Chapter Text
Ducking out of the light rain falling, Izumi brought herself beneath the roof of their transport van and looked over at the side door. A handful of Mustang’s newer loyalists quietly ducked out and slipped away for lunch, paying no mind to the activities of the van. Izumi preferred the halls when they'd been quieter, but there was nothing she could do about a growing military uprising she had no interest in. Refocusing on her task, the alchemy teacher took one last look at their bound and gagged homunculus. Unexpectedly, Wrath hadn’t been as feisty to tie up as she’d expected - no wailing, no crying, no thrashing.
When she’d gotten to the basement, Izumi had found less of a homunculus and something more along the lines of a spooked wild animal. Greeted by a disturbed, cautious gaze, Wrath inexplicably kept his distance, rather than lash out at her. He’d said nothing the entire time and, uncertain what his end game was, the teacher chose not to play with him and clapped her hands to secure him. Even now, as he lay bound, gagged, and secured to the floor of the van, Wrath was still guarded. He’d barely yelled at her and the look in his eyes told Izumi he wanted her far, far away.
Izumi decided to count herself lucky in that regard - the less fight she got from Wrath, the less of a chore this long, long drive would be. She ducked out of the vehicle, grabbed the large back doors, and slammed them shut on the warry purple eyes watching her.
Dusting her hands off, the teacher headed back to the hotel’s side exit, and she knocked on the metal door to be let back in.
Winry popped open the door for her with a smile. Izumi stepped in and helped the girl balance the few steps she needed to sit back on the bottom stairs.
“Are you good?” Izumi asked, her voice echoing in the side stairwell.
“Yup,” Winry settled down, “all good.”
Izumi sat down next to her as Winry reached behind herself and pulled Wrath’s AutoMail leg off a higher step.
Winry placed it down in her lap and unwrapped the leg from the blanket she’d concealed it in, “Sorry it took so long, I could have gotten it done a lot faster if we were home.”
The apology was shaken off, “Don’t worry about it. We owe you for getting this done for us at all.”
And at that, Izumi suddenly found a small wrench in her hand.
Winry pointed at the grip on the end of the tool, “You’ll need that to get the two screws on the leg cap off.”
“Okay,” the teacher momentarily became a student as she took her next instructions from Winry. Next, a much more industrial, and far heavier, AutoMail wrench in hand was handed to her.
“That’s Wrath’s master AutoMail wrench,” Winry straightened up and stood the AutoMail leg up between her knees, showing the socket connection to Wrath’s thigh, “the leg is intuitive to line up, so it can’t be put on wrong. Knee forwards, obviously. Taking it off is more of a hassle than putting it on, so you don't have much to worry about. You just line it up and all the notches and everything will just click into place and lock.”
Izumi nodded again, “Okay, good. Simple is good.”
Winry gave herself a little pat on the back for her simplicity and offered a bit more, “I did Wrath’s model a little differently than Ed’s, so you won’t need to take off the kneecap to re-engage the nervous system. It’ll keep you from having problems if he’s putting up a fight,” Winry brought the leg out and pointed to the knee, “on the medial side of the kneecap you can use this notch to engage it with the master wrench,” she held out her hand for the wench Izumi returned to her. Winry turned it around and pointed out a divot in the wrench’s body, “That notch fits in here. Make sure the leg is completely straight and you grab it like so, turn left to unlatch, slide it down, and turn right to re-engage. After that, his leg is mobile and he’ll probably try to kick you with it.”
Izumi gave a short laugh to a very accurate assumption and was handed back the AutoMail wrench, “Seems simple enough.”
“I offer nothing less,” Winry smiled, “and that’s pretty much it.”
“Excellent,” Izumi collected the metallic leg from Winry and stood it on its foot on the floor between her legs. The woman eyed it while she mulled over a question lingering in her head, “How’s your leg doing?”
“Mine?” Winry glanced down to it, “it’s uh… getting along. Taking its time.”
Izumi nodded her head slowly and looked at the girl also without a functional left leg, “I read in the medical exams the military had done when you and Ed came back that you had some muscle damage from the bullets.”
Winry laughed uncomfortably and lightly bounced her shoulders, “Well, something in there had to get damaged,” she cleared her throat and tried to shake the discomfort in her tone, “it is improving though. I can put some weight on it. It’ll heal.”
“How much longer are you on your crutches for?”
Winry gave a sour face, “Two more weeks at least.”
Poor girl , Izumi thought.
The fact that Winry had been with Ed beyond the Gate had been blindsiding; never in her wildest dreams would Izumi have guessed that had been her fate. And for her to return in the state she was in was unfortunate and disappointing, but there was little any of them could do about it other than try to move on. It wasn’t a challenge they could go back to, though she was looking forward to joining them up north and finding out what in the world had happened. Mustang’s medical reports only told her the surface damage and Izumi had read all those reports. She didn’t need to be asking any questions of Winry, but the teacher was more interested in seeing how Winry answered them without the boys around.
“Just because it’s your calf muscle?”
Winry nodded, “Because it carries so much weight you need to make sure the muscle fibres are healed before you strain them,” her brow perked, “it’s a bit like post-surgery AutoMail recovery. You need to let the body heal around the new sockets before you can strain them too much. Takes a few weeks at least.”
Looking at Wrath’s leg between her knees, Izumi turned it a quarter way around before glancing back to Winry, asking a question below the echo of the stairwell, “Must have hurt, though?”
Before Winry turned away with an awkward laugh, Izumi got to see the look in her eye that gave away how much she did not want to talk about it.
“Yeah, it did,” her uncomfortable laugh faded, “but I’m glad we have really great doctors here. I can’t imagine what getting my leg treated like there would have been like.”
“Well, it’ll be a nice vacation for you up north and you won’t have to think about that place,” Izumi tried to brighten the mood and she picked up the AutoMail leg, putting it across her lap, “your worries from the journey are gone and you won’t have to stress about your work. You can focus on rest and rehab.”
“I love my work though, it’s not a worry for me - fixing Wrath’s leg was a nice distraction. I’m kind of sad to see our goblin go,” Winry’s tone sullied as her thoughts moved, “there’ll be nobody around who needs my work.”
“I’m sure you’ll find something to keep you occupied,” Izumi reassured her, re-wrapping the leg in its cloth. It was time to look ahead to her bleak future, and it was just a long, long car ride with a low ranking military dog that she’d never spoken to. The teacher decided to get on with it and stood up, “do you need a hand with your crutches?”
Winry remained seated and shook her head, “No, I can handle it.”
“Tell the boys to behave themselves,” with her final instructions, the teacher tucked Wrath’s leg under her arm, opened the door, and stepped out into the dreary day, “don’t let them get into trouble before I get back.”
Laughing at a request that was usually easier said than done, Winry waved at her, “I will. Have a safe trip. Good luck with Wrath.”
“Thank you,” Izumi let the weighted door shut behind herself. Turning to the van Wrath was encased in, the teacher let her posture sag and she gave herself permission to groan at her mission just once. Dipping her head down in the thinly falling rain, Izumi walked around to the passenger’s side of the vehicle and her ears picked up the tired, slow wipe of the windshield wipers.
Izumi popped the door open and hopped in.
Warrant Officer Falman looked at the wrapped leg Izumi put down at her feet, “That’s it?”
“It is. Let’s get going,” Izumi folded her arms and cast a hardened look straight out the streak-smeared front windshield.
Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeye, and Jean Havoc all stood at what appeared to be the main street within the graciously titled ‘town’ of Bramleah. It must have been a town at one point, because it certainly wasn’t any longer. Built into soft rolling hills, once rich with thick green grass earlier in the year, the town was now parched and burnt brown beneath the summer sun. It was some sort of farming community, though none of them could tell what exactly. Grain elevators existed around the town, and a fresh sign for a milk farm was proudly displayed, something that was possibly one of the few remaining local employers.
The trio silently gawked at a town that didn’t have a single paved road.
“Who the hell are we supposed to find here?” Havoc decided to put out his cigarette, the last thing he needed to do was start a brush fire.
“I suppose,” Hawkeye looked around, “someone who sticks out. Maybe someone who wasn’t here until recently.”
Mustang brought his hand up to his mouth as he took in the sleepy town, “It would have to be someone who’d stand out in this. Armstrong wouldn’t send us hunting door to door.”
Havoc ducked into their car, turned off the engine, took the keys out of the ignition, and tucked them away in his pocket - the roads weren’t in good enough condition to lurk around the town in a vehicle, “We’ll need to head through town and find spots a tourist or traveller might hit up: gas, grocery, bed and breakfast places.”
Mustang gave a nod in agreement. Looking over his shoulder, the officer cast his gaze west and eyed the heavy clouds billowing up into the sky, “Okay, Havoc, I want you to walk the northern perimeter of town, Hawkeye, you’ll traverse through the town’s core, and I’ll take the southern perimeter. We should all meet up on this…” he looked around in the blazing sun for a street sign and found none, “main road through the town on the other side in around an hour or two. If one of us doesn’t turn up after two hours, we’ll head in your direction until you’re found.”
Popping open the vehicle’s trunk, Havoc dug out a few wide brimmed hats, “Hats on gang, it’s toasty out.”
Mustang wagged a finger at the white plumes off in the western sky, “Keep an eye on that. Ground wind is low, but that might be some much needed rain heading our way.”
The trio disbursed on that final sentiment and headed out on foot to scour the town of Bramleah.
Jean immediately headed to a spot he had seen shortly before he’d parked. At the northwest corner of the town, just off the road they’d driven in on, was a gas station.
The trek to the station took him on a walk through someone’s unkept front yard; the weeds and brush coming up halfway to his knees. The rotting, wooden porch of the tattered, single story house was besieged with uncared for plant life that forced its ways through the cracks. If it hadn’t been for the elder man wearing only overalls who stared at him from the wooden rocking chair in the middle of the mess, Jean would have thought the building had been abandoned. He tipped his hat with a nervous grin and walked faster.
Solid ground was welcomed and the officer eased his stride as he sauntered into the gas station’s payment shack. Jean nearly coughed at the thick air inside, somehow hotter than it was outside even with the doors and windows opened. In the center of everything was a tiny display stand that offered a dusty assortment of packaged snacks, jerky, and cigarettes. Down at his feet, a random assortment of individually priced tools and containers were displayed on the floor; items that someone lost in their journey might need. The officer needed none of it and had to carefully step through the mess to navigate the small space.
“Help ya there, son?” the gravelly voice from behind the counter asked.
“Hey,” Jean turned to eye an older, scraggly man with his face hanging off him, “just curious, any stragglers or out of towners pop by in the last forty-eight hours that caught your eye?”
The man’s wiry brow raised, “Just you. Nobody else comes in but the truck haulers.”
Jean swept his hair off his brow in the heat, debated picking up another pack of cigarettes to make the place worth his while, but decided he’d rather be outside under the sun. Thanking the attendant, he ducked out and continued his wander around the outskirts.
At the centre of town, Riza’s weave offered her the scenery of a tired, under-maintained part of the world that time forgot. Rusty tractors and trucks from last century existed in the dirt and weeds of improvised driveways. Dilapidated, crumbling houses all had their curtains closed, but were so comfortable with their surroundings, their doors were thrown wide open. Her drift through the area in the mid-day did show signs of life - a collection of barely-dressed, school aged children ran barefoot through the dirt roads and yards, squealing and tossing tin buckets of water around. There wasn’t an adult in sight.
A drab market came into view when Riza turned down her next street. It’s produce out on display in wicker bins at the storefront was haphazardly shielded from the sun by an overhang propped up with a couple of planks of wood. The closer she got, the more she came to realize the sign of ‘Fresh Produce’ was less than fresh and more like semi-cooked, if the state of the outdoor bins were any indication. Riza slipped in through the opened door and looked at the cramped store, aisled barely wide enough to get down and semi-stocked with canned and boxed foods. The uncirculated hot air inside wreaked of cigarettes.
Her cautious intrusion was noted by the shopkeep who spoke up.
“Can’t say I know your face,” the hoarse, middle-aged woman said.
Riza looked to her, “I’m just passing through.”
“Through my store?”
Riza smiled, “I’m actually trying to find someone.”
“Ain’t nobody lost in my store, dear,” the woman put her cigarette to her lips.
“Has anybody been lost in your store the last couple of days? Any unfamiliar faces?” Riza tried to coax something more out of her, “I’m looking for someone.”
The woman wrinkled her nose and shook her head, “Nobody lost wandered my way.”
“Damn,” Riza sighed, “well thank-”
“Hope ya find’em before the storm rolls in.”
Riza peeked out the door to the clouds growing in the west, “Those are heading our way?”
“Oh yeah,” she coughed and tapped the crown off her cigarette, “been too thick here lately for ‘em not to come by.”
The woman, whose entire aura had been off putting, was actually somewhat personable, so Riza tried to push the engagement, “Is there an inn or a lodge in town that someone might go to if they’re stranded here?”
Bouncing her fuzzy eyebrows as she thought, the shopkeep gave a nod over her shoulder, “About fifteen on foot that-a-way is Madeline’s. She has a B&B sometimes if it’s needed. Otherwise, she’s closed unless it’s Sunday brunch. Nowhere else to eat or sleep here though unless you have a tent and can cook it yourself.”
Riza tipped her hat, “Thank you so much, ma’am.”
The woman’s boney fingers waved Riza out of her store.
While Jean and Riza wandered through civilization, Roy found himself standing at the edge of what he thought might be a canola field. It went on through the rolling hills as far south as his one eye could see and it looked fairly magnificent. Considering how dry it seemed to be elsewhere, there must have been some mechanism hydrating it from the lake he could see shimmering off further to the east, beyond the farmer’s barn. The view to the south was peaceful, and the view to the north, where the mountains began to rise, would have been a spectacular view too if it hadn’t been for this tattered town between them. Xenotime itself wasn’t fully in the mountains, it was a lower range before the fuller northeastern landscape rose up. This town seemed to lay on the point where the mountain hills ended and a bit of farmable prairie existed.
Roy walked through what seemed like endless backyards of houses that had no fences to separate them - only dirt paths created by foot treads, brush, or nothing at all. Laundry hung out back on a number of houses, like they’d all collectively decided it was laundry day, but with nobody minding them. He trudged through the lands of houses and barns that made up the southern, uneven edge of Bramleah, discovering that nothing remotely caught his attention. The only thing he found of interest was the storm growing towards them.
Stepping past a heavy white sheet out on a line, Roy startled to a stop when he nearly tripped over a woman hunched over her wash bin.
“My apologies, Ma’am,” he tipped his hat.
She said nothing to him as she continued in her rhythm, grinding the fabric in her hands against her soapy washboard.
Roy stepped past her uneasily, but decided to stop and turn back, “I’m not sure that’ll have time to dry before the storm rolls in.”
“If it’s not dry,” she huffed through her motions, “the rain won’t hurt it and it’ll be fresh by noon tomorrow.”
He grinned at the logic. Since she was the only person Roy had encountered in his walk thus far, he decided to ask, “Have you seen any unfamiliar faces in town recently?”
“Beyond yours?” she asked with a sassy tone.
“Yes.”
Taking a hand off her work, the woman pointed a pruned, soapy finger back at him, “That one right there.”
Roy frowned at her for the exasperation he didn’t need. The frustration quickly flashed to confusion when the woman’s hand flared out and she looked at him like he was daft. Perplexed, Roy glanced around, finally turning completely around, and he gazed through the lines of lightly waving linens.
In the growing afternoon breeze, the officer looked out at the gobsmacked face of Fletcher Tringham staring back at him, until the sheet he was trying to hang over the line slipped off and buried him.
The Elric brothers had decided to spend their free day practicing their fighting skills together and the large room Izumi had cleared out days earlier was invaded for the task. The activity had been Ed’s idea, since it had been made obvious to him that he needed it, but Al was the one having a much better time.
So, the first thing Al took note of during the event was that his brother’s patience seemed to have gotten a bit shorter in the time he’d been gone. He was going to keep that in mind a bit more often.
The second thing he took note of was that Ed’s focus sometimes waned - every so often he’d get distracted by Winry, who sat by the door in a chair with a rain cloud over her head. Al found it extremely amusing, because it wasn’t the first time she’d occupied part of his attention, today was just the first time gloom accompanied her.
Al had spent the entire time Winry had been gone worrying that Dante had her and was either going to, or in the process of, doing something to her. Even though Al had been the one to pull her out of the other world, he still had to remind himself from time to time that she’d been gone. Unlike his older brother, Winry returned pretty much as Al remembered her. The only significant difference she returned with, other than the wound on her leg, was that Winry came back with an invite to exist comfortably with his brother. Al was well aware he was the only one Ed kept within arms reach. His brother was uncomfortable opening up to people, his emotional state even before he’d left was damaged, and while Winry was Winry, the older brother Al remembered had kept her at arm’s length. So, to watch Winry reappear and suddenly be close with him without any sign of protest was fascinating and Al had a growing list of questions for the both of them.
When Al re-focussed on their sparring, he found himself without a combatant. The young man looked around and found his brother walking away. Al followed for a few strides, but was content to remain back in the private room and watch; it seems his brother had finally talked himself into addressing Winry with her rain cloud.
“Watching me get my ass kicked by an eleven-year-old isn’t cutting it?” Ed sat down in a chair next to her.
“What?” Winry zoned back in and looked at him blankly, “no… not really.”
Puzzled by the bland reaction, the elder brother detoured, “Well, it’s late enough, the three of us can grab some food.”
“I’m not hungry,” Winry looked straight out into the room and sharply took a breath in through her nose, “I’m tired. I’m going to go lay down.”
And with that, Winry grabbed her crutches from the wall next to her and stood up. Looking a little bewildered as he watched her turn to leave, Ed slowly got back to his feet as she made her way to the door.
“You want a hand back upstairs?”
“No, I’m okay.”
“Fine.”
Ed’s hands sunk into his pockets and he watched as Winry managed the door on her own and closed it behind herself.
Al frowned at what he’d just watched, “That was odd.”
Ed’s frown was a fair bit deeper, “She did work late last night finishing up Wrath’s leg. A nap’s probably a good idea.”
Al wasn’t entirely sure about that, “I don’t know, Brother. She’s been grumpy all afternoon.”
Staring at the closed door, Ed was clearly hesitant, “Well, she said she was tired.”
Walking back to the middle of the emptied room, Alphonse sat down on the floor, stretched his legs out in front of himself, and stared at his unmoving statue of a brother. Al had a feeling his older brother was doubting Winry’s excuse as much as he did, but for some reason he’d stalled doing anything about it.
Curiosity got the better of him and Al gave his brother a poke with a question, “How’d you end up finding Winry beyond the Gate when she got there?”
Ed rolled his shoulders back and abruptly chilled the aura of the room over.
A curious eyebrow popped up on Al as his brother made the air between them crisp, “I mean, there was no way you could have known she was showing up.”
Turning on his toes, Ed promptly swept away the aura and strolled back into the core of the room, “Dad found her before I did.”
The answer brought Al up high on his backside with a bounce, “Dad did?”
“Yeah,” Ed sat himself down on the floor, “she turned up in the Thule Hall on the rebound circle and the guy who found her called all his friends to come see her, Dad included.”
Sitting forwards, Al pulled his feet in, “Good thing Dad was there to help, then. She was probably scared.”
Creasing his upper lip, Ed’s memories took his eyes into the corners of the room. He cracked open his mouth, entertained something he wanted to say, and ultimately decided against it, “Yeah, she was.”
Unable to pinpoint what it was about the response that felt so uncomfortable, Al shook it off. Pulling his legs around behind himself, he stretched out on his stomach, “Did you do a lot of things together after she got there?”
Scrunching his expression, Ed slowly bobbed his head from shoulder to shoulder before he finally shrugged, “I suppose.”
Al tucked his chin in and looked out disappointed from beneath his low brow, “Brother, that is not an answer.”
“I don’t know,” Ed huffed at the foolish look he was getting. Sitting forwards, he crossed his legs and garbled out another blank reply, “yeah, we did stuff.”
“What stuff?” Al playfully smacked the palms of his hands on the floor, “tell me something!”
“I guess...” Ed chewed on his words as he looked around the room in thought, finally offering, “I guess I showed her around Munich on the weekends. Um, we went out to eat sometimes, and I took her shopping for parts and tools she needed.”
The blandest, most disinterested expression Al could muster smeared over his face, “That just sounds like normal stuff.”
“We didn’t really do anything not normal,” groaning, Ed continued to struggle to find something to entertain his nagging little brother, “I brought her to school sometimes, otherwise she stayed home and that’s not noteworthy.”
His shoulders swaying over his elbows, Al gave his brother’s storytelling ability a shove, “Winry told Sensei you guys went travelling?”
“Yeah,” his posture easing, Ed kicked his feet out and sat back on his hands, “we went to London for a few weeks, the city I told you I arrived in. Being there was a bit of a mess, but we did wander around.”
“So you went on a vacation for a few weeks and didn’t do anything interesting while you were there?” the younger brother pestered for something with a little more detail.
Frowning at the nuisance Al was making of himself, Ed scratched his head as he debated over what was worthy to tell, “Well, Winry finished making me a decent leg to get around on, and everyone marvelled over that. It was a show and tell piece for a bit. Then, I guess, we went to this birthday party we had to get dressed up for. There were a ton of people and Winry had a good time.”
Al narrowed an eye at his older brother, "Did you have a good time?"
Ed pinched his expression, "I guess."
Letting his brother escape the question, Al pushed forwards, "What else did you guys do?"
Sinking back on his hands, he let his shoulders ride up to his ears and offered his brother a grin, “You remember how when we were doing our assignments under Mustang, we’d use alchemy to fix things and people would repay us with food or a bed for the night - Winry did that when we were in this place called France. We got stuck in the countryside and she’d fix people’s broken things while we were going through, and they’d just hand over food and wine.”
Al grinned wider at the story he’d finally coaxed out of his brother, “You didn’t help her?”
“Nah, I only had one arm,” Ed waved him off, “I just carried everything and tried to talk to people.”
Alphonse giggled at the idea of his brother playing second fiddle to Winry, “Sounds like it was fun though.”
“No,” Ed denied it with a laugh, “it was a disaster, we came back with a bunch of wine and no money. Dad was not impressed.”
Listening to the words fade, Al watched the entertained light in his brother’s eyes continue to flicker as he played through his memories. It was a nice change, Al thought, to actually have a bit of time to talk and listen. And in his brother’s thoughtful eyes, Al could see something still there, entertaining his mind, so he helped it along with another slight nudge.
“And?”
Ed’s gaze ventured to the ceiling and his voice lightened, “There was a holiday just before new years called Christmas. It’s the loudest, most extravagant holiday I saw there. Everything gets decorated, there’s tons of food, choirs sing in the streets, and every church makes a spectacle out of it. It’s a religious holiday everyone’s expected to take part in. I took Win out to see the carollers a couple of times - they’re the people who’d get dressed up and sing. We don’t have anything like it here and she thought it was the neatest thing. She didn’t understand what they were singing about, she just said it looked and sounded pretty. She thought the whole holiday was fun.”
Relaxing his shoulders and folding his arms on the floor, Al put his chin down as he listened. It was honestly the first time Al’d heard his brother speak about anything that had happened in the other world and sound nostalgic about it, “Did you have fun?”
Ed wrinkled his nose, “I didn’t really care for the holiday, it was excessive,” as the words left his mouth the wrinkle cleared and took some weight away with it, “it was nice to see her enjoy it though.”
Al watched the sense of nostalgia linger around his older brother, tethered to the present by his words and whatever story it was that kept playing out in his head after his voice faded.
“Brother…” Al tilted his head and saw Ed’s attention return to the room. Holding onto his voice, Al considered the journey two people had taken together, then gave a thought to his older brother’s words, and asked, “do you think the reason Winry was miserable all afternoon was because she was tired?”
Ed blinked, “That's what she said.”
Dipping his head forwards, Al’s brow rose high and he looked at his older brother with clarity in his new golden eyes, “Brother, you've been with her every day for the last five months, I think you know her better than that. Do you really think she was tired?”
The memories that had entertained Ed behind his eyes abandoned him and he hastily tossed his gaze off his brother and into the corner of the open sparring room. Al watched, trying to withhold his amusement, as Ed’s mouth tightened, but his jaw rocked around, and his thoughts picked away at the question. As Ed’s chin slowly sank into his collar, Al saw his older brother quietly come to his own conclusion.
Planting his hands to the floor, Al popped up onto his knees and threw his arms out at his brother, “Get up.”
Caught off guard by Al’s sudden command, Ed only managed to get to his knees.
“Get up!” Al ushered, flailing his hands and standing up.
Ed rose, holding suspicion over his brother, “What?”
Marching to the corner of the room, Al passed his brother without another word. Reaching the closed door, he threw it open, turned on his toes, and returned to the core of the room. Ed watched as Al came around behind him, grabbed him by his upper arms, turned him to face the exit, and suddenly started shoving him towards the door.
“Go find Winry.”
“What?” Ed squawked, trying to break free and turn back, “what for?”
Even if Ed had tried hard enough to break free, Al still would have clapped his hands and dumped him out of the room. Shoving his older brother clear of the doorway, Al planted his feet at the entry, “To cheer her up.”
Spinning around in the hall, a muddled scowl, equal parts frustration and dismay, consumed Ed’s face. He glanced down the busy hall more than once before he snapped his attention back to his brother. “By doing what!?”
“Talk to her,” Al told him with the bounce of his shoulders and a smile, “you’ll think of something.”
Again and again, Ed’s mouth popped open like he was going to reply or say something - something to counter his younger brother with, something to keep him from turning down the hall. He never managed to get any words into his voice. Al put one hand on the doorknob and the other on his hip, waiting and watching as his brother negotiated the wherewithal to get going. Finally sputtering a few noises, but no words, the downturned edges of Ed’s mouth slashed across his face after he clamped his jaw shut. Turning abruptly over his left shoulder, Ed stormed off down the hall. Grinning, Al peered out from the doorway and watched his brother get his posture back in order as he walked away.
Standing at the centre of a barn filled with dry hay, encased in old wooden walls that were meant to protect crop, Mustang held a dark vigil over the occupants who’d hid themselves away there. Furious didn’t begin to describe how he felt and his enraged gaze burned in what he saw.
Seated on a pile against the back wall, beneath a refurbished wooden platform that the Tringham brothers had restored, Roze sat on a bed of hay piled high and kept an eye on the man who had fire pumping through his veins. At her side, Maria Ross lay motionless, sleeping quietly as Hawkeye returned the woman’s hand to her stomach.
“Her pulse seems stable,” the officer looked from Maria out at Mustang who stood rigid and firm at the middle of the structure, while Havoc loitered near the barn doors, chewing on a cigarette he couldn’t light.
Roze smiled and put a hand on Maria’s forehead, “It seems to be very exhausting for her. But, she’s been slowly growing more and more responsive, like whatever was done to tangle her up is coming undone bit by bit.”
The single, dark eye Mustang possessed locked on to Roze, “Can it be completely undone?”
Pursing her lips, Roze brushed her hair behind her shoulders and looked Maria over, “I don’t know exactly what’s happened to her, so I can’t say.”
“You know Dante better than anyone here,” the senior officer’s voice rose, “what do you think?”
Roze ran her hands over her knees and looked the man straight on, “I think Dante tried to extract information from her and she fought back. Dante became frustrated with her fortitude and pressed harder, and this is the result. If it can be undone, I don’t know, because what’s happened to her has never happened to anyone before.”
Mustang tisk’d and turned his deepening scowl up to Russell, “What did Brigitte say exactly?”
Seated next to his brother on a thick wooden beam anchoring a platform overhead, the older of the pair looked through the rafters while he recalled, “Not much. She just said ‘Nina!’ and she mock-clapped her hands and touched Ms. Ross. I guess she saw what happened and she’s terrified of alchemy or something now,” his shoulders sagged, “if she hadn’t run off, we might have been able to get out with her too.”
The party that had managed to escape Xenotime were permitted refuge in the barn in exchange for either the labour or services the Tringham brother's alchemy could provide. Russell had managed to reach Central shortly after Mustang and his party had passed their first checkpoint and, with no other way to communicate an update in the situation, the brigadier general surmised that the only thing Armstrong was able to do was encode a message and send it to Allanite ahead of them.
The situation in Xenotime was suddenly drastically different. If the times lined up as Mustang thought they did, Dante already knew Ed was back when she decided not to pursue her prisoners and Brigitte remained captive only due to the girl’s own fears. That left the officers enroute to Xenotime with the distinct understanding that Dante’s interest in playing games with too many pawns was dwindling. Dante was honing her focus, undoubtedly towards Ed, and getting Brigitte out would either become a very easy or a very difficult task, depending on how much value Dante placed in her ability to lure their journeyed Elric.
Mustang continued grilling his new company for answers, “How long were you separated from Lieutenant Ross before you managed to get out?”
Russell looked to the rafters overhead as he tried to remember, “Not even twenty four hours. Dante had the five of us locked up and she and Aisa turned up to take Ms. Ross out of the room,” he cringed at the memory, “Aisa’s got some colossal strength in her if she actually uses that red water running through her. Ms. Ross had no chance and I still have welts on my neck.”
An intriguing thought passed through Mustang’s good eye, “Aisa would have to run out at some point then, if she’s actively using the red water in her system? And when that runs out, she will… end? Cease to exist?” the officer cursed things again and took a few frustrated steps though the barn, “the damn woman’s already dead, what more is there for her?”
Both Russell and Fletcher exchanged a glance before Fletcher continued, “Aisa will just end. Her body will shut down and she’ll cease functioning.”
“Can Dante…” Mustang waved his hand around in the air as he began to pace, trying to find a way to word his concern, “fill her back up again?”
The brothers took a moment together to try and puzzle the question out, and both came to the same conclusion, “Doubtful,” Russell replied, “even if there was some way to ‘refill’ her, the red water manufacturing infrastructure in Xenotime is shut down. She’d have to dig up some knowledgeable people to get it operational again and even then, it’d take a fair bit of time to get it processing anything. If I was some crazy alchemist who gave no damn about anyone else, I wouldn’t waste my time on it.”
“I can’t bring myself to understand why Dante would have done such a thing to a woman simply for the convenience of crystalizing red stones,” Roze shook her head at things.
Roze’s words reminded Mustang of something. He stopped his pacing and looked up at the boys in the rafters, “If you two end up encountering her again, you’re not to perform any alchemy around her, understood?”
“Why not?” they asked in near unison.
The brigadier general’s brow flattened, “She may have the red water for a purpose, but Aisa also has a portion of Philosopher’s Stone in her.”
“WHAT?” Fletcher screeched and frantically wiped his hands off on his pants.
Russell leaned as far forwards as he could without falling, “What the hell is she doing with that?”
“It is just more convoluted bullshit,” it had taken Mustang a few tries to comprehend what Alphonse had told them about the circumstances of his memory recovery, “but the fact of the matter is, if you perform alchemy around her, the stone will send you on a trip you don’t want to take.”
Fletcher blinked, “No, it won’t,” the young man looked at his hands, “I did alchemy around Aisa and I didn’t go anywhere.”
Mustang’s arms unfolded, “Pardon?”
The younger of the two brothers examined his hands, “I ran a transmutation on the floorboards, because I knew the red water in Aisa would pick it up and use her to keep fueling the wild transmutation while we got out. The only way the transmutation would stop using her as a fuel source would be if she left the room, and she did.”
His good eye darted around, trying to figure out how two people could have both executed transmutations in Aisa’s presence, but only one of them had ended up at the Gate, “Ms. Curtis warned us that she executed a transmutation in Aisa’s presence that sent her away. Aisa even warned her it would happen; she knew that the woman’s actions would trigger the trip.”
“Fletcher?” Roze peered out and up at the younger brother, “you drew out your transmutation, didn’t you?”
The young blonde fished around in his pocket and produced what was left of his chalk stub, “Yeah, I even have this.”
Roze refocused on Mustang, “Izumi claps her hands, like Ed and Dante can, to conduct her alchemy.”
His arms drawing up across his chest again, the brigadier general suddenly had a very intriguing piece of information available to him. If what Fletcher said held true, that meant, while Izumi, Edward, and Alphonse couldn’t clap their hands in Aisa’s presence, Mustang didn’t face the same threat of ending up at the Gate, because he didn’t have the hand clap ability for alchemy. He wouldn't have to worry about the Philosopher's Stone's implications unless he was in actual possession of it, so then the only thing he would have to navigate would be the presence of Aisa’s red stones.
An audible hum was the only acknowledgement Mustang gave to his new insights.
Suddenly flinching, Fletcher glanced up to the wooden roof overhead, and he flinched again when a raindrop landed in the corner of his eye.
“Oh, here we go,” Russell turned away from his perch and eyed the collection of hay on their platform. The brothers got to their feet and waded through the knee deep hay until they got to the wall of the barn. The older brother produced his own stick of chalk and looked at his younger brother, “alright?”
Fletcher put his chalk stub down on the wall and began to draw out a transmutation circle. When both brothers were done, they put their palms flat to the wall and the hay surrounding them moved like a nearly liquid mass, slicking up the wall and flooding into the cracks in the roof overhead.
Russell stepped back and admired their handiwork, “There we are. And now we have our free roof repair. Should keep us dry.”
For the first time since they’d arrived, Havoc finally moved, pushing open the barn door a bit to eye the wall of rain making its way towards them, “We’re not making it to Xenotime tonight either.”
Turning over his shoulder, Mustang slowly walked up to stand next to Havoc and peer out at the storm blanketing the landscape, “I’d like you to stay with this group.”
Havoc turned over his shoulder to his superior officer.
The brigadier general kept his voice low and tightened his folded arms, “Take the lot of them if you can, but find a way to get Maria into East City - you know who our contacts are there. Get her an alchemist doctor and see if anyone has any idea how to help her.”
“I can do that,” Havoc matched Mustang’s low tone, “but you aren’t going to need a third eye in Xenotime to watch your back?”
Mustang pulled the door shut again before addressing Havoc’s concern, “Our jobs just got a hell of a lot easier - we only need to find Brigitte. And after we find the girl and get her out, I’ll burn the mountainside to the ground.”
Havoc’s brow shot up as he took a moment to process his commander’s change in plan, "You really want to light that place up with all the people she has gathered there?"
Mustang's gaze darkened, "At this point, it's safe to assume she's gotten her hands into most of them. If she loses access to them, or if she only loses that perch she has in Xenotime, she loses resources she could fall back on.”
Havoc put his back against the wooden wall and looked out at the mess of displaced people sealed in a barn in the middle of nowhere on this rainy Amestris night, “What’ll you do if Dante’s turns up?”
Mustang’s good eye twitched as he followed Havoc’s gaze, “Shoot her.”
The windows and doors in most of the rooms in the commandeered hotel had been thrown for the dreary day and left open for the steady downpour that night. The light breeze circulated the sticky, hot air out and finally let things cool a few degrees after another day in the relentless heat.
Pushing the hair stuck to his forehead away, Ed refolded his arms behind his head and stared at the ceiling in one of the vacant rooms at the opposite end of the third floor hall, tucked behind the central staircase of the building. He could hear the ambience created by the rainfall landing in the damp streets below, the constant tone of the shower on the roof overhead, and the rush of the water running through the drain pipes that spilled into the sewers. What he listened to was Winry, who was bubbling with ideas. At his side, Winry rolled around atop the bed in the vacant room she’d invaded, growing more alive with each grand idea that came her way.
It hadn’t started out this way. A combination of silent frustration with the state of her leg, Wrath’s departure leaving her with nothing to contribute, and the slow release of anxiety that the otherworld had subjected them both to had built up into a miserable feeling she didn't have words for. In this randomly chosen open room, Winry put herself to be alone and sulk for a while, until Ed turned up to try and dig her out.
To Ed’s total dismay, he was still lousy with words. Ed understood very well the frustration of existing on one leg, he just bumbled his way through verbalizing his empathy for something he’d been dealing with for ten years. He was unsure how to explain to Winry that their lack of need for an AutoMail mechanic didn’t mean she herself wasn’t needed. Even though Ed would have preferred to keep her out of any danger, there wasn’t much either of them could do about the situation they’d come home to and, for that, Ed was honestly glad to have her around, he just didn’t know how to translate that into making her feel useful. And when it came to how she was having trouble letting the stress of the other world go, Ed didn’t have a solution, because he didn’t even know where to begin explaining how tense he still felt. At least she seemed to be draining; Ed likened himself to the clogged eavestrough out the window.
Ed’s inability to express himself to comfort Winry was salvaged by the bright idea to convince her to replicate the airplane blueprint his father had given her for Christmas, since she’d spent weeks studying the thing she’d nailed to her wall like a trophy. It was an idea that snowballed and, for the next two and a half hours, Ed laid on his back across the foot of the bed at the opposite end of the hall and listened to Winry plot her mechanical and financial conquest of Amestris.
Winry’s head whomp’d down on a pillow she’d thrown into the centre of the mattress and she looked at her fingers splayed wide, “Okay, that’s way too many. I’m going to have to make a list of all the patents I’m going to need to file.”
“We can probably get someone to run them into North City once you’re ready,” Ed suggested.
“Under whose name?” Winry squawked and rolled her head to see him looking down his nose at her, “I’m missing or dead or both.”
“Oh yeah…”
Winry grumbled at her situation, “Somebody better do something about Dante quick so I can file my patents before somebody else does.”
Ed choked on the laugh that gave him, “I’m glad your priorities are in order. Also,” he tipped his head to look at her, “who in their right fucking mind is going to think any of that up in the next couple months?”
Scrunching her face, Winry scowled at him, “I don’t know what they’re inventing in the rest of the country. Or any other country for that matter.”
“Probably nothing,” Ed raised an eyebrow at her, “if I remember right, it’s just the south that’s big on industrial and mechanical type innovation.”
“Well, that’s still true,” Winry looked back to the ceiling and folded her arms with a huff, “I just don’t want anybody to beat me to my monopoly of airplane technology.”
“For our unimagined, non-existent aviation industry.”
Winry’s eyes suddenly lit, “I can give it a new name.”
“Yeah?” Ed looked back over and watched the gears in her head take off into the sky.
“We have AutoMail, AutoMobile, why not AutoSky? AutoAir? AutoPlane? Maybe AutoAir, AA would be a neat shorthand for a logo, but AutoPlane fits the naming scheme better,” Winry sat up abruptly, re-folded her arms, and started to hum and haw over an outpouring of ideas just as intense as the rainfall outside.
Watching Winry vanish into her thoughts once again, Ed relaxed the back of his head into his arms, shut his eyes, and listened to the pouring rain in the alley outside the wide open window. There hadn’t been a single rumble of thunder or any heavy blasts of wind, only the constant torrent from the sky. Ed never found the rain in London to be very soothing - it just always felt dreary. Germany wasn’t much better, just somewhat less humid. Until he’d started wanting it, Ed hadn’t realized how nice the sound of the rain was over the Resembool fields. In his memory, the sound of a heavy night of rain landing in the parched fields after a hot summer’s day was soothing and easy to fall asleep to, and his mom always left their windows open for it. Even here in the city, Ed was discovering he didn’t mind it so much, even if it was much louder. The sound of the rain’s constant buzz off the roof, the tone of the waterfall landing in the soaked streets, and the flush of water flooding through the overflowing eaves filled his ears. Ed lay silently, arms tucked behind his head, and let himself drown in the deafening rain.
The only thing that began to stand out in the numbing sound was how he could feel what felt like Winry’s hand tap softly off his cheek.
Ed cracked an eye open and found a bright, vibrant smile cast down on him.
“I have too many ideas, I need to go back to my room and write them all down,” she patted his cheek once more, “don’t pass out on me.”
Popping his arms out above his head, Ed stretched before sitting himself up. He dumped his legs off the corner of the bed and looked back to Winry, “I take it you want a lift back to your room, ma’am?”
Winry recoiled, “‘Ma’am’ is for older ladies.”
Ed stood up, “Fine… Miss?”
“That’s for little girls.”
Ed came around, walked up to where Winry had settled, and put his shoulders back, “ Mademoiselle ?”
Winry’s grin suddenly flew wide, “Isn’t that what they all called me in France?”
“Yeah, it’s French for… uh… average aged girl,” Ed had absolutely no idea, it was just the girl word.
Winry laughed, “It sounds too fancy.”
“You want a ride or not?” Ed rolled his eyes and offered his back to her, “C’mon, it’s late, let’s get out of here.”
Winry put her hands on Ed’s shoulders and hopped on his back, getting a light bounce as Ed settled her comfortably. With his arms hooked under her knees, Ed swung by her crutches and Winry collected them before they went out into the hall. After his first few strides, Ed glanced to his shoulder when he felt Winry’s relax against him and she put her head down. He smiled to himself; despite things he wished he had the wherewithal for, Ed wasn’t entirely disappointed with his efforts. He was glad she’d cheered up and he’d hadn't minded the way his evening had gone at all, even if he hadn’t done much other than listen to Winry talk.
The sound of the rain echoed through the hall from beyond the windows and off the roof overhead; whatever time of day it was, there was no one lingering outside their rooms and Ed carried Winry silently back into their familiar end of the floor. Her door had been left open to let things circulate, but Ed tapped it closed with his foot after he’d gone by. Winry let her crutches drop from her hand near her bed and they clattered to the floor as Ed shook his head. He turned around and deposited Winry atop her bed.
“Don’t stay up too late trying to accomplish stuff, we’re leaving tomorrow,” Ed bent down and collected her crutches.
“I just need to make sure I get everything down before I sleep and forget it all,” Winry crawled across her bed and snatched up a pen and clipboard from the table she’s put at the window, frowning at the water wrinkles the open window had caused, “are you up to anything?”
“No,” Ed shook his head, put her crutches against the wall, and looked to the door, “just probably going to head to bed.”
His head swung back over his shoulder when Winry captured his free hand and pulled him back.
“Stay and keep me company for a bit then,” she settled back down and put the clipboard aside.
Ed looked down his arm at her, “It’s late, Win. You don’t need me here for this.”
“No, not really,” Winry gazed around the room thoughtfully and Ed watched a very relaxed, content look wash over her. The trail of her wandering gaze ended when Winry found Ed's eyes, smiled, and adjusted how she held his hand, “I’d just like you to stay.”
Ed stared at Winry. Oh . He blinked and his brow wandered a little high in surprise. He didn’t have any reason he couldn’t stay. He didn’t really have to sleep yet, there just wasn’t much else to do. He didn’t mind being company if she wanted it.
“Sure,” he stared at the hand she held while his words came out, “if you want, I can hang around.”
Winry beamed, tugged him over, and bounced onto her stomach. Climbing up and stretching out alongside her, Ed folded his arms atop the sheets and put his chin down. The bottom end of her clipboard landed with authority at his elbow and Winry reached out, tapping the end of her pencil off the top sheet as she scooched herself up against his right side.
“Which do you like better, AutoAir or AutoPlane?”
Ed’s chin sunk into his arms and he grumbled, “Neither. I hate the idea of flying, I want my feet on the ground.”
Grinning, Winry shoved her shoulder into his, “I know that. Objectively though…”
Ed refolded his arms and stared at the edge of the clipboard in Winry’s hand, offering an answer or opinion here and there when she asked, while the calming sound of steady midnight rain poured down beyond her open window and filled the street below. Ed’s ears filled Winry’s chatter - she bubbled on and on with a kind of excitement that could only be found at home.
More persistent than the rain, more interesting than her imagination, and more outspoken than her voice, what Ed ended up listening to was Winry’s bandaged left leg. The still-wrapped lower leg rested against his calf and the bridge of Winry’s foot had tucked in above Ed’s heel, at the dip of his achilles, and stayed there. Her foot would twitch with her thoughts, she’d stretch her toes and tap him if she got excited, but she never moved it away. Louder than anything else that night, the healing wound had Edward’s undivided attention.
If Izumi were being perfectly honest, Vato Falman was far better company than she’d been dreading. His conversation skills were kind of bland, but he knew a great deal about a surprising number of things, and was quietly a family man behind the scenes. He was an older officer for his rank than most; he'd chosen a more stable career in the military once he had kids, though she suspected ‘stable’ was probably a term that was a few years out of date. Izumi forced herself to give Mustang some credit for the quality of people he kept in his circle.
The other unexpected occurrence Izumi kept her mind on was Wrath. As far as she’d been able to tell, he’d caused no commotion in the back of the van, not even a yelp when the road got bumpy. She wouldn’t go so far as to think he was intelligent enough to be plotting something stealthy, so her conclusion was that his red stones had finally run out. For her, it was easier to deal with Wrath when he was high on his red stones - she had no problems dealing with a feral homunculus. The version of Wrath that was more child-like was much harder for Izumi to stomach and the woman started to steel herself for what lay in store.
With a spin of the steering wheel, their vehicle pulled off the road and clattered down an unmarked dirt road, slowly sinking into the trees and bush the farther they went. At the point where Falman concluded their rear lights wouldn’t be noticed from the highway, the van came to a stop.
“Do you need a hand with anything?” Falman asked.
Izumi opened her door, stepped out into the night, and collected Wrath’s leg and wrenches off the passenger’s side floor, “I’ll be fine.”
Tucking the leg under her arm, Izumi gripped Winry's tools and headed towards the back of the van, her sandals sticking in the dirt that had been soaked in rain hours ago. The air still smelled fresh from the rain and the thin canopy of trees and heavier bush radiated a thick, damp scent. Izumi cast her gaze skyward; not a city light as far as the eye could see and, on nights like tonight, the stars were the brightest. The moon even shone well enough to cast shadows. The alchemy teacher filled her nostrils and lungs with the rich air in the middle of nowhere and threw open the cab doors.
“Time for your next adventure, Wrath.”
From behind a mess of wiry black hair falling everywhere, annoyed purple pupils glared at her, but the homunculus said nothing.
Izumi’s brow wrinkled in confusion. The red stones were still in effect? Why was Wrath acting so docile? There was still no verbal or physical rise out of him at all. Her dark eyes examining a puzzle tied down before her, Izumi decided she would do what she needed to do first and then figure Wrath’s behaviour out after.
Except, doing everything she needed to do with Wrath enlarged the puzzle. He didn’t struggle when she removed the leg cap, he didn’t protest or wiggle his leg stump when she reattached the AutoMail, and he only flinched when Izumi re-engaged the nervous system. Completing an unexpectedly easy task, the woman stood up and stepped back from him, her head with barely any clearance beneath the ceiling of their van, and she watched as Wrath simply tested and flexed his new appendage.
This was damn peculiar and the longer it went on, the less Izumi liked it.
Kneeling down, the teacher undid his manual bindings, not yet addressing how she’d sealed him into the floor of the van through alchemy. The release of his bindings offered Wrath a bit more freedom and the mystery deepened when he chose not to use it. Izumi eyeballed the harsh purple gaze that stared at her from behind his untamed mop of black hair. Every inclination in her body told her there was something she was missing and Izumi couldn’t pinpoint it. She didn’t have the luxury to entertain Wrath’s docile behaviour, though - she had to get their messenger going.
Crouching down, Izumi put herself in Wrath’s line of sight, “Alright, I’m going to give you some information and, when you take it to Dante, it’s going to get you all the red stones you can eat.”
Wrath’s eyes traced over her, clearly curious, but still silent.
A grumble rumbled through Izumi’s chest at the pacified reaction, but she continued, “you’re going to tell Dante that Al and I want to meet her in that empty underground city you guys use.”
“Why would I help you?” Wrath's voice came out from behind his mess of hair.
Izumi’s brow lifted; finally this creature had something to say, “Because, Dante will let you eat all the red stones you want when you tell her that we will give her a dozen alchemy characters from beyond the Gate in exchange for Brigitte.”
The wild purple gaze flashed away from Izumi and darted around the inside of the van, “Where is it?”
Izumi pulled her shoulders back, momentarily following Wrath’s focus around at nothing, before settling back on him, “Where’s what?”
“My arm and leg,” Wrath hissed, flashing his teeth behind his matted hair.
The alchemy teacher couldn’t figure out what that had to do with anything, “You mean Ed?”
“Where are they!?” finally, Wrath tried to thrash around in his bindings.
“Not here.”
Again, the puzzle surrounding Wrath grew and Izumi watched as the answer seemed to visually calm him. Yet, she found herself with nothing available that would explain why .
“You can’t have his arm and leg,” Izumi told him flatly.
The homunculus bore his fangs and snapped uselessly at her, “I don’t want them.”
“Excuse me?” that was simply one too many things for Wrath’s mystery. Sitting down on the floor of the van, Izumi crossed her legs, clamped her hands down on her knees, and leaned in to get some information out of Wrath, “why not?”
“I don’t like them anymore,” the creature twisted his head and leered back at her.
That answered nothing. Izumi scowled, “Great. Everyone will be relieved to hear this and, I promise you, no one will try to give them to you. If we’re lucky, you’ll never see them again. Now, why don’t you like them?”
Wrath started to growl, the wrinkles creasing his expression hidden behind hair he couldn’t move out of the way, “They’re too loud.”
“Too loud ?” Izumi’s eyes widened unexpectedly - there was no context where that answer could make any sense.
Wrath thrashed in his alchemized bindings again, “Let me go!”
“We’re getting to that,” Izumi barked, “but first explain how they’re too loud.”
Releasing himself from the compliance he’d given until then, Wrath reverted to the lengthy wails and impossible struggles Izumi had grown accustomed to seeing in the basement. Grimacing at the wretched noise that crashed off the metallic walls of the van around her and scattered the wildlife outside, Izumi realized she would have to let this go. Wrath's nonsensical change in opinion on Ed's arm and leg may be a mystery, but it was ultimately irrelevant to why they were out here, and the teacher swallowed the fact that she didn’t have the luxury of time to deal with Wrath's tantrums at this point - they were out here with an objective to accomplish.
“Listen up,” her arm flew out and she snagged him by the hair. In the depths of a motorized cave, in the middle of the Amestris eastern outback at the midnight hour, the alchemy teacher put herself eye to eye with the last homunculus, “I’ll let you out of here, but you need to listen to me for a few seconds first.”
Wrath hissed at her, but quieted, and he glared at the woman who’d snared him. Izumi watched his dilated purple pupils practically glow in the dark as they danced over her face.
“You’re going to book your ass over to a place called Xenotime and find Dante. You’re going to tell her that we want to meet her in the empty underground city to exchange twelve alchemy characters from beyond the Gate for Brigitte.”
Wrath flashed his teeth at her from behind his mop of hair, “I hate the Gate.”
“Me too,” with her hand still securing his head by his hair, Izumi turned the growling homunculus to face out the van doors, showing him the lights of vehicles passing on the main road from their position sequestered in the dark, “there’s a big road out there with cars, see them go by? If you stay on that road long enough, it will take you straight into a place called Xenotime. That’s where Dante and the red stones are right now. When you tell Dante my message, she’s going to feed you all the red stones you can ask for.”
Wrath replied with a low grumble and tried to shake loose, “Why would I do something you say?”
Izumi offered him a tart smile, “Because, it’ll make Dante happy, and the happier you make Dante, the more red stones you get fed, right?”
The teacher watched Wrath eye her and reluctantly begin to accept that she was correct.
Rising to her feet, Izumi made her way to the back doors of the van and hopped out into the night. As she looked at the homunculus trapped in the back of their van, Izumi quietly cursed the puzzle of Wrath’s behaviour. Begrudgingly, the teacher steeled her resolve and clapped her hands to release him.
Instead of bolting out of the van, the teacher got to watch as Wrath’s first free movement was to put himself in the corner furthest from her at the back of the van. His arm finally free to move the hair from his face, Wrath’s warry purple eyes dissected the inside of the vehicle like he was searching for something. Inching herself to the side, Izumi gave Wrath an obvious option for escape, but the homunculus didn’t take the offering until he seemed satisfied with his visual interrogation of the van.
Bursting from the vehicle with a clatter and blowing by Izumi, Wrath stumbled and staggered along the muddied road before coming to a stop. He stood slightly bewildered, taking a moment to look around and take in his midnight surroundings in the middle of nowhere, before peering over his shoulder at Izumi with eyes that glowed in the moonlight.
She threw an arm out and pointed dead east, “Xenotime is that way. And remember, we want to trade alchemy knowledge from beyond the Gate for Brigitte in the underground city.”
Wrath’s teeth clenched. He vented a loud wordless, verbal barrage of nothing at the woman before he finally darted east, much to Izumi’s relief.
Standing in the dirt path of a forgotten side road, Izumi looked up at the clear night sky and listened to silence re-settle on the landscape as the sound of Wrath tearing through the bush alongside the road faded. She breathed in the clean, refreshing air, and allowed her mind to take a moment and discard all the questions, concerns, and worries she’d accumulated that night thanks to Wrath.
As her gaze wandering the stars, Izumi realized, after all that, she still had to get back in the vehicle and endure the exhaustive ride back to Central City. The teacher collected a heaping mountain of questions and an excessive number of thoughts that would keep her mind occupied the entire trip, and headed back around to the passenger side door.
To Be Continued...