[Fic] A History of Violence, Chapter 6

[cryogenia]

...could it BE?! Why yes, yes it is! :D

Title: A History of Violence
Author: cryogenia
Rating: R for language and violence
Genre: Gen, drama, prisonfic


“I want to speak with Fuhrer Mustang first.” Alphonse said.

Edward hissed as they hit another bump, this one harder. The wagon seemed be accelerating, was rapidly leaving his stomach behind.

“Because I honestly don’t see why this all is necessary.” Alphonse was saying, eyes still blazing. “And I want to speak with him in person about it. Not on the phone.”

“That can be arranged.” Hawkeye said. “In fact, he was planning on it. Currently, we are taking you two to a safe location, so you both can get some rest. The Fuhrer will meet with you as soon as he can.”

“I see. So is he busy-busy, or not-wanting-to-deal-with-the-Elrics, busy?” Alphonse asked. Edward had to smile a little at that. There had been a lot of jokes, hadn’t there. Even Breda had noticed that the Colonel was suspiciously on time for meetings whenever the Elrics came around. And occasionally, let them last suspiciously too long.

“Depends on if I have to haul him out of the boardroom by his nutsack to get him to face us.” He cracked.

Everyone fell silent at that. His brother even stared.

“What?” He asked, annoyed. It was a damn joke. “You used to do it all the time. Go in and drag him out. Over your shoulder..”

When you were armor, at least. He would never, ever, have thought that he’d relish the thought of his brother as a wall of metal, but there was something strangely sweet about the memory. Okay, maybe it hadn’t been all the time - he usually just burst into the office first, Alphonse didn’t get the chance to get cheesed off - but it was funny that one time. Blue coattails flying over the shoulder of Alphonse’s shoulder, very suddenly, and that had been the only time he’d ever known the Flame Alchemist to squawk. The office gang hadn’t let him hear the end of it for weeks.

“You know, like that one time.” He clarified again. Tasted the words silently before he gave them air, to make sure he wasn’t going to screw anything up. “When you ended his meeting for him, and he screeched. The ‘parrot thing’.”

Hawkeye made a sound like a deflating balloon, and Edward realized that she was releasing a breath he hadn’t even realized she was holding. Alphonse shuddered a little too, though whether in recognition or simply relief, Edward couldn’t tell.

“I’m not pissed at him, if that’s what you were thinking.” Edward insisted. Finally, had the cool enough on his skin that his stomach didn’t want to leap out through his nose. “Al, I told you, drop it. He did what he could.”

Got us out. He wanted to say, but couldn’t right away. Breathe through the mouth. That was the ticket. Damn cabbage-smell was still awful.

“Brother?” Alphonse asked finally, tilting his head. “You…are you okay? You don’t look so good.”

“Yeah, I’m fine!” He said on his next rush of air, gulped a breath to replace it.

“You don’t look fine.”

“I’m in a car.” He snarled, and felt a momentary spike of pleasure at Alphonse’s startled look of recognition. Embarrassing or not, at least his brother remembered.

“Alphonse?” Hawkeye called back. “Everything alright?”

“YES.” Edward said. He resented being talked over.

“He’s just a little car-sick.” Alphonse added. “It happens.” He said, with a smile that under normal circumstances, Edward would have claimed was too bright for the subject matter. “This one time in South City…”

“Do you have to share?” Edward complained, but there wasn’t much heat behind it. His brother was enjoying remembering these things, he could see it on his face. Al, he…a tightness in Edward’s chest loosened, and he breathed in, deeper than he had before. If he had done nothing else right this week - and he’d done a whole hell of a lot of things wrong, he was beginning to feel like - he had given Al something he did not absolutely hate.

“Well, hang in there, you two.” Hawkeye encouraged, needlessly. “We’re almost there.”

“We arranged to house you near the Academy.” Falman piped up. “There are some bungalows, just off base, where they normally house visiting professors. No one will be surprised by State vehicles out that way.”

Alphonse touched his arm worriedly. “And they’re going to be okay with a police car?”

“With all due respect to the mighty Policewagon.” Falman said, and there was a glimmer of mirth in his voice. “This does not look much like a modern police car. The P-147 went out of style years ago - not secure enough. They have largely been retired for use as cargo vessels. Low security items. Paper goods, grocery.”

“Well, it sure smells like it.” Edward snarled. “Like a green grocer crawled in here and died.” Alphonse made a calming noise and surprisingly, up front, he heard the sudden roar of road-noise.

“Is that better, Edward?” The Brigadier-General called back. “I rolled the window down.”

“Are you getting enough air back there, boys?” Falman asked, a little louder. “I cracked mine too; I can take it down farther if you’d like.”

Edward simply nodded, drew in a steadying breath. The grate didn’t provide much ventilation, but it was enough. Fresher air was wafting in; he relished the sweetness.

Alphonse, watching him breathe, spoke for the both of them. “Thank you. Please.”

The remaining few minutes of their ride were spent in silence, because the road noise dominated everything. Edward concentrated on the thrumming of the wagon beneath him, counted breaths silently in his head in lieu of heartbeats. He was starting to be aware of a raging hunger underneath the sickness, probably the reason he was so out of whack to begin with. Extreme hunger, extreme pain, both these things could bring on nausea. When he’d first gotten his automail, they’d fed him on a IV for what, nigh on two weeks?

Give it an hour, it’ll pass. He reminded himself. If you could get over the hump, it would spike and eventually, fade.

The vehicle bumped up a drive, disrupting his equilibrium, but he righted it fairly quickly as the wagon came to a stop.

“Are we there yet?” Alphonse asked. “Is it safe to stand up?”

“Yes, hang on a minute.” Falman called back. Alphonse rose and stretched; Edward remained where he was.

The back doors were thrown open, and sunlight hit them like a sledgehammer.

“Come on, brother - are you okay?!” Alphonse yelped, irritatingly nonsequitur.

“Huh?” His brother grabbed his flesh shoulder and almost tipped him over, what the hell.

“You’re as white as a sheet! Are you feeling faint?”

Edward considered. He’d been faint before. You had to ration your water on hot days, or you’d keel right over in the line; head got all muzzy and limbs didn’t want to work right. Edward knew what that felt like, and he didn’t think he was quite that dizzy right now, so he determined he was fine.

“No, I’m fine.” He reported, and was intensely annoyed when his brother apparently refused to believe him. Alphonse grabbed his automail elbow and tried to help him up, which was just downright annoying.

He pulled his arm away and thrust himself, shakily, upwards.

“Dammit, I-“

The world grayed out for a second, and when it resolved again he realized, frustrated, that he was still on the floor. His brother, Falman, and Hawkeye were all standing above him, impossible to see for the brightness at their backs.

“Has he had anything to eat, this afternoon?” Hawkeye was saying, and her tone implied extreme peril if she was not answered immediately.

“No, ma’am, I regret to say.” That was Falman, sounding decidedly uncomfortable.

“Your boys didn’t give us so much as a cup of water.” His brother’s voice, high and upset. “He hardly had anything to eat on the train this morning, either.”

But I had biscuits. Edward thought, confused. Al had been the source of biscuits, he should know that.

“Shall I call a doctor, ma’am?”

“I’ll have to find a safe one. Give me a minute.”

“Why would you wait!? If he’s sick, we should take him to the hospital right now!”

“If it’s just low blood sugar, he’d do better with some lunch and some quiet.”

“Alphonse, do you think you could help us-“

Hands seized his shoulders, his hips, and Edward was startled into action. He didn’t like it when it was bright, and people were shadowed. He especially didn’t like it when shadowed people tried to man-handle him.

“I’m okay!” He hissed, and flailed out for purchase as they lifted him. “Put me down!”

“Brother?!” Alphonse’s body was worming its way beneath his real arm, and he could feel himself leaning heavily on the poor kid. “Are you okay?”

Hawkeye - to his right, had her hand on his ASS - started babbling nonsense. “Edward, hold still, take it easy -“

“I’m okay, I can WALK!” He snarled at the uniform and tore away as soon as his footing was solid. Legs were kind of shaky - shit, maybe he wasn’t as steady as he thought he was - but the thought of being held onto like that gave him living nightmares. Walk it off. His head wasn’t swimming, if your head wasn’t swimming you could just walk it off.

Alphonse was back in a heartbeat, wrapping his arms around and preventing him bodily from tipping off the edge of the truck bed. He stiffened immediately and nearly elbowed, but his brother held fast and didn’t let up.

“No, you’ll fall - let me HELP you. Please.”

“Al, I-“

“Brother, PLEASE!” His little brother’s voice cracked. “Why does everything have to be so hard? I promise, it’s not going to hurt you, just lean on me for a bit! Until you get your balance back, please. For me.”

“…okay.” Edward said. If it freaked his brother out that much…he could let him stand there, he guessed. They were standing together. He could deal with that.

“We can take it a bit at a time.” His brother said. “We don’t have to rush. Neither of us is going anywhere.”

When Alphonse slowly released him, clambered down from the truck and offered up a helping hand, he found he could climb out of the truck, too.

The little bungalow wasn’t large, but it was amazingly luxurious on the inside. There was a kitchenette, a living room, a private bath, and a bedroom - all fully furnished, and decorated in dignified colors. Falman explained that it had once upon a time been somebody’s private residence, absorbed by the expanding of the base, and the base’s attached military academy. There had been plans to demolish the houses on this block to accommodate a couple new dormitories, the history buff said. That had ultimately fallen through, and the space had been appropriated instead as temporary housing.

Alphonse, for his part, hadn’t been nearly so interested in the draperies or the couch - an actual couch, that looked squishy! - as the bed. He marched Edward into the bedroom almost as soon as Falman mentioned it, and bullied him into sitting down. Edward blinked, still overwhelmed by the tornado of Sibling that had attacked him. At least it was cool in here, and relatively dark. He remarked on that, and Alphonse was letting the window shades down in practically the next breath. It became full-dark, relaxing.

Hawkeye and Falman followed them only as far as the doorway, and Edward wished they would just go away. He was sick of staring at uniforms.

“What would you like to eat, Edward?” Hawkeye asked. She did keep her distance, at least; for that he was grateful. “Nothing is stocked here, but I can fetch you anything you like from the base cafeteria.”

“I don’t care. Whatever.” Just leave me alone.

“Alphonse?”

“Something substantial, I’m starving. Oh, and cream stew if they have it.” He winked at his brother and Edward wondered why. “That was always brother’s favorite.” Oh, right.

“Alright, I’ll take care of it. Warrant-Officer Falman has to return to First Central P.D...do you think you will be alright by yourselves for a few minutes?” The question was directed at Alphonse but Edward answered.

“Yeah, we’ll be much better, actually,” he said. “Really. And if I somehow do manage to kick the bucket from being carsick, well, sorry for the paperwork.” Rolled his eyes, for emphasis. Dammit, he just wanted them GONE.

The Brigadier-General favored him with one small, sad smile, before performing a stiff turnabout and stepping away. Every inch the professional.

“Help yourself to anything, Alphonse. Edward. The whole place is at your disposal.” Falman said briefly, and he too saluted, disappeared from the doorframe. Edward was not at all sorry to see him go.

“Brother…” Alphonse shifted back and forth uncomfortably. Edward tsked quietly to himself. His brother needed something to do. Something to fetch.

“Al?”

“Yes?” His brother was instantly at attention, with an intensity that was still slightly disturbing.

“…do you think you could find me a glass of water?”

“Sure!” Alphonse was away in an instant, a solid streak of determined Elric. Edward tried not to laugh at the thundering footsteps. His brother would transmute the windows in cups if he had to, you could see it in his eyes.

That was me once, he thought, wistfully. They really were related. It was all in the stomping and the clattering and the general refusal to take ‘no’ for an answer.

Alphonse returned with the fruit of his labor, and Edward accepted, glad for coolness and moisture and quiet. He drained the glass and Alphonse was up to fetch him another immediately. He didn’t have to ask. He needed water, and his brother brought it. That was all there was to it.

He sipped at the second glass and leaned back a bit, observing Alphonse as he flitted about. He watched his brother fidget around inside his suitcase, apparently unpacking - no, looking for more of those damned biscuits. He was shaking the empty wrappers as if punishing them for having the audacity to be empty.

“I finished them this morning,” he said, but his brother only nodded, continued digging. Edward took another draught from his glass and smiled. If anyone could conjure biscuits into existence through sheer force of will, it would be his brother. Alphonse could do anything. Edward had been trapped on the cusp of that hellhole again, and Alphonse had barreled in and screamed his head off and somehow, made it right. His own super-brother, his own personal champion. How long had he secretly dreamed about this?

Alphonse seemed to notice him staring because he paused in his search and turned to face him.

“Do you need something?” he asked. Edward shook his head but Alphonse approached anyway, lit upon the bed and wrapped arms around his shoulders in a loose but definite embrace. It was an odd feeling, being held, but not, he thought, a bad one. They had used to hug each other a lot, as kids; he remembered somewhat vaguely that they had once made a promise not to forget how.

“It’s going to be okay. Cause I’m going to make sure it is,” his brother said, rubbing slow circles on his back. “It’s all going to turn out okay.”

I’m the one who’s supposed to tell YOU that. Edward thought, but simply nodded, drank in his brother’s comforting heat.

Because Alphonse said it, it would not be a lie.

He ended up falling asleep in that room, fully clothed, on a bedspread covered with aristocratic flowers. Alphonse woke him when someone - he didn’t say whom, and they didn’t stick around to clarify - dropped off food. Stew was placed in front of him, and he ate, mechanically; it had come in an insulated container, and at first it was so hot he could do little more than wash it down with copious amounts of water.

“Slow down!” Al told him and he obeyed; felt a little like an idiot. Definitely had to get used to waiting. Alphonse seemed to understand that he was used to bolting his food though, and shared a part of an apple with him while his soup cooled. He tried again after a couple of minutes, and was delighted to find that, without his tongue scorched, he could actually taste it.

It really was his favorite thing ever.

After they’d both had the chance to have a good tuck-in, Alphonse escorted him to the living room, and he got the chance to try out the couch he had seen earlier. It was a bit of a let-down, actually - the springs were broken on his chosen side - but it was certainly soft enough. Alphonse sat down beside him, and he was glad to note that his brother’s seat didn’t sag.

He took a deep breath. Alphonse took a deep breath.

“So.” he said. They looked at each other.

What now?

“Well, Winry’s coming out soon.” Alphonse announced, slowly. “Somebody called her.”

Edward started. Winry. He was ashamed to think he had almost forgotten about her.

“That’s good.” he said, closing his eyes. And it was good. “She’ll be happy to see you.”

“Yeah.” Alphonse said. “I can’t wait to see her, too. What’s she...like now, brother?”

“Crazy as ever,” Edward replied, meaning every word of it. “I really wanted her to see you.”

“Did she not know, either?”

“I did tell her - that you were okay, at least. That you were safe. Al, it was too dangerous...you wouldn’t have known her anyway…”

“No, it’s alright.” His brother cut him off. “I’m not angry with you. I’m just wondering what the next step is.” He fidgeted with the edge of his shirt a lot, Edward noticed; it was a strange trait he did not recall his brother having.

“I suppose they’re really bringing her for the trial,” Alphonse continued. “Brother…what do you know about Winry? How is she involved?”

“I don’t know much.” He admitted. “We couldn’t really talk, and they screened all our letters. But at the parole hearing, they had all these petitions…somebody had to know to submit ‘em. I think Winry did it.”

“Yes, Hawkeye said as much,” Alphonse agreed. He dropped the titles in private, Edward noted - something else the old Al never would have done. And he had seemed like such a nice kid, in Andenfield…wasn’t all set jaw and flashing eyes then. Maybe I ruined him. Edward thought distantly. When I restored his memories. Maybe something about having them back had corrupted him.

But that didn’t really make sense either. He had been a polite, thoughtful kid even when he was a menacing suit of armor, always hanging behind, always deferring. Any other kid would probably have used his size to wreak havoc. Lord knows Edward would have. Alphonse was different though, his kindness ran deep.

Whatever vengeful spirit had gotten into his brother, it had happened since they returned to the city.

“We shouldn’t have come back to Central,” he said, looked at his brother’s thunderous expression and knew it to be true.

Alphonse blinked.

“And you think of this now?” he scowled, and for a brief moment the ire was on him. Then it shifted back to its perpetual target, Alphonse staring at the Crest of Amestris displayed proudly over the fireplace. And tugging at his shirt. Always tugging at his shirt.

“Never mind that,” Alphonse said, more gently. “Not like we can leave now, anyway. But we do have to be careful.” His brother said, nostrils flaring. “They’re going to want to use Winry.” His sibling was absolutely sincere, but Edward couldn’t help but snort. It sounded so silly, so melodramatic.

“What?”

“This isn’t the old regime,” he said. It was the only thing he had to cling to.

“How can you be so sure?” His brother asked. “And now Winry’s involved, and-hell.” Edward raised his eyebrows, surprised. Alphonse gave him a look. “Oh, like you’re one to talk. Brother, I don’t get it. Doesn’t it burn you that - after all you did for them - they turn around and stick you like this? Shuffle us off and just expect us to trot out and speak up when they want us to. Don’t you feel anything at all?”

“...I never said I liked it.” Edward admitted. “I just don’t see the point in getting so upset. It’s going to happen whether or not I want it to or not.”

“They’re going to use you again!” His brother hissed. “They only let you out when it was convenient, not when it was right. Doesn’t that matter to you?”

Emboldened by his earlier assertion, his brother’s earlier compliance, Edward’s voice found bite.

“I don’t want to fight about this.” He said, as evenly as possible. “Al …we really didn’t have a choice, back then. Not me, and not Mustang, even if you don’t believe that. And if we’d had a choice then…fuck…what did I put myself through that for?” It hurt to breathe, but it felt good to say. “Can we just leave off for five seconds? I don’t want to get into this right now, I don’t want to go gallivanting off to see the bloody Fuhrer to get the bloody sentence overturned just this second.”

Want. It was a word unfamiliar, but so liberating to use. And Alphonse stopped, it was amazing…the harping quit, replaced by quiet thoughtfulness. Super-brother, back to save the day perhaps.

“What do you want, then?” His brother asked, and Edward was surprised to see a glimmer of a smile forming on his sibling’s lips. “I’m sorry I’m so pushy, brother…I just want you to have what you want-what you deserve.”

“Why don’t you try listening, then?” Edward snapped, but his heart wasn’t in it. “Cause right now, all I want is a nap.” He said truthfully, leaning back into the couch cushions. “Head hurts.”

“A nap.” Alphonse repeated blankly.

“Yeah.” Edward said, mildly irritated. “At least that’s something I can have now. The rest of it is pointless. Winry isn’t even here yet. I just want a freaking nap.”

And the smile was back in full force, and it tugged at his heart that his brother approved.

“Sure.” Alphonse said, and offered him a hand. “I’m just glad you have something.”

So am I. Edward thought, following wearily along to the bedroom. So am I.

He was out as soon as he hit the bed.

::carry me::