a few beats to process the order.
His hands came up so slowly, his shoulders hunching, the palms pivoting to face one another. They moved so slowly, as if he was reaching through molasses. He must clap them together to summon the Power, but the muscles didn't seem to understand the signals from the brain. He felt he must obey, but he didn't see...
This wasn't working, the muffled sounds, his exhaustion, and the smoke all conspired to distract him, why was he summoning the Power?
Oh, that's right, to destroy the enemy.
But - who were the enemy? Nothing was making any sense to him. Perhaps understanding would come if he just rose a little higher...
Edward's arms shoved down through the water and he kicked hard until his head broke the surface. He puffed out stale air and took a deep breath of fresh, sweet consciousness.
He immediately wished he hadn't when the outside world slapped him hard in the face. He gaped stupidly at the pitched battle going on about him: his head swiveled rapidly back and forth, taking it all in and gradually becoming more horrified by the second.
Where am I?
His last truly conscious memory was of a dank, stone-walled cell in Berlin, he struggled for air while several men held him face down on a creaky camp bed that smelled faintly of mildew. He remembered that and the pain of the very unwanted injection between his ribs, compounded by anger mixed with fear, and desperation.
Then suddenly, he felt nothing, he saw nothing, heard nothing, smelled nothing and spoke nothing. Memories he'd forgotten about, memories he'd tried to suppress because they were so painful and raw flooded his mind until he was gasping for breath. He looked at his hands, both were streaked with dirt and sweat, the rubber cover of the right hand was cracked and there was a split between his third and fourth fingers. It gaped wide enough he could see the metal innards which enabled him to move his hand.
Edward was staring at his hands as if fascinated, flexing the fingers, curling, and uncurling them; when the scream came again, the voice hoarse from over use. "Puppet, you must obey me and destroy the enemy! Do what your master tells you!"
The fingers of both hands instinctively balled into fists because he recognized that voice. He slowly turned his face right again to see Dietlinde Eckart.
She wasn't quite so pretty anymore, her hair mussed and tangled and face streaked with dirt. The intricate uniform she wore was torn and stained. Hatred and a little bit of desperation twisted her features into a frozen rictus, she looked like some sort of monstrosity who only masqueraded as human. Edward felt rage start to percolate hotly in his veins; the sensation spread throughout his body until he could hear his teeth grinding. He'd once told Dietlinde the only task he'd willingly perform was wrapping his hands around her neck and squeezing until life left her body. His exhaustion vanished momentarily, pushed back by the urge to kill Eckart.
She tugged very hard on a long dark piece of leather and pain flared like a malign thing in his neck and shoulders again, bringing another spurt of molten anger with it. His left hand went up to his neck and nimble fingers felt the soft leather encircling it. The rage darkened as his fingertips explored and sent information to his brain, then something black exploded behind his eyes after he felt the buckle and realized the object was a collar. A collar: buckled around his neck as if he was a dog. A mental image formed of Eckart throwing sticks for him to retrieve and bring back in his mouth, he dropped them at her feet; and panted happily while she patted his hair and praised Good dog!
She put a collar on me and led me around like I was her DOG??!! That goddamned bitch!! I'm going to fucking KILL her!!
Eckart tugged hard again on the leash and Edward's rage exploded outward like an erupting volcano. He bared his teeth, grabbed the leash with both hands, and yanked back with all his newfound strength. He would pull her over to him and wrap the leash around her damned scrawny neck. Then he would pull it tight, as tight as he could until she was just another lifeless corpse, like the others lying still on the dusty street.
The flames surprised him because he hadn't seen them coming. It was a veritable wall of fire that cut him off from the object of his ire; he heard her scream shrilly and he hoped she was burning alive. The thin leather umbilicus that connected them quickly parted with a loud snap. He was already leaning back, and he promptly lost his balance. Edward fell hard on his backside before he flopped further on to his back, the impact with the hard road knocking the wind out of him.
Edward lay there, stunned, and stared at the overcast sky of clouds and smoke, and huffed for air for a few moments. He'd also struck his head a glancing blow on the macadam, causing a veil of multi-colored stars to obscure his vision and he had to wait until it cleared. Only then could he sit up slightly to see what was going on.
Eckart wasn't dead and he felt keenly disappointed, for she was still very much alive, and a bolt of fury shot through him, making him tremble with its intensity. Nor was Dietlinde alone, a third person stood facing her, a tall man with a shock of mussed black hair. He stretched his right arm in her direction, a once-white, but now soot stained glove just inches away from her nose. But his face was blurry, and Edward blinked his watering eyes before he swiped an impatient left sleeve over his face. It helped - a little - but what he saw made his jaw drop.
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Mustang stood alone in the middle of the wide intersection of Embassy Boulevard and Parliament Way, his guts leaping and churning with nerves. The two once elegant streets lined with handsome buildings now were almost impassable with piles of bricks, stone and wood. Some had lost their facades due to tank or cannon fire, so each floor was exposed like startled spinsters surprised while bathing. Still others were on fire and thick black smoke curled into the air, causing a premature dusk in Central. The last time he'd been in such a pitched urban battle, the Armed Forces of Amestris were the aggressor in Ishbal. Now they were making a final, desperate stand in the middle of their capitol city. He heard the tanks coming long before they even came into sight, the clanking and squeaking sounds made him want to turn and run, but he stood his ground.
The air around him was thick with the sounds of battle. Smoke from explosions and tiny fragments of burning buildings filled the air, which also smelled of the ozony aftertaste of alchemic reactions. Grumman played his troops like they were chess pieces, some to protect important buildings like Roy's platoon, others to safeguard evacuation routes as citizens were still fleeing north, west, and south. State alchemists were positioned in strategic places all around the city, the best combat alchemists placed on the roof of the tallest buildings in Central. Tall steel antennas were also planted in clusters of three on these roofs; arrays were drawn around them and activated when the enemy planes made their first bombing runs over the city. It took some trial and error because the triangulations had to fine tuned, but on the second pass, a crackling arc shot skywards to hit one plane and bring it down. It crashed into the eastern suburbs and sent up a gigantic fireball that dazzled the eye.
Two more planes were shot from the sky, and a monstrous hand formed to actually reach up, grab, and pull a fourth one down with a shriek of crushed metal. The troops cheered loudly each time, but that was the extent of the defender's victories because the invaders finally deployed the Puppet and his bite was sharp. Roy had to admire the strength of the mature Edward's alchemy. Unburdened by any conscious thought, gigantic roaring bursts of red, yellow and blue light writhed through the air, collapsing buildings, flattening tanks and sending soldiers fleeing in panic. His power was immense and frightening but it was almost out of control and couldn't last.
Roy and the troops under his command fought back as best they could. The men and women hiding behind sandbags picked their targets carefully and mowed enemy soldiers down with massed fire. He snapped his fingers until they throbbed with pain, even when he alternated hands for each reaction. Enemy tanks blew apart like moving shrapnel bombs which mowed down the German soldiers shielding behind them. Grumman had given Roy command of a platoon and he moved them like he was playing a particularly brutal chess match of his own. Once the enemy was weakened enough, Roy would order them to fix bayonets and charge in for hand-to-hand combat. Until then, they stayed behind their burlap ramparts because Roy couldn't afford to waste even a single soldier. He drew his own pistol and carefully picked his shots to bring down officers. Once a bullet tore through the left sleeve of his uniform, the force knocking him sideways, and sending the pistol spinning end over end through the air. He examined the hole with one finger, it was a clean through and through which barely nicked his skin.
Roy winced slightly when a searching digit brushed the sore spot and shot an urgent pain signal to his brain. He pulled his hand back and looked at the tiny dot of blood before he rubbed his fingers together to smear it and add more stains to his gloves. Then he turned smoothly back to the enemy and snapped those fingers in one motion, a massive wall of fire erupted and a squad of German soldiers went up like screaming Roman candles. Blood intensified the strength of alchemic reactions, but it also tired him out and Roy could feel he was nearing the end of his rope. He could maybe summon another few snaps before he would need to rest.
But that was okay because Edward was tiring faster. Eckart and her Puppet had halted fifty yards from Roy's position, with a German tank platoon just behind them. He could see Edward's strength was fading fast, when he walked, he staggered more diagonally than forward, like a drunken sailor. Edward finally stumbled, overbalanced, and fell to his knees when Eckart yanked too hard on the leash. He crouched there and gasped for breath while sweat poured off his face, dripping like light rain. His struggles to stand up in response to more tugs on the leash filled Roy with pity for his former subordinate. But if he couldn't be halted by normal means, Grumman had ordered Roy to put his feelings aside and do what was best to protect Central. All he had to do was point and one of the strategically positioned snipers would end Edward's life with a single gunshot to the head.
But Roy hesitated to give the pre-arranged signal. He remembered the bright and curious child with the actively searching mind; it seemed so cruel not to make an attempt to save him, to just give up on the younger man. Yet, sentiment, sympathy, and mercy had no place on a battlefield; Edward Elric was a threat who must be eliminated. Roy narrowed his eyes, knitting scorched eyebrows so hard in concentration his vision blurred:
Snap out of it, Fullmetal! That is an order!
Roy held his breath for several seconds too long when Edward's left hand came up and began to explore the collar around his neck. Spots began to dance before his eyes until he remembered to puff out the used air and take another breath. It smelled foul and tasted of ash, but the spots slowly faded and vanished. That's it, Fullmetal! Wake up! Wake up and remember who you are!
Eckart tugged even harder on the leash and Roy would never forget the sudden change in Edward's expression. The blank slate shattered and Edward's face was alive again, teeth clenched in a soundless snarl and his yellow eyes blazed with hot anger like heat shimmers over the baking macadam.
Roy snapped his fingers to help him get free, and a tongue of flame shot out to burn through the leash, the umbilical cord which connected Edward to Eckart. Both of them fell backwards, he couldn't see Edward's expression, but the woman was very surprised. His legs moved without his conscious thought and suddenly he was only inches from his enemy. Rage crackled from her like a living thing, and she said something in the strange guttural language. Roy didn't understand it but the tone made it sound like she'd just insulted his manhood or something. Then she pulled a pistol from a pocket in her gaudy uniform. Without him consciously thinking about it, Roy's right hand came up, fingers poised just inches from her nose, and then a dead silence fell around them.
He was so close he could see her blue eyes were really quite pretty despite the crow's feet angling away from the corners, and the dark, bruised skin bagging beneath them. Roy could smell sweat, smoke, blood, and fury, and no doubt she could smell his own anger. Each was still for the moment, but the center could not hold, one of them had to crack eventually.
In the end, Edward made the first move.
Roy dimly heard the slap, then the ground rumbled and he smelled the rising ozone levels as tendrils of red colored alchemic energy snapped and crackled through the air. The road began to melt up before massive spikes shot skywards, either impaling the German tanks behind Eckart or flipping them over like they were toys. They moved almost gracefully through the air with exquisite slowness before coming down and crushing any soldiers unlucky enough to be underneath. Roy heard their screams and then the crunch of their crushed bones beneath shrieks of collapsing metal. He flicked his gaze rightwards and saw Edward slump to the shattered macadam, his body relaxing into unconsciousness as sheer exhaustion finally got the better of him.
Eckart fired and Roy grunted in pain when the bullet tore through his side before he took one large step forward. He grabbed her wrist and tightened his grip, his teeth gritted against the painof his wound before he twisted hard, bone bent and ligaments yielded. Eckart screamed in defiance, but loosened her grip on the pistol and Roy wrenched it away from her.
He pointed the still smoking barrel right between her eyes and snarled in a voice thick with pain and anger, "Dietlinde Eckart, in the name of the Armed Forces, and the Parliament of Amestris, I order you to put up your hands, you are my prisoner!"
Her face twisted with rage and pain, Eckart held her sprained wrist with the other hand and glared daggers at him. She spat in his face and Roy smiled grimly,somehow he expected that reaction. What he didn't expect was her turning away and fleeing while shouting orders in her language. She took one, then two steps toward a surviving German soldier, her good hand reaching for his rifle.
Somewhere high above and behind Roy, a gunshot snapped like breaking glass and the back of Eckart's head exploded in a flurry of blood and brain matter. She stopped, swayed, and then crumpled gracefully to the ground, the soldier also falling as if he was merely going to sleep. The shot from a high-powered sniper rifle must have been another "through and through". Roy twisted around, shielded his eyes from the shrouded sun, and looked at the anonymous office towers behind him. Somewhere above,"the eye of the Hawk" watched over him from one of those high aeries, and Roy smiled in spite of the situation.
The death of Dietlinde Eckart seemed to confuse the German soldiers; some dropped their rifles and fled while the rest milled about uncertainly. Roy took advantage of their bewilderment to turn to the troops he commanded and bellow an order: "Company B, fix bayonets! CHARGE!"
They hastened to obey him, scrambling like eager, bloodthirsty puppies over the sandbags. Their bayonets glinting like revenge, a veritable stream of men and women raced past on either side, as battle cries came roaring from their throats. Unknown to Roy, soldiers who'd retreated from other positions in Central had heard the Flame Alchemist was here and heartened, they'd come to swell the ranks of the platoon to the size of a regiment. Now this new force was in full attack mode and they fell upon the Germans like wolves, gleaming metal dipping down and coming back up, the bayonet ends dripping red with blood.
Roy looked for Edward but he couldn't see him, and he began to force his way through the mob of rushing bodies. He saw an occasional glimpse of brown or yellow, and feared Fullmetal might get trampled in the stampede. It seemed to take forever until he was able to get a clear view, and he rushed forward only to pull up short after just a few strides.
Someone else had beaten him to Edward. A teenage boy who looked to be fifteen or sixteen years of age knelt amid piles of rubble and hauled the limp body into his arms. He had long hair the color of warm caramel pulled back into a ponytai1, several strands had come loose and hung down, plastered with sweat. He looked up at Roy with large dark brown eyes which shone with excitement, yet were also darkened by mental anguish. His face was rounder than Edward's but the determined set of his chin bore a remarkable resemblance to a certain subordinate whose jaw once jutted out in the same manner.
Roy felt a grin begin to pull its way across his face. He's an Elric, all right.
The boy had to be Alphonse and Roy thought he was a handsome kid. This kid looked up at Roy with a mixture of apprehension and the sheer cussed stubbornness Edward once displayed so flagrantly. Back when he'd just been a soul bound to a suit of armor, Alphonse was kindness in a can, but more than once he'd flashed steel inside that velvet glove. Once affairs had settled down and Edward had recovered, perhaps Roy could persuade Alphonse to join the military as a State Alchemist.
A sudden wave of fatigue shot through him just then, and Roy couldn't stand up any longer, so he dropped to his knees in front of the pair. The wound in his side throbbed like fire, but he couldn't seem to stop grinning. Maybe he should sober up now because Alphonse tightened his grip on Edward and shot a very suspicious glare at Roy. Bloodcurdling screams and yells still split the air because the fighting wasn't over, and here he was, smiling like the village idiot.
Edward Elric was back, and everything was going to be all right.