The Waters of Lethe
Disclaimer: I don't own FMA nor any historical characters, just the OCs I've created for this story. I like to play around in its world and torture Ed for a while.
Beta: Took-baggins
Summary: The invasion of Amestris is over, the battle is won, the enemy driven back and/or destroyed. With Alphonse's help, Edward has broken free of the Puppetmaster drugs grip, although he's collapsed from exhaustion. It's not all beer and skittles through, many innocent people have died, among them Alfons Heidreich who bravely gave his life to stop Hitler. Central is in ruins and night has fallen during the arduous task to rescue the trapped and wounded, and recover the dead. But now that normalcy has apparently returned to this war-torn country, the question on the lips of the main players is: Where do we go from here?
Chapter 77 What Came After (Was danach kam)
The weak halo cast by an old oil lamp was all Roy Mustang had to light his way through Ward A of Central Military Hospital Number One. Like all the rest, this ward, the final one he searched, was crowded with patients. Not only with soldiers recovering from wounds received in battle, but also civilians who'd been caught in the crossfire between the Thule Army and the Armed Forces of Amestris. The latter were surrounded by family members who had no where else to go, so they slept on the floor in the clothes they were wearing, small bundles of any earthly possessions they'd been able to recover held close to their bodies.
The entire city was without power as the main power station was the first target to be bombed that morning, and this ward, like all the others, was oppressively dark and hot. A few points of light in the wards and hallways was shed by a motley collection of lamps, lanterns and flashlights wielded by nurses or orderlies, who glided about like ghosts in rubber-soled shoes. They tended patients with quiet whispers, fluffing pillows, offering cups of water, checking intravenous tubes or dispensing medications. Roy had to step carefully to avoid impeding their progress, or stepping on a sleeping body when he stood aside to let hospital personnel proceed.
The muffled hum of gas-powered generators could be felt through the soles of his heavy combat boots, they powered lights and equipment in operating rooms and the intensive care unit on lower floors; plus refrigeration units in the morgue that occupied the hospitals basement. This was one of the good points of Fuhrer Bradley's rule, the military hospitals (the homunculus had believed in having more than one) were scattered about Central and equipped with the latest medical gear, to ride out any national emergency. The wards would ordinarily have lights and air conditioning, but the Prime Minister had ordered all but absolutely essential generators be parceled out among civilian hospitals.
As a result, only the most critical areas had precious power so lives could be saved, or lives lost could be kept in good condition until they were properly buried. So everyone else gets to stumble around and sweat in the dark, Roy thought sardonically. He'd been to the intensive care unit only a few minutes ago to check on the condition of Kain Fuery, who'd lost an arm during the battle. The brave young man had recklessly grabbed a German hand grenade that landed in the midst of his unit, with the intent to lob it back. Unfortunately, the fuse had been a bit too short for him to complete the task, and the grenade had gone off early. The blast obliterated Kain's left hand and caused so much damage to the rest of the arm it had to be amputated.
Roy sat next to Kain for half an hour and he watched his former subordinate's chest rise and fall steadily, while he fought with the desire to lie down next to him and sleep like he was heavily sedated too. His eyes felt full of grit and his eyelids were so heavy, keeping them open was a struggle. The left side of Kain's face was bandaged due to residual damage from the blast, but the right side still looked the same, if marred by a few lines. Marks of six years pressed into the pale skin; plus strain from the last few weeks added gravity to that baby face. Once Kain recovered, Roy was determined to take him down to Rush Valley and introduce him to a particular automail mechanic. Even if she hadn't forgiven, and still hated him for killing her parents, Roy Mustang would accept any abuse from her. He only wanted the best for a soldier who'd followed him with unswerving loyalty.
He'd left the intensive care unit to search the wards only ten minutes ago, and already sweat ran down his face to sting his eyes, or down his neck to draw an itchy line that followed the curve of his spine. Hours of sweat soaking into a wool uniform and socks resulted in a potent brew of smelly, unwashed soldier. He wanted so badly to tear his uniform off and take a long, cold shower until his lips turned blue, but the water lines were broken too. Fortunately the wells were uncontaminated, so water was drawn up by buckets and carried by hand to where it was needed. Word had come in that other cities in Amestris were rushing emergency relief trains to Central, but the railroad tracks just outside of the city limits were torn up. The trains would have to stop miles short of their goal and get their supplies offloaded into trucks, so relief wouldn't reach Central until after daybreak.
He stopped at an open window and rested a hip on the sill while he got a breath of fresh air, but immediately regretted it because the air coming in smelled of burning buildings and vehicles; plus he thought his nose detected the faintest sweetness of scorched human flesh. Roy smacked his lips; they felt slightly sticky; of course, that was his doing. He'd burned scores of people alive during the battle, and countless grey piles of ash mixed with bits of charred bone were blowing around the streets because of his Flame Attack. The air was largely still, except when faint breeze kicked up every so often, but it was humid and not very refreshing. But late summer weather in Central was like that, and Roy almost wished he were in East City instead where the air from off the Great Eastern desert was drier, even if it did bring particles of sand with it.
Central Military Hospital Number One was surrounded by a pool of darkness several streets deep, but further away, lights mounted on cranes illuminated shattered buildings for the benefit of rescue squads searching for wounded or trapped survivors. They'd started work at dusk and would be at it all night until relieved by volunteer groups expected to arrive next morning. The streets were in deplorable condition, either blocked by fallen buildings, or mined by deep bomb craters, so the rescue and recovery efforts moved at a snails pace. Roy felt so incredibly weary at the thought of all the work that had to be done, he could have fallen asleep right there. Actually, he did start to nod off, but woke up with a start just before he began to topple forward, right out the window. That wasn't a wise thing to do as he was six stories up, so he reluctantly stood back on his sore feet and groaned when his back spasmed.
He dearly wanted to find a place to lie down and sleep for a few precious hours, but first he had to find Fullmetal and his brother, who were somewhere in this hospital. Roy stepped aside between two beds to let a nurse pass in the narrow corridor; she gave him a tight-lipped glare from a tired face. He inclined his head slightly and answered her with a warm smile, but she simply gave him one more dirty look before moving away in a circle of faint yellow light.
"So much for the famous 'Mustang charm'", he muttered to himself and the hot, still air before he stepped forward and resumed his search.
Roy found the Elric brothers in a small, semi-private room off Ward A. Edward lay curled on his left side with Alphonse on his left, snuggled next to his brother, head against his chest, but the rest of him perilously close to the beds edge. Roy stood very still, holding his breath and just listening to the pair of them breathing in deep and even rhythms. A white sheet pushed down to his waist covered Fullmetal, who wore pale blue hospital-issue pajamas,with a narrow white bandage encircling his neck. Above the bed, a glass bottle hung from a metal stand, a clear plastic tube led from the bottles bottom to Edward's left arm, which was flung out over Alphonse's head, as if protecting him. A matching bottle, its tube clipped up, balanced the stand, and Roy guessed the if the first bottle contained essential fluids, the other was probably used for liquid nutrients.
Edward would be on a strictly liquid diet until he regained consciousness, which might not be for a week or more, depending on how exhausted he was. The fingers of Roy's free hand tightened into a fist, and he didn't realize it until they started aching and he relaxed the muscles with a concentrated effort. Alphonse had taken the best care of Edward he could, but the Thule Army undid all that by using Edward too hard,. He was only a human being, not a machine that just needed a little oil from time to time. Something Edward had once said floated up from the dark recesses of Roys mind to echo in his ears:
"We're only humans, tiny, insignificant humans; and we couldn't even save one little girl!"
The words throbbed with the pain and anger of a twelve year old Edward Elric, and other memories of Edward surfaced in quick succession. Roy finally came back to himself with a sharp gasp a few minutes later; he'd actually fallen asleep on his feet while part of his brain played back words and images like his own personal movie theater. Except without a box of hot, buttered popcorn to go with it, and the thought of food made his stomach rumble so hard it hurt. He hadn't eaten since very early that morning when he munched a slice of wheat toast and slurped a cup of lukewarm tea in the pre-dawn darkness. His nerves were so keyed up, he refused the offer of a second piece of toast for fear his overwrought state would make him throw up. Now, Roy's empty stomach was reminding him to regret that action.
The hour was sometime between ten and midnight; since Roy had seen to his troops, he should seek out something to eat and a place to lay his head. But he'd first wanted to scratch the urgent itch to locate the Elric brothers and ensure they were being cared for.
"Sleep tight, you two," he murmured in a sudden burst of paternal tenderness, where had that come from?
Major Edward Elric, the Fullmetal was the most difficult subordinate Roy ever had: he talked back, disrespected military protocol, was casual about reporting in, disobeyed orders, lied, kept information from Roy, ran away, and - and - Edward had the absolute worst handwriting Roy had ever seen. Probably the worst in the military - what ever had he seen in this little brat?
Roy sighed and dug out his pocket watch out, then he ran his thumb over the seal on the cover, a sea lion, rampant on the background of a six-pointed alchemy array. He really ought to get it replaced with one bearing the new seal of the Free Republic of Amestris, because this was just a reminder of the bad old days, a military dictatorship run by a tyrant who wasn't even human.
Roy stuck a finger nail underneath the cover and it creaked open reluctantly, its hinges rusted from six years in the freezing North; the glass face bore a hairline fracture, but the watch still functioned. The minute hand ticked away contentedly, while the second hand swept smoothly around the dial. He brought it closer to the lamplight and squinted, trying to bring the numbers into focus, Roy was getting older, and maybe it was time he started wearing glasses. Or maybe just a monocle,and for a moment, he tried to picture himself with one before his lips curled in disgust. General Grumman wore a monocle, and while Roy admired the General's strategic genius, he didn't want to go as far as aping the old fossil. Perhaps he would get one of the new contact lenses, that would be more fitting to the image of Roy Mustang, the dashing ladies man.
A sudden wave of weariness washed over him; it pulled at his mind and made his knees nearly buckle. A wooden chair lurked in one corner of the room and Roy pulled it over, wincing when the legs scraped on the floor with a sound akin to fingernails down a chalkboard. Edward mumbled something in his sleep and Roy froze, mentally cursing himself for waking the younger man up. But Edward merely rearranged his position and he went right back to sleep, snoring softly. Alphonse didn't so much as twitch and Roy sat down with a heavy thump in the chair. The seat was solid wood, hard and unyielding, but Roy was so tired his mind didn't register the twinge in his backside. He was just glad to finally take a load off his feet, he'd been on the move since before dawn and he hadn't gotten much sleep during the previous night.
Roy turned the lamp down to the barest glimmer of light before setting it on the floor next to the chair; darkness rushed in and reclaimed its rightful place. He closed his eyes and it felt so good to do so, ten minutes, just ten minutes, he thought to himself. His chin inched lower and lower until it rested on his chest and before long, his breathing matched that of the Elric brothers.
Despite the heat, his hunger and most of all, despite the awkward postion, in an uncomfortable wooden chair, Roy Mustang fell fast asleep.
Five hours earlier...
"Alphonse?!"
The boy reared back on his haunches and he glared at Roy. His nostrils flared like he was a betrayed horse, and his brown eyes shone cold and hard like water washed pebbles.
"Don't you remember me?"
Alphonse clearly didn't and suspicion turned his usually mobile young face into a surly mask. Roy suspected the antipathy his alchemy teacher, Izumi Curtis, felt for the military had seeped into the boy by some sort of osmosis. If the information in the file was correct, she'd trained him intensely for two years, he was bound to have picked up some of her attitude. Edward shifted and slumped further in his arms and Alphonse moved position to keep a hold on him, grunting slightly with his efforts. The movement brought the smell of burnt leather to Roy's nose and his eye picked out the remains of the leash, the umbilicus that once connected Edward to his captors.
Roy's gaze followed it up to the leather collar that encircled Edward's neck and his fingers itched with the urge to tear it right off. His right arm actually began to reach out on its own, the fingers curving to grab the buckle as he muttered "Alphonse, let me take that collar off your brother."
But he stopped when a peculiar gleam sparked to life in the teen's eyes, a gleam that said he would be lucky to lose only a few fingers if he dared lay hands on Edward. Roy pulled his arm back and then locked eyes with Alphonse's determined gaze, but the boy didn't flinch. Roy sighed with weary resignation, "Alphonse, this isn't going to -"
"STOP CALLING ME BY MY FIRST NAME!" The boy suddenly burst out with the words, that came at full force, like a tidal wave, hitting Roy almost like a physical blow. "You act as if you know me!" Alphonse was clearly angry and struggling to control himself, and find the words he wanted to say. Roy gaped at him in shock and he tried more than once to explain, but Alphonse continued to cut him off. "I've never met you before in my life and - "
Something very large loomed in the fog of smoke behind the boy and for a brief moment, Roy feared it was a Thule soldier as a human figure became distinct. He was too tired to snap his fingers or even raise the pistol he'd taken from Eckart, and the knowledge he couldn't protect the brothers ran through his guts like cold water. Yet he relaxed almost instantly, his tense muscles eased in relief when the newcomer's size became more obvious. No one else could be that big, or clear his throat quite that loudly.
"ALPHONSE ELRIC!" The voice thundered like a storm gods, and Roy barely heard Alphonse's startled yelp of fear. "DON'T BE RUDE TO YOUR ELDERS!!"
Alex Louis Armstrong had come to Roy's rescue; and Alphonse's face paled several shade. Roy suspected he'd already met Armstrong, and been on the receiving end of a spine-crushing hug. He wanted to melt into the ground and hide too. Alphonse didn't turn his head, but he flicked his eyes right and they looked like black pits in his fear-stricken face. The ground shook with the big man's footfalls; pink sparkles danced like gleeful demons doing the cha-cha as Armstrong approached and then went down on one knee next to the boy. The former Strong Arm Alchemist ( although he'd given up his State Alchemist title, Roy still thought of him by that name) was shirtless, his massive muscles throbbing. His skin was blackened with dirt and soot, he had a few cuts on his arms and one on his bald head trickled blood, but Alex was largely unscathed.
"Alphonse". Alex said it gently, but his low pitched voice still sounded like the grumble of an approaching thunderstorm. "I can personally vouch for the character of this man. Roy Mustang was my superior officer at one time and he never once gave me reason to doubt my loyalty to him." Alex smiled just then and those blindingly white square teeth made even Roy feel a bit faint. "His sanity sometimes, but never my loyalty."
Alphonse gulped hard, but shook his head when Alex coaxed, "Let him remove that collar."
Edward moaned softly just then, his unconscious body was a dead weight and Alphonse was having a great deal of trouble holding on to him. He flashed one more glare at Roy before his expression softened and he nodded reluctantly. "Thank you, Alphonse," Roy muttered as he inched closer on his knees to the pair and reached for the collar again. Roy laid two fingers along the side of Edward's neck and felt for his pulse, it was weak, but it beat steadily. Even underneath a light coating of dirt, Edward's skin was very pale,and waxy looking. He'd given his last shreds of strength to help stop the advance of the Thule tanks, and Roy felt a surge of gratitude towards the boy.
No, that wasn't right. Roy studied Edward's face, strained with exhaustion it may be, but his features had definately left the roundness of childhood behind. He was a man now, longer of torso and limbs, and Roy performed a quick mental calculation. Edward was sixteen when he disappeared six years ago, so he was twenty-two, a legal adult under Amestrian law. Alphonse made a soft sound deep in his throat, a sound Roy interpreted as impatience or even irritation. Get that damn collar off - NOW!
Roy's long fingers moved nimbly on the buckle, it opened easily, but the collar didn't fall away like he expected. He pulled gently at the leather but the skin appeared to be stuck to it. He held his breath and gently, and in fits and starts, he carefully peeled the leather away. The lambswool lining the inside was matted with sweat and dirt, and much to Roy's shock, a few tiny pieces of the uppermost skin layer came off with it. The skin beneath was irritated and puffy, red patches showing where the neck was rubbed raw. Roy noticed Alphonse's eyes were locked on to the collar as if the force of his gaze alone could set it on fire, and even Roy glared at the sinple piece of leather in disgust before he flung it away with a flick of his wrist. It clacked very softly upon landing on the ground, the final piece of the invader's hold upon Edward.
"Alphonse," he said after he turned his attention back to the brothers. "We need to get Edward to a hospital as soon as possible, and -" Roy tried to stand up, but his legs felt as heavy as lead and his knees unbent only slightly before he sank back to the ground. How embarrassing!
"Major Armstrong, I can't seem to stand up, could you help here?" He laughed lightly, if a bit nervously.
Alex smiled that smile, that scary,scary smile as if he understood all too well. His left arm reached out and encircled both of the brothers at once, Alphonse squawked with alarm but he continued to clutch Edward to his chest as Alex's grip tightened. "Thank you, Major. Now go and find a medic - AAK! Put me down!"
Roy was mortified when Alex slipped the other arm about Roy's torso and hefted him off the ground to dangle like a sack of grain. "You're done in Colonel, please allow me to convey you to medical aid!" Roy's half-hearted protest was brushed aside and he hoped no one he knew, least of all his former subordinates, saw him being carried like this.
At about the same time, a team of battlefield medics was scouring the area of Armstrong Park for wounded soldiers to tend to when they found the body of Alfon Heidreich. One women noted the care with which his hands had been crossed on his breast and the scarf arranged to cover his face. He looked dead, but her instructor had taught her to observe and confirm. She dropped to one knee and placed two fingers on the side his neck, pressing them firmly into the flesh. She turned her head after barely ninety seconds and called out to her fellows. "Stretcher over here! I've got a pulse!"
Author's note #2: It's too late for Christmas, but will calling this chapter a New Year's present do?