Fullmetal Alchemist: Roughing It (6/7)
May. 12th, 2012 11:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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prose_alchemistTitle: Roughing It (6/7: Hidden Truth)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jordannamorgan
Archive Rights: Please request the author’s consent.
Rating/Warnings: Mild PG for some fantasy violence.
Characters: Primarily Edward, Alphonse, Mustang, and the Hughes family, as well as some villainous OCs.
Setting: First anime, but it’s mostly cross-compatible. Takes place when Ed is fourteen, Al is thirteen, and Elicia Hughes is two.
Summary: In an effort to learn more about the Elric brothers and Mustang’s connection to them, Hughes maneuvers the three into a camping trip with his family—but the fun and games end when they find themselves caught in the fallout of a deadly museum heist.
Disclaimer: If you know them, they belong to Hiromu Arakawa. Only the villains of the piece are mine.
Maes Hughes would rather have faced physical torture than the agony he was experiencing now.
It was maddening, sickening, unbearable: to know his precious wife and daughter were being held next door, subjected to unknown terrors and torments of their own, while he was able to do absolutely nothing to help or even comfort them. Everything in him wanted to break and run for the door, run to them, but he knew Roy was right. Any such attempt would only be rewarded with a bullet or a blade, and even if he was only wounded, he would be useless when a real chance to save his family came. As excruciating as it was, there was no choice but to be patient, and trust Roy and the Elric boys to help him end this nightmare.
For the most part, the day passed in an awful, unsettling silence. The guards were just too good at their jobs to distract each other with any idle talk, and they tolerated only brief exchanges between the captives—more or less limited to asking after each other’s welfare now and then. The words were pointless, but simply hearing the voice of an ally helped ease the tension just a little, reminding each other that they were not alone.
Edward, for his part, was certainly doing a fine job in his performance of elaborate dawdling. He spent the long hours studiously bent over the notebook that was provided to him, making endless notes, adjusting and erasing and redrawing his sketches of the artifacts, so that the pile of objects he had finished examining hardly grew at all.
Then again, what he was doing was not entirely the sanctioned work, either. At one point, when Maes cautiously stood and took a few paces to work off his unbearable anxiety, he moved close enough to see that Ed had flipped to the back of the notebook… and he discovered the boy was creating some extremely rude doodlings of their captors there.
Grund and Bosh appeared to be Ed’s favorite targets for caricature. As the two largest and most threatening men in the bunch, perhaps that was no surprise. On the other hand, Maes noticed that Ed had not drawn Mareen, or Dex… or Cale. There was something about the mastermind that seemed to—not frighten Ed, exactly, but unnerve him, in a strange, silent way Maes had never seen in him before.
If there was any set schedule of watches for the guards, it was not apparent, because different members of the gang moved in and out all day. Maes could guess they found the wait intensely boring, and sometimes wandered from one cabin to the other just for a change. It was the only display of restlessness they had shown—apart, of course, from their unfriendly curiosity about Alphonse. In any case, there were never any fewer than three of them in the room, and at all times they were armed and ready for misbehavior from their prisoners.
Mareen brought sandwiches in the afternoon, and later, when the light beyond the covered windows was fading, she returned with cups of hot soup. However, there were no more notes from Gracia, and Maes grew too sick with worry to eat. Mareen promised him his family was still safe, but her word on it was small comfort.
Only after supper did Cale return, for the first time since the early morning. Smug and confident and mincing as ever, he spoke with the current guards and looked appraisingly over his hostages; but when he approached Ed’s work table, a small frown bent his lips downward.
“I’m quite sure you can work faster than this.” Cale spread his hands over the artifacts Ed had already studied and set aside, which constituted hardly a tenth of the entire collection. “My patience is considerable—but I don’t advise you to test it.”
Ed clenched his fists on the table and glared up at Cale.
“You’re the one who failed at alchemy, so don’t tell me how to do my job! Unless you don’t want this done right—because let me tell you what happens if I get something wrong. Whoever it is you’re taking these to must have done their homework, and if they see just one little crack that isn’t where it’s supposed to be, they’ll accuse you of trying to sell them imitations. Best case: your deal falls through, and you don’t get paid. Worst case: they kill you for trying to cheat them. Either way, these artifacts get thrown away as junk, when they really are the real thing… and I’m not going to let that happen.”
The intent sincerity in Ed’s voice surprised Maes. He truly meant what he said about making sure the artifacts were preserved.
Cale’s expression was hard and cold as he stared at Ed for a long moment. Then he turned on his heel, merely saying over his shoulder: “I want to see more progress, boy.”
Before Cale had quite reached the door, he was intercepted by Bosh, who was then on guard along with Ferdy and Ranold. Maes couldn’t make out their words, but judging by their glances and gestures, Bosh was yet again urging the removal of Al’s armor—and Cale denied the motion. The encounter left the big thug seething, and when his leader was gone, he returned to his chair and glowered at Al with his beefy arms folded over his chest.
Maes felt sure this disagreement about the younger Elric’s armor could not possibly end well.
After a short time, he rose very slowly and stretched, taking care to keep his hands in plain sight. The guards watched him hawkishly, but they did not object to his taking a few steps, rubbing his arms and thighs as if to work cramps out of his muscles.
“Bosh is gonna be trouble,” he murmured to Ed in a low voice, when he paused by the table as if to watch the alchemist at work.
“I know.”
Ed’s voice was taut with the strain of worry, and Maes’ heart gave a thump. Unlike his own family, Al may have been left in their presence, but that didn’t make the older brother’s fear for the younger any less gut-wrenching.
For a moment, the Major let his eyes wander over the objects on the table that had been the cause of so much trouble. Outside of their museum cases, they looked like nothing at all: mere bits of stone and clay and copper, just as Ed had considered them to be from the start. In some ways, maybe the boy was right. Maybe mere things weren’t worth all of this, no matter how old or historically significant they were.
“I thought you said old relics from the past weren’t important,” Maes remarked, in quiet curiosity.
“I did. But it’s just…” Ed gritted his teeth and shook his head slightly, looking up at Maes with troubled amber eyes. “Those four guards at the museum. They died trying to protect these things. It was important to them. Maybe I don’t completely understand why… but I don’t have to. I just have to do the best I can to make sure they didn’t die for nothing.”
In spite of himself, Maes smiled faintly. He drew a breath to respond, but before he could speak, Ranold’s voice cut harshly between them.
“Okay, enough of that. You get back where you were. Keep working, kid.”
Before Maes moved off, he dared to reach out and briefly squeeze Ed’s shoulder, and it gladdened him to see a feeble smile in return.
They were going to get through this. Somehow, they were still going to find a way.
For a little while, Maes lay on one of the bunks, trying halfheartedly to rest. However anxious and heartsick he was, he knew he would need his strength and wits to be fresh when the time to act finally came—but all he could see when he closed his eyes was Gracia and Elicia, and the leer on Grund’s face as that hulking human beast dragged them away. It took an effort to shut out the thoughts of the things Grund wanted to do, and surely would do if the captives made no escape.
For all Maes knew, Grund might have already tried.
His stomach knotted up, and he let out a stifled groan between his teeth, rolling onto his side. He wanted nothing more than to turn his back to the room, to forget what was around him even for a few minutes; but he faced the room instead, keeping his eyes on every movement of its occupants. He had to watch, to be ready…
At some point Maes must have dozed off, because he flinched back to alertness with a sudden sense of unease. There was a new tension in the air that he could almost physically feel. Glancing around to take stock of the guards’ positions, he saw Ranold still sitting with his shotgun—but the older man’s eyes kept flicking back to Bosh and Ferdy. The two stood at the far side of the room, engaged in a low-voiced discussion. Bosh was looking increasingly agitated, while Ferdy made ineffectual calming gestures.
The brewing discord was not lost on the other captives. Ed had paused in his work, watching the pair alertly, and Roy sat up straighter against the wall as he too observed. Al was still curled in a metal-clad ball with his arms wrapped around his knees, but the chin of his helmet was lifted attentively.
Bosh abruptly cut the conversation short by turning to push past Ferdy, his voice rising to an audible pitch. “Just shut it! You know I’m right. And no matter what Cale says—I ain’t waiting around to see it proved the hard way.”
He began to advance across the room, and his gaze was focused on Al.
In that moment, Maes could sense Ed’s tension like the hum of electricity from a live wire. The older Elric had turned rigid, both hands braced on the tabletop, his arched back raising him an inch out of his chair. His eyes were golden flames, watching Bosh the way a tiger would regard an errant handler it was five cold seconds from mauling.
Maes’ breath caught, and his own body tensed in readiness. He realized that if Bosh took one more step forward, Ed was going to make the moment arrive all by himself—whether anyone else was prepared for it or not.
Ranold jerked up from his chair, clutching his shotgun in his left hand, as he reached up to plant his halting right hand against Bosh’s chest. “What do you think you’re—?”
“Back off.” Bosh knocked Ranold’s hand away, almost without breaking stride. “I don’t trust what I can’t see.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Ferdy snarled behind him. “Cale said…!”
“Sure, Cale’s been right about a lotta things—but not this time. I’m not sittin’ back to wait for no surprises from this freak.” Bosh leaned over the now-cringing Alphonse, hefting his sledgehammer to slap the heavy head of it against his palm. “You take off that helmet right now, or—”
“Leave him alone!”
Those words came out of Edward in a blood-curdling shriek—and things got very confusing after that.
Ed launched himself like a bullet, up and over the table, on a direct course for Bosh. The boy had eyes for nothing but his brother’s would-be assailant. In that single-minded fury, he was even oblivious to Ferdy raising his revolver.
Instinctively Maes pushed off from the bunk and threw himself at Ferdy on a low trajectory, catching him around the waist. As they tumbled to the floor together, he heard the click of the revolver jamming on what would have been a wild shot—a shot that could have brought the rest of the gang running from next door.
The little man had exactly the glass jaw Maes expected. One punch put him out neatly, and Maes whipped around in search of the other two thugs. Roy was grappling with the now-unarmed Ranold, as Al lurched forward to aid his brother in wrestling the sledgehammer from Bosh.
Ed might have had two steel limbs and a fit of berzerker strength in his favor, but he was overwhelmed by Bosh’s sheer size. The powerful thug managed to shake him off and shove him backward. His balance lost, the boy heeled over and hit the floor halfway behind the table, and Bosh turned to the armored giant coming at him.
Shifting one foot back a step to brace his own huge frame, Bosh let the hammer swing with all of his massive strength. There was a dull echoing clang… and Maes watched as Al’s body toppled one way, while his head went the other.
In the heartbeat’s space of silence that followed, the father and soldier felt something go snap inside his head.
“He was just a kid!”
An instant later, Bosh was somehow spread-eagled on the floor, at the mercy of a man seized by a temporary madness. He probably never knew what hit him.
Maes didn’t know where the sledgehammer went. He didn’t even remember it existed. For a few moments, all he knew was the crunch of bone under his fists, as he pummeled the killer’s already-scarred face into a pulp. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was vaguely conscious of Roy shouting at him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.
He only froze in mid-swing when he heard the cry of a second voice: small, quavering, with an unmistakable tinge of metal.
“Major, don’t kill him!”
Sudden cold lightning arced up Maes’ spine into his brain, burning off the red fog that seemed to have filled his vision. He jerked convulsively upright and opened his hands, not daring to breathe.
Al’s voice. Impossible, after that decapitating blow of the hammer, but he was sure it was true… and not coming from the direction the boy’s head had gone.
Very, very slowly, Maes turned to survey the rest of the room.
Roy was standing over Ranold’s unconscious form, with the shotgun dangling loosely in his grip. His poise was straight and steady, but there was a darkness in his face that Maes had never seen before—and Maes thought he had known every kind of darkness Roy had in him.
As for Edward, he’d managed to end up on top of the table: crouching, breathing hard, with tremors running through his body that Maes could see even at a distance. And his expression…
Maes had seen Ed in more than one fight before. Youth and small size notwithstanding, he was entirely aware that Ed could be dangerous, even a little terrifying… but never had Maes seen him so resemble a cornered wild animal. Even now that all three guards had been felled, the kid still looked as if he was staring down every demon ever to come out of hell.
With a painful gulp, Maes forced his gaze to continue toward the place where Ed’s brother had fallen.
Al’s head lay on the floorboards, an abandoned afterthought. Or somehow—yes, surely—could it be nothing more than his helmet, if by some miracle the boy had ducked down inside his enormous armor shell? The sledgehammer’s very real impact was attested to by a huge dent in the right side of the metal face, yet there was not even a trickle of blood from within it… Maes’ hope surged, and his eyes traveled farther.
A short distance away from the helmet, there knelt the rest of the suit of armor Maes had always known as Alphonse’s outward guise. With its gauntlets braced on the floor, it slowly moved, the headless torso leaning forward just a little. Just enough.
Just enough for Maes to clearly see the dark gaping nothing that was inside it.
“I’m sorry you got so upset, Major,” the boy’s voice whispered from the depths of the empty metal. “But you see now… he couldn’t hurt me.”
Alphonse…
Al wasn’t inside the armor.
He was the armor.
It was purely human nature that a part of Maes’ brain simply short-circuited, refusing to believe what his eyes and ears were witness to—even as some horrible part of him sat back and laughed hysterically that so many things all made sense now. In reality, he only took a step backward, staring wide-eyed and slack-jawed at the hollow talking steel.
“Wh—what…?”
“Maes.” That was Roy’s voice, hard and low, as his friend stepped forward and put a firm hand on his shoulder. “Listen to me, Maes, and try to think about this very carefully. Do you understand what the principle of Equivalent Exchange means in alchemy?”
Perhaps it was the jolt of the seeming non sequitur, or just his ingrained obedience to his comrade’s voice in the most terrible of circumstances, but Maes at least managed to follow the question without drawing a complete blank. He blinked and swallowed, not looking away from the suit of armor that was Al.
“It means… you can’t create something without giving up the right raw materials. But—but what does that have to do with—?”
Then Maes cut himself off suddenly, as he really did think about the words he had just said… and the most terrible feeling he had ever known came over him. He stared with new eyes at Al’s hulking metal form, and then at the prosthetic limbs of the trembling shadow-eyed boy who still crouched on the table; and for the first time, he understood the Elric brothers’ true common trait.
It was not the trappings of steel they both carried after all, but the thing that steel replaced: the living human flesh they both were missing.
Raw materials…
With that crowning shock, Maes’ knees turned to water, and his legs folded up beneath him. He tried to take another step back, but he failed to reach the bunk behind him, and his backside landed gracelessly on the floor with a thump.
“Oh… oh, no…”
A second heavy thump startled Maes, as Ed leaped from the table to the floor. A few stiff strides took him across the room to where Al’s stray helmet-head lay. He picked it up, and stood with his back turned to them all, facing the blankness of the covered front window. Maes could see his entire small body quivering with unthinkable emotions.
“It was supposed to be so simple,” he said at last, his voice distant and toneless. “We thought we had everything we needed, down to the last ounce. We thought all the elements of human life were cheap… but how do you measure the price of a soul?”
Maes knew then, beyond any doubt; and he was certain he knew the answer to the question he tried to ask next.
“What… who were you trying to…?”
He broke off when Ed’s shoulders hitched in a flinch of obvious pain. The elder brother said nothing, and when the answer finally came, it was delivered by Al’s soft ringing voice.
“It was our mother.”
Those four words only confirmed what Maes already suspected, but they still twisted a cold knife deep into his heart. There was nothing about fatherhood that had ever prepared him for this, ever made him conceive of the possibility of this. That children who had lost a parent could love so much, need so badly, that they would even…
What would Elicia do?
The very thought forced a sob to catch in Maes’ throat. He bowed his head and put his face in his hands, hiding warm salt tears that suddenly brimmed behind his eyeglasses and spilled over onto his cheeks.
For a long moment, there was silence. Then hesitant footsteps approached, and he knew by their lightness and mismatched cadence that it was Ed.
“Major…”
There was a faint tremor in his voice then, a soft childlike uncertainty, and Maes couldn’t help himself. From his sitting position on the floor, he reached out with impulsive suddenness and threw his arms around Ed’s waist: clinging to him tightly, burying his face against the ribs of the tragic young genius who had defied man and nature in search of a mother’s lost love.
Maes felt the whipcord tension in that small body, and he wondered if the boy objected to the uninvited contact… but then Ed’s taut muscles relaxed just a little, and his hands slowly came to rest on Maes’ shoulders. Although the steel right hand was heavier than the left, its unfeeling grip was more gentle, instinctively taking care to do no hurt to the fragile flesh under his fingers.
“I’m sorry, Major,” Ed whispered at length, with a faint roughness in his voice. “You were better off not knowing.”
“Don’t say that.” Maes’ voice was muffled against Ed’s shirt. Without loosening his embrace, he tilted his head upward, until his gaze caught and held the too-dark eyes that hovered on the brink of looking away from him in shame. “I was the one who had Roy bring you boys out here. I did it because I wanted to understand you better. I just wanted to know how I could do more to help you… and maybe now, I can.”
The complicated light and shadow in Ed’s eyes shifted, taking on a sudden dusky glossiness. His fingers gripped a little harder, his lips twisted into something too painful to be called a smile… but it was beautiful, all the same.
Metal scraped abruptly as Al rose up, and Maes reluctantly let go of Ed, to wipe his eyes under his glasses and watch the armor-child coming toward them. The elder brother must have passed his helmet back to him at some point, because it was clutched in his big leather hands, but he had not yet returned it to where it belonged. He drew near, only to halt at arm’s length with a palpable uncertainty, as if he thought Maes might react to him with fear.
“…Are you alright now, sir?”
Never could Maes have imagined what a fantastic paradox Al truly was. Devoid of living flesh, but still possessing such a powerful heart; hollow, and yet so very far from empty.
Before the Major could even begin to frame an answer, Ed frowned at the deep, vicious dent in the side of the helmet. “Al. Here…”
He clapped, and bent over the helmet in Al’s hands with a breathtaking tenderness. Maes watched as the steel reshaped itself under the young alchemist’s fingers, smoothing out until there was no sign that the damage had ever occurred. It was a little startling to see that Ed could even manipulate the metal his brother inhabited.
“How did you…?” Maes fumbled weakly, with a small, helpless gesture that took in the entirety of Al’s impossible being.
A flicker of the earlier darkness crept back into Ed’s eyes, and he looked away; but after a moment of what Maes could only interpret as intense consideration, Al knelt down. One gauntlet pointed into the shadowed void within the armor, and for the first time Maes noticed something that looked like a roughly scrawled transmutation circle on the inner surface.
Maes had seen more than enough blood in his life to know it when he saw it—and while his knowledge of alchemy consisted of nothing but a few basic concepts Roy used to ramble about over beers, even he had an eerie feeling that this array was different.
“My life is in that blood seal.” Al’s voice was soft and chillingly steady, emanating from some mysterious source inside the metal shell. “The transmutation that was supposed to bring Mom back… it took away Ed’s leg, and my whole body. Then Ed used a second transmutation to attach my soul to this armor. He gave up his arm to do it.”
Al recited this tale of horror with a quiet numbness, and Maes could understand. Many soldiers he knew shut off a part of themselves the same way when they talked about Ishbal, if they ever talked about it at all.
Roy was not exaggerating in the least when he said these boys had been through hell.
Swallowing hard, Maes reached up. After a slight hesitation—only because he wasn’t sure whether his touch would be welcome—he laid his hand on Al’s rerebrace. Perhaps it was merely a trick of his imagination, now that he knew the truth, but he was convinced he felt more than the hard chill of lifeless steel: something like a distant warmth, the ghostly tingle of a living presence.
Ed had turned back, watching Maes’ silent gesture of compassion and acceptance, and his eyes were glistening again.
“Al and I couldn’t save our family… but we are going to save yours.” The boy’s gaze caught fire with new determination. “I promise, Major.”
A sudden shudder chased itself down Maes’ spine at the reminder of the present danger. They had captured this cabin, but Gracia and Elicia were still in the hands of the enemy—and Cale or one of his gang might wander in at any moment. Somehow, they had to form a plan and act on it before their freedom was discovered.
Pulling his shaken nerves together, Maes squeezed Ed’s shoulder once in gratitude, and then glanced over at Roy. He must have been the only one of them with a clear head for the past few minutes. Quietly, unobtrusively, it seemed he had been tending to the things that needed to be done: collecting the guards’ weapons, ensuring they were still unconscious. Maes was not at all surprised by that.
“Is Bosh…?” Maes began uncomfortably, glancing toward Bosh’s sprawled form on the floor.
Roy smiled without humor. “After the going-over you gave him, he’s not going to look any prettier—but he’ll live.”
That assurance was a relief to Maes. As a military investigator, he was at heart a man of the law. Even if Bosh had played an active part in the murders of the guards at the museum, he didn’t care to see any criminal meet his ultimate punishment without due process. This was not for the sake of the evildoer—but because swifter justice only came at great cost to those who delivered it, even in self-defense. He knew that cost from personal experience, in the sleepless nights spent replaying life-and-death moments in his mind, wondering if there was anything he could have done differently.
“So what do we do now?” Al queried, as he settled his helmet back into place—with a primness Maes could have found almost funny, were the truth that underlay it not so painful. “How do we rescue Mrs. Hughes and Elicia?”
“We obviously can’t call for backup,” Roy muttered. “There’s no telephone or radio within miles. The creeps in the other cabin would hear it if we tried to steal one of their cars, and there wouldn’t be time to reach the lodge anyway. We’re going to have to do this on our own.”
Ed folded his mismatched arms and spoke in a growl of grim confidence. “No problem. All we have to do is bust in there, use alchemy to throw a wall around Gracia and Elicia, and start cracking heads.”
“It’s not that simple, Ed.” Roy had moved to the side window that faced the next cabin. Slowly and with great caution, he drew back the edge of the blanket scarcely an inch, and peered out into the darkness. “If we want to be sure of keeping Hughes’ family safe, we’ll have to shield them before the kidnappers realize what’s happening—and you can’t do that if you don’t know exactly where they are. The windows next door are covered, just like the ones in here. Even if we were standing right outside, we wouldn’t be able to see in.”
The younger State Alchemist scowled, his shoulders slumping a little; but after a second or two, he twitched as if he had been pinched. When he looked up at Roy again, there was a new gleam in his eyes. “Wait a sec. Does that cabin have a chimney too?”
Quirking one eyebrow, Roy peered around the edge of the blanket-curtain again. “Looks like it.” He turned back to Ed, and his expression grew a little more dubious. “What do you suggest—have us lower you down by a rope?”
“Who’re you callin’ so puny he can crawl through a keyhole?”
Maes winced, Al sighed, and Roy planted his fists on his hips with a roll of his eyes—but the outburst was momentary, as always. A few deep breaths helped Ed recover his composure, and he squared his shoulders, glaring back at Roy more evenly.
“Look, I’ve got an idea. It’s worked before in situations like this. But I’m gonna need a couple things.”
“Such as?” Maes asked.
“Some mirrors… and ideally, some rubber. Plenty of it.”
The shopping list was odd and cryptic, but Maes’ mind nonetheless seized on the problem. He rubbed thoughtfully at his chin-stubble. “Well, there’s the tires and the rear-view mirrors on those cars outside. With any luck, I could sneak out there and strip what you need without being spotted.”
“Sounds like a plan… Come on, Al. While we’re waiting, we’d better tie up these idiots on the floor.” Ed turned to one of the bunks, and started tearing off the sheets to create bindings for their captors-turned-captives.
“…Don’t mind me,” Roy murmured a bit incredulously, looking back and forth between Ed and Maes. “I’m only the ranking officer here.”
Not quite able to stifle a soft chuckle, Maes put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I think I know what he has in mind, Roy. Anyway, I trust him. Let’s give him a chance.”
The Colonel stared at Maes for a moment, with a look of lingering uncertainty and concern. Then his expression slowly softened, and he gave a short nod.
“Alright. I’ll go with you to get the rubber and the mirrors. But we’ll need some tools.”
He moved to the pile of weapons he had confiscated from their erstwhile captors. Apart from the sledgehammer, shotgun, and pearl-handled revolver that were their signature weapons, it appeared the trio had been carrying a tidy little collection of other pistols and knives. He selected a folding pocketknife for himself, and handed another to Maes. Almost an afterthought, he picked up Ferdy’s revolver as well—but they both knew that if they were discovered, the sound of a shot would be a game-ender for their plans.
“We’ll be back in a few minutes,” Roy said to the Elric brothers. “If any of Cale’s people try to come in here, don’t get heroic. Save yourselves.”
“Fat chance,” Ed snarled over his shoulder in blunt insubordination, as he knelt beside the unconscious Ferdy with an alchemized rope.
Maes could have sworn Roy smiled at that.
After a quick glimpse outside to ensure that their way was clear, it was simple enough to sprint from the porch to the nearest of the gang’s cars, ducking down on the far side of it. There was a mere sliver of moon in the sky, and the only other illumination was the stifled yellow glow from the windows of the two occupied cabins. No one was stirring outside Cale’s remaining stronghold. Maes thought he could faintly hear voices through the wooden walls, but he wasn’t sure.
“Try checking the trunks for the spare tires first,” Roy whispered, and moved forward to begin the task of removing the rear-view mirror from its mounting.
Maes obeyed. Finding the trunk to be locked, he passed on it and crept to the trunk of the next car—but it was locked as well. With a mutter of impatience, he unfolded a tool from his pocketknife and set to work on picking the lock. He knew he shouldn’t have been surprised. Given the rest of their intricate precautions, it stood to reason that Cale’s gang would be security-conscious about their vehicles too.
In spite of the one mistake Bosh had made in provoking Ed, the enemy was still a frighteningly lethal and well-prepared lot. Maes tried not to think of that just yet: of the danger Gracia and Elicia were still in, or the risks to them in any attempted rescue. Instead, he thought back on the things that had just happened… and the terrible truths he had learned.
“Roy?” he murmured quietly in the darkness, after a short while.
“Hmm.” Roy was a few feet away, with his knife between his teeth, as his slim fingers worked at removing a loosened screw from the housing of a rear-view mirror.
“…I just wanted to say I get it now. Why you picked up the Elrics, I mean. I think I understand what you were trying to do.”
For a long moment, silence was the answer. Then Roy reached up to take the knife out of his mouth, and drew in a deep, slow breath.
“I wonder if you do.” He looked away from his friend’s eyes. “I was there that night, Maes. In Resembool—the night they did it.”
Somehow, Maes kept himself from dropping his pocketknife as he started and looked sharply at the other man. “What?”
“It was only a coincidence. I was looking for their father, but what I found instead…” Roy finally looked back at Maes in the scant moonlight, with a smile as black as anything his friend had ever seen from him. “It’s a convenient story, isn’t it? The ambitious young officer, using a pet prodigy’s talents to glorify himself. But the truth is… if I had only been there a few minutes sooner…”
Then Maes truly understood, and he lowered his gaze, swearing softly.
Roy said nothing further. He continued with the task of removing the mirror, and after a moment, Maes halfheartedly resumed his battle with the lock. They worked in silence for a few minutes before Maes spoke again.
“I want you to promise me something, Roy.”
The Colonel looked up at him, with an expression of foreboding that was not at all unwarranted.
“If anything ever happens to me. If I…” Maes grimaced, fingers clenching white-knuckled on the grip of the knife. “Promise me you won’t—do anything. The way they did. And that you won’t let anyone else.”
“Maes—”
“Promise me, Roy.”
The unrelenting hardness in Maes’ voice brooked no argument, and as always, Roy knew when his best friend would not be denied. He sighed and turned away, staring off into the darkness of the woods beyond the clearing.
“I promise,” he whispered. Very faintly, and just a little haltingly.
Then he swallowed, and his shoulders twitched in a small shrug, as if to physically shrug off the weight of the words. When he continued, the lightness in his tone was only slightly forced. “After all, it’s not like I’ll ever have to worry about keeping that promise. You’re too annoying to die.”
Maes’ answering smile at Roy’s back was grim but sincere. “Believe it. I plan to be showing you pictures of my great-great-grandchildren when we’re in the old soldiers’ home together.”
The affectionate threat won him the response he wanted: a beleaguered huff, a sidelong glance that was softer than it tried to be. Roy shook his head slightly, and continued his attack on the mirror with renewed vigor.
“Shut up and work, Maes. We don’t have all night.”
© 2012 Jordanna Morgan
:: 1 :: 2 :: 3 :: 4 :: 5 :: 6 :: 7 :: Epilogue ::
Author:
jordannamorganArchive Rights: Please request the author’s consent.
Rating/Warnings: Mild PG for some fantasy violence.
Characters: Primarily Edward, Alphonse, Mustang, and the Hughes family, as well as some villainous OCs.
Setting: First anime, but it’s mostly cross-compatible. Takes place when Ed is fourteen, Al is thirteen, and Elicia Hughes is two.
Summary: In an effort to learn more about the Elric brothers and Mustang’s connection to them, Hughes maneuvers the three into a camping trip with his family—but the fun and games end when they find themselves caught in the fallout of a deadly museum heist.
Disclaimer: If you know them, they belong to Hiromu Arakawa. Only the villains of the piece are mine.
Maes Hughes would rather have faced physical torture than the agony he was experiencing now.
It was maddening, sickening, unbearable: to know his precious wife and daughter were being held next door, subjected to unknown terrors and torments of their own, while he was able to do absolutely nothing to help or even comfort them. Everything in him wanted to break and run for the door, run to them, but he knew Roy was right. Any such attempt would only be rewarded with a bullet or a blade, and even if he was only wounded, he would be useless when a real chance to save his family came. As excruciating as it was, there was no choice but to be patient, and trust Roy and the Elric boys to help him end this nightmare.
For the most part, the day passed in an awful, unsettling silence. The guards were just too good at their jobs to distract each other with any idle talk, and they tolerated only brief exchanges between the captives—more or less limited to asking after each other’s welfare now and then. The words were pointless, but simply hearing the voice of an ally helped ease the tension just a little, reminding each other that they were not alone.
Edward, for his part, was certainly doing a fine job in his performance of elaborate dawdling. He spent the long hours studiously bent over the notebook that was provided to him, making endless notes, adjusting and erasing and redrawing his sketches of the artifacts, so that the pile of objects he had finished examining hardly grew at all.
Then again, what he was doing was not entirely the sanctioned work, either. At one point, when Maes cautiously stood and took a few paces to work off his unbearable anxiety, he moved close enough to see that Ed had flipped to the back of the notebook… and he discovered the boy was creating some extremely rude doodlings of their captors there.
Grund and Bosh appeared to be Ed’s favorite targets for caricature. As the two largest and most threatening men in the bunch, perhaps that was no surprise. On the other hand, Maes noticed that Ed had not drawn Mareen, or Dex… or Cale. There was something about the mastermind that seemed to—not frighten Ed, exactly, but unnerve him, in a strange, silent way Maes had never seen in him before.
If there was any set schedule of watches for the guards, it was not apparent, because different members of the gang moved in and out all day. Maes could guess they found the wait intensely boring, and sometimes wandered from one cabin to the other just for a change. It was the only display of restlessness they had shown—apart, of course, from their unfriendly curiosity about Alphonse. In any case, there were never any fewer than three of them in the room, and at all times they were armed and ready for misbehavior from their prisoners.
Mareen brought sandwiches in the afternoon, and later, when the light beyond the covered windows was fading, she returned with cups of hot soup. However, there were no more notes from Gracia, and Maes grew too sick with worry to eat. Mareen promised him his family was still safe, but her word on it was small comfort.
Only after supper did Cale return, for the first time since the early morning. Smug and confident and mincing as ever, he spoke with the current guards and looked appraisingly over his hostages; but when he approached Ed’s work table, a small frown bent his lips downward.
“I’m quite sure you can work faster than this.” Cale spread his hands over the artifacts Ed had already studied and set aside, which constituted hardly a tenth of the entire collection. “My patience is considerable—but I don’t advise you to test it.”
Ed clenched his fists on the table and glared up at Cale.
“You’re the one who failed at alchemy, so don’t tell me how to do my job! Unless you don’t want this done right—because let me tell you what happens if I get something wrong. Whoever it is you’re taking these to must have done their homework, and if they see just one little crack that isn’t where it’s supposed to be, they’ll accuse you of trying to sell them imitations. Best case: your deal falls through, and you don’t get paid. Worst case: they kill you for trying to cheat them. Either way, these artifacts get thrown away as junk, when they really are the real thing… and I’m not going to let that happen.”
The intent sincerity in Ed’s voice surprised Maes. He truly meant what he said about making sure the artifacts were preserved.
Cale’s expression was hard and cold as he stared at Ed for a long moment. Then he turned on his heel, merely saying over his shoulder: “I want to see more progress, boy.”
Before Cale had quite reached the door, he was intercepted by Bosh, who was then on guard along with Ferdy and Ranold. Maes couldn’t make out their words, but judging by their glances and gestures, Bosh was yet again urging the removal of Al’s armor—and Cale denied the motion. The encounter left the big thug seething, and when his leader was gone, he returned to his chair and glowered at Al with his beefy arms folded over his chest.
Maes felt sure this disagreement about the younger Elric’s armor could not possibly end well.
After a short time, he rose very slowly and stretched, taking care to keep his hands in plain sight. The guards watched him hawkishly, but they did not object to his taking a few steps, rubbing his arms and thighs as if to work cramps out of his muscles.
“Bosh is gonna be trouble,” he murmured to Ed in a low voice, when he paused by the table as if to watch the alchemist at work.
“I know.”
Ed’s voice was taut with the strain of worry, and Maes’ heart gave a thump. Unlike his own family, Al may have been left in their presence, but that didn’t make the older brother’s fear for the younger any less gut-wrenching.
For a moment, the Major let his eyes wander over the objects on the table that had been the cause of so much trouble. Outside of their museum cases, they looked like nothing at all: mere bits of stone and clay and copper, just as Ed had considered them to be from the start. In some ways, maybe the boy was right. Maybe mere things weren’t worth all of this, no matter how old or historically significant they were.
“I thought you said old relics from the past weren’t important,” Maes remarked, in quiet curiosity.
“I did. But it’s just…” Ed gritted his teeth and shook his head slightly, looking up at Maes with troubled amber eyes. “Those four guards at the museum. They died trying to protect these things. It was important to them. Maybe I don’t completely understand why… but I don’t have to. I just have to do the best I can to make sure they didn’t die for nothing.”
In spite of himself, Maes smiled faintly. He drew a breath to respond, but before he could speak, Ranold’s voice cut harshly between them.
“Okay, enough of that. You get back where you were. Keep working, kid.”
Before Maes moved off, he dared to reach out and briefly squeeze Ed’s shoulder, and it gladdened him to see a feeble smile in return.
They were going to get through this. Somehow, they were still going to find a way.
For a little while, Maes lay on one of the bunks, trying halfheartedly to rest. However anxious and heartsick he was, he knew he would need his strength and wits to be fresh when the time to act finally came—but all he could see when he closed his eyes was Gracia and Elicia, and the leer on Grund’s face as that hulking human beast dragged them away. It took an effort to shut out the thoughts of the things Grund wanted to do, and surely would do if the captives made no escape.
For all Maes knew, Grund might have already tried.
His stomach knotted up, and he let out a stifled groan between his teeth, rolling onto his side. He wanted nothing more than to turn his back to the room, to forget what was around him even for a few minutes; but he faced the room instead, keeping his eyes on every movement of its occupants. He had to watch, to be ready…
At some point Maes must have dozed off, because he flinched back to alertness with a sudden sense of unease. There was a new tension in the air that he could almost physically feel. Glancing around to take stock of the guards’ positions, he saw Ranold still sitting with his shotgun—but the older man’s eyes kept flicking back to Bosh and Ferdy. The two stood at the far side of the room, engaged in a low-voiced discussion. Bosh was looking increasingly agitated, while Ferdy made ineffectual calming gestures.
The brewing discord was not lost on the other captives. Ed had paused in his work, watching the pair alertly, and Roy sat up straighter against the wall as he too observed. Al was still curled in a metal-clad ball with his arms wrapped around his knees, but the chin of his helmet was lifted attentively.
Bosh abruptly cut the conversation short by turning to push past Ferdy, his voice rising to an audible pitch. “Just shut it! You know I’m right. And no matter what Cale says—I ain’t waiting around to see it proved the hard way.”
He began to advance across the room, and his gaze was focused on Al.
In that moment, Maes could sense Ed’s tension like the hum of electricity from a live wire. The older Elric had turned rigid, both hands braced on the tabletop, his arched back raising him an inch out of his chair. His eyes were golden flames, watching Bosh the way a tiger would regard an errant handler it was five cold seconds from mauling.
Maes’ breath caught, and his own body tensed in readiness. He realized that if Bosh took one more step forward, Ed was going to make the moment arrive all by himself—whether anyone else was prepared for it or not.
Ranold jerked up from his chair, clutching his shotgun in his left hand, as he reached up to plant his halting right hand against Bosh’s chest. “What do you think you’re—?”
“Back off.” Bosh knocked Ranold’s hand away, almost without breaking stride. “I don’t trust what I can’t see.”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Ferdy snarled behind him. “Cale said…!”
“Sure, Cale’s been right about a lotta things—but not this time. I’m not sittin’ back to wait for no surprises from this freak.” Bosh leaned over the now-cringing Alphonse, hefting his sledgehammer to slap the heavy head of it against his palm. “You take off that helmet right now, or—”
“Leave him alone!”
Those words came out of Edward in a blood-curdling shriek—and things got very confusing after that.
Ed launched himself like a bullet, up and over the table, on a direct course for Bosh. The boy had eyes for nothing but his brother’s would-be assailant. In that single-minded fury, he was even oblivious to Ferdy raising his revolver.
Instinctively Maes pushed off from the bunk and threw himself at Ferdy on a low trajectory, catching him around the waist. As they tumbled to the floor together, he heard the click of the revolver jamming on what would have been a wild shot—a shot that could have brought the rest of the gang running from next door.
The little man had exactly the glass jaw Maes expected. One punch put him out neatly, and Maes whipped around in search of the other two thugs. Roy was grappling with the now-unarmed Ranold, as Al lurched forward to aid his brother in wrestling the sledgehammer from Bosh.
Ed might have had two steel limbs and a fit of berzerker strength in his favor, but he was overwhelmed by Bosh’s sheer size. The powerful thug managed to shake him off and shove him backward. His balance lost, the boy heeled over and hit the floor halfway behind the table, and Bosh turned to the armored giant coming at him.
Shifting one foot back a step to brace his own huge frame, Bosh let the hammer swing with all of his massive strength. There was a dull echoing clang… and Maes watched as Al’s body toppled one way, while his head went the other.
In the heartbeat’s space of silence that followed, the father and soldier felt something go snap inside his head.
“He was just a kid!”
An instant later, Bosh was somehow spread-eagled on the floor, at the mercy of a man seized by a temporary madness. He probably never knew what hit him.
Maes didn’t know where the sledgehammer went. He didn’t even remember it existed. For a few moments, all he knew was the crunch of bone under his fists, as he pummeled the killer’s already-scarred face into a pulp. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was vaguely conscious of Roy shouting at him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.
He only froze in mid-swing when he heard the cry of a second voice: small, quavering, with an unmistakable tinge of metal.
“Major, don’t kill him!”
Sudden cold lightning arced up Maes’ spine into his brain, burning off the red fog that seemed to have filled his vision. He jerked convulsively upright and opened his hands, not daring to breathe.
Al’s voice. Impossible, after that decapitating blow of the hammer, but he was sure it was true… and not coming from the direction the boy’s head had gone.
Very, very slowly, Maes turned to survey the rest of the room.
Roy was standing over Ranold’s unconscious form, with the shotgun dangling loosely in his grip. His poise was straight and steady, but there was a darkness in his face that Maes had never seen before—and Maes thought he had known every kind of darkness Roy had in him.
As for Edward, he’d managed to end up on top of the table: crouching, breathing hard, with tremors running through his body that Maes could see even at a distance. And his expression…
Maes had seen Ed in more than one fight before. Youth and small size notwithstanding, he was entirely aware that Ed could be dangerous, even a little terrifying… but never had Maes seen him so resemble a cornered wild animal. Even now that all three guards had been felled, the kid still looked as if he was staring down every demon ever to come out of hell.
With a painful gulp, Maes forced his gaze to continue toward the place where Ed’s brother had fallen.
Al’s head lay on the floorboards, an abandoned afterthought. Or somehow—yes, surely—could it be nothing more than his helmet, if by some miracle the boy had ducked down inside his enormous armor shell? The sledgehammer’s very real impact was attested to by a huge dent in the right side of the metal face, yet there was not even a trickle of blood from within it… Maes’ hope surged, and his eyes traveled farther.
A short distance away from the helmet, there knelt the rest of the suit of armor Maes had always known as Alphonse’s outward guise. With its gauntlets braced on the floor, it slowly moved, the headless torso leaning forward just a little. Just enough.
Just enough for Maes to clearly see the dark gaping nothing that was inside it.
“I’m sorry you got so upset, Major,” the boy’s voice whispered from the depths of the empty metal. “But you see now… he couldn’t hurt me.”
Alphonse…
Al wasn’t inside the armor.
He was the armor.
It was purely human nature that a part of Maes’ brain simply short-circuited, refusing to believe what his eyes and ears were witness to—even as some horrible part of him sat back and laughed hysterically that so many things all made sense now. In reality, he only took a step backward, staring wide-eyed and slack-jawed at the hollow talking steel.
“Wh—what…?”
“Maes.” That was Roy’s voice, hard and low, as his friend stepped forward and put a firm hand on his shoulder. “Listen to me, Maes, and try to think about this very carefully. Do you understand what the principle of Equivalent Exchange means in alchemy?”
Perhaps it was the jolt of the seeming non sequitur, or just his ingrained obedience to his comrade’s voice in the most terrible of circumstances, but Maes at least managed to follow the question without drawing a complete blank. He blinked and swallowed, not looking away from the suit of armor that was Al.
“It means… you can’t create something without giving up the right raw materials. But—but what does that have to do with—?”
Then Maes cut himself off suddenly, as he really did think about the words he had just said… and the most terrible feeling he had ever known came over him. He stared with new eyes at Al’s hulking metal form, and then at the prosthetic limbs of the trembling shadow-eyed boy who still crouched on the table; and for the first time, he understood the Elric brothers’ true common trait.
It was not the trappings of steel they both carried after all, but the thing that steel replaced: the living human flesh they both were missing.
Raw materials…
With that crowning shock, Maes’ knees turned to water, and his legs folded up beneath him. He tried to take another step back, but he failed to reach the bunk behind him, and his backside landed gracelessly on the floor with a thump.
“Oh… oh, no…”
A second heavy thump startled Maes, as Ed leaped from the table to the floor. A few stiff strides took him across the room to where Al’s stray helmet-head lay. He picked it up, and stood with his back turned to them all, facing the blankness of the covered front window. Maes could see his entire small body quivering with unthinkable emotions.
“It was supposed to be so simple,” he said at last, his voice distant and toneless. “We thought we had everything we needed, down to the last ounce. We thought all the elements of human life were cheap… but how do you measure the price of a soul?”
Maes knew then, beyond any doubt; and he was certain he knew the answer to the question he tried to ask next.
“What… who were you trying to…?”
He broke off when Ed’s shoulders hitched in a flinch of obvious pain. The elder brother said nothing, and when the answer finally came, it was delivered by Al’s soft ringing voice.
“It was our mother.”
Those four words only confirmed what Maes already suspected, but they still twisted a cold knife deep into his heart. There was nothing about fatherhood that had ever prepared him for this, ever made him conceive of the possibility of this. That children who had lost a parent could love so much, need so badly, that they would even…
What would Elicia do?
The very thought forced a sob to catch in Maes’ throat. He bowed his head and put his face in his hands, hiding warm salt tears that suddenly brimmed behind his eyeglasses and spilled over onto his cheeks.
For a long moment, there was silence. Then hesitant footsteps approached, and he knew by their lightness and mismatched cadence that it was Ed.
“Major…”
There was a faint tremor in his voice then, a soft childlike uncertainty, and Maes couldn’t help himself. From his sitting position on the floor, he reached out with impulsive suddenness and threw his arms around Ed’s waist: clinging to him tightly, burying his face against the ribs of the tragic young genius who had defied man and nature in search of a mother’s lost love.
Maes felt the whipcord tension in that small body, and he wondered if the boy objected to the uninvited contact… but then Ed’s taut muscles relaxed just a little, and his hands slowly came to rest on Maes’ shoulders. Although the steel right hand was heavier than the left, its unfeeling grip was more gentle, instinctively taking care to do no hurt to the fragile flesh under his fingers.
“I’m sorry, Major,” Ed whispered at length, with a faint roughness in his voice. “You were better off not knowing.”
“Don’t say that.” Maes’ voice was muffled against Ed’s shirt. Without loosening his embrace, he tilted his head upward, until his gaze caught and held the too-dark eyes that hovered on the brink of looking away from him in shame. “I was the one who had Roy bring you boys out here. I did it because I wanted to understand you better. I just wanted to know how I could do more to help you… and maybe now, I can.”
The complicated light and shadow in Ed’s eyes shifted, taking on a sudden dusky glossiness. His fingers gripped a little harder, his lips twisted into something too painful to be called a smile… but it was beautiful, all the same.
Metal scraped abruptly as Al rose up, and Maes reluctantly let go of Ed, to wipe his eyes under his glasses and watch the armor-child coming toward them. The elder brother must have passed his helmet back to him at some point, because it was clutched in his big leather hands, but he had not yet returned it to where it belonged. He drew near, only to halt at arm’s length with a palpable uncertainty, as if he thought Maes might react to him with fear.
“…Are you alright now, sir?”
Never could Maes have imagined what a fantastic paradox Al truly was. Devoid of living flesh, but still possessing such a powerful heart; hollow, and yet so very far from empty.
Before the Major could even begin to frame an answer, Ed frowned at the deep, vicious dent in the side of the helmet. “Al. Here…”
He clapped, and bent over the helmet in Al’s hands with a breathtaking tenderness. Maes watched as the steel reshaped itself under the young alchemist’s fingers, smoothing out until there was no sign that the damage had ever occurred. It was a little startling to see that Ed could even manipulate the metal his brother inhabited.
“How did you…?” Maes fumbled weakly, with a small, helpless gesture that took in the entirety of Al’s impossible being.
A flicker of the earlier darkness crept back into Ed’s eyes, and he looked away; but after a moment of what Maes could only interpret as intense consideration, Al knelt down. One gauntlet pointed into the shadowed void within the armor, and for the first time Maes noticed something that looked like a roughly scrawled transmutation circle on the inner surface.
Maes had seen more than enough blood in his life to know it when he saw it—and while his knowledge of alchemy consisted of nothing but a few basic concepts Roy used to ramble about over beers, even he had an eerie feeling that this array was different.
“My life is in that blood seal.” Al’s voice was soft and chillingly steady, emanating from some mysterious source inside the metal shell. “The transmutation that was supposed to bring Mom back… it took away Ed’s leg, and my whole body. Then Ed used a second transmutation to attach my soul to this armor. He gave up his arm to do it.”
Al recited this tale of horror with a quiet numbness, and Maes could understand. Many soldiers he knew shut off a part of themselves the same way when they talked about Ishbal, if they ever talked about it at all.
Roy was not exaggerating in the least when he said these boys had been through hell.
Swallowing hard, Maes reached up. After a slight hesitation—only because he wasn’t sure whether his touch would be welcome—he laid his hand on Al’s rerebrace. Perhaps it was merely a trick of his imagination, now that he knew the truth, but he was convinced he felt more than the hard chill of lifeless steel: something like a distant warmth, the ghostly tingle of a living presence.
Ed had turned back, watching Maes’ silent gesture of compassion and acceptance, and his eyes were glistening again.
“Al and I couldn’t save our family… but we are going to save yours.” The boy’s gaze caught fire with new determination. “I promise, Major.”
A sudden shudder chased itself down Maes’ spine at the reminder of the present danger. They had captured this cabin, but Gracia and Elicia were still in the hands of the enemy—and Cale or one of his gang might wander in at any moment. Somehow, they had to form a plan and act on it before their freedom was discovered.
Pulling his shaken nerves together, Maes squeezed Ed’s shoulder once in gratitude, and then glanced over at Roy. He must have been the only one of them with a clear head for the past few minutes. Quietly, unobtrusively, it seemed he had been tending to the things that needed to be done: collecting the guards’ weapons, ensuring they were still unconscious. Maes was not at all surprised by that.
“Is Bosh…?” Maes began uncomfortably, glancing toward Bosh’s sprawled form on the floor.
Roy smiled without humor. “After the going-over you gave him, he’s not going to look any prettier—but he’ll live.”
That assurance was a relief to Maes. As a military investigator, he was at heart a man of the law. Even if Bosh had played an active part in the murders of the guards at the museum, he didn’t care to see any criminal meet his ultimate punishment without due process. This was not for the sake of the evildoer—but because swifter justice only came at great cost to those who delivered it, even in self-defense. He knew that cost from personal experience, in the sleepless nights spent replaying life-and-death moments in his mind, wondering if there was anything he could have done differently.
“So what do we do now?” Al queried, as he settled his helmet back into place—with a primness Maes could have found almost funny, were the truth that underlay it not so painful. “How do we rescue Mrs. Hughes and Elicia?”
“We obviously can’t call for backup,” Roy muttered. “There’s no telephone or radio within miles. The creeps in the other cabin would hear it if we tried to steal one of their cars, and there wouldn’t be time to reach the lodge anyway. We’re going to have to do this on our own.”
Ed folded his mismatched arms and spoke in a growl of grim confidence. “No problem. All we have to do is bust in there, use alchemy to throw a wall around Gracia and Elicia, and start cracking heads.”
“It’s not that simple, Ed.” Roy had moved to the side window that faced the next cabin. Slowly and with great caution, he drew back the edge of the blanket scarcely an inch, and peered out into the darkness. “If we want to be sure of keeping Hughes’ family safe, we’ll have to shield them before the kidnappers realize what’s happening—and you can’t do that if you don’t know exactly where they are. The windows next door are covered, just like the ones in here. Even if we were standing right outside, we wouldn’t be able to see in.”
The younger State Alchemist scowled, his shoulders slumping a little; but after a second or two, he twitched as if he had been pinched. When he looked up at Roy again, there was a new gleam in his eyes. “Wait a sec. Does that cabin have a chimney too?”
Quirking one eyebrow, Roy peered around the edge of the blanket-curtain again. “Looks like it.” He turned back to Ed, and his expression grew a little more dubious. “What do you suggest—have us lower you down by a rope?”
“Who’re you callin’ so puny he can crawl through a keyhole?”
Maes winced, Al sighed, and Roy planted his fists on his hips with a roll of his eyes—but the outburst was momentary, as always. A few deep breaths helped Ed recover his composure, and he squared his shoulders, glaring back at Roy more evenly.
“Look, I’ve got an idea. It’s worked before in situations like this. But I’m gonna need a couple things.”
“Such as?” Maes asked.
“Some mirrors… and ideally, some rubber. Plenty of it.”
The shopping list was odd and cryptic, but Maes’ mind nonetheless seized on the problem. He rubbed thoughtfully at his chin-stubble. “Well, there’s the tires and the rear-view mirrors on those cars outside. With any luck, I could sneak out there and strip what you need without being spotted.”
“Sounds like a plan… Come on, Al. While we’re waiting, we’d better tie up these idiots on the floor.” Ed turned to one of the bunks, and started tearing off the sheets to create bindings for their captors-turned-captives.
“…Don’t mind me,” Roy murmured a bit incredulously, looking back and forth between Ed and Maes. “I’m only the ranking officer here.”
Not quite able to stifle a soft chuckle, Maes put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I think I know what he has in mind, Roy. Anyway, I trust him. Let’s give him a chance.”
The Colonel stared at Maes for a moment, with a look of lingering uncertainty and concern. Then his expression slowly softened, and he gave a short nod.
“Alright. I’ll go with you to get the rubber and the mirrors. But we’ll need some tools.”
He moved to the pile of weapons he had confiscated from their erstwhile captors. Apart from the sledgehammer, shotgun, and pearl-handled revolver that were their signature weapons, it appeared the trio had been carrying a tidy little collection of other pistols and knives. He selected a folding pocketknife for himself, and handed another to Maes. Almost an afterthought, he picked up Ferdy’s revolver as well—but they both knew that if they were discovered, the sound of a shot would be a game-ender for their plans.
“We’ll be back in a few minutes,” Roy said to the Elric brothers. “If any of Cale’s people try to come in here, don’t get heroic. Save yourselves.”
“Fat chance,” Ed snarled over his shoulder in blunt insubordination, as he knelt beside the unconscious Ferdy with an alchemized rope.
Maes could have sworn Roy smiled at that.
After a quick glimpse outside to ensure that their way was clear, it was simple enough to sprint from the porch to the nearest of the gang’s cars, ducking down on the far side of it. There was a mere sliver of moon in the sky, and the only other illumination was the stifled yellow glow from the windows of the two occupied cabins. No one was stirring outside Cale’s remaining stronghold. Maes thought he could faintly hear voices through the wooden walls, but he wasn’t sure.
“Try checking the trunks for the spare tires first,” Roy whispered, and moved forward to begin the task of removing the rear-view mirror from its mounting.
Maes obeyed. Finding the trunk to be locked, he passed on it and crept to the trunk of the next car—but it was locked as well. With a mutter of impatience, he unfolded a tool from his pocketknife and set to work on picking the lock. He knew he shouldn’t have been surprised. Given the rest of their intricate precautions, it stood to reason that Cale’s gang would be security-conscious about their vehicles too.
In spite of the one mistake Bosh had made in provoking Ed, the enemy was still a frighteningly lethal and well-prepared lot. Maes tried not to think of that just yet: of the danger Gracia and Elicia were still in, or the risks to them in any attempted rescue. Instead, he thought back on the things that had just happened… and the terrible truths he had learned.
“Roy?” he murmured quietly in the darkness, after a short while.
“Hmm.” Roy was a few feet away, with his knife between his teeth, as his slim fingers worked at removing a loosened screw from the housing of a rear-view mirror.
“…I just wanted to say I get it now. Why you picked up the Elrics, I mean. I think I understand what you were trying to do.”
For a long moment, silence was the answer. Then Roy reached up to take the knife out of his mouth, and drew in a deep, slow breath.
“I wonder if you do.” He looked away from his friend’s eyes. “I was there that night, Maes. In Resembool—the night they did it.”
Somehow, Maes kept himself from dropping his pocketknife as he started and looked sharply at the other man. “What?”
“It was only a coincidence. I was looking for their father, but what I found instead…” Roy finally looked back at Maes in the scant moonlight, with a smile as black as anything his friend had ever seen from him. “It’s a convenient story, isn’t it? The ambitious young officer, using a pet prodigy’s talents to glorify himself. But the truth is… if I had only been there a few minutes sooner…”
Then Maes truly understood, and he lowered his gaze, swearing softly.
Roy said nothing further. He continued with the task of removing the mirror, and after a moment, Maes halfheartedly resumed his battle with the lock. They worked in silence for a few minutes before Maes spoke again.
“I want you to promise me something, Roy.”
The Colonel looked up at him, with an expression of foreboding that was not at all unwarranted.
“If anything ever happens to me. If I…” Maes grimaced, fingers clenching white-knuckled on the grip of the knife. “Promise me you won’t—do anything. The way they did. And that you won’t let anyone else.”
“Maes—”
“Promise me, Roy.”
The unrelenting hardness in Maes’ voice brooked no argument, and as always, Roy knew when his best friend would not be denied. He sighed and turned away, staring off into the darkness of the woods beyond the clearing.
“I promise,” he whispered. Very faintly, and just a little haltingly.
Then he swallowed, and his shoulders twitched in a small shrug, as if to physically shrug off the weight of the words. When he continued, the lightness in his tone was only slightly forced. “After all, it’s not like I’ll ever have to worry about keeping that promise. You’re too annoying to die.”
Maes’ answering smile at Roy’s back was grim but sincere. “Believe it. I plan to be showing you pictures of my great-great-grandchildren when we’re in the old soldiers’ home together.”
The affectionate threat won him the response he wanted: a beleaguered huff, a sidelong glance that was softer than it tried to be. Roy shook his head slightly, and continued his attack on the mirror with renewed vigor.
“Shut up and work, Maes. We don’t have all night.”
© 2012 Jordanna Morgan
:: 1 :: 2 :: 3 :: 4 :: 5 :: 6 :: 7 :: Epilogue ::