[Fic] A History of Violence, Chapter 5

[cryogenia]

Title: A History of Violence
Author: cryogenia
Rating: R, for language and violence
Genre: Gen, Prisonfic
A/N: ZEP!


There’s a boy downstairs, in the Warden’s office.

He’d thought he knew what numb felt like. He’d gone numb that first time in the darkroom, when the Fuhrer’s lights had started exploding around him, when he’d realized that it wasn’t just some kind of game anymore - that he wasn’t just going to blather at Mustang and wait for the man to magic wand it all away somehow. That Mustang had was probably waiting in his own darkroom (but it wasn’t so dark, was it now, with the lights all going on and off like that, let you get halfway to sleep and then wake you up again, for aeons that were days and you couldn’t sleep and you couldn’t eat) -

Raising hell, for you to be released.

That was nothing compared to what he felt (or really, didn’t feel) now. The world was, in a word, broken. Two minutes ago, he thought that he’d HAD this. Sikes had him by the balls, yeah, but she hadn’t taken the claws out and squeezed yet; he could tell she was itching to but dammit, she didn’t have anything solid on him. And two minutes ago, his brother had been (in his mind, at least), safely at Winry’s place, having a late lunch and catching up with her. She’d take care of him, she might be hot-headed but she’d never been stupid, would have protected him from -

He claims he’s your brother.

Oh, Al.

“I don’t know the guy.” Edward denied out of hand, immediately. It was like a reflex. He didn’t want to say anything, but then again, he didn’t want to be sweating, either. The fucking kiddie lights seemed so much brighter now that he had something to worry about.

Fuck.

“You’re awfully pale, Elric. You sure you don’t know anything about this?”

“I said, I don’t know.” He snapped. “You think I know every fucking crazy person? You think we got Psychos of the Month Club?”

“Watch your mouth.” Sikes continued glaring at him. Edward sweated. Was this part of Mustang’s plan? It sure as hell didn’t seem like it. Mustang never worked right out in the open like that, just wasn’t his style. And fuck, if the bastard had brought Al into this, he better believe Edward was gonna rip off his nut sack and feed it to him.

“I’m asking you again. What do you know about this?” She said, and raised one finger to ensure he’d keep listening to her. “Because it seems to me that your brother’s ghost has picked an awfully convenient time to come and visit.”

“Maybe it’s somebody’s birthday.” Edward couldn’t resist. “Look, I don’t know, okay?”

“A boy, about that age, went missing in Andenfield.” Sikes droned on. “Theoretically, he was recovered, and released to his parents. But Officer Harp never met with him personally, and honestly, I’m beginning to wonder.”

Here it comes, he thought.

“Elric, did you snatch that boy? Is he working with you, now!? I want an answer.”

“What, is this some kind of joke? No, of course I’m gonna say no!” He spat back, panting. The lights were so hot again. “What did you think I was gonna say, yes?””

Sikes shifted in front of him. A wall. Immobile. “I think that it would spare your partner a whole world of trouble if you did. He’s about to get himself arrested for disrupting the peace.”

That almost brought him. He started to open his mouth - stopped it, bit down hard on his tongue. And if I rat him out, will that make it any better? How the hell are we going to explainhim? He’s six years too young - he remembers the armor -

And she could also be lying. Fuck, for all he knew, Al had never been there at all. Except for that sick feeling at the bottom of his gut, he had no way of knowing.

“It’s not going to work, you know.” She intoned. “He’ll tell us eventually, anyways. Once he realizes what kind of trouble he’s likely to be in. It would be better for both of you if I just hear it from you, first.”

What did he do? Sweat poured down his cheeks like involuntary tears; he had no way of wiping it off. Did he go ahead and assume all the blame? If he told her yes, yes he’d just kidnapped some kid and sent him in as a trick, then they’d hang onto him and look into the matter for REAL. What happened when they started figuring out that his memories were real? Even worse, what happened if they brought AL in here, under the lights; wrestled the truth about his restoral out of him? They would think he was alchemically brainwashed. They would tell him he was, under white lights like these, until he couldn’t deny any longer, and then they would take him somewhere and attempt to reset him.

They would experiment on him.

On other hand - if he continued to deny him - Alphonse was still technically a minor. They couldn’t really charge him with anything unless he starting offing people, and his brother was too soft for that. If they did arrest him, and he dropped the shtick, the worst that would happen was they would look up his foster parents. Maybe they could claim it was some kind of temporary insanity - some kind of practical joke - fuck, he didn’t know. It was a risk either way, but shit…if he came out and said he was involved with the kid now, they would almost certainly take him in for questioning. Probably keep him up until the hearing.

That settled it. He had to get word to Al, somehow. Let him know to just shut up - get his head down - if he hadn’t already been warned, because Mustang had some sort of a plan (oh please oh please let there really be a PLAN).

“…look, maybe if I could see him, I could tell you whether he was or not.” He said finally, with as much force as he could muster. “But I really think you’re barking up the wrong family tree.”

Sikes’ lips pursed. “Because you cut yours down?”

Edward said nothing.

The woman sighed, pushed herself up and away from the bright little table (which Edward was quickly coming to detest). She moved as if to exit, and the policemen saluted.

“At ease, men.” She said, and paused near the doorway, turned around to study Edward. Contemplating.

“For your information - off the record? I don’t like this. I don’t like it at all. But I’m not here to like and dislike things, I’m here to uphold the law. So YOU will be getting your second hearing at the Board meeting on Thursday, and YOU will be staying here for the interim, and we’ll just have to go from there. Understood?”

He nodded, slowly. Sikes whipped around and ploughed her way out, just as forcefully as she’d come. Somewhere, at the back of his mind, he thought he could smell flashbulb powder, and heat.

He had expected the bozo brothers to bundle him off to the drunk tank again, or hell, a bonafide real cell; they seemed to think so too, because they immediately rushed to grab at his elbows again. Chickenshit numbskulls. He stood up and tried not to give them reason to hassle him. Scared guards were easier to manipulate, but if you pushed them too far they would be the first ones to start whaling on you.

Then somebody - not Sikes, but another Correctional-uniformed woman - poked her head in the door and barked out orders, and they couldn’t get his ass sat down again fast enough. He wondered who she was. She certainly had them all by the balls.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, waiting for something to happen. He would have started writing, in his head, but he just couldn’t relax enough. Obvious scare tactic. Right. But transparent though it was, they wouldn’t use it if it didn’t work.

Was Al really down there? He had to be. Edward breathed in through his nose, out through his mouth, tried to picture he was breathing in a circle. Tried to calm down. If you wanted to, you could judge a minute, just hold still enough to try and hear your own heartbeat, count until you’d ticked off enough (about fifty in his case, Edward had learned). Edward counted slowly, from one to fifty, many times. After a while, he stopped keeping track of how many times he looped. If he panicked, his heart would only beat faster. Time would accelerate.

He wished somebody would bring him a glass of water.

After what seemed like an eternity, the door finally opened on the heels of what seemed like the millionth forty-nine. A fresh team of policemen marched in, and he half-expected them just to spin around and replace the two he already had. Instead, they moved to one side and saluted, clearly expecting someone else.

Warrant Officer Falman sailed through the door like a white-crested wave, rolled right in and came to shore at his table. Looked down at him. He thought maybe he should say something, but his tongue was too dry. So he didn’t.

“Edward Elric.” He said, and Edward marveled that this was the second time in a handful of hours that he’d been called by his full and proper name. Not just Elric.

“You are to be transferred to District Eight until such time as your presence is required at your disciplinary hearing.”

And Al!? Edward wanted to ask. What about AL? It was one of the hardest things he had ever had to choke.

One of the bozo brothers made a questioning noise and Falman shook his head.

The edge of his lips quirked up. “On behalf of your commissioner, I apologize. Due to…certain mitigating factors, we were unable to relieve you on time.” Edward knew instantly what he was referring to. “You’ll be glad to know the situation has been resolved. Officers Fugtree and Bates will take the prisoner from here. You two are dismissed.”

The two policemen saluted almost comically swiftly and couldn’t get out the door fast enough. They went, in fact, just about as quickly as they could and still maintain some semblance of professionalism, though the bolder one did spare him one brief, triumphant glance. Edward snorted. Probably couldn’t wait to tell the wife and kids about how he survived an entire afternoon with the infamous Edward Elric. What an accomplishment.

The two newer ones started off stony, but Edward couldn’t help but notice that they grew timid when they had to approach. He tilted his chin up to look at them as they grabbed him, and they turned their faces immediately away.

My face must be really frightening right about now. Edward thought. He certainly felt like it should be.

“On your feet, man.” Falman ordered, again sounding slightly uncomfortable, and Edward wondered, not for the first time, if this was really part of a plan after all. If the plan, should it exist, was even meant to help him. He did not believe in trust; he had simply been given an order. But it was an order in chaos, and as much as it chafed, it was the only thing he had to hold onto.

Mitigating factors. He thought. And Al is just a ‘mitigating factor’.

He wished the corridors were more empty. If they had been, if there hadn’t been so much incidental traffic, he would seriously considering planting his automail foot on the left guard’s instep and trying to break the other one’s knee before they had time to pull their guns. Get them down, and try to just get some goddamn answers out of Falman. He thought he could probably do it. Probably.

But it was stupid. Tantamount to suicide. He gritted his teeth and tried to breathe in circles again, started doing factorials in his head. Dammit, just fucking had to endure-

He came to hate the back of Falman’s head by the time they arrived outside, the smug way that gray hair flopped back and forth.

“This way.” Falman said, and lead him down past rows of shining squad cars to a unfortunately familiar vehicle on the end, squat and dilapidated and utterly drab. Why the paddy wagon? He wondered. Why not a squad car, or one of the other transport vehicles?

The driver was blonde. He thought he might have recognized him, through the windshield, but he didn’t get a long enough look to put a name with the face. They shoved him past and back into the familiar stench of cabbages before he could so much as blink twice.

The officers followed him into the wagon and remained behind him, close together.

“Uncuff him.” Falman said lowly, and Edward hissed in relief as his wrists finally, finally could move again. It had been so long since he’d been cuffed for hours that his flesh arm was pins and needles. At least they were doing him that much of a favor. Now if he could only convince one of the assholes to get him a drink, he thought sardonically, he’d really be living large.

“Good. Thank you, gentlemen.” Falman said, and then the policemen at his elbows were pulling away, and slamming the door behind them.

What the--

“Edward.” The driver said suddenly, through the connecting vent, and corrected its gender to a “she”. “Hello.”

Edward closed his eyes. “Hawkeye.” He all but whispered. Just like old times. Colonel Bastard never had wanted to drive. Always made her do it, the slacker. “Lieutenant Hawkeye.”

“Brigadier-General, now.” Falman supplied, as the passenger’s side opened. Edward had half expected it to be Mustang, climbing in. “Many things have changed, Edward.”

“Only Brigadier?”

“Not all of us could follow to the top.” Hawkeye said softly, and its unusual quaver spoke well of the pain she thought that she had endured. “It would have been suspicious.”

“Yeah.” He said, with a bark of a laugh. God, his throat was sore now. Not all of us could follow, period. Hawkeye leaned over, shot him a sharp look, but said nothing. They had always said that her eyes could see through a man. Maybe it was true.

He sunk to a squat and leaned his head back against the wall of the truck, suppressed the urge to just open his mouth and start cackling. He had the feeling once he started, he’d never be able to stop.

“So? Where are we headed to?” He rasped out. “Still playing chauffer I see, Brigadier-General.” Couldn’t resist being cruel, just a little.

When Hawkeye spoke, her voice was business as usual, level and hard as a slab of granite.

“Your brother’s reappearance was anticipated, but the method was not exactly what we’d expected.” She said wryly. “Falman had quite the busy afternoon, I hear.”

“All in a day’s work.” The man said simply.

“We’re going to wait here for a few minutes, until this other car pulls out, and then we’re going to swing around and pick up your brother. While nobody’s watching.”

“Al?!” Edward’s heart skipped a beat. “Where is he? Is he okay?”

“Alphonse is fine.” Hawkeye said. “He’s waiting with some of our men across the way. It would have been easier if he’d agreed to go on ahead, but he didn’t want to leave without you…”

“Was rather…adamant about that part.” Falman offered. “Threatened to transmute himself to the floor. Again.”

“Again!?” Oh fuck, AL…

“He was very smart about it, Edward.” Hawkeye said. “He tried to use his alchemy to prove his identity. Bought us time when we needed it.”

Edward wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

“He’s beautiful, Edward.” Hawkeye said softly, disarmingly. “I saw him. We all-I can’t begin to-“

“Yeah.” Edward said, swallowed painfully. Fuck. That was one thing he could be certain of. Even if he wanted to wring that pretty little NECK, Alphonse was still absolutely perfect. “Yeah.”

“There, we’re clear!” Falman said suddenly, saved him the rest of a conversation he didn’t want to be having. The paddy wagon roared into life, began backing up at a speed much faster than Edward would have preferred. He skidded on the dirty floor, toppled sideways onto his flesh leg.

“Fuck!” He swore, under his breath, as they began bumping in some indiscriminate direction.

“Sorry!” Hawkeye called back. “We would have used one of the squad cars, but the Fuhrer thought-“

“Oh, FUCK the Fuhrer!” Edward cried out, over his skinned ankle, a wild moment of abandon. They were on the other side of the grate, they couldn’t hit him for it.

“He thought it would be best if nobody could see you being transported. Doubly so, since now we’re taking you both together.” Hawkeye said simply. The wagon lurched to a stop. “Falman?”

“Yes ma’am.”

He heard the passenger’s side being opened and shut, and then, the blessed, blessed sound of the back bolt being drawn.

“Quickly!” Falman’s voice hissed, and then someone small and lithe was scrambling through the crack in his world, in a blaze of sunlight. Edward tensed even though he knew who it had to be. Who else could it be?

“Al…”

His brother drove into his side like a sledgehammer, and if he hadn’t already been on the floor Alphonse would have put him here.

“BROTHER.”

The doors behind them slammed shut, and even though it was dark, he could see the lightning radiating outward from his brother’s gentle form.

“I was so worried about you.” Alphonse said, in a hard way that didn’t make any fucking sense with the words. “Why the hell did you let them DO that to you?!”

His brother was absolutely furious. With him.

Stung, Edward lashed out. “Yeah? What about YOU!? What the fuck did you think you were doing? I told you, go to Winry’s, can’t you fucking lis--”

“Oh yeah? And do WHAT? Sit on my butt and drink tea while you got yourself thrown in JAIL again?”

“But you were safe...” He stumbled, grasped for anything. “Winry would have - she missed you too, and - dammit you…you shouldn’t have done that!”

Hawkeye made a distressed noise.

“Edward…” She said again. And fuck, don’t call me that! He wanted to snarl. Where the fuck did she get off, using his name, in that same old patronizing tone, like he was some sort of kid!?

“YOU,” he snarled, “stay out of this. None of your business if-”

“No,” She said. “I am most certainly NOT staying out of this. It became my business when Warrant-Officer Falman here had to call me out of an Internal Security meeting to come drive you two, because we can’t trust that anybody else would keep this quiet.”

The wagon turned a corner a little more forcefully than was probably strictly necessary, and Alphonse tipped away from Edward, yelped as he lay down hard on his hip. Edward thought about reaching out to him, but couldn’t quite make his hand move.

Too fast. Everything was blurring.

“Why?” He asked plaintively. “Al, I thought we talked about this.”

Alphonse reached out and patted his arm, made a soothing noise that only managed to incense. Like a dog, like he was a motherfucking dog or something.

“Brother…it was out of your hands.”

“No, it wasn’t!” He wailed. “Al, you don’t know these people, you don’t know Sikes, oh hell, I thought she was going to have a conniption fit. Tell you what, next time you want to do me a favor, just do me a favor and don’t.“

“That’s enough out of both of you! Edward, please! Hold your peace.” Hawkeye called back, and his jaw snapped shut immediately, reflexively. “It’ll be okay, I promise.”

“And, Alphonse, why didn’t you come to us?” She asked, and her voice was as hard as diamonds - but the timbre was slightly off. Sounded hurt. “We had a plan - we would have helped you -“

“I told you, I tried!” Alphonse protested. “Told him, at least.”

“Loudly,” Warrant-Officer Falman added. “Repeatedly.”

“The first thing I did when I saw that - when I realized you were really going to take him -“ Here Alphonse practically spat, like an angry yellow cat. “- was to try and get a hold of you. Get a hold of the Fuhrer. But I couldn’t find anybody who knew the code-words, and when I asked for you - or Colonel Armstrong - or First Lieutenant Havoc - they laughed me off the base. I announced myself there, and they threw me out on my ear. Central Command is locked down tighter than a drum, and the ONLY civilian spokesperson was out on a lunch break for oh, two, three hours? Some ‘fair and representative’ government you’ve got going there.”

So much anger. Edward reeled, nothing solid to hold onto. He could count on his flesh hand the number of times Alphonse had sounded that angry. It defied…everything.

“And another thing, when I tried at the barracks-“

His brother was ranting in every possible direction (the way he used to do), and Edward couldn’t keep track of it. Just a well of pure anger, rage, blustering more at the unfairness of Everything.

Was I really like this? Edward thought distantly. Did I really believe that this could fix anything?

Fucking weak.

Hawkeye said something unintelligible to Falman, and he seemed to be in agreement. He coughed politely, and interrupted.

“That…I apologize, Alphonse, that should not have happened. We had been expecting you might turn up, and the Fuhrer had plans to recover you in -“

“Turn up.” Alphonse interrupted, icily. “’Recover’ me. I see. I was just conveniently misplaced. I’m not a suit of armor anymore, you know.”

Edward spoke up, not entirely sure why he was defending anyone against his brother. “Al, it wasn’t like that…“

“I remember what you told me.” Alphonse said, a pitying note in his voice that Edward did not like. “I want to hear it from them, now.”

Edward crossed his arms in front of him and swallowed hard. Felt nauseous from more than just the oppressive motion and cabbage-smell. It hurt. All of a sudden, just dismissed from conversation. And his brother wanted to complain about treated like an object!?

Hawkeye piped up and continued where Falman had gotten cut off. “Warrant-Officer apologizes for his poor choice of wording, but what he meant to say was that, Alphonse, ever since your brother took off like that, we’d been praying for your safe return. He was always the only one who knew where you were…what had happened. We knew he wouldn’t leave you.”

I almost did. Thought Edward. Closed his eyes. Shit like this made him wish he had. Alphonse had been so beautiful, playing with his baby sister.

Alphonse had been so beautiful, playing gently with Nina, too; a huge suit of armor treading as lightly as snowflakes.

“At any rate, we had intended to plant people - people we can trust, people we’ve known - in positions to intercept. Mostly Intelligence - Brigadier-General Hughes’s old guard. Falman was supposed to have some intelligence at the station on the lookout, but we didn’t know what you’d look like, and we’d really thought you’d be with Edward.”

“I did see someone following me, while I was trying to tail brother. I transmuted a door through to the alley.”

“Ah.” Said Falman. “That would explain that.” He did not care to elaborate.

“So I apologize. We had never intended to leave you hanging, like that.” Hawkeye finished.

“Thank you, though honestly, I could really care less. We could apologize at each other all day long and it would do absolutely nothing.” Alphonse said flatly. “What I want to know is, what do you want with us now. Why all the secrecy? Why can’t you just pardon my brother and be done with it!?”

“Alphonse…” Hawkeye said softly.

“The regime is in a delicate state right now, Alphonse.” Falman picked up again. “And I don’t know how much you’ve been following the papers, but - suffice it to say that our popularity is still only, ah, pardon the colloquialism, “an arsehair above” the old administration. Which isn’t much.” He clarified needlessly.

“And, even if the charges are false, right now the majority of Amestris remembers Edward only as the ‘Death Alchemist’. He wanted to let him out - we all did - but it was so hard just to arrange parole without risking the wrong faction stirring up-”

“He said he wasn’t going to overturn it.” Edward said, and the words stuck in his throat. “He said so at the parole hearing.”

This is fucking pointless, just drop it, PLEASE, before it hurts any worse…

Alphonse took a deep breath as if he were about to start shouting, but luckily, Hawkeye beat him to the punch.

“Fuhrer Mustang said only that he would not go against the people’s will. He was very careful about that. And Edward…not all of Amestris despises you.”

“Yeah.” He said sardonically. “That half just don’t know who I am.”

Alphonse shot him a sharp, concerned look. Hawkeye continued.

“No. Edward, in your day…you made a name for yourself long before Liore. The People for the People’s Alchemist Coalition from Rizenbourg, along with pretty much the entire populations of Youswell, Aquaroya, and Xenotime, have been petitioning for a fair retrial for some time.” She said.

“Then why haven’t-“ Alphonse began.

“Because we didn’t have enough evidence then.” Falman said. “We do now. The old records, everything that was sealed, everything that was buried - we rose up and we have it now. The Fifth Lab. The Fuhrer’s City. All of it.”

“And you, Alphonse.” Hawkeye said. “We have you. Now that we have you, I can’t imagine Winry won’t be able to organize a sizeable protest.”

“Winry?” Alphonse asked. He sounded younger all of a sudden, now that he was surprised.

“Miss Rockbell has been one of Edward’s most vocal supporters from the very beginning.” Falman said. “As you can well imagine.”

“Yes I can, but…”

“The people are calling for a retrial.” Hawkeye said, and DAMN her for sounding so smug about it, so sure. She was cut from the same cloth as Mustang was, there was not denying that. “A civilian retrial. So, the Fuhrer shall acquiesce to the people’s demands. He is, after all-“

“-‘the Fuhrer for the People’.” Alphonse completed. Edward didn’t recognize it, but it sounded like a catchphrase. A lame one, which was typical.

“Really needs to hire a script-writer, though.” Edward muttered, and ducked his head instinctively against repercussion.

“At any rate, Alphonse…and Edward,” Hawkeye added belatedly (again, even in friendly territory, he was roughly equivalent to chopped liver?!). “I had you transferred to District Eight - military jurisdiction - theoretically until Edward’s second parole hearing, but that is a misnomer.”

“Because there isn’t going to be a second parole hearing. Because, if you two are willing, the Fuhrer is ready to announce your retrial within the next forty-eight hours.”

“…do we even have a choice?” Edward groaned. The wagon, the world was moving too fast again. He was seriously going to be sick.

Hot lights, in a momentary patch of sunlight through the grate. He had already had far, far too much of courtrooms.

But his brother’s eyes were shining with a fervent light, and it was hard enough just hold onto his own rolling stomach, let alone his brother’s suddenly irrepressible spirit.

“…and I take it you stand to gain from this, too.” Alphonse said. “You get to be the good guys again, don’t you. Dig up all the dirty laundry on your enemies. Make yourselves smell like roses.”

“Alphonse, I-“ Hawkeye crumpled, defeated. The vehicle came to an upsettingly abrupt halt, whether at an intersection or just in the street, Edward had no way of knowing. He sagged against the vehicle wall.

“Yes.” She said, gave up any pretension of arguing. “The trial will help us bring a lot of injustices to light, not just you, Edward,” - great, I am now officially an ‘injustice’ Edward thinks, and Al is a ‘mitigating factor’ - “and we can start fixing so MANY things…but he’s not doing it for that. We’re not doing it for that. Please, you have to believe us…”

Edward leaned his head against the cool metal of the wall, willed his nausea to drain away with the cold. He was sick of having to believe people, make plans, believe in plans. He just wanted things to either happen, or stop looming over him.

“What do you think, brother?” Alphonse was asking, and he couldn’t care about that either.

“I don’t care.” He said. “I really don’t. Fuck …” He pressed his now pounding temples to the wall too, just wishing he could breathe. The small space was growing noxious around him.

Alphonse went silent for a time. The paddy wagon slowly, slowly began to accelerate again.

“Alright. I accept.” Alphonse said, eventually. “I will let you use me as evidence - for my brother’s sake.” Emphasis on the latter rather too much, Edward thought. “But I have one condition.”

Alphonse’s bright countenance turned darker, and his smile became a grimace bordering on the grotesque. In the low light, it made his face look like it was cast harder than the armor. “I want to speak with Fuhrer Mustang first.”