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batsutousaiTitle: Come What May
Series: Part one of Our Sinner's Redemption
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood
Author: Batsutousai
Rating: Mature
Pairings: Darius/Edward Elric/Heinkel, pre-Edward Elric/Roy Mustang
Warnings: Ed's potty mouth, spoilers for FMA:B ending, canon-typical violence, pile 'o OCs, survivor's guilt, angst, original character death, slow build (btwn Ed & Roy), referenced underage relationships, off-screen violence against women
Summary: After the Promised Day, with his alchemy still intact thanks to Hohenheim's sacrifice, Ed finds himself and his chimera team getting dragged into the shadowy world of military secrets in an attempt to keep Bradley's legacy from causing a civil war.
A/N: I know the generally accepted canon for Ed's birthday is 3rd Feb, because of the 2003 anime, but when I was figuring out my calendar for this series, I ended up picking a different date. Mostly because I see him as a Leo, but also because of terrible, horrible reasons.
Original character death (off-screen, but the fall-out is on-screen) is in this chapter and follows through the next few. And, fuck, I've known practically since they first showed up that I was going to be killing them, but I still cried when I was writing it. I'm sorry.
Posting way early here on LJ because, let's be honest, no one ever reads on here. Also, I have a crazy day tomorrow & posting on LJ always takes forever. (& I'm waiting for my boss to ring. So.)
Chapter Nine
-0-
One of the nice things about travelling with someone you were already way too familiar with, was that they were so far beyond being embarrassed by each other, nothing fazed them. So, when Darius forgot his change of clothing on his bed while he took a shower, Ed didn't even blink to see the man dash out, still dripping, holding his towel in front of his crotch, because he was too large to wrap it around his waist and trust it to stay.
That said, Ed also couldn't resist commenting, "This room comes with a free show? Nice."
Darius rolled his eyes and headed back into the bathroom. "It's not free," he called back. "You owe me a thousand cenz."
Ed laughed. "Fuck, you're cheap."
"I'll take it in the form of breakfast," the chimera added.
Ed shook his head, probably way too amused by the whole thing but, seriously, he'd just spent a day on a train after parting from Elicia, and here he was, up at the arse-crack of dawn because he needed to call Grumman before their meeting with the West commander – Komar, or whatever his name was. Ed figured he was due some stupid laughs. "Yeah, fine," he called back. "Where's good?"
"Bakery, or sit-down?"
Ed pulled out his watch to check the time. "Let's do a bakery, just to be safe," he decided, because they had time to have a sit-down meal, but he wouldn't mind the extra time, in case Grumman was feeling obnoxious.
Darius stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in his uniform, same as Ed, and turned to watch as Ed stood. "Huh. Doesn't look bad on you," he offered.
Ed sighed down at himself. "I know," he muttered.
"Pisses you off?" Darius guessed, leading the way from the room.
"Yes. I almost wish I'd stuck with the red coat."
"That thing just turned you into a target," Darius complained. "Way too easy to hit, even with the way you fight."
"Am I wearing it?"
Darius snorted. "Fair enough."
The bakery he took them to wasn't quite as good as Marie's place, or the shop around the block from the Hugheses, but it was food, so Ed kept his mouth shut. Well, sort of. It would have been hard to eat if he'd–
It was clearly way too early to be up.
At West Command's main gate, they were let past by saluting guards without even a hint that they might be held back, and Ed sighed. "The uniform does have a few perks my coat lacked," he commented.
Darius' mouth quirked. "Fewer questions?"
"Oh yeah." Ed shoved his hands in his pockets. "Though, you know, it also leaves people expecting you know how to salute, which I–"
"Do?" Darius suggested. "You just don't want to."
Ed huffed. "Fine, yes, that." He slowed as they stepped through the doors of the main building, glancing over at the chimera. "Phones?" When Darius shook his head and shrugged, Ed huffed again, then waved at a passing corporal. "Sorry, Corporal?"
The man turned and, upon seeing the markings on Ed's shoulder, came to attention and saluted. "Lieutenant Colonel, sir! How can I be of assistance?"
Ed resisted the urge to sigh. "I just got in from Central; I was hoping you could point me in the direction of a phone I could use."
The man blinked, his salute drooping. "I-It's just down the hall here, sir. I was heading in that direction, if you wanted to follow me?"
Ed smiled. "Awesome. Thanks, Corporal."
The corporal blinked again, then finally dropped his hand and silently led them down the hall.
Darius snorted. "Maybe we should work on your saluting."
"Shut up."
The corporal left them at the phone bay, where Ed nodded at the private sitting at the desk, then stepped up to one of the phones in the middle, comforted by Darius coming to stand behind him, blocking him from any casual viewers. He quickly rang through to the Central Command operator and, after giving his rank and name, was transferred to Grumman.
"Lieutenant Colonel," Grumman said by way of greeting, his tone worryingly polite. "You can't possibly have been in the west long enough to be ringing me."
Ed scoffed. "You'd think that, wouldn't you?" He let out a sigh and rubbed at a nick in the case of the phone housing. "My team wants to pull some West Command troops to lessen the chance of a hospital visit."
Grumman was silent for a moment before he said, "There's sense in that. I expect you have a meeting with Brigadier General Komar to request the troops?"
"In about twenty minutes," Ed agreed.
"Very well. You know what's on the line."
Ed glanced over his shoulder at the solid blue back of Darius. "I do."
Grumman let a beat of silence go, then, in a much lighter voice, commented, "Do keep in mind that Brigadier General Komar will expect a salute from you."
"So you were listening," Ed realised. "And no obnoxious laughter? I'm almost disappointed."
"I wouldn't want to acclimate you to it too quickly," Grumman offered, amusement obvious in his voice.
Ed snorted. "Fuck you, sir."
Behind him, Darius let out an amused cough, while Grumman started laughing on the other end of the line.
Ed sighed but, really, he knew he would have been better served just skipping the topic entirely, if he'd wanted to avoid the bastard laughing at him.
"Thank you for that, Lieutenant Colonel," Grumman said at last, sounding much more like himself than when he'd first picked up.
"Sure thing. Being an insubordinate shit is my favourite pastime. Sir."
"I'm aware. Keep me informed."
"Yes, sir." Ed hung up and turned towards where Darius was glancing back at him. "We're good."
Darius nodded and stepped back, letting him out of the phone booth. "I figured we would be."
Ed huffed and rolled his eyes. "Shut up," he ordered before stepping over to the private sitting the desk, who immediately saluted him. "I could use directions to Brigadier General Komar's office, please."
She blinked and lowered her hand. "I could call someone down to lead you, if you'd like, sir?"
Ed shook his head. "Verbal directions are fine."
Still looking uncertain, the private did so.
"Awesome. Thanks." Ed motioned for Darius to follow him, then started towards the nearest set of stairs. "So, this place is pretty close to a mirror of East. Good to know."
Darius shrugged. "I expect most of the command buildings are close matches."
Ed nodded. "Likely. Makes it easier for new transfers to acclimate."
"True." Darius let out a quiet sigh. "How much are we explaining?"
Ed slipped his left hand into his pocket, folding his fingers around the first thing his fingers touched, which turned out to be a coin. "As little as possible," he murmured, pitching his voice to stay between them.
"We need a story."
Ed nodded; he expected Grumman would have warned him off if he was concerned about Komar's trustworthiness, but the less was said about why they were hunting this particular group, the smaller the chance that the wrong person would overhear something and pass it on. So they needed an excuse to go after this group that had nothing to do with their pro-Bradley dogma. And then it occurred to him: They did have something on them.
"How many military installations have they attacked, now?" Because the one attack Heinkel and Darius had managed to get advance warning about back in February had been neither the first nor the last, and they'd had to let some of the attacks go through to keep the group's leadership from realising they had a mole.
Darius glanced at him. "Six successful. You want to label them as terrorists?"
Ed shrugged. "Aren't they?"
Darius nodded. "Works for me."
They made it up to Komar's office with plenty of time to spare. Ed was just about to knock on the outer office door – which was closed – when it was yanked open and a gangly young woman who had about a head on him dashed out with an irritated, "I'm goi–!"
She slammed into Ed with enough force that he had no hope of keeping his balance without hurting her, so he took the fall, one hand coming up to cushion her head before she knocked it against the floor. The files she'd been holding went one way, and the mug she'd been carrying went the other and shattered when it hit the floor, coffee puddling outwards from the site of impact and, luckily, far enough away that neither the scattered papers nor Ed got soaked.
There followed a moment of stunned silence, which Ed broke by asking, "Are you okay?"
The woman's grey eyes went wide. "Ohmygod!" she breathed. "I'm so sorry! I didn't even see– I shouldn't have–"
Ed startled them both by laughing, because, as often as people made short jokes at his expense, he'd never actually been run over by someone who was way too fucking tall and not looking where they were going. "Darius," he called, "some help."
Darius reached down a hand towards the woman, laughter in his voice as he offered, "Don't worry about it; Ed's used to people not seeing him."
"Shut the fuck up," Ed snarled, even as Darius helped the woman up and off of him, steadying her as she nearly lost her footing on the scattered papers.
"Grace," someone sighed from the office doorway, and Ed looked up as he got to his own feet, finding a dark-skinned man with a resigned expression standing there, staring over the mess like it was a common sight.
The woman let out a pitiful noise. "I broke another mug," she realised, sounding honestly upset about that.
"Hey, woah, easy fix," Ed promised, before clapping his hands together and ducking down to touch the shattered expanse of ceramic, the necessary array so familiar, he didn't even really have to envision it. The light of his alchemy flared and the mug reformed seamlessly, a secondary array evaporating the spilled coffee around it, so he was left with just the mug in the middle of a dry floor once the light died down. He caught it by the handle as he straightened and held it out with a grin. "See?"
The woman stared at him for a moment, then looked at the man in the doorway, and whispered, "Oh no."
"Lieutenant Colonel Elric," the man in the doorway recognised.
Ed glanced back over at him, and he saw the markings on his shoulder that time. "Brigadier General Komar," he realised.
Komar offered him a tired smile. "Quite. I'm sorry about Corporal Wespe; she was supposed to leave before you arrived," he finished flatly, shooting a pointed look at the woman.
"Hey, no harm," Ed insisted, before looking over at the woman. "Seriously, you're not hurt, right?"
She stared at him like she wasn't sure how to respond to that, before mutely shaking her head.
"See," Ed said, looking back towards the brigadier general. "Everyone's fine. Although we should probably pick up the papers," he added, half to himself, before reaching out and gently – but firmly – catching the corporal's hands and wrapping them around the repaired mug. "Got it?"
She nodded and whispered, "Yeah. I-I mean, yes, si–"
"Awesome," Ed interrupted, before kneeling to collect the fallen papers, Darius mirroring his motions with a sigh.
After a brief moment, Komar joined them, ordering the corporal, "Just hold the mug, Grace."
With three of them, despite how far some of the papers had slid down the hall, it didn't take long to collect everything in a single pile, which Komar traded for the mug, ordering, "File room. And you can stay down there and organise everything for them."
The corporal sighed, shoulders slumping. "Yes, sir," she agreed quietly, before trudging off towards the staircase Ed and Darius had come up.
Ed frowned after her. "Bit harsh," he couldn't resist saying. "It was an accident."
He felt Komar watching him and looked over, raising an eyebrow at him. "Hm," the brigadier general said, before turning towards the opened office door. "Come in, gentlemen."
"Let it go," Darius murmured as they followed Komar through the empty front office and towards the back one.
Ed clenched his jaw and gave a quick nod; he wasn't here to argue how some brigadier general treated his subordinates, no matter how much he wanted to.
Komar waved them towards the seats in front of his desk, before stepping over to a short cabinet against the wall and collecting what turned out to be a tray with mugs of coffee, which he set carefully on his desk in easy reach of Ed and Darius, before picking one up and taking his seat. "You're judging me, Lieutenant Colonel," he commented mildly, watching Ed over his mug.
Ed glanced over at Darius, who shook his head, then turned and narrowed his eyes on the brigadier general. If the man was going to open himself up for criticism, who was Ed to deny? "I am, sir," he agreed evenly, and Darius let out a silent sigh before reaching for one of the mugs, as though it would serve him as a guard against Ed's particular brand of insubordination.
Inexplicably, Komar's mouth twitched like he'd been about to smile. "Good," was all he said before leaning back in his chair and turning to Darius, one eyebrow arching.
Wait, what? That was...it?
Darius straightened in that way that military types always did when they caught the attention of a ranking officer. "Second Lieutenant Wright, sir. I answer to Lieutenant Colonel Elric."
He was missing something, here. Even Mustang would have had more to say than just 'good'. That had sounded almost like Komar had been glad that Ed was holding his behaviour against him, which was...not military behaviour. At all.
Komar nodded and turned back to Ed. "What can I do for you, Lieutenant Colonel?" he asked, his tone so utterly mild.
Ed leant forward to collect one of the two remaining mugs, using the few seconds that gave him to change mental tracks, before he explained, his tone probably cooler than was polite, "While I was in training, my team decided to take some leave and wander around Amestris a bit. They heard rumours about a terrorist group while they were out here and I talked Mustang into letting me come out and take a look." He paused to take a sip of the coffee, which was the expected military sludge; always nice to know some things were universal. "The numbers are a little higher than I'd like to take on with just my team, and since it's your compounds they're terrorising, figured I'd see if you would be willing to lend us a few soldiers to even the playing field." Ed glanced up at him, eyes narrowing against his will as he found himself met with a blank stare. "Sir."
Komar tilted his head slightly to the side, his expression unchanging. "I know the group," he agreed. "We've never managed a handle on their numbers, though."
"There's, what, twenty-six?" Ed offered to the implied question, glancing towards Darius.
"Approximately," he agreed, which meant the group had either added or lost members since the last report Ed had received from them. "I don't have the exact number on me." Which meant the additions or subtractions were recent; Ed suspected the group had another raid on a military compound planned for after Darius would have had to leave, since they always seemed to lose at least one member every time they pulled that shit.
Komar nodded and turned towards the western Amestris map on the wall. "Our best estimates have placed them northeast of Lisberth." Ed glanced over and found someone had put a red tack into the wall in the area he suspected Komar meant, which was way too far south and west of where the actual base was.
"They have a storehouse there," Darius offered, and Ed glanced at him. "Weaponry, food, a bolt hole to escape to when they finish a raid. It's watched by two men."
So, a decoy to draw the military's eye and keep them from going further north; Ed nodded his understanding, then told Komar, "You're too far south. They're somewhere north of Pendleton." Which wasn't particularly accurate, because they were actually northeast of Pendleton, almost a straight shot north from West City, but Ed wasn't giving anyone the exact position until he knew Heinkel was safely out.
" 'Somewhere north'?" Komar repeated sceptically.
Ed smiled at him, didn't care if it looked insubordinate. "The other member of my team has the exact coordinates."
Komar just stared at him for a moment, before letting out a quiet snort and nodding. "Of course. How many of my people are a 'few'?"
Ed glanced at Darius. "Three? Four?"
Darius shrugged and agreed, "Five would be too many, but we could probably manage with two."
They could 'manage' without pulling additional soldiers entirely, but Ed didn't bother pointing that out, instead turning back to Komar and adding, "I'd like to keep the casualties down on both sides, so no Briggs rejects, please."
"Ed," Darius said, and Ed looked back at him again, frowning. "Remember what happened the last time you let an opponent live?"
"I'm not going to let this turn into a fucking bloodbath," Ed snapped. "And don't start quoting that psycho at me." Never mind that, in the end, not killing Kimblee in the mineshaft had given him the edge he'd needed over Pride, and disabling instead of killing Darius and Heinkel had ended up saving his own life, so.
Yeah, Ed had a pretty good track record when it came to later meetings with those opponents he left alive.
"All of my, as you call them, 'Briggs rejects'," Komar interrupted, his tone dry, "are stationed along the border, where they're needed." He reached out and shifted some of the papers on his desk. "I believe you're familiar with Second Lieutenant Pascale?"
"Oscar? Yeah."
Komar nodded and picked up a pen, then started writing on a blank piece of paper he'd unearthed. Ed sipped at his coffee as the brigadier general wrote, resisting the urge to glance at Darius just because he couldn't promise it wouldn't result in more bickering.
At any rate, the silence gave him a chance to notice just how quiet it was; it hadn't really occurred to him when they'd first walked in, but it was late enough in the day that there should have been people in the outer office. But Komar and the chastised corporal – what was her name? Komar had called her Grace, hadn't he? Grace...something – were the only people he'd seen in the office. Hell, Komar had even been the one to manage the coffee, which was unusual for officers with space for their teams, wasn't it?
It wasn't like West Command was lacking in personnel; they'd seen plenty of soldiers on their way from the gate to the brigadier general's office, but were none of them stationed with Komar? Or had he sent all of them away, like he'd been in the process of doing with the corporal?
Now he wished he'd paid more attention to the outer office as he walked through, but he'd been so busy biting back his disapproval that he hadn't even looked at it. And, fuck it, didn't he already know better than to let his anger rule his caution? He was going to walk straight into an ambush one of these days, all unaware because he was fucking pissed off that someone had implied he was anything but a normal height.
Ugh, Mustang was right. He really needed to get past his height issues.
"I'll lend you Lieutenant Pascale and Warrant Officers Ostwind," Komar announced as he set his pen back in the holder. "Pascale should be in Lieutenant Colonel Havilland's office, which is two doors down to the right. Give this to Havilland and I'll have the Ostwinds meet you down in the lobby." So saying, he folded the paper he'd just been writing on in half, then held it out to Ed. But, before Ed could take it, it slipped from Komar's hand and fell to the floor. The man sighed. "Sorry. Sometimes it seems I'm as graceless as my cousin," he offered as Ed bent over to pick up the fallen paper.
And, just like that, the puzzle pieces slotted into place: 'Graceless' – the corporal's first name had been 'Grace', used despite the military preference for last names, like a sign of familiarity; the resignation on his face when Komar had seen the mess, like it was common, like the corporal was always dropping things. (Like her comment about how she'd broken another mug.)
It occurred to him, then, that Komar had never yelled. Ed hadn't noticed in the moment, had been too distracted by how Komar had sent her away with what could have been construed – had been construed – as a punishment, but he hadn't been angry. And Ed knew people who liked sorting files, or who would love an excuse to get lost in a file room for hours; who was to say that had to be a punishment?
That had been an excuse. A show of punishment to placate someone who might get snarly about being run into, while also getting the possible target out firing range. Mustang had done the same thing to Ed a dozen times over the course of his military career (not that Ed had realised it at the time), getting him out of range of a superior who he had the potential to piss off, or who he had pissed off, on a couple occasions, because he'd stayed to snarl one last insult when Mustang had tried to get him to leave.
Komar had said 'good' because Ed had taken the corporal's – his cousin's – side. Because he'd been angry on her behalf that she would be punished for something that had clearly been an accident. Because Ed didn't let fucking rank stop him from letting someone know they were a shithead for how they treated their subordinates, even if he was learning not to come right out and say so.
Ed sat back up, paper in hand, and offered, "Don't worry about it. I don't judge people unless they meant it."
There it was again, that twitch of the brigadier general's mouth, like he'd just barely suppressed a smile. "I'm glad we understand each other, Lieutenant Colonel."
Ed recognised a dismissal when he heard one, as did Darius (clearly), so they both stood. "Likewise, sir," Ed replied, before leading the way out of the office.
As they walked through the outer office, he took a quick look around. And, while it was set up for a team, and there were enough piles of paper for a team, it was obvious that only one of the desks saw regular use. So it seemed the corporal was his only dedicated staff, for whatever reason – clumsiness or efficiency, or a mix of the two, Ed would guess – and when he cleared her out to keep her out of the firing range of visitors that might take what was most likely a natural clumsiness as an insult, he was left to greet his guests and manage the pleasantries himself.
Which, well, that had to suck a bit, but he'd kept to it, rather than handing his cousin off to another command, which said a lot about his character.
"Remind me," Ed murmured to Darius, once they were out in the hallway, "to spend a few hours in the personnel room next time we're in Central."
Darius frowned at him. "I'm fairly certain you don't have the clearance to snoop through the files you're interested in."
"I never said it had to be during business hours," Ed pointed out.
Darius snorted. "Don't get caught," he warned before they entered the office Komar had sent them to. Which, regretfully, meant Ed couldn't complain about being insulted; like he was really going to let himself be caught sneaking around in Central Command.
Other than Oscar – who grinned when he saw Ed – there was another second lieutenant, a first lieutenant, and a sergeant major in the office, all of whom glanced up at their entrance. The first lieutenant – a hard-eyed woman who reminded Ed of Hawkeye, despite looking nothing like her – got to her feet and saluted, asking, "What can we do for you, Lieutenant Colonel?"
Ed nodded towards the inner office, which was open. "Brigadier General Komar sent me to talk to Lieutenant Colonel Havilland."
She frowned at him, clearly disapproving, and dropped her salute. "He's free, sir."
"Thank you." Ed glanced back at Darius. "Your choice."
Darius shrugged. "I'll stay out here, sir."
Ed grimaced at the 'sir', but nodded and continued into the inner office on his own. As he cleared the doorway, he heard Oscar say, "Don't take it personally, Alecto. He doesn't salute anyone."
The man seated at the desk looked like he enjoyed food a little too much, but he didn't quite have Breda's figure. He was also much older than Komar (who had looked to be in his late thirties or early forties), but not quite as old as Grumman, given that his dark hair was only just starting to go grey. He didn't bother setting down the pen he was holding as Ed stopped in front of the desk, turning a bored gaze on him. "Komar sent you?" he requested.
Ed handed over the paper Komar had given him. "I'm borrowing Second Lieutenant Pascale for a bit," he offered, and someone made an interested noise out in the front office.
Havilland looked over the paper, then jerked a much sharper gaze up at Ed. "So," he said coolly, "you're the Fullmetal Alchemist."
Ed managed to bite back the first two smart-arse retorts that came to mind, before he drily agreed, "I am."
Havilland stared at him for a moment, until Ed narrowed his eyes, then looked back down at the paper. "How long? Komar doesn't specify."
"I don't expect to need him for more than two days," Ed decided, "but, worst case, he'll be back by Monday." That gave them Friday and the weekend, in case things went to shit. Which they shouldn't, because it was a simple neutralisation mission, but Ed didn't have a great track record with missions going to plan. (Although, with how much of a knowing bastard Mustang was, maybe his missions had gone exactly to plan, just not Ed's plan.)
"Fine. Pascale!" Havilland shouted.
A chair scrapped out in the front office and the sound of someone hurrying preceded Oscar, who came to attention next to Ed. "Sir!"
"You'll be going with Lieutenant Colonel Elric for a few days. Clean up your workstation."
"Yes, sir!" Oscar barked, before hurrying back out of the room.
Havilland looked back to Ed. "I want him back in one piece, Elric."
Ed's smile wasn't even pretending to be polite. "That makes two of us," he returned, before turning and walking from the office.
Oscar was quickly cleaning up his desk, though he paused as Ed stepped out, flashing him a grin and asking, "So, where are we going?"
"You'll find out," Ed replied, shaking his head.
Oscar frowned and glanced towards Darius, who had come to parade rest next to the door out to the hall, then back at Ed, his eyes narrowing. "Wait–"
"Shut up," Ed ordered, pointing at his former classmate, because he didn't know exactly what conclusion Oscar had just reached, but he knew he was far more clever than his normal joking demeanour suggested, and Ed didn't need him blurting out anything that might clue in the wrong people. "Are you ready to go?"
Oscar's jaw stiffened and he quickly leant down to grab a satchel from under his desk, then started towards him. "Yeah."
Ed nodded and motioned him ahead, since he knew the building best. "We're heading down to the lobby."
Oscar silently took the lead, taking them down a nearby stairway that Ed had suspected existed – like he'd noticed earlier, West Command was a mirror of East Command – and down a busy hallway to the front entrance. Two soldiers stood there, a man and a woman, both tanned and with the same shade of dark hair, the shape of their faces similar enough that Ed assumed they were related in some manner.
"Yo, Oscar!" the male called. "Didn't know you were back!"
Oscar's shoulders loosened and, when he spoke, Ed could almost see the smile his voice said he was wearing, "Max! Yeah, got in today, but guess I'm right back out again."
Ed touched his shoulder to get him to stop, then stepped around him. The two new soldiers – warrant officers, he could see now – both straightened and saluted. He sighed while Oscar, the traitor, started snickering. "Warrant Officers Ostwind?" he requested, and Oscar's snickering stopped.
The woman gave a tight nod. "Yes, sir."
"At ease," Ed said, and it came out sounding strained, but they both relaxed. "Good. You're with me."
"Wait," Oscar said before Ed could say anything else. "They're coming too?"
Ed shrugged. "Yup." To the Ostwinds, he offered, "I'm Ed Elric, that's–" he motioned towards Darius "–Darius Wright. Komar's letting me borrow the three of you for a little trip out of the city. You've got an hour to pack a bag for a couple nights, then meet us at the– fuck, Darius, what's the name of the hotel again?"
Darius snorted. "West Forest."
"That one. Go, shoo."
The woman frowned. "Where out of the city, sir?"
Ed shook his head. "Not far."
"We'll fill you in while we're on the way," Darius offered. "For now, just use your best judgement."
When Oscar opened his mouth, a frown tugging at his mouth, Ed shoved him towards the doors. "Go, Oscar. Stop being a pain in my arse."
Oscar's jaw firmed and he nodded before shooing the frowning Ostwinds out ahead of him.
"This is your fault," Ed muttered to Darius, who snorted. "Anything we need to raid the military for?"
"A vehicle?"
Ed turned and raised his eyebrows at the chimera. "What did you do with the one you had?" Because Darius had mentioned, in one of his earliest reports, that they'd bought a car with their personal accounts, but wouldn't complain about reimbursement, since it was technically for their mission, which Ed had left for Grumman to sort out.
"Left it with Heinkel," Darius admitted with a shrug. "Figured he could get more use out of it than I could."
In other words, if things went to shit for him while Darius was collecting Ed, Heinkel had a quick escape.
He nodded. "Right. Let's go irritate the carpool people, then," he decided, and Darius chortled as he followed him.
As they'd packed up the vehicle – a transport truck, actually, so they didn't have to find room in the Pendleton town jail for all of the group – Oscar had properly introduced the two Ostwinds: Maximillian and Maxine, twins who both answered to 'Max', which appeared to have a great backstory, but they didn't really have time to cover it, especially as the three soldiers seemed far more interested in finding out what they were doing than trading tales.
Darius had pulled out a couple maps for Ed, most of which he'd received copies of in reports over the months, which showed the layout of the group's hideout and the surrounding terrain. He sat in the back with the three loans, going over everything with them, while Darius took them on back roads north from West City.
"Shit," Oscar said once Ed had finished. "How long have you been tracking this group, Ed?"
Ed raised an eyebrow at him. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he replied evenly. "I've been at Fort Forsthaus, same as you."
"Your team, then."
"My team's been on leave."
Oscar stared at him for a long moment before letting out a sharp laugh and shaking his head. "God. And we all thought you couldn't keep a secret to save your life."
Ed snorted and climbed up into the passenger seat, calling back, "Still dunno what you're talking about, Oscar. I'm a fucking open book."
The two males in the back broke out into disbelieving laughter, while the woman let out an indelicate snort.
Ed shrugged at Darius, who was smirking. "How much further?"
"Maybe ten minutes," Darius replied. "Don't want to bring the truck in too close, though, so we'll have to walk the last bit." He leant forward slightly, checking the sky. "Wait until it gets a bit darker before we head into the woods."
Ed nodded. "We can break and eat," he decided, glancing out past Darius towards the slowly setting sun. "I assume you have some plan to catch Heinkel's attention?"
"Of course."
"Good."
Darius' plan to catch Heinkel's attention turned out to be getting as close to the farm building as they could under the cover of the woods, then letting out a sort of croaking ribbit-sound that sounded suspiciously like 'Jerso'.
Ed muffled his laughter against Darius' back. "Fucking shit. I missed you arseholes," he got out once he'd calmed down.
"We missed you too, Ed," Heinkel said quietly from their right, and the three loaned West soldiers all jumped.
Ed held out his fist and Heinkel knocked it with his own as he crouched down next to them. "Heinkel Potez," Ed murmured as introduction, "Oscar Pascale and the Max Ostwinds." Then he focussed on Heinkel. "What have we got?"
"Map," Heinkel requested and Darius pulled out the blueprints of the complex, lighting up a small torch as Heinkel laid it out and they all crowded around. "Three sentries, one here and two here," he said, pointing to positions near the front and then back doors. "They're not very alert. Four in the bedrooms, two here, one here, one here." He pointed to the bedrooms he meant, all six of which were on the upper floor. "One man in the kitchen. Everyone else is out in the barn. Metal ceiling," he added, looking at Ed. "Can you do something with that?"
Ed tilted his head to one side, recalling a particular conversation about using alchemy to effect magnetic attraction that Greed had started for nefarious purposes, which Ed had only realised after he'd admitted it could be done. "Yes," he agreed, "but if anyone comes with, their weapons will be useless."
The chimeras traded looks, then Heinkel reached back and grabbed his guns, which he handed over to Darius. Darius turned to Ed, one hand out. "Knife."
Ed rolled his eyes. "Not an issue."
Darius raised both eyebrows, because Ed had taken his jacket and butt cape off back at the truck, so there was nothing hiding the knife from Havoc that he'd attached to the back of his trousers. But then he shrugged and dropped his hand, clearly deciding Ed knew what he was doing.
Ed nodded and looked back over the map. "Maxes, back door, the one in the kitchen, then watch that back staircase."
"Yes, sir," they chorused grimly.
"Darius, Oscar, front door, then clear out the bedrooms. Once all of you are clear, check the rest of the house, just in case."
"You got it," Oscar agreed while Darius nodded grimly.
Ed cast his gaze over all of them. "No kill shots."
Darius and Heinkel both sighed, but the female Max hissed, "Are you serious?" and both her brother and Oscar were frowning at him.
Ed met her stare. "No. Kill. Shots," he repeated. "You miss and hit something vital, can't save them, fine, that's one thing, but I don't do kill missions, and you're going to fucking respect that, or you can start walking back to West City. Clear?"
"Crystal," female Max spat.
"You know they're going to be aiming to kill, no matter your morals, right?" male Max pointed out.
"Learn to duck," Ed retorted and Oscar muffled a choked sound behind his hand. "Just because your opponents are out for blood doesn't mean you need to be." He picked up the map and quickly folded it back up before handing it off to Darius. "Any other complaints about my methods?"
Everyone shook their head.
"Good. Head out."
They all split up, Ed and Heinkel sticking to the woods as far as they could before crouching low and crossing the neglected fields to the barn.
Ed stopped them behind a decaying wooden cart. "Why are so many in the barn?" he whispered.
Heinkel glanced at him, lion-eyes gleaming in the light seeping past the closed barn doors. "Weapon drop at the Drachma border," he offered, speaking carefully so his whispery growl was clear. "Tomorrow evening."
Ed raised his eyebrows at that. "They're not the only group who's going to be there, I bet," he murmured, and Heinkel's toothy grin was all the answer needed. "Awesome. Let's finish this so we can make their appointment, then."
Heinkel rumbled a laugh behind him as Ed slipped out from behind the cart and approached the barn. He gave himself a moment to eye the doors off to one side of him, then clapped his hands together, envisioning the fucking insane array he needed, before he pressed one hand against the wall in front of him, the other against his left leg. And then, because this wasn't a quick trick, he closed his eyes and focussed, trusting Heinkel to watch his back.
Magnetising two metal objects to attract one another was actually fairly easy, almost basic-level alchemy, save most people never thought of it. (Fuck, Ed probably never would have thought of it, except some arsehole he and Al'd come up against realised that it was an effective countermeasure when faced with a suit of armour and a kid with two automail limbs. Which had sucked.) But creating a magnetic field centred on a particular object, especially a field that was strong enough to reach two storeys and grab all the metal in the barn – except what was on Ed – without weakening, was a different kettle of fish. Not an impossible kettle of fish, just a slightly more complicated one.
Shouts from inside the barn announced his success, and Ed took a beat to shake off the drain of a large-scale transmutation, then followed Heinkel in, keeping low and ducking under his claws as he drew his knife, cutting across the back of the nearest arsehole's knees while he was still staring at the ceiling, before kicking up and knocking him out as his collapsing legs brought his head in range.
By the time their opponents managed to gather themselves enough to retaliate, Ed and Heinkel had taken out about half of them, and the rest were next-to-helpless against Heinkel's claws and Ed's knife and automail leg.
Once they were all unconscious, Heinkel shifted back to his human form and pulled his glasses from his pocket to put on. "Even the cars, Ed?" he complained, glancing up at the three vehicles that were attached to the ceiling. Two men were up there, too, their automail caught in the field. One of them seemed to have hit his head on the way up, because he was unconscious, but the other was, in turns, shouting for help and spewing vitriol at them.
Ed shrugged. "Not that amazing of an alchemist, sorry. You want acts of god, find me a philosopher's stone."
Heinkel snorted. "You wouldn't use it."
"Damn right I wouldn't." He waved towards the ceiling. "That'll probably hold for a few hours yet, but let's drag this lot out, just in case I miscalculated."
The chimera nodded and they set about dragging the unconscious bodies out of the barn, Ed using some rope he'd found to tie them together in groups of three. (A pair could work together to escape far easier than a triad, after all.)
As the other four approached with their own unconscious targets, Ed caught Heinkel's arm and quietly ordered, "Tell Darius where you hid the car so he can move our bags over."
Heinkel nodded. "You don't want to take them with us to the border," he assumed of the West City group.
"I need them to clean this up, and I'd like to have both of you able to use your full abilities," Ed admitted; just because Grumman and Mustang knew both of his men were chimeras, didn't mean the rest of the military needed to know it, too.
Heinkel sighed and nodded. "Yes, sir."
Ed touched his shoulder and offered, "I also don't want to start hostilities with Drachma by turning this into an official military operation."
"And what does that make us?"
Ed snorted and turned back towards the barn, calling back, "I'm a loose cannon, of course."
The laugh Heinkel let out was not pleasant. But, then, he and Darius should have known they were going to be flirting with disciplinary actions, following Ed around.
Once they'd moved all the men – save the two with automail – out of the barn, Ed caught Oscar sneaking that way and shadowed him. As he reached the door, Ed drily offered, "You're going to lose anything metal in a second."
Oscar jumped and whirled. "God! Ed, could you not give me a heart attack?"
"Don't exaggerate," Ed returned, before stepping into the barn and pointing up.
Oscar peered cautiously through the doors, then proceeded to swear and take two quick steps back. "That shit's gonna fall on your head!"
"Nah." Ed waved a careless hand at that, but stepped back out of the barn for Oscar's peace of mind. "It's still got enough charge for a few hours. But, yeah, you'll know when the magnetic field starts deteriorating, mostly because those vehicles are gonna be the first to go. Best to just stay out until everything's finished falling, I guess."
"You realise you're a madman."
Ed flashed him a grin to match, and Oscar rolled his eyes.
A car horn blared and they turned towards the car Darius and Heinkel had unearthed. Heinkel was sitting in the driver's seat, Darius nowhere in sight, though Ed knew he was either in the boot or – more likely – laying along the backseat and covered in a blanket. "Ah." Ed offered Oscar a sheepish look. "Sorry, Heinkel wanted me to check something out since I'm–" he scowled, because it wasn't hard to pretend to be angry about this topic, even if it hadn't happened "–not as big as them, or some shit." Oscar started laughing. "Shut the fuck up." Ed huffed and crossed his arms over his chest as Oscar covered his mouth in a pathetic attempt to silence himself. "You suck. Anyway, I dunno how long it's gonna take – he was being shady, because he's an arse – so, you know, you got this?" He motioned towards the bound captives. "Heinkel said there's a phone inside the house you can use to call Pendleton, have them come out and lighten the load a bit so you can fit everyone in that truck."
"Yeah, sure, we'll manage," Oscar agreed, revealing his grin when he moved his hand away from his mouth.
"You still suck," Ed informed him, before leaving to join Heinkel and Darius (who was, indeed, laid out in the back). "Drive," he ordered, and didn't look back at the the mess they'd left for the three West City soldiers.
Crashing the weapons drop went remarkably well, and Ed filled in the path the Drachmans had made while his team tied everyone up and snooped through the weapons. They were able to restock on ammunition, and there were some northern-area coats and blankets that would keep them from having to stop in anywhere while they continued following the trail of pro-Bradley groups up into the mountains closer to the border between the west and north areas. One of the Drachmans was also carrying one of Ed's new knives, and he grinned in victory as he confiscated it for his 'just in case' collection.
They stopped in at the next town with a public-use phone and Heinkel called in the group so the military would pick them up, while Ed dropped two reports in the post box, one for Chris to pass on to Grumman, the other for Marie to pass on to Mustang. Then he rang the Hugheses, because he couldn't say when they'd be able to use a phone again, and he'd rather call too often, than not often enough. (Not that Elicia seemed to recognise the concept of 'too often' when it involved phone calls from Ed.)
They spent the next month and a half cleaning up small groups all around the west area, dodging the military just because Ed didn't want to deal with the fall-out of all the messes they were leaving behind.
When Chris' regular letter found them middle of May, it included a note from Grumman that said simply 'CALL ME' with a number that didn't match any in Central Command, so Ed wasn't surprised when it rang through to the bastard's home.
"What?" he demanded when Grumman picked up, because they'd had to travel back into the small village from their camp just so he could ring back when Grumman was home. If they hadn't been in the middle of fucking nowhere when Chris' message woman had caught up to them...
"Go north," Grumman ordered without preamble, not even pretending to react to Ed's tone. "One of the men you picked up outside Riviere dropped information about a group near Montmort. Suggested they had sights set on Briggs."
"Fuck," Ed snarled, because any group that was eyeing Briggs was going to be a pain in the arse to take out.
"I'll have Armstrong send someone out to liaise with you."
"Fine, yeah, whatever. We'll be there by the end of the week." He hung up, then stalked over to the car. "Holiday's over, kids," he said as he slid into the back. "Old man's sending us up to cover Briggs' arse."
"Seriously?" Darius complained as Heinkel shifted the car into drive and turned them back towards their camp. When Ed's response was a scowl, Darius sighed. "Fuck. Where to?"
"Montmort. Armstrong's going to send someone out to us."
"Fantastic."
"Are we driving straight through?" Heinkel asked, because they'd taught Ed how to handle the car, which meant three drivers, which meant they didn't actually need to stop anywhere, beyond switching drivers around and pee breaks and Ed transmuting petrol when they ran low.
Ed closed his eyes and did some quick figuring of their food supplies. "Might as well. We've got enough to get us past the border, at least."
"I want a holiday," Darius muttered and Ed kicked the back of his seat. "Yeah, I know, shut up. Fuck off."
"Just so we're clear," Ed returned as they pulled up to their camp.
Break-down didn't take long – had practically become rote for them, as many times as they'd had to stop for the night away from any hotels, of late – and they were on the road north within an hour of Ed ringing Grumman. Ed let Darius sleep first, taking the watch position in the passenger's seat while Heinkel drove, and quickly wrote up a report for Mustang, because fuck knew Grumman wouldn't pass on the change in location, and they'd pass a town he could drop it at in the afternoon.
Once that was done, Ed settled in for a long drive.
Falman ended up being their contact in Montmort, and Ed was willing to bet that Armstrong had done that in hopes that Ed would have a harder time just up and vanishing, leaving the clean-up behind. Judging by Falman's expression when he passed on the request that Ed and his team come back to Briggs after the pro-Bradley group was dealt with, he didn't expect to have any more luck keeping tabs on him and the chimeras than the western soldiers had.
Ed almost felt bad when the last of the pro-Bradley group had been tied up and they made their escape.
Since they were in the north, Ed and his team turned their attention to hunting down the groups up there, focussing on the western end until they'd gathered sufficient intel on the rest of the area to skirt around North City and tackle the eastern half.
Judging by Grumman's notes – which were delivered by what appeared to be Armstrong's people more often than Chris', Ed couldn't help but notice, not that he'd really expected else while in the north – Major General Armstrong was in turns furious and impressed by Ed's team's skills in avoiding the Briggs troops she'd sent after them. (As if her many civilian spies couldn't have served to keep fucking tabs on them.) It was an irritating little game of cat and mouse, which kept Ed and the chimeras moving long past when they would have set up camp for the night, and devising traps to leave in their wake.
Things were unusually quiet on the Briggs front for Ed's birthday, so he took the chance to ring the Hugheses and Winry in the morning, then spent the rest of the day being lazy with his team, who had been quite happy to follow suit and take the day off.
The next day, however, the Briggs soldiers caught up with them, hands up in surrender and expressions grim.
Ed relaxed from his fighting stance, not quite stupid enough to put his knife away, but thrown by the change in the pattern of their meetings; usually, by now, someone had fired a warning shot or one of the Briggs shitheads had called something about a dinner party. (Okay, that had only been the once, but still. It had almost worked, which made it memorable.) "Talk!" he demanded.
"Word from the Führer: You're to report back to Central Command immediately."
Ed stiffened and looked towards Darius and Heinkel, both of whom frowned back at him with the same amount of confused worry as was churning in Ed's stomach; Grumman wouldn't order them back to Central unless something went seriously wrong. He turned back to the Briggs group, who had shouldered their weapons and stopped just out of Ed's punching range. "What happened?"
The man in the lead pulled out a newspaper – Ed recognised it as the Northern Starr, which he always picked up a copy of when they had the chance to stop in a town, for all it was a rag of a paper – and glaring out from the front page was the article title: 'TERRORISTS CHALLENGE FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST WITH TRAIN BOMBING'.
Something sick started up Ed's throat as he rushed forward and snatched the paper from the Briggs soldier's hand, barely registering the man's flinch as he straightened the page and quickly read through the article.
Apparently, while Ed and his team were enjoying their one-day holiday, one of the pro-Bradley groups – clearly having heard about Ed calling their groups terrorists, not that Ed had expected that label to stay secret for long – had got it into their fucking heads to bomb a train heading south, killing more than half the passengers and causing the whole rail system to be shut down in fear of another bombing. The group had signed their work – they were calling themselves Bradley's Avengers, because they were fucking shits – and left a message declaring the bombing was a response to Ed hunting down their brethren in the west and north.
Which had, of course, spawned questions from the reporter about what Ed was up to, etc, etc, etc; ever since he'd come out in support of Grumman, they'd get the occasional reporter trying to drag his name through the mud, and since he had a habit of destroying public property, there was a lot of dirt to bring up.
"Well, fuck," Darius said, reading over his shoulder. "Time to go back to the drawing table, I guess?"
But Ed wasn't paying attention, his mind caught on a brief mention in the article that some of the victims had only just graduated from the academy. He turned to the page with the list of victims, barely hearing Heinkel's, "Ed, don't."
Two names jumped out at him: Rebecca Flanders and Nicholas Halberstadt, Jr. His squad.
Rebecca, whose father had remarried a woman younger than her, and she'd joined the military to get as fucking far away from that toxic environment as she could. Nick, with his struggling mother and his sisters and brother that he'd joined the military to support and his fear of trains.
The clinical part of his mind helpfully observed, as he tried to draw a breath and couldn't, that he was having an attack. (It had been a while; how nice.) The rest of him was split between screaming internally and trying to get his lungs to draw air.
Familiar hands curled over Ed's shoulders from behind, while another set caught his hands, pulling the paper away. "Breathe, kid," Heinkel prompted, his thumbs pressing a slow pattern against Ed's wrists. "We've got you, just breathe."
Ed dragged in a breath that tore at his insides the whole way into his lungs. The second breath went a little easier, but the third caught on a sob, and he didn't even realise he'd reached for Heinkel until he was pulled into his arms, hugged tight while Darius rubbed at his back and he fucking fell apart, because this was his fault. Because Nick and Rebecca and a fuckton of other people were dead because of him.
He'd wanted to fix Amestris, but look where that'd got him.
"It's not your fault, Ed," Darius rumbled, apparently reading his mind. "You didn't set that bomb, it's not your fault."
Ed peered over his shoulder and opened his mouth to argue.
"Shut up," Darius ordered, and Ed's mouth snapped shut in spite of himself. "It's not. You wanna fix this, we get them back. Rip their base down around their ears."
Oh, there was a part of Ed that was very attached to that idea, and damn his no killing mantra, but he swallowed and shook his head, tugging away from Heinkel so he could pick up the fallen newspaper. "I have a funeral to attend," he murmured, Nick and Rebecca's names standing out against the list, as if someone had bolded and underlined them just for him.
"Where's the funeral?" Heinkel asked, his hand reaching over Ed's shoulder and pointing to the listing at the top. "Civilian or military?"
"Military," Ed breathed, and it ached; they'd only just graduated over the weekend.
"Central," Heinkel read off for him. "Funeral's on Saturday, memorial's on Sunday."
"It's going to be tight," Darius commented, because that gave them just under forty hours to make the funeral. Which they could do, easy, if Ed was able to drive, but he knew himself well enough to admit he shouldn't be trusted behind the wheel, and his team very obviously knew it, too.
"We can do it," Heinkel insisted, his hand warm on Ed's shoulder.
"Sir," an unfamiliar voice called, and Ed closed his eyes as he realised the Briggs soldiers were still there. (Of course they were. Fuck.) "We were given orders to escort you to Central City in time for the funerals."
Grumman. Fuck. Of course he'd do everything possible to get Ed back in time. Ed hated it when the bastard showed he cared.
"Ed?" Darius called.
Ed forced himself to straighten, to pull himself back together and open his eyes and fucking face this. "Yeah," he tried, but it came out cracked, so he cleared his throat. "Yes." He stepped past Darius – blocking him from sight, fucking protecting him, and Ed had the best fucking team in the whole damn country, even if he wanted to punch them both more often than not – and met the understanding gaze of the Briggs soldier in charge. "We'll accept that escort, thank you."
The man nodded. "I'll have one of my men bring your car down after us; our vehicles were made to cross difficult terrain, so we won't have to stick to roads."
Ed looked back at his team. "Necessities," he tried to order, but the word came out flat.
Heinkel and Darius traded looks. "I've got it," Darius promised, before leaving for their car.
Heinkel came up next to him, a solid presence that helped steady Ed in a way that he hadn't known he'd needed.
'Fuck. Pull yourself together, Edward.'
The Briggs soldiers didn't say anything as they led Ed and his team over to one of their vehicles and ushered them in. The things were slightly roomier than their car, but it was still a tight squeeze in the back, given how fucking large Darius and Heinkel were, but it was also pathetically comforting, and Ed felt himself dozing off on Darius' shoulder soon after they started moving.
"We're not going anywhere," Darius murmured, and Ed wrapped that promise around himself like armour against the nightmares that dragged him down into slumber.
Come What May Chapters:
01 || 02 || 03 || 04 || 05 || 06 || 07 || 08 ||
11 || 12 || 13 || 14 || 15 || 16 || 17 || 18 || 19 || 20
Extras:
Ch 04 (Roy) || Ch 07 (Roy) || Ch 10 (Roy)
Ch 10 (Darius - NSFW) || Ch 16 (Ed - NSFW) || Ch 17 (Roy)
We All Need Saving Chapters:
Unposted
Dancing With the Devil Chapters:
Unposted
.
