Hey, y'all! Sorry for taking forever to post! I started Sword Art Online and I've been watching that. I hope you've been enjoying this story, I have! I really appreciate all of the comments, followers, views, and readers. I hope you will enjoy this chapter as well. The main plot is getting all heated up and you'll find out what Ed and the miners have been doing for the past while. Feel free to leave a comment and tell me what you think! Thanks!
Dark eyes watch closely from the dead brush. The alchemist was surprised when he initially got the assignment to view the area; it didn't look like anything that would spark interest. It looked like the rest of the border.
Amaron Destyu was his name, the shadow alchemist. He didn't even really know why he was hiding; it wasn't like the Drachman's would also see him with his alchemy activated. He quickly opened the pocket watch, sighing when he noticed that it was nearly time for the Drachman's to cross the border.
He was curious as to why the Fuhrer requested him to be in the specific spot at this time, as far as Amaron was aware, nothing unusual usually happened.
Well, that's a stupid thought. Amaron laughs at himself; he'd only been observing the area for three months. Not much had changed in that little bit of time.
He startles when the sound of an engine enters his hearing. He scrambles deeper into the brush, cursing himself for being too deep into his thoughts instead of listening for any vehicle movements.
The truck suddenly stopped, surprising the alchemist.
What are they stopping for?
Amaron watches as three men, easily identifiable as Drachman's, climb out of the truck.
In the eight weeks, he'd been watching the area, a single truck had stopped, but that had been weeks back, and he'd not stuck around to see why instead of choosing to stay out of sight until they were gone.
This time, however, something in him tells him not to hide but to watch. His curiosity grows as three Drachman's climb out, babbling in Drachman. Each of them looked dangerous, and Amaron knows that he needs to be careful.
They move out of his vision as they go around to the truck's back, he observes. He's suddenly surprised to hear more voices, Amestrian voices.
Amaron observes as they drag a man to the front of the truck, hands behind his back. The man was soaked in blood, and he could see the darkening bruises on his face. The man snarls at the Drachman's, yelling insults and curses.
Amaron can't hear very well, and he decides to make his way closer to the truck slowly. He quiets his breathing and breathes quietly to calm his pounding heart.
Now at a closer range, Amaron was able to get a closer look at the man. The man's dark brown hair was matted with dirt and blood, his face sports a gash along the bridge of his nose and his left eye is swollen shut with blood.
Amaron's stomach tightened as one of the soldiers drew a syringe from his pocket. He was unable to see what it was, but it didn't look like anything good.
Whatever's in that syringe can't be anything good.
Double-checking to make sure his alchemy was still hiding him, Amaron crept from the brush, satisfied to see that none of the soldiers had noticed him.
The man they'd pulled out of the truck continued to scream at his captors; his blue eyes were wild with anger. Amaron takes a quick look into the truck's back, finding three more people, none of which look as beaten up as the man.
Breath catching, he finally realizes what the Drachman's have been hauling over the border. His stomach churns, bile fighting to rise in his throat.
People, they'd been trafficking humans across the border. It made him sick to think about as he walked back to the three Drachman's.
The Drachman's grow rigid when he accidentally kicks a rock, and he hisses quietly.
Damn it!
The group leader turns left, then right, eyes narrowing as he searches for wherever the sound came from. This is his chance; he can unveil himself and take them out quickly while they're still surprised.
Breathing deeply, he brings his palms up, quickly looking at the tattoos before clapping them together. The world lights up in blue electricity, and his specialized alchemy is gone.
Within seconds he pulled his knives out of their holsters. The Drachman's stand shocked in front of him, giving him enough time to decide to spare the leader for information.
With a quickness that surprises even him, Amaron leaps into action.
"Where were you going?" Amaron hisses, patience running thin.
The Drachman stares up at him with wide but defiant dark eyes.
"Tell me!" Amaron yells, digging his shoe into the man's throat, carefully as not to cut off his air.
The soldier gasps, eyes bulging as he applies more pressure to his throat. The smirk on Amaron's face turns into a snarl.
"Stop! You're going to kill him!" The former prisoner yells.
Amaron releases some pressure off the man's throat, and he's met with fast, heaving breaths. Sighing, he slightly turns to the former prisoner. The man was able to get to his feet, leaning against the truck.
"Well, if you have any ideas to get him to talk, then be my guest." He sighs, dragging his hand down his face, wincing as he brushed the small slice on his cheek from where a bullet grazed him.
He turns his gaze down to the now unconscious man, wondering what to do.
Briggs is only twenty miles away. They could probably get information out of him.
"Any idea of where they wanted to take all of you?" Amaron questioned, gaze lingering on the young man with the bloodied and bruised face.
"I have no idea, but maybe something to do with alchemists." The man shrugged, turning to his companions who gave shrugs of their own.
Amaron let out a frustrated breath, allowing his gaze flicker to the unconscious Drachman's then back to the now freed people.
It would cut into his time, but general Armstrong would be able to get the necessary information out of the soldier, she was well known for getting information out of people.
"All I can do is get you to Briggs and take it from there. They'll be able to get you home."
He's relieved to see their grateful expressions as he goes to collect the unconscious Drachman's for transport. He leaves the people to themselves and goes around to the front to see what to do about the new prisoners.
Roy sighs noisily for the third time. His fingers tap the mahogany desk quickly as he looks around the empty conference room. He's almost an hour early.
Not like there's anything else to do but worry about the kid. He thought as he stared around.
He felt sick to his stomach as the thought about the meeting with their informant. It had been yesterday around this time when they'd gotten the call from Briggs about the new Drachman prisoner in their custody.
It'd taken eight weeks, but they might have been one step closer to Ed's rescue.
Roy had nearly snatched the phone from the Fuhrer's hand as he and his team listened in on the call.
"General Armstrong managed to get information out of him. It'll take some time to compile all of the information, so General Armstrong will be calling tomorrow to explain all the information." Armstrong's major had said.
It was hard for Roy not to demand answers right then and there. The fate of his subordinate depended on the information that General Armstrong had, and he didn't want to let it sit another minute, but he understood. Interrogations took time to sort out, and data needed checking for consistencies.
He hated feeling so useless, what he'd give for going out in the field searching for his subordinate.
His anxious thoughts kicked back up when he thought again of the kid undergoing torture. Ed was required to go to training on interrogations when he first joined, but Roy had learned from past prisoners of war, Drachman's would do anything for information.
But it's like Hawkeye said, the kid's been through automail surgery. Hell, he's been stabbed before and managed to get back up and take down his adversary. He reminded himself.
His thoughts calmed his nerves, but it didn't relieve the tension in his jaw or how he held himself as he sat.
A touch to the shoulder brought him out of his anxiety, and he flashed a smile to the man who had touched him.
"You're here early, aren't you, Colonel Mustang?"
Roy quickly jumped into a salute, feeling relief as amusement jumped onto Fuhrer Bradley's face.
"Yes, sir. I was very interested in learning about what the soldiers at Briggs found out, sir."
Roy relaxed as the Fuhrer laughed.
"As am I, Colonel Mustang. I would like to get to the bottom of what's going on." The amusement dropped quickly from the Fuhrer's face.
He swallowed hard. It was scary how quickly his leader could become professional at the drop of a hat. He wouldn't want to get on his wrong side.
Roy cleared his throat. "Do we know what led to this Drachman's capture, sir?"
Bradley flicked through the papers, giving them a once over before turning his attention to Roy's question.
"We do, Colonel." Bradley pushes the papers into his hands.
Roy's eyes scanned the report, taking in the vital information and letting it settle within him.
Interesting that the person they dragged out of the truck was an alchemist
The report was drawled, going into what was in the truck compartments, the papers found in the truck, but not going into explaining the paper's contents.
"Our informant mentioned that earlier reports spoke nothing about the Drachman's stopping. Was there anything important about the man they pulled out of the truck?" Roy questioned.
Bradley nodded. "All he said that he was a civilian alchemist, helped out on small projects that needed fixing. He didn't know why they wanted anything to do with him."
Roy's brow narrowed as he thought. "But why would they want Alchemists? Don't Drachman's usually hate alchemy?"
"That they do, Mustang. There's something bigger than the Fullmetal Alchemist's disappearance going on." The man twists his mustache in his fingers, looking into the distance.
Roy's thoughts took their turn as he stared into the mid-morning sky. He hadn't thought of the possibility of more Alchemists out there who needed saving either.
But what could they be doing that involves alchemy?
"There's a compound in Antyau, currently holding twenty thousand prisoners. Only a thousand of those are alchemists, while the rest are civilians."
The statement was met with dead silence, horrified dead silence.
Those numbers...were a lot to process. Twenty thousand people. Twenty thousand people held prisoner in a camp meant for war prisoners.
It was a sickening pill to swallow.
"How are the conditions?" Roy broke the silence.
A sigh comes from over the phone. "He didn't say. I can only assume that they aren't good at all. From what I gathered, a lot of people have been dying."
Several voices hiss from around him, and Roy finds himself swallowing the lump in his throat.
Roy couldn't imagine what was happening in this facility; it made him sick to think about anyone receiving less than humane care. If Ed was in this place…no, he couldn't think of the worst possible outcome.
"Major Miles, did the prisoner say anything about the Fullmetal Alchemist?" Bradley asked after a few minutes of silence.
Finally, the question that Roy wanted to ask but was scared to know the answer.
"Ah, that's where the prisoner finally stopped answering questions. I could tell that something that he was trying to hide, but no matter how many times General Armstrong asked, he never answered."
Roy fought down the urge to curse aloud. Withholding information was a common thing for Drachman prisoners to do, especially when the information was relevant. It was something he'd seen years ago when sitting in on the interrogation of a Drachman spy.
"Say, Major Miles, would you say that his silence makes it obvious that Fullmetal is there?" He asked curiously, gaze traveling to all of the inhabitants in the room, gaze lingering on Alphonse.
It was quiet for a moment or two before Miles answered. "In my opinion, Colonel Mustang, I believe his silence confirms your theory. He is most likely being held somewhere in the compound."
It was like a vice had wrapped itself around Roy's chest, making it hard for him to breathe. The situation had gone from bad to worse.
"Thank you, Major Miles. Give General Armstrong my thanks. We will contact you later in regards to what our informant's next move will be." Bradley said in a surprisingly earnest tone of voice.
"That'll be good; I'll tell the General. Have a good day, sir."
Multiple sighs were heard when the Major hung up. Roy massaged his aching head. There was going to be a lot of decisions that needed making in the next few minutes, tough choices that he most likely wouldn't like.
Bradley cleared his throat and looked around the room, taking in the expressions of each individual, slightly staring at Roy longer than the rest. Roy noted that the generals to Bradley's side all looked horrified. This was a situation that hadn't occurred before.
"This situation is much bigger than any of us could have imagined. I can't make a move without knowing the entire situation. Therefore, I will give the orders that our informant will infiltrate the compound, where he will discover if Fullmetal is there, and try and discover what the Drachman's are up to."
"Fuhrer Bradley, sir, with all due respect, the Fullmetal Alchemist is just one soldier, he can't be that important."
Several angry cries cried out over the protesting voices. Roy's jaw clenched as he watched the general scoff. It took all of Roy for him not to leap out of his chair.
"General Motao," He said after a few moments, a disapproving look plastered onto his face.
"The Fullmetal Alchemist is one of the most talented state alchemists in the military. He's crucial to many people in this room and this country." Bradley's eyes narrowed as he stared at the man.
General Motao swallowed, eyes nervously scanning the angry faces of those who cared for Ed. "Y-Yes, sir." He said after a moment.
Bradley relaxed, turning his attention back to those awaiting more of his plan.
"I will request that our informant meets his handler every week, handing over any important information that he has found, from there, further action will need to be decided on. Are there any objections?"
Silence met the question, and Bradley nodded. "Well, everyone, the mission into the rescue of the Fullmetal Alchemist has officially started. Let's bring him home."
Roy smiles as cheers rang out in the room. For the first time in two months, he could feel hope that they were close to finding Ed.
We're bringing you, home kid, no matter how long it takes.
Inky blackness met him on all sides. It was suffocating. He trembled in fear, heart racing wildly in his chest, threatening to escape him.
"Edward." A voice called. He swallowed down the lump in his throat, refusing to turn around. He knew what he would see, not tonight, he didn't want to see her tonight.
Cold fingers brushed his face, making his breath hitch in his chest. "C'mon, Ed, you don't want to see what you did to your mother?" The sultry voice turned venomous.
"I-I didn't know, I-I didn't know what would happen! We were kids, just kids!" He clamps his hands over his face, breathing ragged and harsh.
"LOOK AT ME!" The voice screamed, grabbing his wrist and twisting him to face it.
Ed couldn't stop trembling as he looked at the disfigured creature that they had created the night of the transmutation. Her mangled arm held him, sharp claws digging into his skin.
"Let me go, please I didn't mean to." He whispered, hot tears threatening to blur his vision.
The figure shook its ugly head, fanged teeth forming a bitter snarl. "Then why did you trap your brother in a metal shell." It hissed into his ear.
The creature morphed into Al, metal body and all. "Do you see what you did to me, brother? You turned me into this monster." Al's metallic voice hisses.
"Stop! I didn't mean to! I didn't mean to!" Ed screams, holding his ears and hunching over, yelling again and again.
"Oh, but you did." Al's metallic voice snarls, "I told you again and again that I didn't think this was safe. You ignored me!" Al's metallic voice raises to a yell.
"Al...please...forgive me." Tears were streaming down his face now, sobs shaking his body. He couldn't breathe.
"I'll never forgive you, Brother. You know this, yet you persist in trying to earn my forgiveness."
"Please tell me what to do Al, I'll do anything." He screams, pulling at his hair, heavy breaths leaving him.
"You can die, that's what you can do."
"A-Al?" His head snaps up, disbelief in his gaze.
Al doesn't respond; he stares at him with angry soul fire eyes.
"Please, Al…" He chokes, running up to his brother and wrapping his arms around him.
"Please forgive me. That's all I want."
"Forgive you? Why should I forgive scum like you?" A harsh laugh escapes him.
He buries his face into his brother's metal shell, silently begging Al to forgive him, but he knows he doesn't deserve it, he never will. He trapped his brother into a life of hell.
A metal hand grabs his hair, slamming the back of his head into the darkness. All oxygen escapes him, leaving him struggling and twitching in the dark.
His vision blurs, Al's suit blurring to a gray blob. He struggles to raise his hand, trying to reach for Al.
He gasps. "Al...Please…"
His brother stands over him, unmoving. "You know you deserve worse than death, brother," He quietly says.
His fading mind manages to catch the words, loss heavy in his heart, tears streaming down his face, refusing to stop.
"And I'll be the one to kill you."
Al's heavy metal foot rests on his chest, ignoring Ed's cries of agony. He presses harder as Ed's cries grow to screams of pain.
I didn't mean to! Please stop!
Blood bubbles up his windpipe, spilling from his lips. A final scream, then he's falling…
Down…
Down…
Down…
Ed wakes with a strangled gasp, bolting upright. Cold sweat covered his body. His chest heaves as he struggles for breath; he struggles to remember where he is until his eyes rest on the tiny form beside him.
Sweat trickles down his forehead, causing his bangs to stick to his sweaty forehead. His heartbeat thunders in his ears, while his breath leaves him in harsh gasps.
Laying back, he squeezed his eyes tightly shut. He swallows the lump in his throat, begging for it to not turn into a sob.
Please, no, not here. I can't do this right now.
He feels trapped; he needs air. Ed slips out of the bunk, as quiet as he can, stepping as quietly as he can not to wake up another person.
He quietly opens the barrack door, slipping through the crack and into the chilly October night. He sinks against the wall, legs no longer steady enough to hold him up.
God, he feels so sick. Not that he doesn't feel sick every time he has a nightmare. This one was worse than usual. They've been worse than usual for a while now.
A gasped, shaky breath escapes him, and he clenches his jaw, desperately working to stop the sobbing wail that wants to force its way past his trembling lips.
He whimpered softly, his head in his hands, his teeth bared against the agony in his heart. "Please, not now, not now." He whispers, voice breaking.
Visions of his creation dance behind his tightly shut eyelids, anguish shooting through him as he relieves his brother torn from him, shoved into a cold metal shell.
Please, god, not tonight, please.
Warm tears fall down his cheeks against his will, gasping sobs following them, and for the first time in two months, he cries.
"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry." He gasps between tears. He doesn't know who he's apologizing to; he's just so tired. He's so tired of watching people die in front of him, day after day. He cries for Ryler, the tiny five-year-old who wakes up crying, begging for his parents, who aren't coming back.
He cries, and knowing it's not going to get any better makes him cry harder.
"E-Ed?" A small voice calls.
He jumps, quickly wiping his face, he turns to where the voice comes from. Ryler stares at him with tired, hazel eyes, a look of worried curiosity comes to them when he sees the tears on Ed's face.
"What are you doing up, buddy?" He asks softly, cursing the crack in his voice.
"I woke up, and you were gone." Ryler crawls into his lap, and Ed finds himself tearing up again as he stares into those too wise hazel eyes.
"Sorry, Rye. I just needed some time outside alone." He hopes the kid won't see the drying tears on his face or notice how he's still shaking.
"But I heard crying, and that's how I found you. Why were you crying?
Ed's face falls as he stares at the boy. Ryler was so smart, so incredibly smart for his age. He always knew when someone was upset just by looking at them.
"I had a pretty bad nightmare." He rests his chin on the small boy's had, smiling slightly when Ryler buries himself into his chest.
"Like I sometimes do?" Ryler pulled back, intelligent hazel eyes looking at him.
He nods, looking away from the small boy, too ashamed to explain why he was crying.
A small hand touches his face, and he gazes down at Ryler in surprise. "You said it was ok for nightmares to make you scared and want to cry."
He doesn't know what to say to the small boy in his grasp. The urge to cry again hits him in full force, and he doesn't stop them as they cascade down his cheeks.
"Come here, buddy." He chokes.
He wraps the small boy in the hug and cries, and for the first time in a very long time, he doesn't feel ashamed to cry.