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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: The research for this chapter was the sort that makes one proud to be a writer, because there's little that's more fulfilling than knowing you're probably making someone at the NSA very nervous.
As promised, I put together a guide for the OCs, which you can find on Google Drive. Let me know if anyone has trouble viewing it and I'll throw a copy up on LiveJournal.
I will be going back and adding this link to the beginning of chapter 10. If there's somewhere else you'd like to see it, leave me a comment.
Chapter Fourteen
-0-
"Well," Winry said as Ed went through some basic stretches, checking for any kinks in his leg, "one good thing about Al being in Xing is you can't immediately spar with him."
Ed rolled his eyes and did a cartwheel. "That's not good, Winry. Do you have any idea how hard it is finding someone to spar with?"
"Nope," Winry admitted, entirely too cheerful about that.
Ed did a backflip, let the reflexive grunt as he landed serve as his answer. "Fine," he said, as he straightened and knocked against his automail knee, "how about finding another automail mechanic to compare work against."
Winry, silently, motioned around the busy streets.
Ed rubbed at the bridge of his nose, wishing for patience. "In Resembool."
"Your analogies need some work," Winry pointed out.
"Oh, fuck off."
Winry snorted. "Fine, so you'd beat most people into the ground in a friendly spar. Did you want sympathy?"
Ed shot her a flat look. "If I can't go all out in a friendly spar, how do I know something's not going to go wrong out in the field?"
Winry's face twisted, and Ed knew her sense of pride was warring with the knowledge that Ed led a dangerous life and needed to know in advance what might give him trouble.
Ed sighed and dropped into the chair next to her. "To be fair," he admitted, "I can't go all out against Al any more, really. Some, sure, more than anyone else, but if I hit him with my leg, I'm going to hurt him. A lot."
"Oh, well, I guess that's true," Winry agreed, frowning. "So, what, then?"
"Kick a rock," Ed decided, then threw himself forward to dodge the spanner she swung at him, grabbing the button-up he'd left in the chair as he moved.
"Edward Elric!" Winry shouted as he skipped back out of her reach.
Ed grinned at her. "I'm gonna go get your money!" he called back before making his retreat.
He felt a bit naked without his gloves or knife, but shrugging on the button-up was a comfort, and he had more than enough carbon between his shirts and the diamonds in his pockets to get by, should it come to it.
And, fuck him, that explosion had shaken the sense of safety to Rush Valley. And he was going to have to leave Winry there, unprotected.
'Well,' he realised, spotting Paninya in the crowd, 'perhaps not entirely unprotected.' Because, even if Paninya couldn't keep a guard on Winry, she'd know best who he could trust to keep his best friend safe from any fuck-shits coming to prove their mettle.
"Hey, Ed?" Winry called, knocking on his door as he was getting ready for bed.
Ed left his vest – which he'd just about to remove – on and walked over to open the door, leaning against the wall just inside. "Yeah?"
Winry looked vaguely uncertain. "Can I...come in?"
Ed blinked. "Uh, sure." He stepped back, holding the door open for her. "What's up?" he asked as he shut the door behind her.
Winry sighed and dropped onto his bed, looking tired from the long day. "Paninya stopped by," she offered, and Ed barely resisted a wince; he should have guessed she'd go straight to Winry. "Guards, Ed?"
"It's not really guards–" Ed tried.
Winry just shot him an unimpressed look.
Ed slumped back against the wall. "Okay, so I'm paranoid. You're the only person I really, seriously care about who's not either out of easy reach or already protected, or both. And that train, the date..." He shrugged and looked down at his mismatched legs.
Winry sighed again. "I know," she admitted. "That's why I told Paninya it was okay."
Ed jerked up his head to stare at her, more than a little disbelieving. "You–"
Winry huffed. "Not everyone is as careless with their personal safety as you are, Ed. You pissed someone off again, and they're marking me as a target because it'll hurt you; we've done this before, I'm not stupid."
Ed slowly sank down to the floor, balancing between the wall at his back and his automail leg, his real leg already given out under the rush of relief. "Oh," he heard himself say. She wasn't telling telling him to go fuck himself, or that he was blowing this completely out of proportion. She was letting him do what he could to keep her safe.
"Ed?" Winry called, and he looked up into worried eyes. "You need to start calling me once a week, like you do for Elicia and Mrs Gracia, okay? Let me know you're okay?"
The number of calls he'd have to make every time they stopped in a town was increasing by the day, it seemed, but Ed could hardly refuse her, not when weekly calls would do him good, too. "Deal," he agreed, holding out one fist.
Winry's mouth quirked and she held out her own fist. There was no way they could reach, unless one of them got up, but it didn't need to be anything more than symbolic, anyway. "Next time," she added as they both dropped their fists, "just ask me."
"I will attempt to remember that you're not an idiot about your personal safety," Ed promised drily.
"Idiot," Winry retorted, her tone fond. Then she shot Ed a considering look, which immediately put him on guard. "Out of reach, that's Al, right?"
Ed gave a cautious nod. "And Granny, too."
Winry smiled faintly. "Right. And I'd guess the Hugheses are protected."
Ed shrugged. "After a fashion," he agreed, because Winry was probably expecting they had military people watching them, but Ed had only ever seen a couple of women he'd seen at Madame Christmas, and a man he was about ninety-eight percent certain worked for the Armstrong family, when he thought to look. Which didn't mean that's all there were, but military sort tended to stand out in a crowd, so he was fairly certain that only one of the Armstrongs and Chris were involved in keeping the Hugheses safe. (Which, given their mole in the military, probably best to keep all mention of them in conjunction to Ed or Mustang firmly in the civilian world.)
Winry nodded. "So, who's both?"
Ed blinked. "Both?" he repeated, confused. Where had she–?
Oh. Almost against his will, he looked over at the collection of things from his pockets, where his lighter was sitting innocently next to his pocket watch and the keys; he'd included Mustang, hadn't he?
Well, of course he didn't want the bastard dead. What was the point of staying in the military if Mustang wasn't there to fucking fix everything? Ed'd have to do it himself, or train someone new, and he just didn't have the temperament for either.
Winry leant over and picked up the lighter, and, judging by her flinch, Ed surprised both of them by jumping to his feet and taking a step towards her, hand outstretched.
He stopped himself, pulling his traitorous hand back against his chest. "Sorry. I don't...know why I–"
"It's okay," Winry said quietly, setting the lighter back down where it had been. "I was sort of wondering about it last time, though. Al said Lieutenant Havoc gave it to you?"
Ed couldn't stop himself from taking the last couple steps across the room and picking the lighter up, the pitted and scarred surface familiar, after months of falling asleep with it in easy reach. He swallowed and thumbed the lid open. "Yeah. Mustang, his gloves are useless when they get wet, so Havoc had to lend him this a few times." He let it snap closed again, the sound of metal hitting loud in the silence between them. "He was the only one who smoked, and I guess someone's gotta carry the damn thing, right?" He offered her a smile that felt wrong, somehow. Too flat, too twisted, too...false.
Winry watched him like she was seeing him for the first time. "Two good men," she whispered.
Ed let his smile go, frowned at her instead. "The fuck's that supposed to mean?"
"Last year," Winry said, straightening, "when you first told me you were staying with the military. You argued with me because I said the military was full of jerks. You specified Mustang."
Ed shrugged, feeling oddly uncomfortable. "I'd just talked to him."
"You practically hated his guts, before the Promised Day," Winry said, more to herself than Ed. "And then you got back from hospital and you were... You'd talk to him in town every week. Marie said you'd buy him doughnuts."
"That was equiv–" Ed started, trying to ignore the sensation of something heavy growing in his stomach.
"And that lighter," she continued, either not hearing him or set to ignore him, her eyes turning to the space on the table that the lighter had been. She reached out to pick up his watch, the keys jingling from where he'd attached them to the chain – it had made more sense than leaving them loose in his pocket – and depressed the latch. "Oh," she said as it popped open, sounding surprised. "You stopped sealing it."
"I have to use the damn thing to tell time sometimes," Ed groused. "And most people who have the bad manners to grab it and start snooping already know what it says." Including Darius and Heinkel, who had never asked about the meaning, though he'd caught Heinkel snooping through back-dated papers at one point.
Winry snapped it closed, the keys jingling again, and rested her chin on the face of the watch, staring at him.
"What?" he finally snarled.
"It's just the lighter," she said. "I've got your watch and your keys and you don't care, but you freaked out when I picked up that lighter."
"Wherever your brain is going–" Ed started as the heavy thing in his stomach turned over.
"That lighter is a mess. It's not good for anything other than creating a spark," Winry continued, heedless. "It's practically useless without Brigadier General Mustang around. Hell, you'd probably have been better served just handing it over to him, since he's the one who'd need it, but you haven't. Like a good luck charm."
"I don't need–"
"Or a lover's talisman," Winry added, narrowing her eyes.
"...the fuck?" Ed somehow managed, despite the wave of numbness that had just swept over him.
Against his will, his mind gave him all the times he'd wondered what sex with Mustang would be like, that one time one the couch he'd felt the urge to kiss the bastard, standing in that alley a few days ago and letting his hand rest over Mustang's chest like he had a fucking right to touch.
"Get out," he ordered, because he would not– He could not–
"Ed–" Winry started, setting the watch back down.
"Out!"
Winry's jaw firmed, like she was biting back her own shout, and she nodded and stalked from the room, the door slamming against the frame behind her.
Ed was left staring down at his lighter, scarred from its own trip through hell, but still up, still willing to fight when given over to the right hands, or the right cause.
He wrapped his fingers around it and whispered, "Fuck," because he was seeing connections between himself and a lighter. It was clearly well-past time for bed.
He set the lighter back down with his watch and keys, yanked off his vest, and turned off the light before climbing into bed. And then he turned his back on the little table with his collection, like he was denying everything they meant to him. Like he was as capable of leaving them behind as he had been of burning down his own childhood home.
Ed was disgustingly good at lying to himself.
Winry managed to hold her silence through breakfast and until Garfiel left the kitchen, but she caught the chain of his pocket watch when Ed made to leave himself. "Ed–"
"Leave it alone, Winry," he ordered, because he really didn't want to put any real consideration into what she'd been implying the night before, thanks.
"No," Winry insisted, her free hand grabbing his wrist. "Sit. We're going to talk."
"I'm not–"
"Running away?" Winry suggested, because she knew him, knew how much he hated people who ran away from their problems.
Ed let out a disgusted noise and dropped heavily into the open chair next to her. "I need to get my train ticket," he muttered, because it was expected.
Winry rolled her eyes. "Says the idiot who could have made a career out of getting on the train at the last minute and using his pocket watch in lieu of a ticket."
Ed was pretty sure there wasn't a good response to that.
She sighed. "Something changed with the brigadier general. What?"
Ed huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "I told you, I found out he's aiming to be Führer." Because he had told her about that, while Al was still recovering. He hadn't told her everything Hawkeye had passed on in confidence, not like he had with Al, but she knew the important part: The bastard wanted to sit at the top to keep another Ishval from happening. "That's it."
Winry shook her head. "So you're supporting him, I get that, but what's happened recently, Ed?"
What had happened recently? Mustang'd cared enough to push when Ed had been set to ignore the thing with Parnall, he'd stood firmly at Ed's side, had cared more about Ed and his squad's safety than how much trouble Ed was causing for him. He'd sparred with Ed when he'd needed an outlet for his stress, hadn't been insufferable when Ed had corrected some of his movements. And when Ed had been all-too-willing to throw his no killing morals out the window, the bastard had found a way to sit him down and talk it out.
Ed had seen Mustang tired and smiling and protective. He'd seen him treated as a kid by his aunt, seen him bear Gracia's teasing with a fond smile, seen him hold Elicia with the same love Ed felt for the girl. He'd seen him on the edge of giving up, and his determination to keep on when given the necessary push.
He'd started seeing the human behind the military uniform, and it was someone Ed could relate to, someone he could trust with things far more important to him than the future of a nation.
"We became friends," he settled on, because that seemed the easiest way to explain months of getting to know each other without a desk standing between them.
"Friends," Winry repeated, her expression disbelieving.
He shrugged. "After a fashion. I still want to punch him in the face more often than not, because he's an insufferable bastard and he knows it." And just thinking about Mustang's smirky face made Ed want to punch something. "Ugh."
"You know," Winry said carefully, "there's that one saying: 'It's a fine line between love and hate'."
Ed scoffed, because he needed to, because he needed that distance. "Love," he repeated sarcastically. "Your attachment to the idea of romance is getting a bit out of hand, Win."
Winry nodded. "So," she said, and her knowing tone had Ed stiffening, "if Brigadier General Mustang settled down with someone else tomorrow, you'd be okay with that?"
He didn't want to think about that, didn't want to look too closely at the reason why the mental image of the bastard finally settling with some pretty woman made him want to punch something, so he pushed it away and let out a laugh that felt a little too sharp. "Mustang? Settle down? Not fucking likely."
Winry leant forward, bracing her elbow against the table top and resting her chin on her palm. "I dunno," she said, her tone casual, but her gaze too focussed, "even you were talking about settling down the other night, right? After a year in Ishval, what's to say he's not lonely?"
Ed scoffed again and stood. "Not kidding about that romance bullshit going to your head," he told her. "Maybe I'll pick you up another few automail books next time I'm in Central. Give you something a bit less crazy-inducing to read." He hurried past her.
"Ed," Winry called before he could step fully out of the kitchen, "you didn't answer me. What would you do if Mustang settled down?"
"I'd congratulate him," Ed said, and the words tasted like blood and the zing of alchemy in his father's old workroom. "That's what friends do."
"Ed–" Winry started, her chair scraping against the floor.
"That's also," Ed added, "what subordinates do." Because Mustang would care about those stupid rules that Ed and his team thumbed their noses at.
Never mind the fact that, no matter how Ed's body might betray him, the bastard was unquestionably straight, which Winry was wilfully ignoring in her quest for ever more romance.
When she didn't speak again, Ed left for the train station to get tickets for that afternoon's train. Which was going to Fotset, and because he had been playing in the shadows for too long, he bought his ticket for the whole route; given the lack of intel on the Dublith group in the intelligence Grumman had handed over, Ed would bet the military mole was expecting them to go that way. The longer he kept them guessing, the more likely he'd be to catch the fuckers off guard. All he had to do was get off to stretch his legs in Dublith and 'miss' his train.
Piece of cake.
Winry was helping a guy with his automail leg when Ed got back, so he went inside and made sure all his things were packed, then joined Garfiel and another townie in sharing in some gossip, trading word from Central and up north for information about the south.
Sometimes, he thought the military didn't pay enough attention to civilians; they were always how he heard whispers of new pro-Bradley groups.
This time, though, he was more focussed on hearing about any new faces, other than himself – "You're hardly a new face, Ed!" Garfiel had joked, and the other guy, Mark, had laughed in agreement – and got a couple physical descriptions. Mark also helpfully offered a description of a guy who'd been around town for a couple days before the train bombing, then had vanished the morning of, and Ed had suggested, should they see him again, they corner him for a 'friendly chat', which had won a mean smile from Mark and a grim nod from Garfiel.
Winry didn't pester him again until it was time for him to leave. "I'll walk you to the station," she insisted, grabbing his suitcase before he could.
Ed sighed and waved at Garfiel, pretending he didn't hear the man's stupid 'aww'ing, then followed after her.
"It's just," she said after a good few steps, "I want you to be happy."
"I am happy," Ed insisted, because he was. Happier than he'd been in a long time. "Al's okay, you're alive, Elicia's adorable–"
Winry elbowed him. "Ugh. You're impossible."
Ed clasped his hands behind his back and glanced up at the clear blue of the sky. "I'm good, Win. I accomplished what mattered the most to me. Anything else..." He shrugged. "What'll come will come."
Winry snorted. "Bullshit."
Ed flashed her a grin, received one in return. "Well, okay, there might be some dragging and kicking involved–"
Winry shoved him. "Idiot."
They stopped together in front of the station without discussing it, watching the queue of passengers getting checked over by a couple of soldiers. Winry leant against his shoulder, just like on the stoop two nights before, and Ed absently wrapped one arm around her, letting out a quiet sigh.
"Be careful out there," Winry pleaded quietly, one hand clenching in the back of Ed's jacket, almost directly over his knife.
"I will," Ed promised.
She twisted, and Ed glanced over to find her glaring at him. "I mean it, Edward."
Ed rolled his eyes. "I don't hate Mustang so much that I'd make him come out here and tell you I'd kicked it, don't worry."
"Your priorities worry me, sometimes," Winry decided, before setting down his suitcase for a proper hug.
Ed wrapped his other arm around her and squeezed her as tight as he dared. "Please take care of yourself," he whispered. "Don't–"
"I know," Winry interrupted, and kissed his cheek before pulling away, pink dusting her cheeks. "Don't worry about me, I've got a whole town full of idiots with metal limbs who think I'm some sort of damsel in distress, now; I'll be fine."
Ed snorted at that and ducked down to grab his suitcase. "Throw a couple spanners, that'll sort them out right quick."
"Idiot."
Ed grinned. "I'll be back, gearhead."
Winry snorted. "Yeah, yeah. Grow another couple inches so I can bleed you for more cash, beansprout."
"Fuck you!" Ed called back as he started for the dwindling queue, and her laughter trailed after him.
"Cutting it a bit close there, son," the soldier on the right, a private, said as Ed reached them.
"Suitcase," the man on the left, a lance corporal, ordered flatly.
"A bit close?" Ed asked as he unlatched his suitcase and held it out for inspection; he could flash his pocket watch, sure – his uniform had been left in the car, since he was unlikely to need it, so the watch was the only overt military connection he had on him – but it was hard not to remember Darius' caution to keep as low a profile as he could, especially since he was taking a train from the same city where the last bomb had gone off. "I thought the train wasn't supposed to leave for another eight minutes."
The private shrugged. "Sure, but there's been a bit of trouble with the switch outside Dublith, word is, so some of the operators cut their stops a bit short beforehand, to make up for the time they're expecting to lose, while others put on speed after the switch. Even odds what sort you're gonna get."
Ed felt like someone had just dumped ice water over his head. "Oh," he said, and his voice was remarkably steady. "How long's that been going on?"
"Few months," the private offered, shrugging again. "I dunno. Not something I really noticed before getting stuck on passenger-check duty."
A few months? That meant the train that had been bombed likely should have still been in Rush Valley when it exploded. But with the unknown variable of whether they had an operator who left early or on time, the bombers would have had to pick a time in the middle somewhere and hope for the best.
Winry had been the target. Dammit.
"Shut up, Morris," the lance corporal ordered, and the private rolled his eyes at Ed, who managed a sympathetic smile in return, hoped he didn't look like he wanted to throw up. "You're clear," the lance corporal declared, closing the lid of Ed's suitcase. "Please step aboard and find a seat."
"Thanks," Ed offered as he latched his suitcase back up, then stepped past them and onto the train.
The cars were fairly empty – Ed couldn't even pretend to be surprised – and he dropped into a bench near the largest group of passengers he spotted, which consisted of two women and a man. They were in the middle of a debate about whether or not it was safe to travel by train when he sat down, and he quirked a smile that ached as he settled in to listen to them, hoping they'd eventually move on to something more relevant to his interest.
The two soldiers who'd been checking passengers passed him a few times on their trip to Kadava, the stop between Rush Valley and Dublith, and the private looked more and more hangdog during each pass, while the lance corporal looked more and more irritated with his travelling companion. Which, well, served as much a source of distraction as the gossip behind him, which was winding down a bit, as one of the three had fallen asleep. (The man, he was fairly certain, from the pitch of the two remaining voices; he could have peeked over to check, but that would suggest he was interested in a conversation, which he really sort of wasn't.)
Three people got on at Kadava, not counting – Ed happened to spot while staring out the window at the town – a couple stowaways in one of the back cars. He raised an eyebrow at that, then sighed and, grabbing his suitcase, started making his way back as the two soldiers finally let on the last man, whose face was deep red from the argument he'd been getting into with the lance corporal. Because those stowaways were going to get caught as soon as the soldiers did one of their checks, and then they'd been in some deep shit. If Ed couldn't talk them into getting off, at least he could cover for them, he guessed. (He'd done his fair share of train hopping, while he'd been on the run, and the only time they'd been spotted, the old man had smiled and covered for them when the ticker-checker came by; pay it forward, yeah?)
The second-to-last car only had two passengers, neither of whom looked up as Ed passed them, but the final car was a fair beehive of activity, four teenagers and an older man all rushing around with–
Ed froze for a beat, recognising blocks of military-grade TNT, and that gave one of the teens the chance to spot him and shout a warning.
He dropped his suitcase and lunged for the nearest kid, a move which probably saved his life, as the shot the man fired clipped his hair antenna. "Fucking shit," Ed snarled, shoving the kid he'd caught down against the floor of the car and ducking himself as the gun went off again.
The train rattled to a start, and the gun went off a third time before–
Nothing.
Ed chanced a glance up and found that the train car had emptied of everyone, save himself and his hostage, who was letting out desperate noises and wiggling.
The door slammed open behind him, and Ed glanced back to find the lance corporal standing there, his gun out, face rapidly paling as he spotted the explosives stacked haphazardly in the middle of the car.
"Lance Corporal," Ed called.
The man's gun immediately focussed on Ed, his arms shaking, and he shouted, "You–!"
Ed carefully shifted his weight, let his automail leg take over the work of pinning the kid, then pulled out his pocket watch.
The lance corporal's eyes widened and the hand holding his gun dropped, pointing it at the floor of the train. "Major!"
Well, it was good to know that not everyone recognised the youngest State Alchemist on sight, he supposed. Resisting the urge to correct the man – he didn't really care, honest, and it's not like it really made a difference in who had command in this situation – Ed slipped his watch back away. "I need you to get all the passengers up to the front two cars, with as little panic as possible," he ordered, keeping his voice firm, because everything he'd seen about this man so far suggested he would respond best to a firm hand, rather than Ed's usual manner. "And I need you and the private to stay up there with them."
The man glanced past Ed, towards the explosives. "Sir–"
"Now, Lance Corporal," Ed insisted, grabbing one of his captive's wrists as the kid tried to scratch him.
The lance corporal shot off a quick salute, then spun and hurried away, the connecting door falling shut behind him.
Ed sighed, grateful for the military-trained unquestioning following of orders, then glanced down at his captive. "Well," he said, "I guess that means you and I are the only ones left to get blown to hell when this shit goes up."
"Good," the kid said, his voice trembling. "At least our mi-mission will have be-en a suc-suc–"
"Success," Ed completed for him tiredly. "What the fuck'd I ever do to you fuck-shits, anyway?" he complained, before clapping his hands together and activating an array to wrap part of the floor around the kid, immobilising him as much as possible. "For that matter," he continued as he got to his feet, "the fuck's wrong with you, blowing up fucking trains? Stop involving other people in your petty shit and face me like men."
"That's what we're doing!" the kid shouted, and he sounded so very much like he was trying to be strong.
Ed shook his head and stepped forward to see what they'd left him with. The last gunshot had clearly been intended to start the fuse, and Ed quickly cut that with his knife before it got any closer to the pile of explosives. After checking around for any secondary lines and not finding any, he turned to the explosives themselves.
Most of it was blocks of TNT, military seals still stamped onto their sides, and Ed wondered how the fuck they'd missed them being stolen, and where from. (Fucking mole.) TNT was relatively stable, on its own, so he was willing to leave it sit until they got in at Dublith, then leave it for that military outpost to sort out. The handful of sticks of dynamite, likewise, were unlikely to get set off during the normal course of the route, especially once he'd repurposed a bench and one of his own shirts to act as a cushioned holder and removed all the blasting caps.
It was, upon further careful snooping in the pile – prompted by his captive's continued nerves, despite the cut detonator wires – the jars in the centre of the pile that made Ed the most nervous. The first two he'd uncovered had appeared to be nothing more than quickly-melting ice, but the third turned out to be a jar of pure nitroglycerin, miraculously still frozen, and Ed stumbled back from it, cursing.
From where he was trapped against the floor, the kid started laughing in that way that idiots do when they know they're about to die.
Ed squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed at his face. He knew two different arrays that would work to keep the nitroglycerin frozen until they reached Dublith, but he had no idea about their facilities there, and leaving unstable explosives in the hands of amateurs was just asking for unnecessary deaths. But that meant he had to fucking deal with it, and in a way that wouldn't lead to anyone dying.
But, first, making sure it stayed frozen.
He returned to the pile of explosives and carefully finished uncovering the deadly jars in the centre. As he'd expected, the nitroglycerin jar had been surrounded by jars of ice, so he clapped his hands together and recalled the stronger of the two chilling arrays he knew, then touched the jars. The air became noticeably colder, and the kid fell silent.
"Yeah," Ed told him quietly, "neither of us is gonna be dying today." He stood again and looked past the haphazard stacks of TNT, unable to keep from adding, "Though, you'll probably end up in front of a firing squad, by the end of this."
The kid was clearly terrified, but he still shouted, "It will be my pleasure to–"
"Oh, shut the fuck up, already," Ed interrupted, disgusted. "Seriously, you fuck-shits are all kinds of fucked up."
"We are not the ones bowing at the throne of the pretend–"
Ed hopped over the TNT and transmuted the kid's shirt into a gag. "I said, shut up," he snapped, before stepping back over the explosives, glancing at the jars as he did so.
Shit, seriously, what the fuck was he supposed to do with that crap?
"Explosives," he muttered, walking over to a window and staring out at the passing countryside. "Why is it always fucking explosives? Ugh."
The easiest way to get rid of the nitroglycerin was, of course, to detonate it, but he couldn't do that on the train, and he couldn't really do that easily while they were moving, never mind the difficulty in finding a safe place to set it off when he didn't know the area. Shooting it out the back of the train, maybe, and exploding it in the air behind them, but whatever survived of the glass jar could hurt any humans – or wildlife – that happened to be in the blast radius, which brought him back to knowing the area. Fuck, he always slept during this part.
He blinked. No, wait, he didn't. There was a bridge about a half-hour before Dublith, which he always woke up as they were going over, because of the change in the sounds of the tracks or the strength of the wind or whatever excuse sounded the most likely at the time (Al's phrasing, not his). It went across one of the rivers that joined with Lake Kauroy, and always felt like it took an age to cross. And, because of the rapids you could see from the bridge, no matter the season, it was super unlikely to have any human visitors, or much in the way of wildlife, save fish, which should be safe from the worst of the shrapnel.
He looked back at the collection of jars and grimaced. It was the best idea he had, so he'd best find a way to make it work.
But, first, cleaning up the haphazard piles of explosives, because this was ridiculous, not to mention dangerous.
It didn't take him long to clean the car up and rig together a sort of slingshot he could use to give the jar of nitroglycerin the necessary height to keep from damaging the tracks. (Hopefully.)
He resettled his prisoner on one of the benches, stopping long enough to give the kid – who was a lot closer to Ed's age than he was really comfortable with, it looked like – some of the water in his suitcase, and ignoring the vitriol he started spewing almost as soon as the gag was off, then gagged him again, before walking over to pick up the phone that connected the cars in case of an emergency. He had no idea which car the soldiers were in, but he could at least ring up the engine and let them know there was going to be an explosion behind them and to just keep going.
After promising at least four times that, yes, seriously, he knew what he was doing and the train wasn't going to be in any danger, just keep going at a steady fucking pace, he hung up and glanced out the nearest window. Which really did him fuck-all because, as mentioned, he usually slept through this part of the trip.
He checked the number he'd need – the man up in the engine who'd answered had helpfully given him the number for the first two phones – and rang through to the second passenger car from the front.
"Lance Corporal Bedford," the man said upon picking up.
"Ah, excellent." How to introduce himself? "State Alchemist. Listen, fair warning, while we're going over the river, I'm going to blow something up behind us. The train's gonna be fine, so don't freak out."
The lance corporal was quiet for a moment before cautiously asking, "You're sure?"
"Yes." Ed glanced out the window again, wished he actually knew where they were. "Try and keep everyone calm, but maybe best to tell them that this train's going to be detained for a while in the city. We'll see if we can't get another line out to Fotset without too much delay, but..."
"Yes, sir, I'll make sure that's passed on. And I'll warn the civilians about the fireworks."
Ed grimaced – he'd never feel good about lying to civilians, but had to admit this was necessary to keep anyone from panicking – and nodded. "Good. Thanks, Lance Corporal."
"Sir," the man replied before hanging up.
Shortly after Ed replaced the handset, the sound of the wheels against the tracks changed under his feet, and he looked out to find them just starting to cross the river.
His grin as he ran down the length of the car to his sling was probably a little too manic but, dammit, blowing shit up. Stress relief. A mark of victory over the fucking pro-Bradley group.
Recalling the lance corporal's lie, Ed transmuted a few things to add to the nitroglycerin so colours would be involved, then quickly transmuted his carbon shield to protect himself from exploding glass, just in case. One of the blasting caps had been modified to work with the frozen nitroglycerin jar, to ensure it would actually go off high enough up, and Ed used his lighter to light the fuse – only needed a spark, really.
Once everything was set, he hauled back on the sling, then shot the nitroglycerin up into the sky, stopping in the opened doorway to watch it explode into colourful shards of glass, which caught the light from the setting sun and the chemical reaction, making it almost look like an actual firework. It was...strangely pretty, given how deadly it would have been if he hadn't gone hunting a couple of stowaways, and Ed couldn't quite suppress a shiver at the knowledge of what might have been.
He'd been lucky, just like Winry. Just like Sabine. Just like the people of Rush Valley and those on his own train.
"I'm coming to you, now, fuckers," he whispered into the wind, clenching his carbon-covered hands into fists. "And I bet you a prison sentence that my anger and guilt are far greater weapons than your stolen explosives."
They may have been the ones to start their little war, but Ed was going to be the one to bring it to an end, and he was going to do it in true Fullmetal Alchemist style: No more deaths.
So, that thing about keeping his head down? Turned out it was kind of impossible, since he'd gone and set off an explosion half an hour outside the city (which was really more like ten minutes outside the city, when you counted by the outskirts, rather than the station). So their train was met at the station by a line of soldiers and way too many civilian gawkers, given the late hour, and Ed rubbed tiredly at his face as he peered out through a window at the mess awaiting him.
Thankfully, it looked as though the lance corporal – Metford or Bedlord or something; Ed really needed to be better about remembering unfamiliar solders' names – had taken charge, because the private that had been with him was waving off the civilians from the train into the crowd of waiting soldiers, where they were paired up to collect statements – Ed would guess – and see about sending them on their way. The lance corporal himself had met up with a soldier who Ed recognised from when he'd been a kid, learning under Teacher – Loyd, was his name – and they started down the length of the train to Ed's car.
When they got within range that none of them would have to shout, Ed stepped out into the doorway and saw Loyd's eyes widen in recognition before he stopped and shot off a salute. "Lieutenant Colonel Elric!"
Next to him, the lance corporal looked like he'd just been told his dog had died.
Ed snorted. "If I cared about rank, Lance Corporal, I'd have corrected you," he pointed out drily, which didn't seem to make the man feel any better, but Ed turned to Loyd anyway. "Major Loyd," he offered and the man's mouth twitched, his hand falling to his side. "Always a pleasure to see the soldier who once chased me with a carrot." Which would always be one of his favourite memories of tormenting the soldiers stationed in Dublith on the days when Teacher had been feeling too poorly to beat on him and Al.
Loyd sighed. "Please don't remind me, sir."
Ed flashed him his best shit-eating grin before forcing himself into a more serious mind set. "I've got one would-be bomber and a shit-ton of explosives. Everything's stable, so far as I can tell, but I'm no bomb expert."
Loyd grimaced and nodded. "Bedford, borrow the station phone and ring down to the office. Have them send up transports for a prisoner and incendiaries."
The lance corporal saluted, then spun and hurried off.
"Bedford," Ed muttered in an attempt to keep from forgetting it again.
"Sir–" Loyd started.
"Ed, please, or Elric if you must," Ed requested. "All the 'sir'ing makes me want to try tunnelling into people's gardens again."
Loyd snorted, relaxing slightly. "Good to see you're still an obnoxious shit."
Ed grinned at him. "Funny, that was my CO's sentiment too, first time I saw him after I survived command training."
Loyd shook his head. "Imagine that." Then he sighed. "Should I ask about the explosion over the river? Bedford said it was intentional?"
Ed drooped back against the train car doorway and nodded. "Fuckers hid a jar of frozen nitroglycerin under all the TNT. Woulda gone up on its own, soon as it melted enough." By Loyd's expression and the way he'd paled, Ed guessed they both knew how that would have turned out. "Wasn't sure what sort of facilities you have here, so I detonated it en route. Safer all around."
Loyd swallowed and nodded. "Thank you for that. And for giving a possible reason for the lab explosion last month; the scientists and alchemists working there swear it should have been fine, but if someone was stealing nitroglycerin and then covering it up..."
"That's not the only thing they've been stealing," Ed said grimly, before stepping back into the car and motioning to the nearest pile of TNT, the military crests facing towards them.
Loyd's expression, once he'd followed Ed, said he honestly had no idea how what he was looking at was possible, but then the confusion melted away to fury before his expression shuttered entirely. "It appears," he said, his voice gone icy, "I have a leak to plug."
"It seems you do," Ed agreed, and hoped Wackett didn't turn out to be the leak; he'd drop his name into his next report to Grumman and let the bastard handle any fall-out. "Perhaps our new friend will have some ideas." He nodded towards his bound prisoner.
Loyd looked down the car towards him, then back at Ed, raising one eyebrow. "A kid," he said flatly.
Ed shrugged. "He may also only be able to spew anti-Führer Grumman doctrine and tell you I'm some sort of demon spawn, which, well, an argument can be made, so that's fair."
Loyd looked rather like he was beginning to sympathise with Mustang for having to deal with Ed all the time. "Of course. And I don't suspect you'll be staying to assist with this?"
Ed snorted. "I have a strict policy about not cleaning up my own messes."
"I'm aware," Loyd deadpanned.
Ed flashed him a quick grin, then eased his expression into something less troublesome-kid and offered, "If you'll lend me a phone, I'll ring through to the Führer, though, let him know what happened." He shrugged. "Get me out of a written report." Well, it wouldn't, but if he rang through and passed on the least sensitive parts verbally, no one would be questioning the fact that his written report never crossed Grumman's desk. Too, tapped lines or no, the sooner he reported this to Grumman, the sooner he could run whatever damage control was necessary from his end, and it wouldn't matter if it took Ed a week to get him his written report because he was too busy scoping out the group's hideout.
Loyd snorted. "Fine. I usually just report incidents to Major General Browning, down in South City, but..." He trailed off, looking around at the piles of explosives.
"This is a little bigger than South City," Ed suggested, shaking his head. "I'll leave it to you to inform Browning, then."
Loyd nodded and looked towards the imprisoned kid again as the sounds of approaching military lorries reached them from out on the platform. "Since you're headed to the same place, can I have you handle transporting him?"
Ed shrugged. "Sure." Then he walked over and quickly freed the kid, leaving his shirt as a gag, since he just wasn't interested in listening to him, and taking a bit of the bench with to trap his hands behind his back.
"I'd almost forgotten who your teacher was," Loyd muttered, clapping his hands together, as Ed grabbed his suitcase, keeping one hand wrapped around the kid's arm tight enough to bruise.
"To be fair, she never taught us that particular trick," Ed replied. "Al and I each learned it on our own. Walk, kid."
The civilian crowd had been forced back by a military cordon, but they were still doing their damnedest to see what was going on, and Ed knew there was no way they'd be keeping the explosives a secret for long. He sighed quietly as he started for the transports, leaving it for Loyd to manage his people.
"Ed!" a voice shouted as he reached the lorries, and he glanced towards the crowd to find Mason, Sig's shop assistant, waving at him.
"Let him through, Private," he called to the soldier who was standing closest, and when the man shot him an uncertain look, Ed pinned him with his best commander stare.
"Sir!" the private agreed, motioning Mason through.
Ed resettled his grip on his prisoner as Mason stepped over, his expression caught somewhere between pleased to see him, and resigned. "It's never dull when you show up," he offered.
Ed snorted. "Pretty sure it's a family curse," he replied, and Mason laughed. "Here, can you take my suitcase to the shop? Tell Teacher I'm going to have to crash in the guest room while this gets sorted."
Mason nodded and took his suitcase when he held it out to him. "Sure. She's going to want an explanation, you know."
"I know."
A hush fell over the crowd, and Ed noticed a few nearby soldiers along the cordon stiffening. Next to him, Mason was staring towards the train, rapidly paling, and he knew they'd started offloading the explosives. "Is that–?"
"Please take my things to the shop, Mason," Ed requested, giving him a firm push. "Now."
Mason swallowed and nodded. "Come up with a good explanation," he suggested before turning and ducking back under the cordon.
Ugh, Teacher was going to beat him senseless, he just knew it. "Come on," he ordered his prisoner, who was watching the staring crowd with eyes that gleamed. "Before they realise they can turn on you and I get hit with rotten projectiles."
The sergeant standing by the lead vehicle – a car, rather than the transport lorries – saluted as Ed reached him. "Sir! I'm to drive you to base so the prisoner can be processed."
"Thank you, Sergeant," Ed offered, and the man helpfully held open the back door for Ed and his captive, then jogged around to the driver's door and got in.
The drive was quick and silent, and Ed was happy to hand his prisoner off to the sergeant and a grim-faced captain who met them at Dublith's military building. When he asked, he was directed to a phone he could use, and he wasted no time in ringing through to Central.
"Lieutenant Colonel," Grumman greeted as the line was transferred over to him. "I hope you're calling me with good news."
"The second train bombing failed?" Ed offered a bit helplessly.
Grumman was absolutely silent for a few beats, and Ed couldn't even begin to guess at his expression, before he finally ordered, voice tense and lacking the suggestion of humour that Ed was used to hearing from him, any more, "Report."
Ed dropped tiredly into the chair of the desk whose phone he's been directed to. "I stopped in Rush Valley to visit my mechanic, sent my team on to South City to drop off Private Hamilcar. We're due to meet up in Fotset–" misinformation; hopefully, Grumman would catch on to the fact that Ed wouldn't drop his actual target city on a military line "–so I caught the next train down. Spotted what looked like a couple kids trying to play stowaway while we were stopped at Kadava and went to check. Found a few fuck-shits setting up explosives. One of them's in custody, but he's younger than me; probably won't know much of any real use.
"The fucker who looked to be their leader started the fuse before he escaped. Easy fix, and their pile was mostly made up of military TNT, which I figured would survive travel to Dublith fine, but I found a jar of frozen nitroglycerin under the pile of TNT."
"Nitroglycerin?" Grumman interrupted, and Ed could almost hear the man cursing in his head.
"Yeah. I detonated it over the river, since I have no idea what sort of chemical-storing facilities they've got here, so it's handled. Major Loyd mentioned something about a lab explosion that might have been covering up its theft."
"Yes," Grumman agreed, and Ed thought he sounded a little tired. "I can't expect soldiers to know how to deal with unstable chemical compounds, and we don't have enough alchemists capable of such to sit every southern train."
"Fuck," Ed muttered, seeing where this was going.
"I'm putting a hold order on all southern area trains, effective immediately. You'll have to find some other way to Fotset, or turn your attention to something closer to your current position," Grumman informed him.
"My target hasn't changed," Ed promised.
"Fine. Handle this, Lieutenant Colonel, before we end up with a riot."
Ed clenched his jaw, resisted the urge to tell the bastard to go fuck himself – they were both feeling the stress of this situation, he knew, but Ed wasn't going to be the one dealing with the public fall-out – and bit out, "Yes, sir."
"I'll handle informing the stations in Fotset, Warrington, and South City to hold any trains until further notice, as well as here in Central. Inform Major Loyd that he's to hold any trains that miss the closing of lines, supply or passenger."
Ed stiffened. "Supply?" he demanded, because Grumman couldn't mean to cut off the south area entirely. Sure, most of the farmland was down there, so it wasn't like they chanced starving without trains coming from Central, but those same farms, augmented by those in the west and east, supported the whole country, and if they couldn't reopen supply lines before the end of the month, they chanced the northern mountain passes closing up before they could get the winter stock up to them.
Fuck, rioting was right; no wonder Grumman was getting snappy.
"I'm not taking any chances," the bastard said flatly.
Ed wasn't going to take the whole month. "Two weeks," he said and hung up. More likely, they'd have this group rounded up within a week, with his team, especially if Teacher agreed to help, but there was a chance that they'd passed some of their stolen explosives on to splinter groups in the area, and Ed wanted to have time to hunt those down before they reopened the trains and ended up with another bombing.
He sighed and gave himself a moment to rub at his face, feeling at once too young and too old. Fuck, he was so tired of the weight of this shit on his shoulders. But, then, hadn't he been the one to keep on, to keep fighting when he could have retired? Hadn't it been his choice to bear this burden, to help Grumman carry it so Mustang could focus on Ishval in peace?
Maybe Mustang was right; he should consider a short holiday.
He shook himself and went looking for Loyd; the sooner he passed on the orders, the sooner he could get to the meat shop and let Teacher yell at him. And borrow her phone to ring Winry, let her know he was safe, because she was going to start freaking out as soon as word reached her about the lines being shut down.
And tomorrow he'd start running reconnaissance on these fuckers so they could finish this.
Teacher had been expectedly cross with him for bringing trouble to town and putting himself in danger, but then she'd hugged him tight, whispering that she was glad he was okay.
And then she'd hit him again and demanded he tell her everything. Which, well, he hadn't told her everything, but he'd given her the basics, and she'd been quick to agree to help in taking out the pro-Bradley group. She'd also sent Mason out to find someone who was driving out towards Fotset, and they created a dummy that should pass for a quick glance, help the fallacy that he was keeping on towards that way.
Ed left her and Sig to sort out travel provisions and catching the chimeras once they got into town, while he borrowed the phone to ring Winry.
"I'm okay," he told her as soon as she picked up. "I'm in Dublith and in one piece."
"...why does that make me nervous?" she replied, and she sounded more resigned than anything else.
Ed swallowed and offered, "There was a bomb on the train."
"Oh my god," Winry breathed, and the sound of something being set down heavily came down the line. "Please tell me you weren't right in the middle of things."
"I can lie?"
Winry moaned, and Ed could distantly make out the sound of Garfiel's voice, though not his words. "They tried to bomb Ed's train," Winry explained and, while Garfiel made horrified noises in the background, demanded, "How in the middle of things were you?"
"Let's just say I was," Ed offered, and she moaned again. "It's fine. I had to set one of them off, but it was out of range of anything, so don't fucking freak out when you hear there was an explosion, okay?"
"See," Winry said a bit helplessly, "the only problem with threatening to tie you down, is I'm pretty sure the trouble would find you."
Ed rolled his eyes. "Also, old man Grumman's stopping all trains in the south, because the kind of explosive they used–" He stopped, cleared his throat; she didn't need to know exactly how much danger he'd walked into. "Anyway, yeah, no trains for a while."
"Ed."
"I'll fix it."
"Edward," Winry tried again.
"Heading out first thing in the morning," he continued, forcing a smile. "I'd probably be heading out tonight, but–"
"Would you shut up for a minute?!" Winry shouted.
Ed locked his jaw to resist the urge to keep talking, to not let her get a word in edgewise.
"Thank you. First, I'm glad you're not dead, idiot. Second, when you see your team, tell them, from me, that you're an idiot who needs a hug."
"Win, that's–"
"Shut up! Third! Tell your guilt complex to fuck off and get some sleep; if you get yourself killed because you were tired, I'm going to kick your arse. And, last, take care of yourself. Okay?"
Ed swallowed and closed his eyes. "Okay," he promised. "I'll ring you in a week."
"You'd better, or I'll come hunt you down," Winry threatened, and it sounded like she was trying not to cry.
"No, you won't."
"I'll consider it very seriously."
That, Ed was willing to believe. "I promise I'll call," he said, and meant it. And then, because he couldn't not, he added, quietly, "Thank you."
"...I wasn't kidding about the hug," Winry said after a moment. "Tell them. I mean it."
Ed sighed. "Yeah, fine."
"Idiot," Winry grumbled. "Go to bed. Worry about yourself, for once."
Rather than trying to argue that point – Al had complained about his habit of putting other people first, too – Ed just replied, "Good night, Winry," and hung up.
And, because she was right about the needing sleep to keep from screwing something up, he offered his good nights to Teacher and Sig, then turned in for the night.
Come What May Chapters:
01 || 02 || 03 || 04 || 05 || 06 || 07 || 08 || 09 || 10
11 || 12 || 13 ||
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
.
