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prose_alchemistTitle: Blood Ties (6/14: Escape)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jordannamorgan
Archive Rights: Please request the author’s consent.
Rating/Warnings: PG for fantasy violence and blood.
Characters: A whopping big ensemble across two worlds, although the strongest focus is on Ed.
Setting: First anime. Same timeframe as CoS, two years after the end of the series.
Summary: Alternative to Conqueror of Shamballa. An old enemy plunges Ed into the dark secrets of his new world, linked to the alchemy he thought lost to him—while in Amestris, Al faces a life-or-death choice. Will the nightmare Ed is drawn into provide the key to both their fates?
Disclaimer: They belong to Hiromu Arakawa. I’m just playing with them.
In the two nights that followed Edward’s disastrous first encounter with the Hunters, his boredom had grown as intense as his fears.
On the instructions of Maes Hughes, Falman and Mustang had forcibly escorted Ed to a small and windowless room on the upper floor of the Hunters’ headquarters: a makeshift holding cell, used in certain cases to contain rogue dhampirs. There his left wrist was handcuffed to a chair that was bolted to the floor—and for the ultimate assurance of his good behavior, his automail was taken from him. Hughes removed the steel arm and leg himself, having learned from Ed’s memory how to disconnect them.
At least Hughes hadn’t felt the need to carry them away. They sat on a table across the room, in plain sight; but with only two limbs left to him, and his remaining hand secured to the chair, the prosthetics might as well have been miles away from Ed.
Even if he was able to slip the handcuff somehow, that small measure of freedom would be short-lived. He may have been without alchemy, but Hughes understood his ingenuity too well to take any chances, and posted one of the other Hunters in the room to guard him around the clock. At various times, Falman, Breda, Francesca, Havoc, and Hawkeye had all taken the watch.
Caged and crippled, Ed could only wait for an opportunity, a change in the situation… and in the meantime, he worried.
From Hughes’ rambling spoken thoughts in the meeting room, it was clear enough that his plan was to capture Envy, and try to use him to open the Gate. Even if such a transmutation was possible, Ed felt his own world would be safe from that intrusion, at least for now; he was sure the homunculus was too savage and cunning to be taken by the Hunters. However, he feared the price they might pay just for trying, in their blind obedience to Hughes.
These doubles of the people he once knew had grown deeply familiar to him in their own right, as his mind further assimilated Noa’s memories. Through her eyes, he could see beyond their bitter pasts and misfit reputations, to the hearts they allowed each other glimpses of. He knew the sad, wistful way Havoc glanced at Noa when he thought she wasn’t looking. He knew Falman was a skilled artist, using brush and canvas as a catharsis for the evils he had seen and endured. He knew Breda secretly loved to sing, but hated being caught in the act. He knew Francesca’s girlish friendship was the only thing that made Noa feel like the feminine young woman she should have been, instead of a hardened hunter of monsters.
Most of all, Ed knew why the Hunters were so unquestioningly loyal to their leader. Just like the Hughes of his world, this one had been a kind-hearted collector of broken people, even when his charity cost him dearly. He offered purpose and comradeship to those who would otherwise be dead or lost or mad themselves—and unlike other Hunter leaders who welcomed only the strong, he never asked his people to be anything they were not. If they ever doubted him, the entire life he had built for them would crumble, and they would be nothing again.
But if they continued to follow Hughes now, refusing to accept that he himself had become broken, it was entirely possible they would die. Ed tried to warn them, to talk some sense into those who guarded him; but his words fell on deaf ears, and he realized Hughes had fully convinced them not to listen or speak to him.
They wouldn’t even tell him what had become of Noa—and it was for her that Ed worried the most. He was certain Hughes, even in his current mental state, would never do physical harm to the foundling he had turned with his own blood and protected as fiercely as a daughter… but what if she was to be sent away, as Hughes himself had been exiled for breaking the same taboo?
Apart from these inner anxieties—and naturally, his sporadic efforts to think up a means of escape for himself—there was nothing outwardly to engage Ed’s mind. There was not even the distraction of physical discomfort. After two days largely spent sitting as impassively as a stone, he had yet to feel the slightest tingle in his undead nerves. Nor did the chill in the unheated room have any effect on him, although Hughes had stripped him to his shorts to get at the automail port on his thigh.
What he did feel were the continuing subtle changes within him, as his body adjusted fully to its new dhampir physiology. It wasn’t a pleasant sensation. He felt as if what remained of his humanity was still ebbing away, leaving him only more of the dark, animal energies that had already taught him to fear himself.
Impossible as it seemed, his senses were even sharper now, and there was a curiously different feeling about his muscles that promised new strength and agility. True to Noa’s words, he had also begun to sense the shifting of daylight and darkness beyond the walls. By day he felt a faint tension in the depths of his being that swiftly relaxed at dusk, providing a natural warning of danger when sunlight shone in the outside world. His incorrigible inner scientist speculated that it might have something to do with the magnetism of the Earth or the sun.
In some ways, that part of him could have been fascinated by his transformation, if not for the horror of its origins in homunculus blood—and if not for what it demanded.
He had not been given blood since he was imprisoned. Hughes’ bite and its effects on him had healed, but not as quickly as it would have if he was completely nourished, and by now he could feel once again the loathsome awakening of… need.
In an effort to ignore that nascent craving, and with nothing better to do as he awaited an opening for escape, Ed rested. He found he needed little of what passed for sleep, but his less-than-living body permitted him to lapse into that dormant phase almost at will. Although he felt an ever-present awareness of his minders, he was resigned to paying them no heed after his arguments had proved fruitless…
At least until the late evening of his third night in captivity, when the creak of the door signaled another changing of the guard.
Ed no longer took interest in which one of them was on watch, as they all gave him the same silent treatment. Half-waking, he stirred himself no further than to sniff for the newcomer’s scent—and for the first time since he was locked away, he perceived a distinctive dog-smell.
Furtively he opened his eyes. Roy Mustang was in the doorway, quietly speaking to Hawkeye, who had taken the last watch. He was reporting his instructions to relieve her.
This was new, and interesting. Until now, Mustang had not been assigned to the guard duty, and Ed suspected it was because no one really trusted him to handle tasks of any importance. Perhaps his being put on the job meant the other Hunters were being called away for something bigger.
Perhaps Ed’s moment had come.
Watching the pair through half-closed eyelids, he noticed the way Hawkeye looked at Mustang, the fleeting glance of heartache before she turned to leave the room; and he couldn’t help feeling pity for them, because now he understood the true state of their relationship. Even after she had forsaken every semblance of normal life, joining the Hunters’ dark world to remain near him, there was still an impassable gulf between them. Mustang could never again touch Hawkeye as the lover he had been to her, because she was human, and he was not. If he ever dared to take her in his arms, to breathe her scent and feel the warm pulse of blood beneath her skin, it was almost certain his predatory instincts would overcome him… and then he would kill her.
In a very different way, Ed knew what it was to love without being able to truly touch. For seven years, he had ached with the desire to feel Al’s hand in his—and the cruelest twist of fate was that during those last days in Amestris, when Al bore the Philosopher’s Stone within him, even his unfeeling armor could not be permitted to touch Ed’s skin. As difficult as that divide had been for brothers, Ed couldn’t imagine how much worse the pain of longing would be between lovers.
When Hawkeye was gone, Mustang locked the door behind her, and pocketed the keys she had turned over to him. Shooting a disgusted look at his apparently sleeping prisoner, he sat down on the chair beside the table. His solitary eye regarded Ed’s detached automail with an uneasy interest.
And Ed surreptitiously moved his left hand, testing the handcuff on his wrist.
In spite of his increased strength, he knew he couldn’t break the few inches of chain that tethered him to the chair. The handcuffs were made to withstand rogue dhampirs who fought with manic fury. However, they were also meant to accommodate larger builds than his own… and as he measured the circumference of the cuff by feel, he began to think it might not be impossible to work his hand free of it. The effort was likely to be painful, and leave his skin lacerated and bruised, but it was worth trying.
If he did free his hand, getting any farther was another matter. With two limbs, he could do little to move, much less fight—but if he could catch Mustang off-guard, lure him closer and take a crack at his jaw, one very good or very lucky punch might lay him out cold long enough to reach the automail. Assuming, of course, that Ed’s new strength was enough to overpower a fellow dhampir’s stamina.
For a few moments, he worked slowly and silently at his attempt to squeeze his hand out of the cuff, trusting the stump of his left thigh to hide the movement from Mustang’s view. The ring of metal was tighter than he had hoped after all, and its hard edges gouged his skin viciously, but he refused to utter even the slightest grunt of pain.
Then Mustang’s curiosity about the automail shifted. His one-eyed gaze turned to Ed, appraising the ports on his body where the prosthetics were meant to be connected.
Ed froze. He thought briefly of continuing to feign sleep until Mustang’s attention strayed again—but he realized his watcher would need some working on as well, if he was to be drawn nearer. So instead, the alchemist raised his head and opened his eyes fully.
“It’s not pretty, is it?”
Mustang flinched and scowled, looking away, clearly annoyed to have been caught staring at Ed’s scars.
“Hey, I don’t mind. Keep looking—I’m an example of what not to do.” Ed’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Take a closer look if you want.”
Declining to take the bait, Mustang only stirred uncomfortably and glared at the far wall.
“I’m not supposed to talk to you,” he murmured at last.
“Uh-huh… and of course, you always do everything you’re told.”
The words and their tone were a blunt challenge, a test of the reluctant Hunter’s discipline, and it did the job of nettling Mustang. He glanced back at Ed sharply, fists clenching, and Ed wondered for a moment if he might be the one to take a punch before he could succeed in freeing his hand.
Finally Mustang’s taut muscles relaxed a little. He glowered at Ed, but his mouth twisted thoughtfully.
“You really come from a place where you knew someone like me?”
This was entirely acceptable as a breakthrough. He was curious and he wanted to talk, and he was just disenchanted enough with his comrades and his station in life to ignore his orders to the contrary.
“Not just someone like you. Someone who was you. Just as much of a jerk, too—except he actually had a backbone.” Ed smirked. “Last time I saw him, he was busy taking over a country. And what have you done lately?”
It was quite possible that needling a dhampir with superhuman strength and the advantage of not being chained up was an extraordinarily bad idea. Ed’s gamble was that making Mustang angry enough to lash out was one sure way to bring him closer; but the effort backfired, and not in the way he expected. A black look flickered across Mustang’s face for only a moment, and then his expression grew sullenly quiet again.
“So does that mean there’s someone else here who’s supposed to be you?” he returned calmly.
The funny thing was, he couldn’t possibly know how much that question hurt.
“There was,” Ed murmured after a moment. “He died during the War.”
Mustang said nothing to that. A lengthy silence fell between them, and Ed tried not to think about his own double in this world, whose death he still felt responsible for. He could wallow in all his guilts when he was dead. As long as he was alive, he had too much work to do.
At least he had never met Al’s counterpart here. He knew that would be more than his heart could bear.
Inwardly shaking himself, Ed focused his mind by discreetly twisting his hand in the handcuff. The sharp sting of pain redirected his attention nicely, although it forced him to suppress a startled hiss. He had worked the cuff down to almost an inch below his wrist, and it was only going to get harder. Furthermore, his earlier efforts had scraped the skin until it bled—and it was only a matter of time before Mustang picked up the scent of the blood.
“…That other Roy Mustang,” his minder spoke up suddenly, forcing Ed to become still again. “Did he… did he have a Riza?”
“She was there, alright. Usually keeping him from getting himself killed.” Ed smiled humorlessly. “But I never did really figure out if there was something else with those two.”
The dog trainer’s one eye blinked, his expression softening reflectively.
Ed sensed this was a moment when the man’s better nature might be reached. He leaned forward, taking care to ensure that his bleeding hand remained hidden by his thigh. “Look, Mustang, just tell me one thing. What has Hughes done to Noa?”
At that, Mustang’s eye narrowed, his jaw tightening with a faint bitterness. He envied Noa, his replacement as Hughes’ favored foundling, who succeeded in conquering her pain and fears where he had failed.
“Other than giving orders that she’s not allowed anywhere near this room? Nothing—yet.” The shadow in Mustang’s face took on a different shade of darkness. “Maes has been too busy planning vampire traps.”
Both statements confirmed what Ed had already more or less surmised, but neither was a particular comfort. He frowned.
“Hughes has something big planned, doesn’t he? That’s why you’re here. You’re the only one he’d leave behind.”
It could have been unwise to remind Mustang of his low esteem in the Hunters’ organization, but he seemed to welcome the opportunity to get deeper concerns off his chest. He scowled, his fists clenching on his knees.
“They’re going out tonight—probably to get themselves killed.” Frustrated anger crept into his voice, tinged with fear. “We’re only supposed to drive vampires away. Not…”
“Not kill them?” Ed supplied. “I don’t know that yet. It may be possible… but that’s not what Hughes is trying to do, is it?”
“He keeps babbling about that other world. About his family, and—alchemy. He’s…”
He’s gone mad.
The words were there, even if Mustang couldn’t bring himself to say them.
“Well, this is a surprise,” Ed murmured. “Turns out you’re the only one who has any sense. You know what he’s doing is wrong.”
“All I know is that the things he saw in your memories made him crazy. Whatever you are—you poisoned his mind somehow.” Mustang glared resentfully at Ed. “You did this.”
Fresh guilt twinged painfully in Ed’s chest. “I know that. You think I meant it to happen? The Hughes in my world was a friend… and in a way, he died because of me. The last thing I ever could have wanted was to hurt your Hughes. I only came here with Noa because I thought I could help… but instead, I just made things worse.”
He drew a deep breath, forcibly dragging himself back from the ledge of self-recrimination; and down at his side, very slowly, he began to work once more at easing his hand out of the handcuff.
“I can’t change what happened. All I can do is try to stop it from going any further. Envy isn’t like the other vampires in this world, because he understands what alchemy can do—and if he finds out Hughes has that knowledge, he won’t stop until he kills him, and anyone else who gets in the way.” Ed stared hard at Mustang. “You’ve got to let me go, so I can try to keep Hughes from getting himself or any of the others killed.”
A disgusted incredulity crossed Mustang’s face. “After what you’ve done, you can’t possibly think I’m going to turn you loose.”
“Then stop them yourself. Talk to the others—make them see that they can’t follow Hughes into this!”
“They wouldn’t pay any attention to me.” Mustang’s gaze fell bitterly. “I’m not that other Roy you knew. The one you say was a leader.”
“Maybe not—but I think you still have it in you to be what he was.” Ed tried to soften his expression, even through the burning pain he felt in his hand as the cuff ground away more skin. “I don’t believe you’re a coward, Roy. All you’re missing is some faith in yourself.”
Mustang glanced up sharply. He almost looked a little confused… but when he spoke, Ed wasn’t sure whether that sudden doubt was because of his own words, or something more dangerous.
“Wait. I thought I smelled…”
A stab of alarm shot through Ed. Mustang must have finally scented his blood. He clenched his jaw for one more swift, torturous effort to pry his hand free, even as the other dhampir began to rise suspiciously from his chair.
At that moment, Mustang’s attention was distracted by a soft knock on the door.
With a scowl he completed the motion of rising, fishing the keys from his pocket. He unlocked the door and roughly jerked it open, to reveal Noa standing at the threshold—and the sight of her forced Ed to stifle a gasp of startled hope.
“Are you crazy?” Mustang snapped at her, physically stepping back in his surprise. “Maes told you not to come near the kid.”
“It’s alright, Roy.” Noa’s tone was commanding and slightly impatient—the same demeanor that had caused Mustang to back down when he first met them at the front gate. “Maes gave me permission himself. Edward needs to be fed. You know he’ll become difficult if he isn’t.”
As she spoke, she produced a bottle of red liquid from beneath her coat, and Ed was ashamed to feel himself salivate at the sight of it.
Torn between suspicion and submission, Mustang glowered at Noa as she strode past him into the room. “How do I know Maes cleared it?”
“You can always go ask him, can’t you?” Noa retorted briskly… and then she froze, her face stricken, as her gaze fell upon Edward. Undressed and devoid of his automail, he knew he must have been a pathetic sight, even if the only pain he felt was secret and self-inflicted.
She quickly controlled her expression and approached him, with Mustang following warily. Going out to seek Hughes would mean leaving Noa alone with Ed, and as the disgruntled guardian was obviously not about to do that, he could only settle for watching her every move.
As Noa reached him, Ed dropped his eyes to his hand, just for a moment. She followed the gaze, and he saw the flinch she suppressed as she hurriedly stepped to his left side, letting the edge of her coat hide the hand from Mustang’s view. Then she opened the bottle she carried, and a new bloodscent immediately overtook the trace of Ed’s own that Mustang had detected before.
This time, Ed didn’t try to resist the repulsive desire that surged up fiercely within him. There was no escaping that basic biological need, and if he was going to survive, he had to learn to overcome the horror it made him feel. When Noa raised the bottle to his lips, he drank down the beef blood without protest, and tried not to think about the fact that Roy Mustang—the dhampir Mustang, but a little too familiar all the same—was watching him take it.
Having emptied the bottle, he turned his face away from it with only a slight shudder, and reluctantly lifted his eyes to Noa’s. “Thanks.”
Noa said nothing, but her gaze was intent and meaningful… and Ed realized she had a plan.
“Alright,” Mustang said brusquely, folding his arms. “You’ve fed him, so he won’t flip anytime soon. Now you can go.”
With a final significant glance at Ed, Noa turned, and crossed the room as if to leave; but she stopped at the table where his automail lay, and for a moment stood studying it pensively.
“Maes didn’t hurt him by doing this, did he?” she asked.
“I guess not. He knew what he was doing with it—and the kid didn’t complain.” Mustang reached out, idly lifting the automail arm at the wrist, to watch the shifting of lamplight across slender metal fingers.
Ed raised his chin and narrowed his eyes, half-smiling bitterly. “Hey, keep your hands off me, pal.”
Mustang turned, with a wryly reproachful look. “As if you could—”
The keeper of the kennels got no further. Behind him, Noa calmly picked up Ed’s arm herself… and with the preternatural strength and precision Ed had come to expect from her, she clouted Mustang across the back of the skull with it.
There was a comical look on his face as he thudded bonelessly to the floor.
A sudden, startled laugh of perverse delight hiccupped out of Ed. “That was awesome!”
“Shh.” With a finger raised to her lips, Noa set down the automail, and bent to search Mustang’s pockets for the keys. “Remember, most of the others can hear as well as we can.”
Ed accepted the admonishment with a small nod, and spoke in a voice that was barely more than a whisper. “Are you alright?”
“Yes, but I see you’re not.” Having laid claim to the keys, Noa hurried back to his side, and knelt to unlock the handcuff on his bloody hand.
“That’s nothing. I’d almost gotten my hand loose. Then I was planning to do roughly what you did…” Ed stifled a grunt as the cuff fell away, but the pain had already diminished. When Noa took out a handkerchief and wiped away the blood, he could see the scrapes and lacerations fading. He realized he must have healed just as rapidly after he was burned by the sun, but it was rather unnerving to watch it happen.
“It’ll be alright in a minute.” Noa sat back on her heels, looking up at him. “I would have come to you sooner, but Maes has been watching me closely. This was my first chance—and I couldn’t do it without help. Kain is distracting Maes with a false radio message.”
Prying himself away from the uneasy wonder of his skin healing before his eyes, Ed met Noa’s gaze. The gravity of what she was doing for him began to sink in.
“You’re betraying Hughes… for me?”
Noa looked away abruptly. “Maes is… not himself,” she said tersely, and before Ed could reply, she turned to regard his automail on the table. “Your arm and leg—they’re not damaged?”
“No.” Ed shook his head. “Mustang was right: Hughes learned from me how to detach them. It’ll just take me a few minutes to reconnect them.”
“Then we should hurry. I don’t know how long Kain can keep Maes busy—and then he may start to wonder where I am. Can you use your hand?”
Gingerly Ed flexed his hand. It still felt a little sore, but there was almost no sign left of its injury.
“Yeah. Just bring the automail over here. I can handle the rest.”
With a faint nod, Noa crossed the room to retrieve the prosthetics. She carried them back to him, and watched with troubled eyes as he rather awkwardly maneuvered the arm into position with his one hand.
“Are you sure you don’t need any help?”
“It’s nothing I haven’t done before.” Ed frowned at her anxious nearness. “Just step back a little. It can be kind of rough.”
Looking anything but reassured, the Hunter backed away slightly. Satisfied that she was beyond the range of his reactions, Ed gritted his teeth, closed his eyes, and pushed the automail swiftly and firmly into its port.
For all its familiarity, the pain was never any less shocking, and he choked off a cry in his throat at the sudden white-hot burning of his nerves. Muscles spasmed violently, steel fingers clenching in response to his tortured flesh reflexes. In the past, he was always left gasping for breath; but now his lungs were still, and the torment trailed away into mere aching shivers as he sagged against the back of the chair.
Distressed and damp-eyed, Noa knelt beside him, her hands hovering uncertainly over the reattached arm. “I… I didn’t know—”
She fell silent as Ed raised his automail hand, and did not flinch when the cold steel of his fingertip gently touched her cheek, tracing away the tear that had escaped her.
“It’s okay.” He smiled hollowly. “This is the bed I made for myself.”
A little impulsively, Noa took the hand in hers and squeezed it, entwining her flesh fingers with his metal ones. Ed couldn’t feel the pressure of her grip, but all the same, he was not unappreciative of the gesture.
He rested for a moment more, and then repeated the process with his leg, enduring the swift flash-flood of agony once again—but he found the aches that lingered afterward were fading much more quickly than they ever had before. His inhuman nerves did not cling to pain for long. That, at least, was one advantage of dhampirism he was willing to welcome.
As he sat with his head leaning back and his eyes closed, allowing himself a brief recovery from the reattachment of the leg, Noa’s voice softly broke the silence.
“You know I’m coming with you.”
“I guess I figured that about the time you clocked Mustang.” Ed opened his eyes thoughtfully. “But I still don’t understand why.”
“I have a promise to keep.”
“But you never promised me any…” He trailed off as understanding dawned, provided to him by her memories.
“No, it wasn’t to me, was it?” he whispered. “Your promise was to Hughes.”
Her gaze lowered, Noa nodded.
“Maes knew for a long time that he was losing himself—that something would push him over the edge one day. I tried to hold him together, but it was only a matter of time. If it wasn’t your memories, Edward, it would have been something else.” She raised her eyes, and unspilled tears shone in them again. “He asked me to promise that when he lost his fight… I’d do what was best for the Hunters.”
Ed blinked and frowned. “And you think what’s best is this? Just walking away and leaving them, with him the way he is?”
“The others won’t listen to me. Maes’ power over them is still too strong… and this is more important than anything I could ever do for them here.” Her eyes held his intently. “Your alchemy is the only hope we have of destroying vampires. The best thing I can do for the Hunters, and for the rest of humanity, is to keep you safe—so you can learn to use your power to save this world.”
Those words left a resonating shock in Ed’s soul. Already he had seen glimpses of her belief in him, but the true intensity of it made him feel humbled and terrified. She was prepared to leave behind all she had known for that belief. To live for it… and to die for it.
For him.
“Oh, Noa…” He looked away from the keen, sincere light in her face, flustered. “I told you, I don’t know if it can even be done.”
“I do. And I know you will do it.”
“And just what makes you so sure?”
The gypsy tilted her head thoughtfully, her gaze briefly turning inward.
“My people have certain ways. Powers of understanding that others don’t have. Second sight, extrasensory perception—whatever you choose to call it. From the time I was a child, it was strong in me… but I lost it after I turned.”
She glanced up at him, and a soft smile crossed her lips. “But then I saw you the other night, and what you could do… and the sight came back to me, one last time. From that moment, I knew what my life was meant for. I knew it was my fate to protect you—and the gift you have.”
That frighteningly absolute faith was more than Ed could find words to answer. In an effort to gloss over the unworthiness he felt, he retreated behind an old argumentativeness her words had aroused.
“I don’t believe in fate, Noa. There’s no destiny decided for us but what we choose for ourselves… like I chose this.” He clenched his steel fist.
“Then tell me one thing. Of the people you knew in your world, why are so many of them together here too, if there isn’t something more that binds us?”
“There are plenty of people I knew who I haven’t met here, you know.” The argument sounded weak to Ed’s own ears. He knew he could offer no better explanation for why so many of the same people had found each other; but there had to be one. In any world, nothing was truly able to happen without some scientific cause, even if humans—or dhampirs—had not quite learned how to define it.
But Noa only smiled bittersweetly, and offered him her hand.
“It’s alright, Edward. You don’t have to believe… because I can believe for us both.”
Returning a defeated smile and a sigh, Ed gave up the debate. Whatever it was that inspired her motives, Noa’s goals and his own were the same—and he knew he still wasn’t ready to find his way in this new life alone. He placed his flesh hand in hers and let her help him to his feet, cautiously testing his weight on his reattached leg.
Then he looked down at himself, frowning wryly at his almost complete lack of clothing.
“I won’t be going anywhere without some new clothes,” he murmured… and his glance slid calculatingly toward Mustang’s unconscious form on the floor.
Noa chuckled and shook her head. “I planned for that too. I left everything you’ll need in another room nearby—that is, unless you want to go around smelling like dog hair.”
“You think of everything, don’t you?” A grin flickered across Ed’s face, but then he sobered. “What about…?”
“Kain isn’t the only one helping us. Sig is on our side, too. We can’t risk being seen around his shop, but he’s going to leave blood for us, in a place I’ve arranged with him.” As she spoke, Noa moved across the room to unlock the door. Giving Ed a glance that warned him to be silent, she cracked it open, and peered out into the hallway.
“It’s clear. Hurry.”
Quickly and quietly, Ed followed Noa to a room down the hall that was used for storage. As she had promised, a bundle of clothing awaited him there: the black garments of a Hunter, and a protective inverness coat like her own, as well as boots and gloves. Beside these lay a sword and a sturdy knife, the Hunters’ standard equipment for battling vampires.
Once he had dressed in the clothes and fastened the sheaths of the blades to his belt, he turned toward the door of the room, but Noa caught his wrist.
“Not that way. This place gets busy when everyone is preparing for a hunt. We’ll never make it downstairs without being seen.” She stepped toward the room’s window—one of the few in the building that was not completely sealed up—and forced the long-disused latch that secured its steel shutters.
With a sudden apprehension, Ed sidled closer. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t remember anything like a nice convenient fire escape on the outside.”
“That’s true,” Noa said matter-of-factly, and pushed the creaking shutters open to the night air beyond.
Ed leaned on the windowsill to look down—and his heart sank. There was indeed no stairway or ladder, not even so much as a growth of ivy, and the grooves in the brick facing of the building were too shallow to offer any handhold. There was only a four-story drop to the lawn below.
He glanced uncertainly at Noa. “What now?”
“We jump.”
“What?”
“It’s easy. In chasing down rogues, I’ve dropped farther than that all the time.” Turning from the window, she saw the baffled alarm on his face, and laid her hand on his arm. “Trust me, Edward. You know how much stronger you’ve become. You can do this—”
She was interrupted by running footsteps in the hallway, and a shout that sounded like Mustang’s voice.
“He woke up!” Ed breathed in dismay.
“We’re out of time. He’ll let the dogs loose.” Noa’s hand moved to his shoulder, gripping firmly, as if willing him to feel her own confidence and resolve. “Edward, please!”
Her plea galvanized something in Ed. Perhaps her faith really was contagious—or perhaps it was only desperation. Whatever it was, it spurred him to turn impulsively to the window, stepping up onto the broad sill. The distance to the ground was dizzying, and his stomach knotted up in fear.
Thinking about it for even a moment would be one moment too long.
Ed took a deep breath, and hurled himself from the sill.
In the amazing and terrible adventures of his past life, Ed had survived a few unpleasant falls, but none were as long or as horrifying as this. A part of him felt he was plummeting forever, even as the ground rushed at him with sickening speed…
Then something seized his will that was partly an inhuman new instinct, and partly Noa’s own experience. He simply knew how to relax instead of bracing rigidly, how to twist himself for an upright landing like a cat. His body obeyed those impulses before his mind could even give them any conscious thought—and in the instant before he touched down, his fear had vanished.
He hit the ground in a sinuous crouch that helped to absorb some of the shock, along with the thick softness of the grass. The impact was still enough to jar every bone in his body, sending a new lance of pain through the flesh and muscles around his automail ports. In the moment after he realized he was still in one piece, he was more concerned for his metal limbs than his organic ones, but a quick flex of his fingers and stretch of his leg assured him that the strong and skillfully-made prosthetics had survived intact.
Thank you, Winry!
Before he even had time to look up toward the window, Noa landed beside him. The moment she touched the ground, she was running, and he followed her.
Behind them, from the side of the building where the kennels were located, came the sudden baying of dogs.
The high wall of the property loomed ahead. With almost no break in her momentum, Noa skidded into a crouch and sprang upward, grasping the iron spikes that topped the wall to swiftly pull herself over. Ed duplicated her movements, trying not to remember that the feline leap would have been impossible for the human he no longer was. To his surprise, he succeeded almost effortlessly, and his unbreathing lungs were not even winded as he dropped down onto the sidewalk beyond.
“Where to?” he asked Noa quickly.
“This way!”
He let Noa lead him, and soon realized her intent was not simply to put as much straight-line distance as possible between themselves and the Hunters’ headquarters. She followed a more circuitous route that led them deeper into the maze of the city, often doubling back on their tracks. It was an effort to throw Mustang’s dogs off their scent.
The winding course eventually brought them to a derelict building such as they first took refuge in—this one a restaurant that had been gutted by a recent fire. They picked their way around crumbling walls to a mostly-undamaged cellar door, and descended the steps into the cavernous darkness below. It reeked of smoke and ancient stains of spilled wine, and broken glass crunched underfoot, but it seemed to be secure against the danger sunlight would pose to them.
A spark flickered in the darkness as Noa lit a candle. Its light was plentiful for their nocturnal eyes, and Ed saw her wan, apologetic smile as she turned to face him.
“I’m afraid it isn’t the nicest place to stay, but we can’t go to any of the daylight shelters I’ve used before—Maes knows them all. It was Sig who told me about this place.”
“I’m convinced Sig doesn’t have a sense of smell,” Ed retorted wryly. “As long as we’re safe here, I’ll take it. How hard do you think Hughes is going to look for us?”
Noa frowned. “The way he’s been… I’m sure hunting the vampire will be much more important to him. He only locked you up in case he can’t use your alchemy himself—and to keep you out of his way.” Her face fell. “It will hurt him that I’ve betrayed him. But compared to the idea he’s obsessed with now, of joining his family again in your world… none of us here matter to him anymore.”
Ed winced. “I’m sorry. I should’ve thought about how he’d react to my memories… I should have tried harder to stop him.”
“No, Edward. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine. Maes trusted me to help him stay focused on what was right—and I failed him.” Noa shook her head fiercely. “But I won’t fail him in this. I’ll do whatever it takes to help you find the answers.”
“You have anything in mind?” Ed asked curiously.
The renegade Hunter considered that question for a long moment.
“I think… I think we should make our way to Paris, and see the Council for ourselves. When they know what you may be able to do, I’m certain they’ll listen.”
Sudden uneasiness tightened in Ed’s gut. He trusted Noa, and he trusted her judgment—but after everything that had happened, he was not at all sure he was willing to trust anyone else, no matter how well she thought she knew them.
“I’m not crazy about that idea,” he murmured, and his automail hand strayed to his left shoulder, where Hughes had bit him. “How can we know the same thing won’t happen again? If alchemy can work here, I can’t let just anyone have that knowledge. It’s too dangerous—for your world and mine. Before I put myself in anyone else’s hands… I have to be sure.”
“But what do you think we can possibly do on our own?” Noa asked, sounding a little agitated.
The question was entirely fair. They were only two dhampirs: one still unaccustomed to his new nature, one now a traitor to her leader, both limited to the dark of night. The threats they faced were a homunculus-vampire who wanted nothing more than to destroy Ed, and a maddened dhampir who hoped to use that homunculus to unleash a power he was in no condition to understand. All they had to their advantage was Ed’s own grasp of that power… if it would even work at all.
If Noa was right, Hughes was going to be fully preoccupied with his search for Envy. Ed still felt that quest could achieve nothing more than to get Hughes or the other Hunters killed—and he didn’t want that to happen. At the same time, he also needed to learn how much truth there was to his own theories about the use of alchemy in this world.
“First of all… I want to find Envy,” Ed announced at last. “Getting to him before Hughes does may be the only way to save the others—and it is the only way to find out if alchemy will really work here. Once I know that for sure… then we can figure out who to trust, and how to help the Hunters use that knowledge.”
“You want to start by going after that vampire?” Noa gasped. “Just the two of us?”
Ed shrugged awkwardly. “I know it’s not the way you’re used to working… and it’ll be dangerous. But if we’re going to keep anyone else from getting hurt, I think it’s the first step we have to take.”
“But what if he—?”
What if he kills you?
Those were the words Noa couldn’t bring herself to finish, but Ed could hear them, all the same. Underneath that breathtaking faith in him, there was still fear. A fear for the safety of his secrets that might change her world; but also, he realized, a heartfelt fear for him.
She cared far more about his survival than he did himself.
“It’s possible,” he admitted quietly. “And if he does… I’d like to know the secret of alchemy is safe with someone I trust.”
With that, he unfastened his coat and let it fall to the floor. He sank to his knees, opened his shirt, and lifted his chin: baring his throat to her.
Noa needed no explanation for that submissive gesture she knew so well. Her eyes grew wide, and she physically took a step back.
“Edward…”
“You know it’s the only way. If anything happens to me… you’re the only one who could understand what to do.”
The hesitation was long and painful. Noa wavered, staring at him with brimming eyes, uncertain and afraid. As readily as she had touched his hand or arm before, to give reassurance and comfort to him—or perhaps to herself—she looked at him now almost as if he was something too sacred to touch.
At last, slowly, she stepped forward to kneel before him. Trembling hands clutched his shoulders to hold him against her, and he closed his eyes tight as her lips grazed the left side of his neck, seeking a vein.
It was familiar now, the sting of the bite and the rush of memories; but this time, offered without resistance, it was not painful. Ed felt only the soul-aching intimacy of giving her everything that had forged his being. His desperate love for his brother, the pride of his extraordinary gifts, the guilt and the rage and the grief… He gave it all to her, just as she had given him the essence of her own life.
Equivalent Exchange.
The time was far less than it seemed when she withdrew from him—or almost did. As the haze cleared from his senses and she began to pull away, he realized his arms had slipped supportively around her. He had no idea when that had happened. A little abashed, he moved to let go… but when he realized she was shivering as if frozen to the bone, he impulsively held her a little closer instead, even though he had no warmth of flesh to give her.
Unresisting, she laid her head on his shoulder, and he felt the dampness of cold tears on his skin.
“Noa?” he whispered anxiously, a sudden fear clutching his heart. Had he harmed her mind, as he had inadvertently done to Hughes?
She leaned a little harder into his arms, seemingly unaware that she was doing it, and sniffled softly. Her head tilted just enough for him to see the fading sheen of scarlet in her eyes.
“So much sorrow,” she whispered. “So much pain… and you were only children.”
A pang of guilt wracked Ed. In truth, he had thought of nothing but the alchemic knowledge he wanted to give her; he never considered how deeply his inner burdens might affect her gentle soul. Forcing her to feel their weight had been cruel, and selfish, and careless.
“Oh, Noa… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
She cut him off with a squeeze of his shoulder, and beneath her hair that half-concealed her face, he saw a broken smile. “It’s alright, Ed. After all… you took my pain, too. I just don’t understand why anyone should have had to suffer as much as you.”
He noted vaguely that her informality with his name was a new development. It had always been Edward before.
“Don’t be sorry for me, Noa. I told you, I’ve always made my own choices… and when they’re wrong, they’ve always hurt other people more than me. They hurt you too, so I don’t deserve your sympathy. I don’t even deserve your help in fixing my mistakes.” He glanced away from her bitterly. “Now you know what a fraud you put your faith in.”
Noa shook her head against his chest. She looked up into his face, and although her cheeks were tear-streaked, her eyes were bright with a fire that was somehow familiar.
“Now I have more reason than ever to believe in you,” she said softly. “Because now I know you’ll never give up on us.”
That much was the one truth Ed was sure of.
© 2011 Jordanna Morgan
Chapters: 1 :: 2 :: 3 :: 4 :: 5 :: 6 :: 7 :: 8 :: 9 :: 10 :: 11 :: 12 :: 13 :: 14 :: Epilogue ::
Author:
jordannamorganArchive Rights: Please request the author’s consent.
Rating/Warnings: PG for fantasy violence and blood.
Characters: A whopping big ensemble across two worlds, although the strongest focus is on Ed.
Setting: First anime. Same timeframe as CoS, two years after the end of the series.
Summary: Alternative to Conqueror of Shamballa. An old enemy plunges Ed into the dark secrets of his new world, linked to the alchemy he thought lost to him—while in Amestris, Al faces a life-or-death choice. Will the nightmare Ed is drawn into provide the key to both their fates?
Disclaimer: They belong to Hiromu Arakawa. I’m just playing with them.
In the two nights that followed Edward’s disastrous first encounter with the Hunters, his boredom had grown as intense as his fears.
On the instructions of Maes Hughes, Falman and Mustang had forcibly escorted Ed to a small and windowless room on the upper floor of the Hunters’ headquarters: a makeshift holding cell, used in certain cases to contain rogue dhampirs. There his left wrist was handcuffed to a chair that was bolted to the floor—and for the ultimate assurance of his good behavior, his automail was taken from him. Hughes removed the steel arm and leg himself, having learned from Ed’s memory how to disconnect them.
At least Hughes hadn’t felt the need to carry them away. They sat on a table across the room, in plain sight; but with only two limbs left to him, and his remaining hand secured to the chair, the prosthetics might as well have been miles away from Ed.
Even if he was able to slip the handcuff somehow, that small measure of freedom would be short-lived. He may have been without alchemy, but Hughes understood his ingenuity too well to take any chances, and posted one of the other Hunters in the room to guard him around the clock. At various times, Falman, Breda, Francesca, Havoc, and Hawkeye had all taken the watch.
Caged and crippled, Ed could only wait for an opportunity, a change in the situation… and in the meantime, he worried.
From Hughes’ rambling spoken thoughts in the meeting room, it was clear enough that his plan was to capture Envy, and try to use him to open the Gate. Even if such a transmutation was possible, Ed felt his own world would be safe from that intrusion, at least for now; he was sure the homunculus was too savage and cunning to be taken by the Hunters. However, he feared the price they might pay just for trying, in their blind obedience to Hughes.
These doubles of the people he once knew had grown deeply familiar to him in their own right, as his mind further assimilated Noa’s memories. Through her eyes, he could see beyond their bitter pasts and misfit reputations, to the hearts they allowed each other glimpses of. He knew the sad, wistful way Havoc glanced at Noa when he thought she wasn’t looking. He knew Falman was a skilled artist, using brush and canvas as a catharsis for the evils he had seen and endured. He knew Breda secretly loved to sing, but hated being caught in the act. He knew Francesca’s girlish friendship was the only thing that made Noa feel like the feminine young woman she should have been, instead of a hardened hunter of monsters.
Most of all, Ed knew why the Hunters were so unquestioningly loyal to their leader. Just like the Hughes of his world, this one had been a kind-hearted collector of broken people, even when his charity cost him dearly. He offered purpose and comradeship to those who would otherwise be dead or lost or mad themselves—and unlike other Hunter leaders who welcomed only the strong, he never asked his people to be anything they were not. If they ever doubted him, the entire life he had built for them would crumble, and they would be nothing again.
But if they continued to follow Hughes now, refusing to accept that he himself had become broken, it was entirely possible they would die. Ed tried to warn them, to talk some sense into those who guarded him; but his words fell on deaf ears, and he realized Hughes had fully convinced them not to listen or speak to him.
They wouldn’t even tell him what had become of Noa—and it was for her that Ed worried the most. He was certain Hughes, even in his current mental state, would never do physical harm to the foundling he had turned with his own blood and protected as fiercely as a daughter… but what if she was to be sent away, as Hughes himself had been exiled for breaking the same taboo?
Apart from these inner anxieties—and naturally, his sporadic efforts to think up a means of escape for himself—there was nothing outwardly to engage Ed’s mind. There was not even the distraction of physical discomfort. After two days largely spent sitting as impassively as a stone, he had yet to feel the slightest tingle in his undead nerves. Nor did the chill in the unheated room have any effect on him, although Hughes had stripped him to his shorts to get at the automail port on his thigh.
What he did feel were the continuing subtle changes within him, as his body adjusted fully to its new dhampir physiology. It wasn’t a pleasant sensation. He felt as if what remained of his humanity was still ebbing away, leaving him only more of the dark, animal energies that had already taught him to fear himself.
Impossible as it seemed, his senses were even sharper now, and there was a curiously different feeling about his muscles that promised new strength and agility. True to Noa’s words, he had also begun to sense the shifting of daylight and darkness beyond the walls. By day he felt a faint tension in the depths of his being that swiftly relaxed at dusk, providing a natural warning of danger when sunlight shone in the outside world. His incorrigible inner scientist speculated that it might have something to do with the magnetism of the Earth or the sun.
In some ways, that part of him could have been fascinated by his transformation, if not for the horror of its origins in homunculus blood—and if not for what it demanded.
He had not been given blood since he was imprisoned. Hughes’ bite and its effects on him had healed, but not as quickly as it would have if he was completely nourished, and by now he could feel once again the loathsome awakening of… need.
In an effort to ignore that nascent craving, and with nothing better to do as he awaited an opening for escape, Ed rested. He found he needed little of what passed for sleep, but his less-than-living body permitted him to lapse into that dormant phase almost at will. Although he felt an ever-present awareness of his minders, he was resigned to paying them no heed after his arguments had proved fruitless…
At least until the late evening of his third night in captivity, when the creak of the door signaled another changing of the guard.
Ed no longer took interest in which one of them was on watch, as they all gave him the same silent treatment. Half-waking, he stirred himself no further than to sniff for the newcomer’s scent—and for the first time since he was locked away, he perceived a distinctive dog-smell.
Furtively he opened his eyes. Roy Mustang was in the doorway, quietly speaking to Hawkeye, who had taken the last watch. He was reporting his instructions to relieve her.
This was new, and interesting. Until now, Mustang had not been assigned to the guard duty, and Ed suspected it was because no one really trusted him to handle tasks of any importance. Perhaps his being put on the job meant the other Hunters were being called away for something bigger.
Perhaps Ed’s moment had come.
Watching the pair through half-closed eyelids, he noticed the way Hawkeye looked at Mustang, the fleeting glance of heartache before she turned to leave the room; and he couldn’t help feeling pity for them, because now he understood the true state of their relationship. Even after she had forsaken every semblance of normal life, joining the Hunters’ dark world to remain near him, there was still an impassable gulf between them. Mustang could never again touch Hawkeye as the lover he had been to her, because she was human, and he was not. If he ever dared to take her in his arms, to breathe her scent and feel the warm pulse of blood beneath her skin, it was almost certain his predatory instincts would overcome him… and then he would kill her.
In a very different way, Ed knew what it was to love without being able to truly touch. For seven years, he had ached with the desire to feel Al’s hand in his—and the cruelest twist of fate was that during those last days in Amestris, when Al bore the Philosopher’s Stone within him, even his unfeeling armor could not be permitted to touch Ed’s skin. As difficult as that divide had been for brothers, Ed couldn’t imagine how much worse the pain of longing would be between lovers.
When Hawkeye was gone, Mustang locked the door behind her, and pocketed the keys she had turned over to him. Shooting a disgusted look at his apparently sleeping prisoner, he sat down on the chair beside the table. His solitary eye regarded Ed’s detached automail with an uneasy interest.
And Ed surreptitiously moved his left hand, testing the handcuff on his wrist.
In spite of his increased strength, he knew he couldn’t break the few inches of chain that tethered him to the chair. The handcuffs were made to withstand rogue dhampirs who fought with manic fury. However, they were also meant to accommodate larger builds than his own… and as he measured the circumference of the cuff by feel, he began to think it might not be impossible to work his hand free of it. The effort was likely to be painful, and leave his skin lacerated and bruised, but it was worth trying.
If he did free his hand, getting any farther was another matter. With two limbs, he could do little to move, much less fight—but if he could catch Mustang off-guard, lure him closer and take a crack at his jaw, one very good or very lucky punch might lay him out cold long enough to reach the automail. Assuming, of course, that Ed’s new strength was enough to overpower a fellow dhampir’s stamina.
For a few moments, he worked slowly and silently at his attempt to squeeze his hand out of the cuff, trusting the stump of his left thigh to hide the movement from Mustang’s view. The ring of metal was tighter than he had hoped after all, and its hard edges gouged his skin viciously, but he refused to utter even the slightest grunt of pain.
Then Mustang’s curiosity about the automail shifted. His one-eyed gaze turned to Ed, appraising the ports on his body where the prosthetics were meant to be connected.
Ed froze. He thought briefly of continuing to feign sleep until Mustang’s attention strayed again—but he realized his watcher would need some working on as well, if he was to be drawn nearer. So instead, the alchemist raised his head and opened his eyes fully.
“It’s not pretty, is it?”
Mustang flinched and scowled, looking away, clearly annoyed to have been caught staring at Ed’s scars.
“Hey, I don’t mind. Keep looking—I’m an example of what not to do.” Ed’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Take a closer look if you want.”
Declining to take the bait, Mustang only stirred uncomfortably and glared at the far wall.
“I’m not supposed to talk to you,” he murmured at last.
“Uh-huh… and of course, you always do everything you’re told.”
The words and their tone were a blunt challenge, a test of the reluctant Hunter’s discipline, and it did the job of nettling Mustang. He glanced back at Ed sharply, fists clenching, and Ed wondered for a moment if he might be the one to take a punch before he could succeed in freeing his hand.
Finally Mustang’s taut muscles relaxed a little. He glowered at Ed, but his mouth twisted thoughtfully.
“You really come from a place where you knew someone like me?”
This was entirely acceptable as a breakthrough. He was curious and he wanted to talk, and he was just disenchanted enough with his comrades and his station in life to ignore his orders to the contrary.
“Not just someone like you. Someone who was you. Just as much of a jerk, too—except he actually had a backbone.” Ed smirked. “Last time I saw him, he was busy taking over a country. And what have you done lately?”
It was quite possible that needling a dhampir with superhuman strength and the advantage of not being chained up was an extraordinarily bad idea. Ed’s gamble was that making Mustang angry enough to lash out was one sure way to bring him closer; but the effort backfired, and not in the way he expected. A black look flickered across Mustang’s face for only a moment, and then his expression grew sullenly quiet again.
“So does that mean there’s someone else here who’s supposed to be you?” he returned calmly.
The funny thing was, he couldn’t possibly know how much that question hurt.
“There was,” Ed murmured after a moment. “He died during the War.”
Mustang said nothing to that. A lengthy silence fell between them, and Ed tried not to think about his own double in this world, whose death he still felt responsible for. He could wallow in all his guilts when he was dead. As long as he was alive, he had too much work to do.
At least he had never met Al’s counterpart here. He knew that would be more than his heart could bear.
Inwardly shaking himself, Ed focused his mind by discreetly twisting his hand in the handcuff. The sharp sting of pain redirected his attention nicely, although it forced him to suppress a startled hiss. He had worked the cuff down to almost an inch below his wrist, and it was only going to get harder. Furthermore, his earlier efforts had scraped the skin until it bled—and it was only a matter of time before Mustang picked up the scent of the blood.
“…That other Roy Mustang,” his minder spoke up suddenly, forcing Ed to become still again. “Did he… did he have a Riza?”
“She was there, alright. Usually keeping him from getting himself killed.” Ed smiled humorlessly. “But I never did really figure out if there was something else with those two.”
The dog trainer’s one eye blinked, his expression softening reflectively.
Ed sensed this was a moment when the man’s better nature might be reached. He leaned forward, taking care to ensure that his bleeding hand remained hidden by his thigh. “Look, Mustang, just tell me one thing. What has Hughes done to Noa?”
At that, Mustang’s eye narrowed, his jaw tightening with a faint bitterness. He envied Noa, his replacement as Hughes’ favored foundling, who succeeded in conquering her pain and fears where he had failed.
“Other than giving orders that she’s not allowed anywhere near this room? Nothing—yet.” The shadow in Mustang’s face took on a different shade of darkness. “Maes has been too busy planning vampire traps.”
Both statements confirmed what Ed had already more or less surmised, but neither was a particular comfort. He frowned.
“Hughes has something big planned, doesn’t he? That’s why you’re here. You’re the only one he’d leave behind.”
It could have been unwise to remind Mustang of his low esteem in the Hunters’ organization, but he seemed to welcome the opportunity to get deeper concerns off his chest. He scowled, his fists clenching on his knees.
“They’re going out tonight—probably to get themselves killed.” Frustrated anger crept into his voice, tinged with fear. “We’re only supposed to drive vampires away. Not…”
“Not kill them?” Ed supplied. “I don’t know that yet. It may be possible… but that’s not what Hughes is trying to do, is it?”
“He keeps babbling about that other world. About his family, and—alchemy. He’s…”
He’s gone mad.
The words were there, even if Mustang couldn’t bring himself to say them.
“Well, this is a surprise,” Ed murmured. “Turns out you’re the only one who has any sense. You know what he’s doing is wrong.”
“All I know is that the things he saw in your memories made him crazy. Whatever you are—you poisoned his mind somehow.” Mustang glared resentfully at Ed. “You did this.”
Fresh guilt twinged painfully in Ed’s chest. “I know that. You think I meant it to happen? The Hughes in my world was a friend… and in a way, he died because of me. The last thing I ever could have wanted was to hurt your Hughes. I only came here with Noa because I thought I could help… but instead, I just made things worse.”
He drew a deep breath, forcibly dragging himself back from the ledge of self-recrimination; and down at his side, very slowly, he began to work once more at easing his hand out of the handcuff.
“I can’t change what happened. All I can do is try to stop it from going any further. Envy isn’t like the other vampires in this world, because he understands what alchemy can do—and if he finds out Hughes has that knowledge, he won’t stop until he kills him, and anyone else who gets in the way.” Ed stared hard at Mustang. “You’ve got to let me go, so I can try to keep Hughes from getting himself or any of the others killed.”
A disgusted incredulity crossed Mustang’s face. “After what you’ve done, you can’t possibly think I’m going to turn you loose.”
“Then stop them yourself. Talk to the others—make them see that they can’t follow Hughes into this!”
“They wouldn’t pay any attention to me.” Mustang’s gaze fell bitterly. “I’m not that other Roy you knew. The one you say was a leader.”
“Maybe not—but I think you still have it in you to be what he was.” Ed tried to soften his expression, even through the burning pain he felt in his hand as the cuff ground away more skin. “I don’t believe you’re a coward, Roy. All you’re missing is some faith in yourself.”
Mustang glanced up sharply. He almost looked a little confused… but when he spoke, Ed wasn’t sure whether that sudden doubt was because of his own words, or something more dangerous.
“Wait. I thought I smelled…”
A stab of alarm shot through Ed. Mustang must have finally scented his blood. He clenched his jaw for one more swift, torturous effort to pry his hand free, even as the other dhampir began to rise suspiciously from his chair.
At that moment, Mustang’s attention was distracted by a soft knock on the door.
With a scowl he completed the motion of rising, fishing the keys from his pocket. He unlocked the door and roughly jerked it open, to reveal Noa standing at the threshold—and the sight of her forced Ed to stifle a gasp of startled hope.
“Are you crazy?” Mustang snapped at her, physically stepping back in his surprise. “Maes told you not to come near the kid.”
“It’s alright, Roy.” Noa’s tone was commanding and slightly impatient—the same demeanor that had caused Mustang to back down when he first met them at the front gate. “Maes gave me permission himself. Edward needs to be fed. You know he’ll become difficult if he isn’t.”
As she spoke, she produced a bottle of red liquid from beneath her coat, and Ed was ashamed to feel himself salivate at the sight of it.
Torn between suspicion and submission, Mustang glowered at Noa as she strode past him into the room. “How do I know Maes cleared it?”
“You can always go ask him, can’t you?” Noa retorted briskly… and then she froze, her face stricken, as her gaze fell upon Edward. Undressed and devoid of his automail, he knew he must have been a pathetic sight, even if the only pain he felt was secret and self-inflicted.
She quickly controlled her expression and approached him, with Mustang following warily. Going out to seek Hughes would mean leaving Noa alone with Ed, and as the disgruntled guardian was obviously not about to do that, he could only settle for watching her every move.
As Noa reached him, Ed dropped his eyes to his hand, just for a moment. She followed the gaze, and he saw the flinch she suppressed as she hurriedly stepped to his left side, letting the edge of her coat hide the hand from Mustang’s view. Then she opened the bottle she carried, and a new bloodscent immediately overtook the trace of Ed’s own that Mustang had detected before.
This time, Ed didn’t try to resist the repulsive desire that surged up fiercely within him. There was no escaping that basic biological need, and if he was going to survive, he had to learn to overcome the horror it made him feel. When Noa raised the bottle to his lips, he drank down the beef blood without protest, and tried not to think about the fact that Roy Mustang—the dhampir Mustang, but a little too familiar all the same—was watching him take it.
Having emptied the bottle, he turned his face away from it with only a slight shudder, and reluctantly lifted his eyes to Noa’s. “Thanks.”
Noa said nothing, but her gaze was intent and meaningful… and Ed realized she had a plan.
“Alright,” Mustang said brusquely, folding his arms. “You’ve fed him, so he won’t flip anytime soon. Now you can go.”
With a final significant glance at Ed, Noa turned, and crossed the room as if to leave; but she stopped at the table where his automail lay, and for a moment stood studying it pensively.
“Maes didn’t hurt him by doing this, did he?” she asked.
“I guess not. He knew what he was doing with it—and the kid didn’t complain.” Mustang reached out, idly lifting the automail arm at the wrist, to watch the shifting of lamplight across slender metal fingers.
Ed raised his chin and narrowed his eyes, half-smiling bitterly. “Hey, keep your hands off me, pal.”
Mustang turned, with a wryly reproachful look. “As if you could—”
The keeper of the kennels got no further. Behind him, Noa calmly picked up Ed’s arm herself… and with the preternatural strength and precision Ed had come to expect from her, she clouted Mustang across the back of the skull with it.
There was a comical look on his face as he thudded bonelessly to the floor.
A sudden, startled laugh of perverse delight hiccupped out of Ed. “That was awesome!”
“Shh.” With a finger raised to her lips, Noa set down the automail, and bent to search Mustang’s pockets for the keys. “Remember, most of the others can hear as well as we can.”
Ed accepted the admonishment with a small nod, and spoke in a voice that was barely more than a whisper. “Are you alright?”
“Yes, but I see you’re not.” Having laid claim to the keys, Noa hurried back to his side, and knelt to unlock the handcuff on his bloody hand.
“That’s nothing. I’d almost gotten my hand loose. Then I was planning to do roughly what you did…” Ed stifled a grunt as the cuff fell away, but the pain had already diminished. When Noa took out a handkerchief and wiped away the blood, he could see the scrapes and lacerations fading. He realized he must have healed just as rapidly after he was burned by the sun, but it was rather unnerving to watch it happen.
“It’ll be alright in a minute.” Noa sat back on her heels, looking up at him. “I would have come to you sooner, but Maes has been watching me closely. This was my first chance—and I couldn’t do it without help. Kain is distracting Maes with a false radio message.”
Prying himself away from the uneasy wonder of his skin healing before his eyes, Ed met Noa’s gaze. The gravity of what she was doing for him began to sink in.
“You’re betraying Hughes… for me?”
Noa looked away abruptly. “Maes is… not himself,” she said tersely, and before Ed could reply, she turned to regard his automail on the table. “Your arm and leg—they’re not damaged?”
“No.” Ed shook his head. “Mustang was right: Hughes learned from me how to detach them. It’ll just take me a few minutes to reconnect them.”
“Then we should hurry. I don’t know how long Kain can keep Maes busy—and then he may start to wonder where I am. Can you use your hand?”
Gingerly Ed flexed his hand. It still felt a little sore, but there was almost no sign left of its injury.
“Yeah. Just bring the automail over here. I can handle the rest.”
With a faint nod, Noa crossed the room to retrieve the prosthetics. She carried them back to him, and watched with troubled eyes as he rather awkwardly maneuvered the arm into position with his one hand.
“Are you sure you don’t need any help?”
“It’s nothing I haven’t done before.” Ed frowned at her anxious nearness. “Just step back a little. It can be kind of rough.”
Looking anything but reassured, the Hunter backed away slightly. Satisfied that she was beyond the range of his reactions, Ed gritted his teeth, closed his eyes, and pushed the automail swiftly and firmly into its port.
For all its familiarity, the pain was never any less shocking, and he choked off a cry in his throat at the sudden white-hot burning of his nerves. Muscles spasmed violently, steel fingers clenching in response to his tortured flesh reflexes. In the past, he was always left gasping for breath; but now his lungs were still, and the torment trailed away into mere aching shivers as he sagged against the back of the chair.
Distressed and damp-eyed, Noa knelt beside him, her hands hovering uncertainly over the reattached arm. “I… I didn’t know—”
She fell silent as Ed raised his automail hand, and did not flinch when the cold steel of his fingertip gently touched her cheek, tracing away the tear that had escaped her.
“It’s okay.” He smiled hollowly. “This is the bed I made for myself.”
A little impulsively, Noa took the hand in hers and squeezed it, entwining her flesh fingers with his metal ones. Ed couldn’t feel the pressure of her grip, but all the same, he was not unappreciative of the gesture.
He rested for a moment more, and then repeated the process with his leg, enduring the swift flash-flood of agony once again—but he found the aches that lingered afterward were fading much more quickly than they ever had before. His inhuman nerves did not cling to pain for long. That, at least, was one advantage of dhampirism he was willing to welcome.
As he sat with his head leaning back and his eyes closed, allowing himself a brief recovery from the reattachment of the leg, Noa’s voice softly broke the silence.
“You know I’m coming with you.”
“I guess I figured that about the time you clocked Mustang.” Ed opened his eyes thoughtfully. “But I still don’t understand why.”
“I have a promise to keep.”
“But you never promised me any…” He trailed off as understanding dawned, provided to him by her memories.
“No, it wasn’t to me, was it?” he whispered. “Your promise was to Hughes.”
Her gaze lowered, Noa nodded.
“Maes knew for a long time that he was losing himself—that something would push him over the edge one day. I tried to hold him together, but it was only a matter of time. If it wasn’t your memories, Edward, it would have been something else.” She raised her eyes, and unspilled tears shone in them again. “He asked me to promise that when he lost his fight… I’d do what was best for the Hunters.”
Ed blinked and frowned. “And you think what’s best is this? Just walking away and leaving them, with him the way he is?”
“The others won’t listen to me. Maes’ power over them is still too strong… and this is more important than anything I could ever do for them here.” Her eyes held his intently. “Your alchemy is the only hope we have of destroying vampires. The best thing I can do for the Hunters, and for the rest of humanity, is to keep you safe—so you can learn to use your power to save this world.”
Those words left a resonating shock in Ed’s soul. Already he had seen glimpses of her belief in him, but the true intensity of it made him feel humbled and terrified. She was prepared to leave behind all she had known for that belief. To live for it… and to die for it.
For him.
“Oh, Noa…” He looked away from the keen, sincere light in her face, flustered. “I told you, I don’t know if it can even be done.”
“I do. And I know you will do it.”
“And just what makes you so sure?”
The gypsy tilted her head thoughtfully, her gaze briefly turning inward.
“My people have certain ways. Powers of understanding that others don’t have. Second sight, extrasensory perception—whatever you choose to call it. From the time I was a child, it was strong in me… but I lost it after I turned.”
She glanced up at him, and a soft smile crossed her lips. “But then I saw you the other night, and what you could do… and the sight came back to me, one last time. From that moment, I knew what my life was meant for. I knew it was my fate to protect you—and the gift you have.”
That frighteningly absolute faith was more than Ed could find words to answer. In an effort to gloss over the unworthiness he felt, he retreated behind an old argumentativeness her words had aroused.
“I don’t believe in fate, Noa. There’s no destiny decided for us but what we choose for ourselves… like I chose this.” He clenched his steel fist.
“Then tell me one thing. Of the people you knew in your world, why are so many of them together here too, if there isn’t something more that binds us?”
“There are plenty of people I knew who I haven’t met here, you know.” The argument sounded weak to Ed’s own ears. He knew he could offer no better explanation for why so many of the same people had found each other; but there had to be one. In any world, nothing was truly able to happen without some scientific cause, even if humans—or dhampirs—had not quite learned how to define it.
But Noa only smiled bittersweetly, and offered him her hand.
“It’s alright, Edward. You don’t have to believe… because I can believe for us both.”
Returning a defeated smile and a sigh, Ed gave up the debate. Whatever it was that inspired her motives, Noa’s goals and his own were the same—and he knew he still wasn’t ready to find his way in this new life alone. He placed his flesh hand in hers and let her help him to his feet, cautiously testing his weight on his reattached leg.
Then he looked down at himself, frowning wryly at his almost complete lack of clothing.
“I won’t be going anywhere without some new clothes,” he murmured… and his glance slid calculatingly toward Mustang’s unconscious form on the floor.
Noa chuckled and shook her head. “I planned for that too. I left everything you’ll need in another room nearby—that is, unless you want to go around smelling like dog hair.”
“You think of everything, don’t you?” A grin flickered across Ed’s face, but then he sobered. “What about…?”
“Kain isn’t the only one helping us. Sig is on our side, too. We can’t risk being seen around his shop, but he’s going to leave blood for us, in a place I’ve arranged with him.” As she spoke, Noa moved across the room to unlock the door. Giving Ed a glance that warned him to be silent, she cracked it open, and peered out into the hallway.
“It’s clear. Hurry.”
Quickly and quietly, Ed followed Noa to a room down the hall that was used for storage. As she had promised, a bundle of clothing awaited him there: the black garments of a Hunter, and a protective inverness coat like her own, as well as boots and gloves. Beside these lay a sword and a sturdy knife, the Hunters’ standard equipment for battling vampires.
Once he had dressed in the clothes and fastened the sheaths of the blades to his belt, he turned toward the door of the room, but Noa caught his wrist.
“Not that way. This place gets busy when everyone is preparing for a hunt. We’ll never make it downstairs without being seen.” She stepped toward the room’s window—one of the few in the building that was not completely sealed up—and forced the long-disused latch that secured its steel shutters.
With a sudden apprehension, Ed sidled closer. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t remember anything like a nice convenient fire escape on the outside.”
“That’s true,” Noa said matter-of-factly, and pushed the creaking shutters open to the night air beyond.
Ed leaned on the windowsill to look down—and his heart sank. There was indeed no stairway or ladder, not even so much as a growth of ivy, and the grooves in the brick facing of the building were too shallow to offer any handhold. There was only a four-story drop to the lawn below.
He glanced uncertainly at Noa. “What now?”
“We jump.”
“What?”
“It’s easy. In chasing down rogues, I’ve dropped farther than that all the time.” Turning from the window, she saw the baffled alarm on his face, and laid her hand on his arm. “Trust me, Edward. You know how much stronger you’ve become. You can do this—”
She was interrupted by running footsteps in the hallway, and a shout that sounded like Mustang’s voice.
“He woke up!” Ed breathed in dismay.
“We’re out of time. He’ll let the dogs loose.” Noa’s hand moved to his shoulder, gripping firmly, as if willing him to feel her own confidence and resolve. “Edward, please!”
Her plea galvanized something in Ed. Perhaps her faith really was contagious—or perhaps it was only desperation. Whatever it was, it spurred him to turn impulsively to the window, stepping up onto the broad sill. The distance to the ground was dizzying, and his stomach knotted up in fear.
Thinking about it for even a moment would be one moment too long.
Ed took a deep breath, and hurled himself from the sill.
In the amazing and terrible adventures of his past life, Ed had survived a few unpleasant falls, but none were as long or as horrifying as this. A part of him felt he was plummeting forever, even as the ground rushed at him with sickening speed…
Then something seized his will that was partly an inhuman new instinct, and partly Noa’s own experience. He simply knew how to relax instead of bracing rigidly, how to twist himself for an upright landing like a cat. His body obeyed those impulses before his mind could even give them any conscious thought—and in the instant before he touched down, his fear had vanished.
He hit the ground in a sinuous crouch that helped to absorb some of the shock, along with the thick softness of the grass. The impact was still enough to jar every bone in his body, sending a new lance of pain through the flesh and muscles around his automail ports. In the moment after he realized he was still in one piece, he was more concerned for his metal limbs than his organic ones, but a quick flex of his fingers and stretch of his leg assured him that the strong and skillfully-made prosthetics had survived intact.
Thank you, Winry!
Before he even had time to look up toward the window, Noa landed beside him. The moment she touched the ground, she was running, and he followed her.
Behind them, from the side of the building where the kennels were located, came the sudden baying of dogs.
The high wall of the property loomed ahead. With almost no break in her momentum, Noa skidded into a crouch and sprang upward, grasping the iron spikes that topped the wall to swiftly pull herself over. Ed duplicated her movements, trying not to remember that the feline leap would have been impossible for the human he no longer was. To his surprise, he succeeded almost effortlessly, and his unbreathing lungs were not even winded as he dropped down onto the sidewalk beyond.
“Where to?” he asked Noa quickly.
“This way!”
He let Noa lead him, and soon realized her intent was not simply to put as much straight-line distance as possible between themselves and the Hunters’ headquarters. She followed a more circuitous route that led them deeper into the maze of the city, often doubling back on their tracks. It was an effort to throw Mustang’s dogs off their scent.
The winding course eventually brought them to a derelict building such as they first took refuge in—this one a restaurant that had been gutted by a recent fire. They picked their way around crumbling walls to a mostly-undamaged cellar door, and descended the steps into the cavernous darkness below. It reeked of smoke and ancient stains of spilled wine, and broken glass crunched underfoot, but it seemed to be secure against the danger sunlight would pose to them.
A spark flickered in the darkness as Noa lit a candle. Its light was plentiful for their nocturnal eyes, and Ed saw her wan, apologetic smile as she turned to face him.
“I’m afraid it isn’t the nicest place to stay, but we can’t go to any of the daylight shelters I’ve used before—Maes knows them all. It was Sig who told me about this place.”
“I’m convinced Sig doesn’t have a sense of smell,” Ed retorted wryly. “As long as we’re safe here, I’ll take it. How hard do you think Hughes is going to look for us?”
Noa frowned. “The way he’s been… I’m sure hunting the vampire will be much more important to him. He only locked you up in case he can’t use your alchemy himself—and to keep you out of his way.” Her face fell. “It will hurt him that I’ve betrayed him. But compared to the idea he’s obsessed with now, of joining his family again in your world… none of us here matter to him anymore.”
Ed winced. “I’m sorry. I should’ve thought about how he’d react to my memories… I should have tried harder to stop him.”
“No, Edward. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine. Maes trusted me to help him stay focused on what was right—and I failed him.” Noa shook her head fiercely. “But I won’t fail him in this. I’ll do whatever it takes to help you find the answers.”
“You have anything in mind?” Ed asked curiously.
The renegade Hunter considered that question for a long moment.
“I think… I think we should make our way to Paris, and see the Council for ourselves. When they know what you may be able to do, I’m certain they’ll listen.”
Sudden uneasiness tightened in Ed’s gut. He trusted Noa, and he trusted her judgment—but after everything that had happened, he was not at all sure he was willing to trust anyone else, no matter how well she thought she knew them.
“I’m not crazy about that idea,” he murmured, and his automail hand strayed to his left shoulder, where Hughes had bit him. “How can we know the same thing won’t happen again? If alchemy can work here, I can’t let just anyone have that knowledge. It’s too dangerous—for your world and mine. Before I put myself in anyone else’s hands… I have to be sure.”
“But what do you think we can possibly do on our own?” Noa asked, sounding a little agitated.
The question was entirely fair. They were only two dhampirs: one still unaccustomed to his new nature, one now a traitor to her leader, both limited to the dark of night. The threats they faced were a homunculus-vampire who wanted nothing more than to destroy Ed, and a maddened dhampir who hoped to use that homunculus to unleash a power he was in no condition to understand. All they had to their advantage was Ed’s own grasp of that power… if it would even work at all.
If Noa was right, Hughes was going to be fully preoccupied with his search for Envy. Ed still felt that quest could achieve nothing more than to get Hughes or the other Hunters killed—and he didn’t want that to happen. At the same time, he also needed to learn how much truth there was to his own theories about the use of alchemy in this world.
“First of all… I want to find Envy,” Ed announced at last. “Getting to him before Hughes does may be the only way to save the others—and it is the only way to find out if alchemy will really work here. Once I know that for sure… then we can figure out who to trust, and how to help the Hunters use that knowledge.”
“You want to start by going after that vampire?” Noa gasped. “Just the two of us?”
Ed shrugged awkwardly. “I know it’s not the way you’re used to working… and it’ll be dangerous. But if we’re going to keep anyone else from getting hurt, I think it’s the first step we have to take.”
“But what if he—?”
What if he kills you?
Those were the words Noa couldn’t bring herself to finish, but Ed could hear them, all the same. Underneath that breathtaking faith in him, there was still fear. A fear for the safety of his secrets that might change her world; but also, he realized, a heartfelt fear for him.
She cared far more about his survival than he did himself.
“It’s possible,” he admitted quietly. “And if he does… I’d like to know the secret of alchemy is safe with someone I trust.”
With that, he unfastened his coat and let it fall to the floor. He sank to his knees, opened his shirt, and lifted his chin: baring his throat to her.
Noa needed no explanation for that submissive gesture she knew so well. Her eyes grew wide, and she physically took a step back.
“Edward…”
“You know it’s the only way. If anything happens to me… you’re the only one who could understand what to do.”
The hesitation was long and painful. Noa wavered, staring at him with brimming eyes, uncertain and afraid. As readily as she had touched his hand or arm before, to give reassurance and comfort to him—or perhaps to herself—she looked at him now almost as if he was something too sacred to touch.
At last, slowly, she stepped forward to kneel before him. Trembling hands clutched his shoulders to hold him against her, and he closed his eyes tight as her lips grazed the left side of his neck, seeking a vein.
It was familiar now, the sting of the bite and the rush of memories; but this time, offered without resistance, it was not painful. Ed felt only the soul-aching intimacy of giving her everything that had forged his being. His desperate love for his brother, the pride of his extraordinary gifts, the guilt and the rage and the grief… He gave it all to her, just as she had given him the essence of her own life.
Equivalent Exchange.
The time was far less than it seemed when she withdrew from him—or almost did. As the haze cleared from his senses and she began to pull away, he realized his arms had slipped supportively around her. He had no idea when that had happened. A little abashed, he moved to let go… but when he realized she was shivering as if frozen to the bone, he impulsively held her a little closer instead, even though he had no warmth of flesh to give her.
Unresisting, she laid her head on his shoulder, and he felt the dampness of cold tears on his skin.
“Noa?” he whispered anxiously, a sudden fear clutching his heart. Had he harmed her mind, as he had inadvertently done to Hughes?
She leaned a little harder into his arms, seemingly unaware that she was doing it, and sniffled softly. Her head tilted just enough for him to see the fading sheen of scarlet in her eyes.
“So much sorrow,” she whispered. “So much pain… and you were only children.”
A pang of guilt wracked Ed. In truth, he had thought of nothing but the alchemic knowledge he wanted to give her; he never considered how deeply his inner burdens might affect her gentle soul. Forcing her to feel their weight had been cruel, and selfish, and careless.
“Oh, Noa… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
She cut him off with a squeeze of his shoulder, and beneath her hair that half-concealed her face, he saw a broken smile. “It’s alright, Ed. After all… you took my pain, too. I just don’t understand why anyone should have had to suffer as much as you.”
He noted vaguely that her informality with his name was a new development. It had always been Edward before.
“Don’t be sorry for me, Noa. I told you, I’ve always made my own choices… and when they’re wrong, they’ve always hurt other people more than me. They hurt you too, so I don’t deserve your sympathy. I don’t even deserve your help in fixing my mistakes.” He glanced away from her bitterly. “Now you know what a fraud you put your faith in.”
Noa shook her head against his chest. She looked up into his face, and although her cheeks were tear-streaked, her eyes were bright with a fire that was somehow familiar.
“Now I have more reason than ever to believe in you,” she said softly. “Because now I know you’ll never give up on us.”
That much was the one truth Ed was sure of.
© 2011 Jordanna Morgan
Chapters: 1 :: 2 :: 3 :: 4 :: 5 :: 6 :: 7 :: 8 :: 9 :: 10 :: 11 :: 12 :: 13 :: 14 :: Epilogue ::
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Date: 2011-04-16 01:57 am (UTC)I was kinda hoping there for a moment that Roy (keeper of the kennels! *snerk!*) would join Ed's cause. I still want to believe that Roy is disillusioned enough that he will turn against Maes before it's too late. Maybe he will, maybe he won't. I'll just have to wait and see. :)
His incorrigible inner scientist speculated that it might have something to do with the magnetism of the Earth or the sun. ^_^ This brought a smile to my face! Dead, alive, or somewhere in between, Ed will always be a science nerd! <3
Speaking of science, when Ed jumped out the window, he worried briefly for his automail. That got me to wondering how long his automail can keep up with his new body. His newfound speed and strength will certainly put more strain on it than it was ever intended to take. What will happen to him when it can no longer keep up? tch. I probably shouldn't worry about this too much. Surely Ed will know how to shield it from too much damage. :)
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Date: 2011-04-16 03:31 am (UTC)As for alt!Roy, he'll have his own important role to play, I can tell you that much. *g*