Fanfic Post - Nameless, Chapter 12, Part 2
Jun. 9th, 2011 12:34 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kristenskTitle: Nameless
Author: Kristen Sharpe
Final Checking: June 8, 2011
Rating: K+
Warnings: Violence, some blood.
Genre/Continuity: AU (alternate/divergent universe) set in the first animeverse.
Disclaimer: “Fullmetal Alchemist” belongs to Hiromu Arakawa, Square ENIX, Studio BONES and various other parties.
Author’s Note: And, a number of things finally come to a head. Also, again, many, many thanks to everyone that's been reading and/or commenting on this. As well as to my betas,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
mintysage and Kayca, and my Big Bang artists, bay115 and dreamer1789 , who were a great encouragement as well.
Continued from Part 1
“Uh, uh, uh. Not this time.”
That voice!
A choked scream exploded from Hughes’ lips as a horrible searing heat burned up his arm from the point of contact. Almost immediately, a second, glowing hand closed around his throat. The pain was even worse this time.
Burning, like a fire inside. Like being torn into little pieces.
Then, the agony eased to stabbing ribbons of pain as the hands loosened. Gasping, Hughes looked up into a pale, grinning face. A familiar face.
“Just when I thought this night wouldn’t be any fun,” Kimblee purred, releasing him. “With the general and all those soldiers crawling around the barracks, it seems Fullmetal got a reprieve again. But then, here you were, all alone.” His smile widened and he leaned close, hazel eyes wide with a terrible delight. “You know what alchemists say – equivalent exchange.”
Hughes felt cold.
“You remember my little bluff about Fullmetal?” asked Kimblee. He held up his left hand, revealing a tattooed circle, fresh ink sealed over healing skin. “This is no bluff, Lieutenant Colonel Hughes. Your body’s natural phosphates are already slowly transmuting into white phosphorus.” He drew away and stood smoothly. “Enjoy your last fifteen minutes or so before the transmutation completes. Maybe you’ll have time to make a phone call or something.”
Letting out a sharp bark of a laugh, he stepped over Hughes’ prone form and out of sight.
“No!”
Hughes forced himself into a sitting position and searched wildly for the rogue alchemist. But, Kimblee was gone.
Swearing, Hughes staggered to his feet. The world was an unfocused mess of white and black. His glasses were gone, lost in the snow somewhere. Blood was steadily dripping over his right eye. And, he hurt. Deep down something was still burning.
But, it didn’t matter.
“Not like this,” he muttered.
He reached for the wall of the damaged building. Bracing himself against it, he concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.
He couldn’t die like this.
He wouldn’t.
What had Kimblee said the other day?
Ten minutes until it was irreversible. The barracks were only another couple blocks, and Kimblee had mentioned a general and soldiers. If he could just reach the barracks, there might be an alchemist.
One foot in front of the other.
It burned. Everything burned. Why was it burning?
Was it injuries from the explosion or the transmutation taking place inside him?
It didn’t matter. He had to reach the barracks. He had to make it home. Gracia and Elicia were waiting for him. He couldn’t disappoint them.
One foot in front of the other.
----------------------------------------------------------
Remember. Protect.
Listen. Obey.
Lost in the maelstrom, Fullmetal fought to stay afloat. To sort through the conflicting thoughts. The voices were silent. It was only his own voice that warred with him now.
Al. Alphonse Elric. Little brother. The boy with blond hair and warm brown eyes who was so often at his side in those wisps of memory that broke through the fog.
He had to protect Al. Mom had told him to look after Al. Al was all he had, his only family. Al was the reason…
“Why did you become a State Alchemist?”
A darkened room and an improbably balanced golden chair.
“I made a promise—”
To serve the state. To make Amestris a better, safer country. To be useful.
No. That wasn’t—
“An order, Fullmetal. Decode the notes. That’s an order.”
He would. He would obey. He would be useful.
Al… Al wasn’t here. Al was a secret. But, Al had nothing to do with the state or his orders.
So, it was okay. There was no conflict.
Fullmetal found himself on the edge of his bed, gripping the mattress tightly with both hands as though it were a lifeline. His entire body shook faintly. Loosening his grip, he sucked in a deep breath and tried to steady the shaking.
It was okay. He was still obeying orders.
The golden-eyed boy was giving him a disgusted look.
He didn’t have to take that from a hallucination. Forcing himself to stand, Fullmetal pushed away from the bed, away from those eyes. Stumbling against the desk, he looked out his partially blocked window.
Outside, the city glittered under a fresh, white blanket. The few lights at the back of the barracks reflected off the new fallen snow and gave the street below a dull glow. It was quiet, empty. The only sounds were the soft murmur of the soldiers stationed outside his door. The neighboring rooms were oddly silent. Everyone else must be out. Was it Friday? He couldn’t remember. It wasn’t important.
He just wanted it quiet in his head, and that was all that mattered.
It was cold near the window, frigid gusts still creeping around the aging frame. He welcomed the chill. The cold air might clear his head. Clear away the thoughts, the memories.
Al.
No, he didn’t want—
Reaching over the desk, he jerked the latch and flung the window open wide. Snow and icy wind rushed over him and swirled into the room. Fullmetal leaned into the blast and drew a deep breath. Air so cold it burned rattled down his throat.
He welcomed it, the cold and the quiet, half-dark streets beyond.
Cold and empty and numbing so he didn’t have to think.
Something moved below. A figure in blue moving sluggishly through the snow.
Just a soldier then, returning to the barracks. Drunk judging from the way he was weaving.
But, there was something…
Unwillingly, Fullmetal focused on the stumbling figure. Dark hair and an angular face oddly devoid of glasses. Lieutenant Colonel Hughes? What was he doing here?
As he watched, Hughes staggered and fell. A strangled curse floated through the still air as the fallen man thrashed in the snow, struggling to stand. But, his movements were awkward and uncoordinated. And, the churned snow around him was slowly turning red.
Red.
A face, what had been a face, soaked in red until it ran down the street and puddled at his feet.
No!
He was on top of the desk and poised in the open window when General Grand’s words stopped him.
“You’re to go nowhere but the barracks and the library while under escort. That’s an order.”
An order.
Nevermind. There were soldiers all around. Eyes locked on Hughes, he opened his mouth to call to the guards.
Even at this distance he could see that Hughes’ face was a bloody mess. Blood was oozing from his mouth, his nose. He was probably bleeding internally. Like before. Like back in the alley. Like the injuries from the man who killed State Alchemists. The man with the scar. The man who used alchemy to destroy his victims internally.
“He’s going to die.”
The boy was beside Fullmetal, watching the scene below with tortured eyes.
“No! He can’t!”
He had only just met Hughes, but one evening had shown him enough. A bright, friendly smile, a warm home with kind Miss Gracia who reminded him of Mom and little Elicia.
No!
His hand quivered against the window frame.
What was he thinking? He just needed to call out, and the guards would go down to help. They would call for a doctor. They could save him. They could—
“You know they can’t.”
But, he could.
Absurd. He wasn’t a medical alchemist. He was barely an alchemist at all.
But, he was—
Whispers crept across the back of his mind.
The voices. Hundreds, thousands of voices in his head. Each different, each individual.
The Philosopher’s Stone was—
He sucked frigid air in with a choking gasp and turned wide, wild eyes on the blond boy.
“This is— I have—!”
The boy looked back at him sadly. “They are, yes.”
“Bring me the information on how to make a Philosopher’s Stone. That’s an order.”
Fullmetal shook. The Philosopher’s Stone was—
He looked down at snow dyed crimson. Like the crimson stains in the sand on that day.
“You can’t be serious! The entire city?”
“There are five units already in there.”
“My brother’s in one of those units.”
“What do you need us to do?”
Anonymous blue uniforms dissolved into hopeful, earnest faces. Suddenly, he wasn’t alone because they were fighting for the same thing.
Until they died. Cut down as they fought beside him.
Like this new man in blue, leaking his life out into the snow.
“That’s an order, Fullmetal!”
The Philosopher’s Stone was—
“Brother!”
Al. Al wasn’t dead like the others. But, he was waiting. Still waiting, all this time.
“Why?” he demanded of the boy suddenly. “You were going to save Al with the Stone! Why didn’t you—? Why wait?”
The boy turned blazing eyes on him. “I never got the chance. And, it’s their lives, you idiot!”
A blue clad form leaping in front of him, blocking. Cut apart by ebony talons.
A dark-skinned girl with pink dyed hair and a sad, hopeful smile.
The Philosopher’s Stone was—
Lives. So many lives already lost. Because of his mistakes. Because he couldn’t stop it.
But, now—
“That’s an order, Fullmetal!”
Fullmetal clutched his head.
“You will obey orders; no questions asked.”
“Do you understand, Fullmetal?”
Obey.
“You three haven’t had dinner, have you?”
Obey.
“Listen, Fullmetal. You will obey all superior officers like any soldier.”
“Orders from any officer with a rank of Brigadier General or higher are absolute.”
Obey.
“Oh. Automail. That must be freezing! I’ll get you a hot water bottle to warm it up.”
Obey.
“That’s an order, Fullmetal!”
“Help me,” Fullmetal whispered. He reached for the window frame again, automail fingers gouging holes in the wood. “Please. I want…”
Obey. Follow orders. Be useful.
His face was oddly wet.
“I want to help him.”
Obey.
The golden-eyed boy was watching him almost hopefully. Then, fresh sadness crept over his face.
“You don’t know what you’re asking them.”
Because he would need the voices’ help. Because they would have to offer—
“It’s okay.”
“Want to help.”
“Already dead.”
“Save him.”
The boy's mouth twisted into a sad smile then, and he shook his head. "Idiots." He took a step back.
Slowly, Fullmetal released his grip on the damaged wood and brought his hands in front of his chest.
Obey.
“That’s an order, Fullmetal!”
Obey.
“You are the Fullmetal Alchemist. State Alchemist registration code 100310.”
Obey.
Fullmetal focused his eyes on the ground below and the dying man he meant to save.
“My name,” he hissed, “is Edward Elric.”
Something inside him tore away, and his hands came together in a sharp clap.
----------------------------------------------------------
My runner-up choice for Ed's State Alchemist registration code number was 24601.
Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12-A 12-B 13 14 15 16 17-A 17-B
Author: Kristen Sharpe
Final Checking: June 8, 2011
Rating: K+
Warnings: Violence, some blood.
Genre/Continuity: AU (alternate/divergent universe) set in the first animeverse.
Disclaimer: “Fullmetal Alchemist” belongs to Hiromu Arakawa, Square ENIX, Studio BONES and various other parties.
Author’s Note: And, a number of things finally come to a head. Also, again, many, many thanks to everyone that's been reading and/or commenting on this. As well as to my betas,
mintysage and Kayca, and my Big Bang artists, bay115 and dreamer1789 , who were a great encouragement as well.Continued from Part 1
Book 2: The Deconstruction of the Fullmetal Alchemist
Chapter 12: I Gotta Fight Another Fight
Blowing into his icy hands, Maes Hughes wished for the third time he had thought to grab his gloves as well as his coat. Even in his pockets, his hands were starting to feel like blocks of ice. Well, no help for it now. The barracks were only a block or two away. At least he had remembered his hat because the snow wasn’t showing any signs of letting up. The deepening powder on the sidewalks had slowed his progress enough that he had cut across a side street with the hope of catching Roy as he left the barracks to head home. It was a longer route but probably safer. Really, Roy had better thank him for this.
“Thank me and come to Elicia’s next birthday,” he said aloud. “It’s the least he could—”
Something moved. Dark against the snow. He started to turn. And, the corner of the nearest building exploded in a spray of shattered brick and mortar.
Something hard and heavy collided with his head, and the world spun. His feet went left, his body right, and, he was tumbling to the snow-covered sidewalk. Everything was a blur save one, clear fact. He was being attacked.
He rolled onto his back, fumbling in his right sleeve for the knife hidden there. But, his fingers were cold and clumsy and another hand was suddenly closing over his. A hand wreathed in stuttering blue light.
“Uh, uh, uh. Not this time.”
That voice!
A choked scream exploded from Hughes’ lips as a horrible searing heat burned up his arm from the point of contact. Almost immediately, a second, glowing hand closed around his throat. The pain was even worse this time.
Burning, like a fire inside. Like being torn into little pieces.
Then, the agony eased to stabbing ribbons of pain as the hands loosened. Gasping, Hughes looked up into a pale, grinning face. A familiar face.
“Just when I thought this night wouldn’t be any fun,” Kimblee purred, releasing him. “With the general and all those soldiers crawling around the barracks, it seems Fullmetal got a reprieve again. But then, here you were, all alone.” His smile widened and he leaned close, hazel eyes wide with a terrible delight. “You know what alchemists say – equivalent exchange.”
Hughes felt cold.
“You remember my little bluff about Fullmetal?” asked Kimblee. He held up his left hand, revealing a tattooed circle, fresh ink sealed over healing skin. “This is no bluff, Lieutenant Colonel Hughes. Your body’s natural phosphates are already slowly transmuting into white phosphorus.” He drew away and stood smoothly. “Enjoy your last fifteen minutes or so before the transmutation completes. Maybe you’ll have time to make a phone call or something.”
Letting out a sharp bark of a laugh, he stepped over Hughes’ prone form and out of sight.
“No!”
Hughes forced himself into a sitting position and searched wildly for the rogue alchemist. But, Kimblee was gone.
Swearing, Hughes staggered to his feet. The world was an unfocused mess of white and black. His glasses were gone, lost in the snow somewhere. Blood was steadily dripping over his right eye. And, he hurt. Deep down something was still burning.
But, it didn’t matter.
“Not like this,” he muttered.
He reached for the wall of the damaged building. Bracing himself against it, he concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other.
He couldn’t die like this.
He wouldn’t.
What had Kimblee said the other day?
Ten minutes until it was irreversible. The barracks were only another couple blocks, and Kimblee had mentioned a general and soldiers. If he could just reach the barracks, there might be an alchemist.
One foot in front of the other.
It burned. Everything burned. Why was it burning?
Was it injuries from the explosion or the transmutation taking place inside him?
It didn’t matter. He had to reach the barracks. He had to make it home. Gracia and Elicia were waiting for him. He couldn’t disappoint them.
One foot in front of the other.
----------------------------------------------------------
Remember. Protect.
Listen. Obey.
Lost in the maelstrom, Fullmetal fought to stay afloat. To sort through the conflicting thoughts. The voices were silent. It was only his own voice that warred with him now.
Al. Alphonse Elric. Little brother. The boy with blond hair and warm brown eyes who was so often at his side in those wisps of memory that broke through the fog.
He had to protect Al. Mom had told him to look after Al. Al was all he had, his only family. Al was the reason…
“Why did you become a State Alchemist?”
A darkened room and an improbably balanced golden chair.
“I made a promise—”
To serve the state. To make Amestris a better, safer country. To be useful.
No. That wasn’t—
“An order, Fullmetal. Decode the notes. That’s an order.”
He would. He would obey. He would be useful.
Al… Al wasn’t here. Al was a secret. But, Al had nothing to do with the state or his orders.
So, it was okay. There was no conflict.
Fullmetal found himself on the edge of his bed, gripping the mattress tightly with both hands as though it were a lifeline. His entire body shook faintly. Loosening his grip, he sucked in a deep breath and tried to steady the shaking.
It was okay. He was still obeying orders.
The golden-eyed boy was giving him a disgusted look.
He didn’t have to take that from a hallucination. Forcing himself to stand, Fullmetal pushed away from the bed, away from those eyes. Stumbling against the desk, he looked out his partially blocked window.
Outside, the city glittered under a fresh, white blanket. The few lights at the back of the barracks reflected off the new fallen snow and gave the street below a dull glow. It was quiet, empty. The only sounds were the soft murmur of the soldiers stationed outside his door. The neighboring rooms were oddly silent. Everyone else must be out. Was it Friday? He couldn’t remember. It wasn’t important.
He just wanted it quiet in his head, and that was all that mattered.
It was cold near the window, frigid gusts still creeping around the aging frame. He welcomed the chill. The cold air might clear his head. Clear away the thoughts, the memories.
Al.
No, he didn’t want—
Reaching over the desk, he jerked the latch and flung the window open wide. Snow and icy wind rushed over him and swirled into the room. Fullmetal leaned into the blast and drew a deep breath. Air so cold it burned rattled down his throat.
He welcomed it, the cold and the quiet, half-dark streets beyond.
Cold and empty and numbing so he didn’t have to think.
Something moved below. A figure in blue moving sluggishly through the snow.
Just a soldier then, returning to the barracks. Drunk judging from the way he was weaving.
But, there was something…
Unwillingly, Fullmetal focused on the stumbling figure. Dark hair and an angular face oddly devoid of glasses. Lieutenant Colonel Hughes? What was he doing here?
As he watched, Hughes staggered and fell. A strangled curse floated through the still air as the fallen man thrashed in the snow, struggling to stand. But, his movements were awkward and uncoordinated. And, the churned snow around him was slowly turning red.
Red.
A face, what had been a face, soaked in red until it ran down the street and puddled at his feet.
No!
He was on top of the desk and poised in the open window when General Grand’s words stopped him.
“You’re to go nowhere but the barracks and the library while under escort. That’s an order.”
An order.
Nevermind. There were soldiers all around. Eyes locked on Hughes, he opened his mouth to call to the guards.
Even at this distance he could see that Hughes’ face was a bloody mess. Blood was oozing from his mouth, his nose. He was probably bleeding internally. Like before. Like back in the alley. Like the injuries from the man who killed State Alchemists. The man with the scar. The man who used alchemy to destroy his victims internally.
“He’s going to die.”
The boy was beside Fullmetal, watching the scene below with tortured eyes.
“No! He can’t!”
He had only just met Hughes, but one evening had shown him enough. A bright, friendly smile, a warm home with kind Miss Gracia who reminded him of Mom and little Elicia.
No!
His hand quivered against the window frame.
What was he thinking? He just needed to call out, and the guards would go down to help. They would call for a doctor. They could save him. They could—
“You know they can’t.”
But, he could.
Absurd. He wasn’t a medical alchemist. He was barely an alchemist at all.
But, he was—
Whispers crept across the back of his mind.
The voices. Hundreds, thousands of voices in his head. Each different, each individual.
The Philosopher’s Stone was—
He sucked frigid air in with a choking gasp and turned wide, wild eyes on the blond boy.
“This is— I have—!”
The boy looked back at him sadly. “They are, yes.”
“Bring me the information on how to make a Philosopher’s Stone. That’s an order.”
Fullmetal shook. The Philosopher’s Stone was—
He looked down at snow dyed crimson. Like the crimson stains in the sand on that day.
“You can’t be serious! The entire city?”
“There are five units already in there.”
“My brother’s in one of those units.”
“What do you need us to do?”
Anonymous blue uniforms dissolved into hopeful, earnest faces. Suddenly, he wasn’t alone because they were fighting for the same thing.
Until they died. Cut down as they fought beside him.
Like this new man in blue, leaking his life out into the snow.
“That’s an order, Fullmetal!”
The Philosopher’s Stone was—
“Brother!”
Al. Al wasn’t dead like the others. But, he was waiting. Still waiting, all this time.
“Why?” he demanded of the boy suddenly. “You were going to save Al with the Stone! Why didn’t you—? Why wait?”
The boy turned blazing eyes on him. “I never got the chance. And, it’s their lives, you idiot!”
A blue clad form leaping in front of him, blocking. Cut apart by ebony talons.
A dark-skinned girl with pink dyed hair and a sad, hopeful smile.
The Philosopher’s Stone was—
Lives. So many lives already lost. Because of his mistakes. Because he couldn’t stop it.
But, now—
“That’s an order, Fullmetal!”
Fullmetal clutched his head.
“You will obey orders; no questions asked.”
“Do you understand, Fullmetal?”
Obey.
“You three haven’t had dinner, have you?”
Obey.
“Listen, Fullmetal. You will obey all superior officers like any soldier.”
“Orders from any officer with a rank of Brigadier General or higher are absolute.”
Obey.
“Oh. Automail. That must be freezing! I’ll get you a hot water bottle to warm it up.”
Obey.
“That’s an order, Fullmetal!”
“Help me,” Fullmetal whispered. He reached for the window frame again, automail fingers gouging holes in the wood. “Please. I want…”
Obey. Follow orders. Be useful.
His face was oddly wet.
“I want to help him.”
Obey.
The golden-eyed boy was watching him almost hopefully. Then, fresh sadness crept over his face.
“You don’t know what you’re asking them.”
Because he would need the voices’ help. Because they would have to offer—
“It’s okay.”
“Want to help.”
“Already dead.”
“Save him.”
The boy's mouth twisted into a sad smile then, and he shook his head. "Idiots." He took a step back.
Slowly, Fullmetal released his grip on the damaged wood and brought his hands in front of his chest.
Obey.
“That’s an order, Fullmetal!”
Obey.
“You are the Fullmetal Alchemist. State Alchemist registration code 100310.”
Obey.
Fullmetal focused his eyes on the ground below and the dying man he meant to save.
“My name,” he hissed, “is Edward Elric.”
Something inside him tore away, and his hands came together in a sharp clap.
----------------------------------------------------------
My runner-up choice for Ed's State Alchemist registration code number was 24601.
Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12-A 12-B 13 14 15 16 17-A 17-B
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2011-06-10 09:04 pm (UTC)First of all, I absolutely adored the whole self-confrontation part - you can just picture it so clearly: Ed's mental clash with himself.
But, those last lines! XD It's like a rush of giddiness, a tangible sense of: 'yesh, Ed's back, finally!' XD
no subject
Date: 2011-06-11 02:11 am (UTC)Yes, that was exactly my reaction when I read the last scene. I squealed loud enough to probably scare my neighbors. ;)
no subject
Date: 2011-06-11 08:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-12 03:04 am (UTC)--Wanted to work on a piece for that scene, but it just didn't come together looking presentable in time - or even after time.--
Awww... Thanks for trying anyways!
no subject
Date: 2011-06-12 03:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-13 02:49 am (UTC)*dances* I'm glad you enjoyed it! I was hoping everyone would like this chapter.
--From teen!Ed showing up, albeit in older!Ed's head,...--
That wasn't even supposed to happen. But, you know how teen!Ed is when he wants something; there's no stopping him. ...And, I'd been missing him myself.
no subject
Date: 2011-06-19 08:22 am (UTC)I like what you did with the registration number. I don't quite see the meaning of the runner-up, though. 24601... hmmm... it's not the beginning, it's not the end... is there a digit missing?
no subject
Date: 2011-06-23 04:28 am (UTC)Thank you! And, for that matter, thank you for reading!
--I don't quite see the meaning of the runner-up, though. 24601... hmmm... it's not the beginning, it's not the end... is there a digit missing?--
See, that's why I chose against my runner-up. It has no FMA connection whatsoever. It's Jean Valjean's prison number in "Les Miserables". (I admit I do not remember the novel that clearly... but I do loves me some Broadway music.)