Welcome to Chapter Eleven. AKA: long-ass chapter of craziness, plot-thickening, and Ed-whump. The long-ass part is due to me being absent for so long. I was very ill for a while, and when I got back on my feet, I uh... got a little case of writer's block. But I prevailed! Even though this chapter may have suffered because of the writer's block and I apologize ahead of time.
THANK YOU to everyone who reviewed. I don't even know where to start. You guys are the reason I kicked my ass back into gear to finish this chapter. So thank you so much. T~T You're my reason for continuing on as well so every one of you hold a very special place in my heart and my mind.
WARNINGS: Distress, violence, rape, LARGE AMOUNTS OF CONFUSION THAT YOU SHALL SUFFER, and rapid passage of time. This is a hard one, guys. If you are easily triggered or are under the age of 18, please don't read. It's not that graphic and it's just the tiniest sliver of this chapter, but I do not want to be responsible for a negative reaction or any flashbacks. If mentions of rape will trigger you, do not read. That is all.
Chapter Eleven
Weeks passed. Dwindling by like grains of sand in an hourglass, the days sifting through one moment to the next in a sluggish drag of time. Ed found himself thinking about hourglasses a lot. There used to be a set of hourglasses in Hohenheim's study when they were kids- one for a minute, one for an hour, even one that lasted a full day before the last grain of sand fell down to join its companions. That one had been enormous, and he had a vague memory of his father explaining how it worked to him, although he couldn't have been older than three at the time.
He remembered some nights after their mom had gone to bed, he and Al would sneak into Hohenheim's study, their small feet whispering soundlessly over the cold floorboards, and would sit side by side in front of the day hourglass. It was never turned over except for when their father was there, but one night he and Al sat on the floor and began to talk about alchemy, dragging over one of the old, dusty volumes from a shelf and rifled through its pages with hushed murmurs.
'Brother, we'll get in trouble...' Al had been so afraid to upset their mother then.
'It's alright, Al. We'll make her something and she'll be happy- just wait and see.'
With chalk-covered fingertips, they performed their first transmutation. Together.
Ed remembered how the flash of static light had amazed them as it cut through the shadows of the room and lingered in every corner, he could still feel the rush of something in his chest- something hard and powerful that had burned through his very being with such a sense of right and purpose that he knew this was what he was. Pure and simple, he was an alchemist. He knew it that day, so many years ago. He'd known that he would be a great alchemist. Just like Hohenheim.
Al had been so excited, had exclaimed so loud that Ed tackled him to the floor and clasped a hand over his younger brother's mouth. Of course Ed was ecstatic too, when a little wooden blob that looked something like a person's profile stood proudly from the warped floorboards, but he contained his shock and wonder and pride.
The hourglass stood witness to that moment, and after he and Al returned the floor to normal, they both silently looked at the hourglass. For whatever reason, they finally decided to turn it over themselves, even with their father not present. They came to this joint decision without a word, as sometimes happened between the two. They spent nearly every waking moment together in those days so they were bound to have alike thinking at times. Turning the hourglass over was a bit of a struggle, even with the both of them, since they were so small and weak then. Ed could still remember the numb burning in his arms and the soft grunt Al gave out at the strain.
Afterward, they stepped back as one and grinned at each other, faces streaked with chalk and the light of that transmutation still glowing wildly in their eyes.
Ed now imagined how that hourglass had looked- its sturdy oak base smoothed over with glaze, the shimmering glass that was smudged here and there with a wandering fingerprint, the glint of the pale golden sand in its confines.
He could almost feel the smooth, cold slide of glass under his fingertips and smell the gentle, smoky aura that had surrounded his childhood home.
He inhaled deeply now, but all that assailed his senses was the damp, slightly herbal scent of these underground halls.
'Edward, dearest.'
Ed wanted to cringe at the sound of that voice, wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out, but he was kind of used to it at this point. The hard and passionate curdle of nausea didn't immediately swell in his gut. Only the faintest annoyance wound its way into his chest, constricting his ribs with barely any pressure.
He squinted open his eyes and raised his head to look over his shoulder at Artabanus. The redhead was sitting on the edge of the bed with a tray in his lap and Ed could smell the all-too familiar sweetness of maple. Maple oats, Artabanus called it, was the usual breakfast in this place since the grains weren't perishable and all that was used to make it was hot water and maple syrup. With a sigh, Ed struggled into a sitting position, rolling his shoulders and stretching out his arms in front of him.
He wasn't tied up like some kind of slave anymore at least. After that day what felt like years ago, Artabanus had never tied up Ed again- instead he'd constructed some kind of anti-alchemy manacles that he secured around the blonde's wrists, a bar in the middle so that his hands could never touch.
Not that it mattered even if he did try and make a run for it, because of the four different anti-alchemy arrays etched into the cuffs' metal. The manacles were more comfortable and Ed was actually allowed to move as he pleased now, sure, but he was still just as much of a prisoner.
He was reminded even more of this fact when a bolt of white heat shot up his body when he shifted his broken leg. There was no way he would be able to escape without the assistance of alchemy.
Grimacing deeply when he heard Artabanus' chuckle, Ed almost denied the offered platter, but gave in quickly enough. Food was one constant here that Ed was happy to take advantage of. While he ate, Artabanus began going on about the state of affairs in the compound. Troy and his goons would be making a slave run to Central soon, and Artabanus and Ed would have to watch the remaining children while they were gone. Just a week ago the slavers had transported most of the children to Ukreyt somehow. The blonde had a feeling there had to be some kind of deal between the Ukreytans and the Amestrian soldiers that guarded the border. There was no way they could get that many people through without raising alarm otherwise.
Twenty. Twenty children had been transported. That left a mere four in the compound still, and cold horror had washed through Ed's chest when he heard. He had failed those kids. He could have saved them...
Ed slowed halfway through his breakfast and reluctantly pushed the tray aside, appetite now completely ruined. For fuck sake, how could he sit here and eat like some kind of happy pet while those children were god knows where, being subjected to horror the blonde could only imagine.
And those men were going for more, probably to Central to pick out the best among the many waifs of the city streets. Ed knew a few of those kids, having lived in Central for the past two years, and always made sure they had money, food, and a place to sleep. Maybe not in his own home, but he gave them enough money to get somewhere safe for the night. Little Elizabeth, Travis, Benjamin... Ed couldn't live with himself if anything happened to them because he was too weak to help them.
'Edward, is everything alright? You haven't been eating much the past few days...'
'I'm fine,' Ed sighed, letting the man take the tray away from him so the blonde could pull the covers away from his body. It had been awkward at first, maneuvering things when his hands were trapped together at the wrists, but it had gotten easier over the- what? Five weeks? Six? Ed had no idea. All he knew was it felt like years.
He still hadn't seen James, either, although Artabanus had assured him several times that the student was still at the compound. For the first couple of weeks, visions of James had haunted Ed like some kind of a horrible spirit- images and reliving the spattering of warm, metallic blood on his face, his own arm slicing down, the nauseating feel of flesh giving under the cruel bite of automail...
But now, at times, there were hours and even days that passed that he didn't think about his student. And of course when he finally did, again, he was crushed by guilt. Artabanus was becoming more and more worried, but Ed knew he wouldn't let him or James go.
'How is your leg feeling today? Any better?'
Ed's eyes fixed on the tiny dips and curves of the wrinkles in his boxers- the only thing he really wore other than his shirt these days, since he barely ever got out of bed. If he'd thought he was being treated like some kind of pet before all this, now he was like a fat, purring cat on some prince's lap. It was fucking horrible at first, especially after his injury, to be so confined. He always hated being trapped in a hospital or having to stay immobile for long periods of time. But now... it was almost not too bad... in a way...
He thought about Mustang, the lazy bastard, and wondered if the Flame Alchemist had ever gotten a long lapse of leisure like this before. Picturing the man's relaxed slouch and loose smile when he sat behind his desk and did everything possible to avoid paperwork, it seemed very likely. But then Ed saw him when everything was tumbling downward as the Promised Day approached. And then, underneath Central Command, the look in his eyes when he burned Envy to cinders...
That fire that burned within the coals of his pupils and ash of his irises, searing out straight from his soul- the eyes of someone that had clawed their way up from hell and had lost too much along the way. No, Ed didn't think Mustang had rested much in his life.
'Edward?'
Golden eyes snapped up and Ed barely even flinched when Artabanus' face was just inches from his own, 'What?'
The man's eyebrows twitched a little bit, but other than that his face was completely placid. The eyebrows were how Ed usually tried to tell the man's emotions now- and the blonde had had a lot of time to learn how to read the tiniest of the man's expressions. Artabanus had a rather slim jawline and he was slight enough that Ed would see the occasional gritting of teeth from the man, which was how Ed knew he was getting on the redhead's nerves. It was pretty amusing and the blonde did it more than he probably should, but that little thrill of excited anxiety it caused when he saw that minute twitching in the man's jaw was completely worth the risk. Not that Artabanus would ever actually do anything to hurt him. Oddly, Artabanus' lips hardly ever showed the emotion he was feeling. If he was smiling, it was tight and almost always looked faked- plastered on like some kind of parlor makeup. If he was frowning, well... he never frowned. His mouth was either in a straight line or pulled painfully at the corners in a facade smirk. The rest of his face stayed completely motionless at all times, except for the eyebrows. Now they furrowed just the slightest, showing Ed a mix of frustration and concern.
'I asked you how your leg was feeling today, Edward. Where is your head at, boy?'
'It's...' Artabanus was so close... Ed was taken back to the first time the man kissed him. The memory burned like a falling star through his mind- how his body had so easily reciprocated the vile act. Now he couldn't really grasp any sort of feeling to the memory, just a dazed sense of confusion.
A palm flattened itself against Ed's forehead and the blonde flinched violently. His skin burned as if he'd just stuck his face against a block of ice.
The sound of Artabanus actually hissing had Ed on a whole other level of dizzied confusion. He could only stare at the panic in royal blue eyes and try to stay grounded as much as possible.
'Edward, you're burning up. This is bad. I've never felt a fever this high before...'
'Fever?' Ed squinted at him through the fuzziness that was starting to leak into his vision. What the hell was going on? He'd felt fine not twenty minutes ago, now it felt like his head was miles away and his body was buzzing with some kind of weird numbness. If he closed his eyes he could imagine himself being underwater, weighted down yet lighter than air itself. It was a feeling that caused his insides to squirm uncomfortably and his head to whirl even more.
'Lay back down, Edward. I'll get you some medicine. I'll be back in five minutes, I promise.'
Icy hands gently pushed his shoulders back and somehow Ed found himself alone and freezing, staring listlessly at the ceiling. He'd never really been sick before. Maybe a few times as a child and once or twice after he entered the military, but none so bad and sudden as this.
He shrugged to himself lightly and tried to tighten his grip on the blanket wrapped around him like a soft cocoon. It was still hundreds of times less painful than getting his automail ports installed. That process left him weak and in cold sweats for days. When getting his automail bolted through his collarbone he's been unconscious for nearly twelve hours afterward. This was nothing.
No matter how much he tried to focus and think though, his mind drifted away from his body and was horribly jumbled and random, thoughts and images mixing and falling- the puzzle of his mind being broken up into hundreds of tiny pieces. The only thing he could compare it to was the times he'd enjoyed a little too much of the liquor his frequented bar offered. It hadn't happened often, maybe a few times ever since he turned eighteen, but every one of those nights ended the same.
The first time, it had been Al to somehow drag him out of the bar and back to their apartment, and Ed only remembered the light, airy feeling of nausea washing through his stomach and the flash of his brother's darker golden eyes. The comforting feel of concerned, exasperated hands guiding him through simple processes that were never so hard before.
Then Al had gone to Xing, and of course the person Ed found himself drinking with then was Mustang, usually.
The blonde could pinpoint a few times that it was completely the General's fault that he ended up in such a state. One time, for example, Mustang had challenged him to a "drinking game" in which they tried to match each other in shots. Obviously that hadn't ended well for Ed. All he could remember from that night was the strong, warm feel of hands on his waist, guiding him through his own apartment after a corridor of the chill of the night. Quiet words whispered into his ear that he had forgotten almost as soon as he heard them, but he remembered the deep, rasping, soothing voice and the hot wave of breath against his face. Those warm hands had helped him into his bedroom, he knew, although he didn't remember that part. The last thing he knew from that night was staring up at the ceiling and blabbering on about god knows what- probably some kind of alchemic theory or other- while Mustang sat on the edge of his bed and just listened. It was strange how the man had sat there quietly, surely until Ed passed out, without saying a single word. Ed often wondered about that night- why Mustang didn't just leave after taking him home, why he sat there like some kind of silent guardian or some shit.
The next night like that, Ed remembered much more clearly, although he had played it off to Mustang as if he'd forgotten. He wished he'd forgotten.
It had been Havoc's birthday, so everyone had gone to the bar to celebrate after a nice dinner with the whole office. Ed had stood back mostly, just watching everyone celebrating and laughing and talking. Watching them, instead of bringing light and happiness like it had for everyone else apparently, transported him back to those dreadful years leading up to the Promised Day. The pain and suffering they had all been through, that Ed hadn't even been there for. Hadn't had a chance to help them at all. Maybe Havoc would never have gotten injured in the first place if Ed was there. Maybe Ed should have stayed closer to Central, helping them as much as possible. Would that have changed anything? If so, what? What would have happened if Ed hadn't been pronounced a fugitive and had stayed and fought like the rest of Mustang's men? But the sacrifices he would have had to make that work... no. It was best the way it had played out... right?
At some point, Mustang had dragged him away and to the bar, where the two of them sat and watched the General's team together. The group apparently hadn't even noticed them leaving.
'The toll that is wrought, being the ones who make the hardest decisions... it keeps us apart from the rest of the pawns, doesn't it?'
Ed had turned to Mustang with a dark glower at the man's half-mumbled words, 'Don't call them fucking pawns, you self-righteous bastard. Those are your men- your friends.'
Mustang had finally met his eyes and smiled lightly, making Ed's heart swell and shrink all at once, 'Settle down, Fullmetal. It's just something my mother told me not too long ago,' those dark pools of silver onyx sharpened on him, 'I know what you're thinking about, Ed. Stop it. I may be a hypocrite telling you this, but there's no need to worry about what happened. The past is in the past. Let your worries die there.'
Having a feeling they were about to have a long, stressful conversation, Ed had waved over the bartender and ordered a tumbler of scotch, wanting to be ready for it.
'So what, Mustang. I wasn't some kind of leader on the front lines, making hard decisions. I just went with whatever was going on.'
'That's bullshit and you know it,' Mustang's voice lowered and the man crept a little further into his space- Ed actually had to turn slightly so that he could down the liquor without touching him, 'You were the one that led us to victory, Ed. They don't call you a hero now for nothing. I can't imagine what you went through to make that happen.'
Discomfort had trickled through the blonde at that point, and he had tried to let the conversation die. But for once his own humility beat his temper, 'I didn't go through any more than you did. And you're not over there either, so turn your words back on yourself for once. There's nothing you can do now, so quit worrying.'
'It was my fault Jean and Hawkeye were so severely injured.'
'It's my fault Hughes is dead.'
A dark cloud of guilt fell over Ed and the blonde could only watch as multitudes of tortured emotions flitted over Mustang's face. They both fell deathly silent, and wordlessly called for more alcohol, apparently giving up on trying to comfort each other with words. There were no words that could soothe the wounds the two of them tried desperately to salve with any means necessary. Ed knew this, and wondered why they still tried. He knew Mustang had taken up heavy drinking after what happened in Ishval, through quiet whispers between the team. It was an accidental revelation on their part, of course, that Ed just happened to overhear. Like the day the General had come to the office- well, been dragged into the office by a serene Hawkeye- ten minutes late with dark shadows under his eyes and hell in his expression. Havoc had whispered to Breda about how Mustang had had a "flashback" the previous day. Ed had missed it since he had been on a mission, but the looks on the men's faces were worrisome. Then the second Lieutenant had made the concerned comment about how he hoped the General didn't fall back into alcoholism. It didn't sound good, and Ed had made a mental note that day to always be careful about how much he "enjoyed" at the bars.
'It wasn't your fault,' Mustang said, bringing Ed back to the present. The blonde glanced at the man, a little dizzy from turning his head and noticing that his body had already slid from fire-hot to pleasantly numb, 'Hughes was an intelligent adult that made his own choices. The only one to blame for his death was his killer. Who wasn't you.'
'Might as well have been,' Ed muttered before throwing back a shot of something that burned like acid down his throat. He then slammed the glass upside down on the bar and was fascinated by the dully sharp clang the shot glass made when meeting the lacquered wooden surface.
'It's no use trying to convince you otherwise now, is it? You're already drunk.'
'No I'm not,' Ed had denied immediately, even though Mustang's small frown was wavering horribly to his eyes, 'Why don't you just go and be with Havoc and them? It's a bad night for me, I'm just going to bring you down.'
'On the contrary, Ed, all you ever do is raise me up.'
The blonde could have sworn those words had been in his mind, and the nonchalant way Mustang returned his gaze to his own glass seemed to support that belief, but Ed just knew that Mustang actually said it. The strangest feeling swept through the younger alchemist, something indecipherable and both parts physical and emotional. It was like a dozen tiny fires igniting in his chest, both cold and hot, smothered with anxiety and excitement. It made him feel as if his chest would actually explode, especially with the crippling hope that streaked through it all. It was at that point that, bitterly, he realized he felt something different for Roy Mustang. Something other than hatred or amiable animosity or even placid friendship. The latter had never really been there in the first place, to be honest. It was always fire and biting, icy metal between the two of them- there was no room for such a fragile thing as a regular friendship.
Trying to wrap his head around that fact, Ed didn't even notice that he'd been downing more drinks until a firm hand on his wrist had him looking up at Mustang. His eyes couldn't focus properly and he ended up just hanging his head.
'I think you've had enough, Fullmetal,' the softness in that voice was almost unnatural and Ed wanted to laugh and point it out, but some dark monster was catching all those joyful little thoughts in a net and dragging them back down.
'I want to go home,' the blonde had tried to say, but wasn't even sure if it came out right. Mustang seemed to get the gist though and helped him off the stool. Ed had been so unsteady he would have fallen over if it wasn't for the strong arm that wrapped around his waist- rough but comforting.
'Damn it, Ed. Why did you drink so much? Never mind, let's get you home.'
Ed was led over to the group of soldiers that were much more sober than him, and Mustang had said farewells from the both of them. Then the coolness of Amestrian night was kissing his face and he had tilted his head back to enjoy it, suddenly feeling much better. He hadn't realized how overheated he was in that tight, condensed bar until he was outside. A little bit of reality started to trickle back in and he realized Mustang was practically carrying him down the sidewalk, Ed's left arm held over the man's broad shoulders and that arm still firmly around his waist. An odd vision had come to Ed in that moment- of them both as soldiers in a battlefield, Ed injured and Mustang helping him to safety. The strangeness of it and the power of the vision had the blonde slumping his forehead against Mustang's shoulder.
'You can leave me here, y'know. Just go.' He was completely serious, but the General had laughed in a way Ed had never heard before. It was loud, and violent, but filled with unadulterated amusement. It seemed so out of place from the darkness that fogged Ed on the inside.
'Ed, I'm taking you home. You are really out of it. Do you even know where we are?'
'Outside.'
'You know, I think you're so drunk you're not even being sarcastic. So I'm not going to comment.'
The smallest of smiles had worked its way onto the blonde's numb lips, and somehow the darkness faded back a bit, giving his lungs more room to breathe.
They walked on for what seemed like both minutes and seconds, and before Ed knew it they were standing in front of the door to his apartment and Mustang was hesitantly asking him for his keys. The man had probably asked him a few times before, according to the tone in his voice, so Ed was quick to burrow into his jacket pocket and retrieve the key. He leaned forward to unlock the door but Mustang plucked the little bronze instrument from his hand and did it for him, causing a tiny swell of annoyance to dance along the blonde's nerves. Usually Ed would rant and rave about how he was not a child and could unlock a fucking door for himself for fuck sake, but he just stayed quiet and let the bastard General lead him inside.
He didn't know why at first. Maybe it was because of the strange kind of... aura that had come over them as soon as they reached his door. Everything before that was light and easy, now there was something almost... suffocating, nerve-wracking that was laying over him like a shroud. Ed could tell that Mustang felt it too, by the way the man was silent and the thread of tension was working through the General's body. Seeing it in his jawline, in the man's eyes, his shoulders, Ed had felt almost guilty. Because for some reason he knew he was the one causing it.
They stood in Ed's sparse living room, Mustang giving an incredulous and definitely unhappy look at the box furnishings for a long minute or two, both awkwardly quiet, before Mustang sighed.
'Well, Fullmetal, let's get you to your bed before you pass out where you stand.'
'I'm not that drunk, Mustang,' Ed finally bit back, his temper dispersing the tension that was wiring him up for something.
'Sure you're not. Then walk by yourself.'
Which Ed did. Admittedly unsteadily, but he still got to his bedroom without Mustang's assistance, even though the man kept a hand on his elbow at all times. Like he was some kind of fucking piece of fragile glass or something that would break with just a nick. Removing his coat had proven a little more difficult, and Mustang had wordlessly helped with that too, and that weird pressuring air returned full force when the man's hands brushed against Ed's heated skin. Something began to burn within the blonde and he tried to quell it, confused and not liking that he didn't understand why his body was reacting that way. To Mustang. Abruptly, he wanted the General gone. Immediately. Whatever this was, Ed had wanted to deal with it without an audience.
'Listen, Mustang, you shou-'
'You know, you can call me Roy when we're outside of work.'
It was disorienting, being cut off by that out-of-the-blue comment, 'Not even Hawkeye calls you by your first name. Roy.'
A comfortingly cool hand brushed over Ed's cheek, making the blonde look up into those dark eyes helplessly. The fire inside his stomach stirred brighter to envelope Ed's chest and he was vulnerable to it. Which terrified him beyond words. He was sobering quickly and was steadily beginning to realize that this was dangerous. Mustang touching him so intimately, so freely, it just wasn't... normal.
'I want you to call me Roy, Ed. Because you're not Hawkeye or Havoc or any of my men. You're different from them to me. Separate. Special.'
Ed's hands shook, and he barely restrained himself from reaching up and actually kissing the man or some idiot thing like that. A mantra fixed itself in his mind, and his thoughts and emotions battled brutally. Mustang was his commanding officer- a bastard, manipulative, and it was no secret that he was legendary with women. But at the same time, his emotions were arguing. Mustang had proven himself an intelligent, interesting companion in conversation, they had battled side by side and were still just as ready to fight for each other again, he had seen a glimpse of the human side of Mustang and wanted to know every little thing about him. He wanted to talk to the man about more than alchemy or the past- he wanted to know about those personal details. And, with no small amount of hesitation, Ed admitted to himself that his body was definitely feeling something for the older alchemist.
And maybe Mustang did too.
Those cool hands on his face, the calming voice...
'Roy, I...'
'Who's Roy? Edward, I'm right here. Can you hear me?'
Ed stared into those dark eyes, the heat in him dying down as confusion rose to take its place completely. That voice wasn't right. It was too light, too free of command. It wasn't Mustang's voice. The blonde blinked twice, hard, and the entire world shifted away.
What the fuck?
He had just been standing, he was sure of it, but now he was laying in a cot and staring up into blue eyes.
Reality slammed back into him like a battering ram. He was sick, Artabanus had gone to get medicine...
He still felt awful, dizzy and dazed and just as drunk as he was that night nearly three months ago. Glancing around, he realized with a start that he wasn't in the compound anymore. The golden wash of sunshine across the white, tiled floor made such a strange elation blossom in him that he actually grinned, suddenly feeling hundreds of times better. It took him a little longer to notice that not only was he above ground for the first time in over a month, but that he was also in an actual hospital. The clattering of feet and murmuring of voices outside the slightly cracked door gave him a clue, but the distinct, chemical scent that saturated everything was the final piece of the puzzle, and Ed could only sit in silent astonishment. He was in an actual hospital. For actual people. Where there would be nurses and doctors that he could...
'Edward? Are you alright?'
Artabanus wasn't that stupid. He couldn't be that stupid.
'We're...'
The redhead leaned forward from where he was sitting in a chair beside the bed and settled a cautious hand on Ed's shoulder. Speech and movement immediately became impossible and the blonde wanted to cry and scream from the frustration that bubbled up inside. Of course Artabanus wasn't stupid. It had been so long that the man had actually used his alchemy on Ed that the blonde had nearly forgotten.
'Edward, you were poisoned. You've been unconscious for four days... the doctors had to do a blood transfusion. You almost didn't make it...'
The way Artabanus' voice wavered made a tightness constrict Ed's rib cage. Trying to push it away he focused himself inward and took note of how his physical condition was. His leg still ached like a motherfucker but the pain was dull- in fact, every cell in his body felt a bit numb at the edges and he guessed he was on some kind of heavy painkillers. If they did a blood transfusion...
Golden eyes flicked to his left- opposite of where Artabanus sat, and fixated resentfully on the IV bag that stood there on a metal stand, tracing the wire into his flesh.
Four days, Artabanus said. Only moments ago it felt like Ed was lying in bed under the compound. He's missed the entire ride into whatever city this was and had lapsed into some kind of coma? Poisoned...
He wanted to ask so many questions, demand answers, and fought the tiredness with all he had, but there was no way he would break through the hold of alchemy now blanketing him like a gentle vice.
'I'm not sure who did it yet, but I promise you when I find out, I will flay the flesh from their bone like the pig they are.'
Cold dread trickled lazily through the blonde's veins at those words. The scariest thing was he didn't doubt for a second that the older alchemist was being completely literal. He tried to summon up some disgust, some kind of animosity towards the man, but he was just tired... blackness dimmed the edges of his vision even as he struggled to stay awake.
He couldn't sleep now. This was his chance. Maybe Artabanus would slip, maybe someone had recognized him. He was supposedly famous, for crying out loud. Somebody here had to recognize him, right? This had to be a good-sized city for such above-average medical care. In most towns a hospital was a tiny five-room building made of wood and plaster. This place was actual painted bricks and glossy tiling.
'Just relax, Edward. We won't be going back to the main compound. I've arranged us private accommodations separate from that place now. My own countrymen are insistent on killing you for some reason so the only way to be safe is to stay away from them for the time being. I'm sure they'll realize soon how good you are. And I'll take care of whoever tries hurting you again. It'll be okay, Edward. You'll see.'
Artabanus was quickly silenced by the weary creak of the door. A graying head popped in and the friendly face spread into a smile as brown eyes fell on Ed.
'Well hello. My favorite patient is finally awake, I see. How are you feeling, Charlie?'
Charlie?
Ed's chin dipped down from a wordless command that sparked through his nerves. But he kept his eyes on the doctor, pleading with all his might through his gaze. Apparently the doctor didn't get it, as the man shifted uncomfortably before entering and closing the door behind him.
'That's right. Your uncle told me you were mute. I'd forgotten. Apologies, Charlie. So, Isaac? Does he seem to be functioning normally so far?'
Artabanus hummed contemplatively and Ed felt a hysterical mix of amusement and exasperation as he realized that the alchemist had made this into a huge charade.
'Physically he's alright I think. Not too sure about his mind, yet... you said he could have memory loss, right?'
'That's right. Hopefully not, though,' the doctor approached Ed and immediately got in his space. If Ed had control of his body he would've flinched away but he could only dwell in the discomfort of such close contact as the old man lifted his eyelids higher and squinted into the blonde's eyes, 'his pupils aren't dilated so that's a good sign. They're not unfocused... that means we did a good estimate on the anesthetic. It's always a guessing game for people with automail. So much harder to calculate proper, safe doses. Alright, Charlie, can you follow my finger with your eyes?'
The doctor took a step back and Ed breathed a small sigh of relief before obeying the command and fixing his eyes on the digit that panned back and forth to the very edges of his vision. Ed hated doctors. They were always trying to stick needles in him, which they'd already succeeded in, and treated him like a child. It was true back when he was a twelve year old adult in the military and it still stood now as the man cooed with encouragement. For the love of everything, did Ed really look that young or was every doctor just a condescending asshole?
Musky cologne radiated off the doctor and choked Ed but he tried to ignore it with all he had, focusing instead on the way that Artabanus was moving his body to follow the doctor's commands. One arm lifted, then another, then Ed's hands clenched into fists, and then they were moving on to his legs. And the doctor talked on.
It was awful. He was so clueless that Ed was a prisoner, a hostage. And Ed could do nothing other than stare hard at him, trying to convey the message by that means. Every time those brown eyes met his golden ones, a searing flash of hope burst inside the blonde. Yet every time, the doctor looked away nonchalantly, ignorantly.
After ten torturous minutes, the doctor scribbled a long list of something onto a chart and took his leave. All of the hope inside of Ed at that moment disappeared, swallowed by the darkness of despair. A comforting hand ruffled through his unrestrained hair and Artabanus' quiet voice soothed him as Ed's body lay back in the bed.
Hot, venomous tears of frustration burned Ed's eyes so he closed them tightly, unwilling to show the man just how much he was hurting.
Would Ed never be free?
How long had he been missing now?
When had he...?
Was he even really missing? Was this all some kind of twisted dream that would continue on forever? It certainly felt fake... he'd just been in a bar with Mustang, he was sure of it. So maybe this was some kind of nightmare. It would make sense- Ed hated hospitals. The doctors always treated him like a child, even now when he was clearly an adult. And they always tried to stick tubes and needles in him...
'Go to sleep, Edward.'
Artabanus hovered over him, a small, worried smile blossoming on the man's handsome face. Artabanus was here, that meant Ed was safe, right? As long as he listened to Artabanus, he would be okay...
Every fiber of his being was torn between confusion and exhaustion, but Ed didn't want to be sucked into the black hole of exhaustion. He wanted to know what was going on around him, since he was in a hospital. Those doctors were always trying to stick IV's in him or take his blood with their needles. And he had to stay awake to rage against them when they looked down on him like he was still a kid, which they always did even now.
Ed hated hospitals...
'Sleep well, Ed,' Mustang whispered, dragging the comforter over Ed's numb and intoxicated body. The blonde just stared at the man, falling silent mid-rant at the look in those dark, soft eyes.
Ed wanted to sit back up and say something, anything, to the older alchemist, but he couldn't force himself to move no matter how much he tried and pushed against his muscles. Mustang leaned over him and the blonde's body was raked with lightning when there was a warm press of lips against his forehead. Still, the shock and excitement wasn't enough to fight the losing battle against unconsciousness. The last thing Ed saw were those dark eyes in a pale face retreating, the silky shine of midnight hair catching in the searching gleam of the streetlamp outside.
Or was it bright royal blue eyes that were moving away from him regretfully?
The dawn was breaking. Gentle swathes of orange began to glow on the horizon, the golden giant rousing from its slumber to begin yet another day. Night fled from the purifying light, taking with it the monsters and nightmares that hid in the shadows and replacing them with reassuring amber rays.
Ed surveyed this with critical eyes, taking in every detail of the hillside that lay before him and welcoming the teasing wind of the new morning.
Everything was a cycle, even the days worked in a circle- Equivalent Exchange. The day gave way into night and night into day and the cycle continued for eternity, just like the rest of life. It was the main rule of existence, Ed had learned long ago. All is one and one is all.
Without him, what was the point of the cycle of days, and without the cycle of days, what was the point of him?
He thought about this often, and usually crept above ground to watch the beginning and end of each day as he contemplated to himself. Artabanus would wake at any moment, Ed knew, but he couldn't help himself. The sun was too much of a temptation to ignore. It seduced him with its baptizing aura, lifting him high and readying him for the day.
A voice at the back of his head was scolding him, telling him to just run now- he was already above ground, away from the reach of Artabanus.
'Shut up, Mustang,' he muttered at the voice with a measured indifference, 'I still have these stupid handcuffs on. Even if I did try to run, how far would I get before Artabanus drags me back? Not very far, I'd bet.'
Ed dropped his eyes and his fingertips just barely brushed the edges of the metal manacles, his hands aching from curling so tightly. There just wasn't a point anymore. He would never get away. He was numb to this fact, and only the tiniest of flames burned under the thick layer of indifference that was masked over his emotions.
'You're not even going to try, are you Fullmetal,' the words returned in that deep, sultry voice weren't even questioning. It was a statement, just as helpless and hopeless as his own. Ed had grown tired of how Mustang's voice began to steadily mirror his own. He used to enjoy their conversations, but now they'd just turned... stale. Emotionless.
And so he didn't bother responding in any way other than relaxing his hands and turning his eyes to the sun again, letting his mind be wiped of the worry, of Mustang's voice and those dark, disappointed pools. Sometimes the memory of that man's eyes threatened to break Ed. The blonde was never really certain if he had broken or not.
How would he know? What would breaking encompass?
It was something else to use his extensive free time to ponder, and he mentally slipped it into a list of things to think about. He liked thinking most of the time. It was the one thing he could always occupy himself with when Artabanus was taking control of his body. Except for the few times- which were growing more and more frequent- when his thoughts took a sudden, inexplicable dive and he would begin to wonder...
What was the point of my life? It doesn't make sense for everything I've done to lead to this point, to this juncture. Is this how it will be for the rest of my life? Wasting away and waiting for the moment that the Ukreytans will finally kill me? They've tried three times already, and it's only a matter of time... Which led him to the most disconcerting thoughts- only, he would feel the horror at himself hours or even days after thinking it- Just how easy would it be to end my own life?
'Not as easy as you would think,' Mustang murmured, and the blonde winced at the hollow quality of the voice.
He sat there for a while longer, watching the searing globe warm the lands with its licking fingertips as it arched into the sky. It truly looked as if some kind of monster was hoisting itself up over the land, to then hover menacingly, yet protectively, over the world.
Yet another circle, burning in the sky like the very epitome of alchemic theory, lighting the way for knowledge and life.
'You're doing good, Fullmetal. Just remember our plan...'
'I know that, Mustang.'
The plan. Pretending to like Artabanus, going along with whatever the man wanted to gain some kind of trust. Some plan that had turned out to be. He was just as much of a prisoner as three months ago. He played along with Artabanus, mustered up a smile every now and then, let himself become complacent and obedient, like some kind of broken horse...
The old Edward Elric would have nothing to do with this plan. He would rail against it with everything in his being and fight and scream with fiery rage and hatred. The old Edward was a stallion that could never be tamed. Now...
Ed was just so tired of fighting. After being poisoned, it had taken nearly a month to recover from that alone, and he was still struggling with walking on his broken leg. He wondered if he would ever be right again and had to wait several minutes before a reassuring voice spoke up in the back of his mind. Of course he would be alright. This was just temporary...
But was it?
It took a moment for Ed to realize his thoughts were recycling again and he closed his eyes to dispel the hot, angry shock. It had been finally going away... damn it...
'Edward?'
The blonde jerked, startled, and glanced over his shoulder. A shock of dark red hair was raising from the ground, the grating shriek of metal scraping over rock sounding as the fake boulder was slid easily aside. Artabanus pulled himself the last foot out of the ground and Ed knew that the stone stairs leading down would now be lit with lamps. Being a creature of curiosity, Ed had taught himself the way through the pitch darkness three weeks ago, shortly after they moved into this separate shelter from the compound. Artabanus always voiced his puzzlement on why in the world Ed would go traipsing through blackness just to watch a sunrise. But of course an affectionate note always rang in the man's voice.
Now, wry blue eyes regarded him in exasperation, 'Edward, here you are. I've been looking everywhere. Your breakfast is going to get cold.'
'Sorry,' the blonde murmured, climbing to his feet and trying to hide the twitch of pain that had his teeth grinding. Cold heat shot up his leg and he sighed shakily. He just wished that his leg would heal already for fuck sake.
Apparently he was horrible at hiding the physical torments that were taking their toll, for not a second later Artabanus was at his side and offering an arm around his back as support, 'See, Edward, this is why I don't like you going too far away from me. You could hurt yourself worse than you already are. Come on, now. I'll help you down.'
'Thanks.'
They moved down the staircase and into the dimness of the underground home, the older alchemist barely pausing to pull the disguised door back over the entrance. Descending in relative silence, Ed focused on the clattering of their boots on the stone. It took him back to when he and Al would arrive back at Central Command after their missions- the steady multitude of booted feet marching across the parade ground as soldiers gathered for whatever kind of drill. Ed never payed much attention to them at the time but now he recalled them in clear detail; the swarm of navy blue, the practiced synchronization of their strides, the emotionless mask of their faces. Ed could easily imagine them marching into battle like that. A tiny, traitorous part of him asked why they hadn't marched to his rescue. He scoffed to himself and ignored the confused hum that came from the man at his side.
'Nothing, sorry. Just thought something really stupid.'
'You thinking something stupid? Why, Edward, I don't believe that one bit.'
See, if Mustang had said something like that, or even Al, it would be laced with mockery and sarcasm, even if it was just out of amusement. But no, Artabanus was always so sincere and... flattering.
The saddest thing was it didn't even bother Ed anymore other than the minute prickle of annoyance. He had become so used to such behavior he just passed it off as soon as it happened.
When Ed blinked, they were in the kitchen, and half of his plate was already gone. He set down his fork and looked up to Artabanus, who was reading through some text or other. That was one comparison they both inevitably shared. The intense desire for knowledge. It wasn't unusual for the man to read at every one of their meals and even in bed at night. Since moving into this underground shelter, Artabanus had suggested they share a bed to save on space, and Ed was still too out of sorts to really refuse. And so, it had been added to the routine. It wasn't all that different from the usual- again, Ed usually fell asleep right away after having evening tea and missed out on whatever Artabanus decided to do afterward- but sometimes Ed would be able to stay awake for an hour or so, and the older alchemist was always sitting up in bed and reading in the dull lamplight. During those times, though, Ed found himself more absorbed in the redhead's expression than the actual literature that was being perused. The blonde would watch the lines of the man's features subtly shift every now and then and familiarized himself with that face. The examination was usually enough to push him into a restful slumber, and when he would awaken he would find long, sinuous limbs tangled in his.
'Alchemic theory?' Ed asked with no real interest. He just wanted to break the damned silence. Always the silence.
'Philosophy, actually. There are a few philosophers that have come into light in the past few years that caught my interest. One of them- the author of this book for example-' Artabanus held up the rather modest-looking tome before continuing, '-actually are trying to disregard alchemy as a science altogether. They are claiming it's more of a matter in spirituality and the soul, making alchemy out to be some kind of magic.'
'Obviously people like him are just idiots,' leaning back in his chair, Ed crossed his arms and stared off to the side, not wanting to really look at Artabanus at the moment, 'they see alchemy at work and just immediately assume it can't be possible- has to be something completely unnatural. It's really not- just the deconstruction and reconstruction of matter.'
Artabanus hummed indifferently, as if not wanting to outright disagree with Ed, 'Well he definitely seems well-educated on alchemy and its ways. I know for a fact he must have read all the basic texts and he even goes so far as to mention chimeras and the philosopher's stone. He's undoubtedly been researching the topic. And yet he argues against the science and points out the strangest things. Like how does a transmutation work, really? The array, the sigils of power, the energy harnessed- all that is clear and understandable. Easy. But he brings up this question- just how exactly is it that such a simple thing as a circle drawn on a surface can harness energy through the earth or the air? It should be impossible, right? But then he goes on to argue with himself and his own theories. This man is amazing! This whole text is him and his internal struggles with understanding, spread out and detailed for us all to enjoy.'
Ed did pause for a moment and let his mind absorb the things Artabanus was saying. That did sound like an interesting novel. Except it would annoy Ed to no end, since he knew the answer to the main question being put to light- the Gate. Everything boils down to the Gate, especially alchemy. It connected everything, especially a human's soul to the base matter around them. It was Truth. There was no point in questioning it... that was where these philosophers were at fault.
'My alchemy's a bit different than yours, of course,' Artabanus continued thoughtfully, 'it's purely biological and all about the transference of thought into command through physical contact. I don't deconstruct or reconstruct matter, simply manipulate nerves and muscles by thought. It's strange how differently our alchemy works, isn't it, Edward?'
'It's all the same science. Just altered applications and materials. Like the Xingese alkahestry. It might look different, but it's really not,' how could Ed possibly explain to Artabanus the Truth? That all-knowing being that heralded the very nature of life itself. How could he convey everything he'd learned from the Gate? Would the man even believe him if he told him about the Gate?
Of course he would. But understanding it may be a different matter. Artabanus may be a genius, but without seeing it himself there was no way he could truly absorb what Ed knew.
The blonde looked down at his plate and remained quiet for another few minutes, pushing the piece of toast around the circular bowl of china. His eyes strayed up to Artabanus to see that the man was finally finished with his own food and was now fully intent on the book in his hands.
'Reading alchemic theory again?' he didn't really care but he was bored, and the silence was really starting to get to him. Sometimes it was just too much without someone else's voice to answer his. He was almost glad of Artabanus in a way- to have the man's soothing, light tenor answer him every time he spoke.
Blue eyes glanced up at him, a strange, muddled glimmer in them.
'No, Edward. This time it's Philosophy.'
Waiting for an expansion upon that, it took nearly a minute before Ed huffed aloud. Well that was strange. Usually when Ed asked a question, Artabanus would be talking for ages. Then, maybe out of spite or maybe out of boredom, the blonde sneered, 'All those philosophers are idiots. I don't know why in the world you're reading that. They see something they don't understand and automatically make it into some great enigma or something.'
'Indeed.'
Now completely taken aback, Ed fell silent. Had he angered Artabanus somehow? Maybe because he snuck up to the surface this morning? This just wasn't like him. The blonde analyzed the man critically while he ignorantly continued to read, but of course nothing in the man's body language gave anything away.
Not that Ed needed to worry much. The next time he blinked he was sitting in the tub in the bathroom, rubbing his wrist where the manacles had bit into and reddened his flesh during the night. Artabanus was going on about something or the other while scrubbing down the blonde mane with soap. The scent of cherries rose from the water and Ed relaxed back at the scent, closing his eyes and letting the familiar numbness take over.
'Edward, how long have we been united, now?'
At these words, Ed resurfaced to notice that they were now at the table once again, and the shock of salt on his tongue made him swallow reflexively. A mouthful of food went down and he shook himself, taking a long drink of water before finally turning to Artabanus, who was gazing at him with the most peculiar look in his eyes.
'Um. I don't know. Why?'
'Just take a guess, Edward.'
'Three months maybe? Maybe a little more.'
'Really. Is that so,' Artabanus' smile looked off- glum almost. But why? Shouldn't he be happy that Ed had been with him? Was he actually
losing his infatuation with Ed?
Ed didn't even want to hope. He tried to choke that tiny little sprouting of emotion but it broke through his hold and crippled his heart.
Artabanus said nothing else, however, and the next thing Ed knew he was climbing into bed, pleased at the lack of twinge in his leg. Usually getting in bed hurt like a motherfucker. It was nice to be free of that tonight. His leg was healing, then. Finally.
But a tiny nudge of warning was pressed against his mind. Something was different...
He glanced over at the redhead, who climbed in beside him, 'No tea tonight?'
A small smile was sent his way while the man leaned over to the bedside table and dimmed the lamp. That too, was different. Usually Artabanus would sit up reading for a while before actually going to sleep.
'No, Edward. No tea tonight. Tell me, Edward. How long have we been together now?'
The blonde's brow creased in confusion and he thought back over the weeks. It had already been hard as hell to measure time, did he really expect Ed to know?
'I don't know. Why?'
'Guess.'
'About three months, I think...'
'Today marks a year since the day I saved you from those Drachmans, Edward.'
Ed stared at Artabanus for a long moment, waiting for the punchline, but the redhead just gazed back, the strangest concoction of twined emotions in those blue eyes. But... it had been maybe three or four months...
But then he'd been poisoned, and he recalled how his thoughts seemed to repeat at times after that... like some kind of twisted dream.
Shock slammed into him and his breath froze in his lungs. What... there was no way...
'I'm sorry, Edward. I thought you knew. You've been forgetting things right after doing or saying them... I thought it might have been selected memory loss or something, but I just couldn't handle it anymore. And I was wrong. Shit, I should have done something sooner! I'm so stupid! It must be some kind of side-effect of the poison all those months ago-'
No. There was no way it had been a year. No fucking way.
'He's lying, Fullmetal. Don't let him get to you, he's just-'
Just what?! What possible reason would Artabanus have to lie?
'This morning you were watching the sun rise, remember? That was this morning. He's trying to manipulate you.'
THAT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE YOU STUPID BASTARD! Artabanus loves me, why the FUCK would he try that? There's no point, anyway!
'Edward, breathe.'
Arms were wrapped around him loosely but Ed took no comfort from them, not with the whirlwind of fuck is this seriously happening shock bleeding into panic there's no way nine months just passed by that quick, it can't be which morphed into confused horror what if next time I wake up I'm old and on my deathbed, having forgotten my entire life.
'It's going to be alright, my dearest, I'm taking you into town to see the doctor the next time I go for supplies. Okay? Relax. We'll fix this. I promise.'
Fingers running through his hair- past his waist now, he noticed with a choked sob of horror and anxiety- comforted him only slightly. He closed his eyes and centered on his mind on that physical touch. The gentle scrape of nails against his scalp, the soothing, occasional tug. It took a while for him to fall back down from that cloud of total panic, but he did come down, agonizingly slowly.
He screamed at himself to stay in the present and did all he could to account for the smallest things to keep his mind active- the feel of Artabanus enveloping him with his body, the smell of peppermint that the man always reeked and tasted of...
A mouth on his, hot and demanding, his own voice moaning through means not his, his own hands grasping and tearing clothing off of... a redhead with searing blue eyes.
What the fuck is this...? No, it can't be. No...
Hot palms scraping down his body, to places no one had ever touched before- the frenzied mix of shock and pleasure wracking his very being, overlapped with a thick layer of blood-chilling fear- the taste of peppermint, the sound of that melodic voice saying his name quietly, wretchedly.
Fear and humiliation drenched Ed like the sweat that was already forming on his brow and he wanted nothing more than to scream and fight, but...
But those hands were on him and demanded his obedience.
No. Fuck, no. NO.
A pain so fierce and so unlike any that he'd ever felt before bolted up his spine and his shout was so fast and instinctual that it actually slipped through the tight reins of control Artabanus had over him.
'Shhh, Edward. The pain will go away soon. Just relax.'
But the pain wasn't going away and it made him want to thrash and yell and ESCAPE. Yet his body moved with the one joined with his as if it didn't feel an ounce of the pain that was still ricocheting through his spine and hips. It was brutal- so harsh and stunning that he lost his breath for long enough that black dots spiraled into his blurred vision.
There was no room for thought and all Ed could focus on was the PAIN, the horror, the shock, the disbelief, the disgust, the hatred- it all curled inside of him like a vicious snake, humming and shivering its body with the need to be freed.
He bore witness to his own body betraying him in the worst kind of way, preening at every touch the redhead gave, stroking the fucker's skin in just the ways he would like.
The humiliation was so strong Ed almost wished the pain would kill him then and there.
But it didn't, and like Artabanus had said, it did begin to fade, only to be replaced with a sharp throbbing.
The whole event seemed to last for hours, but Ed knew it couldn't have been that long. It wasn't really possible, was it? Nevertheless, when the white-knuckled hands on his hips gripped with bruising strength as a sign that it was finally reaching its end, the blonde was so far into a strange state of shock that he didn't even move.
Not even when Artabanus completely pulled away from him did he move. He stayed frozen in place for over a minute before the redhead pulled him close and wrapped his arms around him again.
Declarations of love and promises of eternity were whispered into Ed's hair, and a hint of peppermint tickled the blonde's nose.
A great Something shattered inside of Ed, leaving him to wallow helplessly in the meager shards of his pride. And something deeper, sharper, was piercing ever-so languidly into the thin veneer of his heart, blackening the surface further with ever tiny millimeter punctured. Like some kind of twisted infection, he felt all his insides darkening, shriveling, and he could only sit and gaze dumbly at Artabanus, who still looked at him with a concerned gaze on his face, arms wrapped around Ed in an attempt at... comfort.
The blonde wanted to pull away, had the intense desire to rear back his automail fist and to feel the satisfying impact of a jaw cracking under the impact. The memory was so vivid, Ed could still feel the agony tittering up his spine in little electric bolts, lighting his cells on fire and numbing everything else.
The final realization was like a steel heel grinding into the shattered mess that was now Edward Elric.
Nine months had been lost in a split second... what else had he forgotten?
'Edward...'
Artabanus' head tilted down and Ed's lips were captured with the taste of peppermint.
End of Chapter Eleven.
So guys... what do you think? Any good and bad criticism or complement would be very much appreciated.
The next chapter won't be as crazy and all over the place as this one, I should hope, since it will be in Mustang's POV.
PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE. IF YOU ARE A BETA. OR KNOW A BETA OUT THERE. PLEASE HELP ME. Even if I can just use you as a soundboard and bounce ideas off you, I really would love someone to help with this story so that long breaks like the one that happened between the last chapter and this one won't have to happen again.
Leave me a review and let me know what you think? One comment can go a long way, I assure you.
Thank you guys, see you next chapter.