Preview: I'll Love You More, Ch. 11
Roy had been planning to drive directly to the military headquarters in Central, come strolling in the front doors with the Fullmetal Alchemist at his side, ready to prove his ability to locate valuable resources. He had been planning to fill Ed in on what he wanted him to think he was trying to do on the drive there. He hadn’t been planning on finding Ed in the shape he did.
“You need to lie down,” he told the younger man. Ed was pale and a sheen of sweat covered his face.
“Fuck you, General,” he said, but his eyes were closed. “I’ve been through worse.”
“Edward, maybe bringing you to Central right now isn’t the best-“
“You said you needed to find me before someone else did. So you did. End of story,” Ed snapped, turning his forehead into the cool glass of the window.
“Hardly,” Roy said dryly. “What good are you to anyone like that? You can barely walk,” he pointed out.
“So take me to a mechanic,” Ed mumbled into the door, his head dropping.
“Once we get to Central we can try to find Miss Rockbell-“
“Don’t bother. Just take me to anyone.”
The sight of Al in a military uniform stopped startling her years ago, ages ago even, but her distrust for the military never completely went away. She was uneasy with the military escorts Al had sent to the train station to meet her and Kaiya, and wary of getting into their car, and Kaiya was fussing and in desperate need of a nap by the time they arrived in Central.
It was another baking-hot day, and she could feel the sweat trickling down the back of her neck, and even in the mid-day heat it gave her the shivers, and Kaiya whined when she felt her mother shudder, and struggled to get down.
“I don’t think so,” she told her daughter sternly. “I can’t have you running all over Central station.”
“Daddy? Daddy?” her child asked, over and over again, like she had been repeating the entire way there.
One of the military escorts, a woman, turned and said brightly, “Oh, you’ll see your daddy soon enough. He sent us to make sure you got home safely.”
Winry pulled her daughter tighter as she ducked to get into the car. The other escort shut the door after her. “How old’s the baby, ma’am?” the other escort asked, and it took her a moment to realize he was speaking to her.
Since when have I become a ‘ma’am’? she wondered. “Almost two,” she answered, but distantly. Kaiya was banging her grubby hands on the window, making a opaque cloud on the formerly clear and polished glass, and she took one hand and captured both of her daughter’s in her own, and Kaiya let out a loud whine again. “Shh,” she said sharply. “Be good for Daddy.”
She had felt so together on the base in Dillon, taking control, taking over what she could, doing her part, getting things done, having a function, and now, sitting in the back of the military car, she felt like she was in a half-dream, half-memory, part nightmare, part reality. She had taken what she could carry and run to Central once before, to Al, who had been waiting for her then the way he was waiting for her now. She had been alone that time, and had arrived covered in grease, on a souped-up tractor with a truck’s engine she had stolen from an abandoned barn a few towns south of Rizembool. She would never do something like that now, not with her daughter in tow, not alone. Who would watch Kaiya while she was up to her elbows in machine oil? It wouldn’t have been possible.
No, this time she was arriving, if not rested, at least showered, but she felt no more at ease than she had the first time. The first time she had been afraid, but this time she knew what she was afraid of. She was afraid she’s see Al with that haunted expression she guessed any soldier might get after a battle, something she never imagined she’d see on her young friend and lover’s face, something she had seen only a few times but that had frightened her more than she was able to explain.
She was afraid of more nights of Al waking up shaking, with nightmares of that thing he called the “Gate” mixed in with visions of enemies perishing under his hands; she was afraid of feeling helpless as her country crashed down around her; she was afraid she’d never be able to give her daughter the kind of childhood she’d had: happy, peaceful, in the countryside where it was safe. Wars killed people.
Wars killed parents.
And left children orphans.
Alphonse was waiting for her when the military car pulled to a halt. He wasn’t wearing one of those blue uniform; he was wearing a pale green button down shirt and khaki pants, and his bronze-colored hair was neatly combed and parted. His face lit up with pure delight as his daughter cried “Daddy!” and bolted from the car and her mother’s arms, and she watched him scoop her up like she weighed nothing and fling her up into the air, catching her and pulling her close to him on her way down.
With Kaiya in his one arm, leaning happily against his shoulder, he outstretched his other arm to Winry. “It isn’t much,” he said by way of greeting. “But it’s the best I could do for you on short notice like this.”
“You need to lie down,” he told the younger man. Ed was pale and a sheen of sweat covered his face.
“Fuck you, General,” he said, but his eyes were closed. “I’ve been through worse.”
“Edward, maybe bringing you to Central right now isn’t the best-“
“You said you needed to find me before someone else did. So you did. End of story,” Ed snapped, turning his forehead into the cool glass of the window.
“Hardly,” Roy said dryly. “What good are you to anyone like that? You can barely walk,” he pointed out.
“So take me to a mechanic,” Ed mumbled into the door, his head dropping.
“Once we get to Central we can try to find Miss Rockbell-“
“Don’t bother. Just take me to anyone.”
The sight of Al in a military uniform stopped startling her years ago, ages ago even, but her distrust for the military never completely went away. She was uneasy with the military escorts Al had sent to the train station to meet her and Kaiya, and wary of getting into their car, and Kaiya was fussing and in desperate need of a nap by the time they arrived in Central.
It was another baking-hot day, and she could feel the sweat trickling down the back of her neck, and even in the mid-day heat it gave her the shivers, and Kaiya whined when she felt her mother shudder, and struggled to get down.
“I don’t think so,” she told her daughter sternly. “I can’t have you running all over Central station.”
“Daddy? Daddy?” her child asked, over and over again, like she had been repeating the entire way there.
One of the military escorts, a woman, turned and said brightly, “Oh, you’ll see your daddy soon enough. He sent us to make sure you got home safely.”
Winry pulled her daughter tighter as she ducked to get into the car. The other escort shut the door after her. “How old’s the baby, ma’am?” the other escort asked, and it took her a moment to realize he was speaking to her.
Since when have I become a ‘ma’am’? she wondered. “Almost two,” she answered, but distantly. Kaiya was banging her grubby hands on the window, making a opaque cloud on the formerly clear and polished glass, and she took one hand and captured both of her daughter’s in her own, and Kaiya let out a loud whine again. “Shh,” she said sharply. “Be good for Daddy.”
She had felt so together on the base in Dillon, taking control, taking over what she could, doing her part, getting things done, having a function, and now, sitting in the back of the military car, she felt like she was in a half-dream, half-memory, part nightmare, part reality. She had taken what she could carry and run to Central once before, to Al, who had been waiting for her then the way he was waiting for her now. She had been alone that time, and had arrived covered in grease, on a souped-up tractor with a truck’s engine she had stolen from an abandoned barn a few towns south of Rizembool. She would never do something like that now, not with her daughter in tow, not alone. Who would watch Kaiya while she was up to her elbows in machine oil? It wouldn’t have been possible.
No, this time she was arriving, if not rested, at least showered, but she felt no more at ease than she had the first time. The first time she had been afraid, but this time she knew what she was afraid of. She was afraid she’s see Al with that haunted expression she guessed any soldier might get after a battle, something she never imagined she’d see on her young friend and lover’s face, something she had seen only a few times but that had frightened her more than she was able to explain.
She was afraid of more nights of Al waking up shaking, with nightmares of that thing he called the “Gate” mixed in with visions of enemies perishing under his hands; she was afraid of feeling helpless as her country crashed down around her; she was afraid she’d never be able to give her daughter the kind of childhood she’d had: happy, peaceful, in the countryside where it was safe. Wars killed people.
Wars killed parents.
And left children orphans.
Alphonse was waiting for her when the military car pulled to a halt. He wasn’t wearing one of those blue uniform; he was wearing a pale green button down shirt and khaki pants, and his bronze-colored hair was neatly combed and parted. His face lit up with pure delight as his daughter cried “Daddy!” and bolted from the car and her mother’s arms, and she watched him scoop her up like she weighed nothing and fling her up into the air, catching her and pulling her close to him on her way down.
With Kaiya in his one arm, leaning happily against his shoulder, he outstretched his other arm to Winry. “It isn’t much,” he said by way of greeting. “But it’s the best I could do for you on short notice like this.”