FMA fic: Transient (part 8)
Title: Transient (part 8)
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Rating: PG
Category: Gen
Approximate length: 60,000
Summary: With Ed suffering from what he thinks is the seasonal flu the Elric brothers track a rogue alchemist in a small town outside of East City.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7
Spoilers: This story takes place about a year before the boys go to Lior. Anything that happened before that is fair game.
Disclaimers: I don’t own Fullmetal Alchemist. This story was written for entertainment only. I’m not making any money.
Notes/warnings on this part: This is a pretty quiet chapter. Some angst, some h/c. One swear. I am trying to post as much as much as I can while I have the time, so I apologize for spamming. Once again, please let me know if you see any mistakes and I will correct them.
Please enjoy.
PART 8
Ed dreamed, but his dreams were dark and indistinct. He traveled through them in slow motion, like he was underwater, never able to get his limbs to move quickly enough. He had a goal, but he didn’t know what that goal was. He only knew that in his present state it was hopelessly out of his reach.
Ed woke up tangled in sweat-soaked sheets and shivering like one of Al’s kittens that had been left outside in the rain.
His first impulse was to take a deep breath, and all that did was start him coughing again. Ed felt an arm snake around his back, hauling him into a sitting position. The arm was warm, so it wasn’t his brother’s, and thick, so it wasn’t Mason’s.
The sheriff’s uniform trousers were creased, as if he’d been sitting for some time. Ed wondered how long he’d been asleep, and what had happened while he was out.
After a few moments Ed’s cough quieted. He sat there, gasping because the air was too thick to breathe. When he could speak, the first words that Ed croaked out were, “Where’s Al?”
“Al is in the other room. Do you want me to get him?”
“No!” Al didn’t need to see him like this.
Greg Biggs looked a little surprised, but nodded like he understood.
It was dark except for a kerosene lamp burning on the nightstand and the dull orange glow of the stove leaking in through the open door. He could hear music and voices filtering in from the street outside, loud and spirited but muted by the walls so that individual words were difficult to distinguish. So it was night now, but not late enough for the revelers to have gone to bed. That answered Ed’s question about how long he’d been asleep.
Ed heard a clinking sound in the dark, and then felt the rim of a glass pressing against his lips. “Drink.” It was an order, not a request, and Ed managed a few sips before the water spilled around the corners of his mouth and he had to choose between turning his head away and drowning. “A little more,” the sheriff insisted, but Ed kept his lips shut tight. Swallowing hurt too much.
“Okay,” the sheriff conceded. “You win.”
Ed heard the clinking sound again as the sheriff set the glass next to the kerosene lamp. It was the sound of the sheriff’s wedding band touching the glass.
“Your fever is down a little,” the sheriff told him. “Your brother said you didn’t want a doctor.”
Ed let his silence speak for him.
“Well, for the time being you got your wish, Mr. Elric…Ed. We only have one doctor and he’s got his hands full right now.” The sheriff’s voice was calm and level, but his posture and movements showed his exhaustion. He ran a hand over his face. “One of the engineers that was working on our problem with the river slipped on a boulder and fell into the water. He broke an arm and a leg. Two other men were hurt trying to pull him out.”
Ed’s eyes widened. He found himself examining the sheriff more closely, noting the dirt under his fingernails, the scrapes on his big knuckles and the creases of exhaustion around his eyes. It looked as if the sheriff had had a hand in the rescue of those men as well. “You okay?” Ed asked.
The sheriff seemed amused by his concern. “Thanks for asking. I’m doing a lot better than you are.”
“Those stubborn idiots,” Ed muttered angrily. “Can’t accept a little help when they really need it. Can’t let the military dogs deal with a little problem like changing the course of an entire river. No, they have to move their own rocks around and mess it all up…” he trailed off, wanting to say so much more but lacking the stamina to do it. Besides, Ed felt sort of guilty for condemning the townspeople, considering what the military had done to them in the past.
The sheriff was regarding him with a surprised, almost amused expression.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he sighed. Then he stunned Ed by agreeing, “I know how you feel. It’s frustrating, but there isn’t a whole lot that you can do to convince someone that the beliefs he grew up with are wrong, so there’s no use dwelling on it. You just do the best that you can and hope they come around.”
Ed didn’t just feel anger at the townspeople’s prejudice. He felt remorse and sadness too. People had been injured unnecessarily, and they could have been killed. He was angry with them and angry with himself. He could have insisted. He could have repaired the river without their permission, although they probably would have resented him for it.
Ed was surprised to feel tears leaking down his cheeks. He blamed it on the fever, on the pain in his chest and the burning in his throat. He was grateful that the darkness hid his face.
“The doctor said he would come by when he has the chance, but that won’t be until tomorrow at the earliest. It’s late now. You should try to get some more sleep.”
“Sheriff?”
“Hmm?”
“Can I ask you something?” Ed struggled to master his abused vocal cords. He had to speak slowly to make his words intelligible. “How important is it to you that we catch this guy?”
The sheriff was shaking his head. “It’s less important than making sure no one else in this town gets hurt, and that includes you and your brother.”
“Well, catching him is important to me,” Ed wheezed.
“Stop talking,” the sheriff said in a low, soothing voice. He reached towards the nightstand where a shallow bowl of water rested. Ed could see the dim orange light reflecting off of the surface. It danced when the sheriff dipped a washcloth into it and wrung it out before placing it on Ed’s forehead.
Cool droplets of water rolled down Ed’s temple and soaked into the pillow, which was already drenched with sweat.
The sheriff was trying not to engage him in conversation. Maybe he thought that Ed’s words were feverish ravings. Maybe he was right. It didn’t make them less true.
“It’s important to me that people pay for their crimes,” Ed explained, unsolicited. “It’s not enough to fix his mistakes and hope he doesn’t do it again. I have to make sure that he can’t hurt anyone else.”
“I can see that,” the sheriff said. “You don’t have much faith in people, do you? Usually it takes a lifetime for a person to become so cynical.”
Ed looked down at his mismatched hands, lying on top of the covers. His arms were bare. Someone had stripped him down to his undershirt and shorts. He could feel the metal of his prosthetic leg rubbing against his real one.
The sheriff cleared his throat. “I knew that your arm was automail. I didn’t know about your leg. You must have had some accident,” he said sympathetically. “I suppose that’s why your brother wears the armor.”
Ed shook his head, “No accident.”
Although the sheriff had said ‘accident’, Ed felt as if he were only using that word to get to the truth. What he said next confirmed Ed’s suspicions; “You were injured in the line of duty then.”
Again Ed denied it. “My fault,” he insisted.
The sheriff looked at him for a long time, searching his face like the truth might be hidden there. Finally he said, “You’re young. You’re supposed to make mistakes. That’s how you learn.” He shook his head, “But someone should have been looking out for you.” He spoke with the authority and certainty of a sheriff and a parent both.
There was no easy way for Ed to explain away the choices that had brought him to this point. “I was old enough to know better.”
“Okay, mister state alchemist,” the sheriff said, his voice completely devoid of humor. He looked up, like he was studying the ceiling. “Children in the military. What’s the world coming to?”
Ed’s eyes drifted to the sheriff’s hand, to the scratched wedding band glinting in the lamplight. If the sheriff was going to get personal, then so was he. “Where’s your wife?”
Ed spoke out of pure curiosity, his candor fueled by physical misery. He was beyond caring how inappropriate his question was or whether or not the answer was something that he wanted to hear.
The sheriff paused. He appeared to consider his answer carefully before giving it to Edward, probably wondering whether or not Ed would remember it at all come morning. The sheriff kept his answer short and simple. “It’s been just Mason and I for a long time.”
“Oh…sorry.” Ed said through dry, cracked lips. He remembered what Mason had told him earlier, about his father becoming sheriff in order to pay the bills. Raising a child as a single parent must have been very difficult.
Raising two…
“Does Mason remember her?”
The sheriff didn’t have to think long about that answer. “I doubt it. She died when he was barely a year old.”
When he looked up Ed was ready to meet his eyes. “Better that way,” Ed said, very sure.
He began coughing and turned away. The sheriff held him upright. Ed felt him press a dry cloth to his mouth. It muffled the sound of his cough and caught the coppery wetness that landed there.
When he was done the sheriff fed him a few sips of water and eased him back onto the pillows that were piled at the head of the bed. Ed watched him examine the cloth in the dim light.
“Not good, huh?” Ed asked, a drop or two of fear seeping through the nonchalance in his voice.
The sheriff looked up. Both his eyes and his words conveyed the gravity of the situation. “Could be better. If you wear yourself out it’s definitely going to get worse. I want you to stay put. Rest. Understand?”
Ed nodded, an automatic response. Too late, he realized that he’d just taken an order.
“I’m going to make my rounds tonight, but I won’t stay out long. Mason and your brother are here if you need anything, and Walter is downstairs.”
The sheriff watched Ed quietly, either hesitating or waiting for an acknowledgment.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Ed said.
“Good. Get some sleep. Is there anything that I can get you?”
Ed’s body liked the suggestion of ‘sleep’. He let his eyes fall shut and shook his head at the sheriff’s question, anything to get him out of the room more quickly.
The sheriff opened the door and slid from the room quietly, the momentary increase in light barely registering against Ed’s eyelids.
With the sheriff gone Ed took deeper, less cautious breaths. As he expected the increase of air flowing into his lungs made him cough, and he curled into mattress, dampening the sound of his labored breathing. At least with the sheriff there Ed had had something to distract him from the pain in his chest, but left by himself the pressure on his lungs felt that much greater. The struggle to breathe was almost overwhelming, and Ed was tired, miserably tired, but with his chest in agony he didn’t see how he was going to be able to get the sleep that his body craved.
For a long time Ed concentrated only on keeping still and staying as silent as possible. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself and bring Al or anyone else into the room. There wouldn’t be anything that they could do anyway. Let Al think he was sleeping, and maybe if he stayed still long enough, he might be able to.
Eventually sounds began to filter in from outside, and Ed couldn’t help but concentrate on them. He could hear the noise of the people in the street, a bottle breaking, a deep, booming laugh. Then he heard the creak of the floor in the next room, and the sound of the door opening. Closer still, the soft clanking of his brother’s armor, the squeak of his joints as he moved slowly and cautiously to Ed’s bedside.
Ed lay as still as possible and fought to take shallow, even breaths.
After what seemed like an endless amount of time Al retreated and shut the door gently behind him.
Ed sucked in a desperate breath, seeing stars. He heard soft voices in the next room. They belonged to Mason and Al.
“He’s sleeping?”
“Mm hmm. I think he’s breathing a little better now.” Al sounded hopeful and a little relieved. Ed felt a guilty sort of relief as well.
“That’s good,” Mason said courteously. “My dad said that there was a little blood. Not much. His fever is still pretty high, though.” A pause. Then, “Hey…it’s okay.”
“I never should have let him come here. I should have stopped him,” Ed heard Al say tearfully.
“Do you really think you could have? Your brother’s pretty stubborn, but he’s a tough kid. I’m sure he’ll be okay,” Mason kept his voice upbeat.
“I hope so. The doctor in East City said that it was just the seasonal flu, but I’ve never seen him so sick. What do you think is wrong?” Al asked nervously.
“Dad thought it might be some kind of chest infection. We’ll just have to see what the doctor says.” On the one hand Ed was grateful to him for trying to make Al feel better, and on the other hand he was jealous because big brother pep talks were his department. “It won’t do your brother any good to beat yourself up about it. We’ll just have to wait and see.”
“I know…” Al sighed. “I just wish that there was something more I could do.”
“You’re already doing everything that you can for him.”
“It’s not just that. I…told Ed that I hope we don’t find Leon Mueller, but that’s not true. I know that Ed is right. What he’s doing is dangerous, and if he’s not caught he’ll probably hurt someone eventually. I wish that I could help you and the sheriff find him, but it’s going to be very difficult if the people in this town are against us. And I can’t leave Ed like this.”
Mason dismissed Al’s concerns, “Don’t worry about it. This is more important, right? You and your brother have done plenty to help this town already.”
“Brother said that the people in this town don’t like us being here. He was right, wasn’t he?”
There was a quiet moment. Mason seemed to be gathering his thoughts. Finally he said, “You shouldn’t worry about that. Dad and Walter and I sometimes aren’t the most popular people in town either. We just do our jobs and try to treat people fairly and hope that everyone realizes that we have their best interests in mind. It’s not easy but that’s what you have to do.”
Al sighed, “I know. I guess I was just hoping that you’d tell me that Brother was wrong.”
Ed felt his heart constrict for his sensitive little brother. As menacing as Al looked on the outside, he could be so easily upset by the cruel things that people thought or said to him, even if they weren’t true.
“Hey,” Mason changed the subject, “did you get through to your commanding officer? Mustang?”
At the mention of the colonel’s name Ed froze where he lay and focused all his energy on Al’s answer.
“Yeah, I did. Well, sort of. I left a message with his lieutenant. I told her everything that we’d found out and I told her about Ed. Brother will be mad, but I don’t care. He’s not well enough to finish the assignment.”
Well, Al was right about that. Ed felt a little betrayed, but what did he expect? Still, this had to be some kind of insubordination.
“Did she give you any orders?” Mason asked.
“Orders?” Al asked. Ed supposed he’d momentarily forgotten that Mason didn’t know that he wasn’t in the military. “No. She said to stay put and she’d have the colonel call me as soon as he has a chance…and she said she hoped Ed felt better.”
“What do you think the colonel will say?” Mason asked. His tone was casual but there was a note of genuine curiosity in his voice.
“I don’t know. He usually doesn’t say very much. Ed and I usually don’t find out what his plans are until afterward.”
“Do you think he’ll send someone else?”
A pause. “The colonel doesn’t like to leave loose ends. If Ed and I can’t take care of the situation, or at least find a way to make sure Leon Mueller doesn’t do something like this again, he’ll find someone who can.” Al answered ominously.
Al was being vague on purpose. He might be a little more inclined to see the good in people than Ed was, but Al was still sharp. He could tell when someone was shining him on. What he said next confirmed Ed’s theory.
“Deputy,” Al said formally. “I’m very grateful for everything you and your father have done to help us. Thank you.”
“Oh,” Mason sounded caught off guard, embarrassed. “Uh, you’re welcome.”
“Now I need to ask you a question, and I need you to be honest with me.”
“Okay…” Mason said guardedly.
“Earlier my brother said that he thought you knew something about this case, that you had information that you weren’t sharing with us. Was he right?”
A tense silence followed. Ed could hear only the beating of his heart.
“Al- ” Mason started. He made the name a plea.
“Tell me. If you know something then you need to tell me. If you don’t, I can’t help you.”
Examining Al’s words Ed noticed than Al had never said that he would help Mason even if he confessed.
After a long while Ed heard Mason whisper, “It’s not what you think.”
“I don’t know what to think, Mason. I’m not here to judge you. I’m sure that you had a good reason for helping Leon.”
“I didn’t help him,” Mason sounded vaguely offended.
“But you know where he is.”
“Al…it’s complicated.”
“I’m listening,” Al said gently.
Ed was proud of his brother. Al’s gentle prying could open doors that remained shut despite all of Ed’s kicking and banging.
“Leon is just a kid. He’s a freshman at the university. We have some of the same classes, but we’re not exactly friends. He’s more of… I don’t know… a tag-along. He was looking for something to do over semester break, so I told him he should come and check out the rock and gem festival. That was it.”
“So you invited him?”
“Yeah, well, I guess you could say that,” Mason admitted dejectedly.
“Did you tell your dad that he was coming?”
“What was there to tell? It wasn’t like I invited him to stay with us. At the time I just thought I was making a suggestion. Most of the other geology majors find their way here eventually. There are at least three or four other students in town right now that I know of.”
“Is he staying with one of them?”
“Not likely. They’re all upper classmen, seniors and graduate students. I wasn’t even sure that Leon had come here until after the earthquake happened and his name started popping up.”
“Have you seen him since all of this happened?”
More silence.
“Mason,” Al prompted.
“No.” Mason’s voice hardened; became determined. “Listen, it’s my fault that he’s here in the first place. It’s not your responsibility and I’m sorry that you and your brother got dragged into this in the first place. Leon’s a good kid. He just…doesn’t know what he’s doing. He isn’t a criminal and he doesn’t deserve to be punished like one. Please just leave this to me.”
“Maybe we can help. You don’t have to handle this alone.”
“Honestly? I’m a little afraid of what will happen if your brother ever gets a hold of him.”
Ed felt his eye begin to twitch at that. Deputy or not that guy had some nerve implying that Ed wasn’t a complete professional when it came to doing his job.
“You should at least tell your dad what you know.”
“I think it might be a little late for that now. Besides, I don’t think it will help at all. You’re not thinking of telling him, are you?”
“You know what’s right. If this is really your responsibility then you should own up to it. I came here to help my brother find Leon Mueller. If I can still find a way to do that, I will.”
“What about your brother?” Mason inquired.
“If I can’t help him get well, then finishing this assignment for him is the least I can do. If I do that then maybe I can put his mind at ease. He wanted to catch the rogue alchemist so badly that he was willing to risk himself to do it. That’s the way that he is. He pushes everything to the limit and he doesn’t think about himself.”
What was there to think about? He had a job to do, a mission that bastard Mustang had assigned him, like a challenge. It seemed like he was always looking for a ways to push his buttons, to test him, to break him. He heard that’s what they did in boot camp, and in those fancy military academies: break you down and build you back up into the kind of soldier that the military wanted. That was probably where Mustang had been taught all of his little games. It was easy for Ed to imagine Mustang as a teenager in one of those places. Bastard had probably been class leader, or a hall monitor or had some kind of bullshit responsibility reserved for overly ambitious, self-serving know-it-alls.
Ed opened his eyes, shocked because he didn’t remember closing them.
It was light in Mason’s room. Not nighttime anymore, but day. Full daylight was streaming through the curtains, laying well-defined squares on the bed linens that covered Ed’s legs.
Ed sat bolt upright.
When the hell had he gone to sleep?
He listened carefully, but Al and Mason’s voices had vanished completely along with the darkness. He must have fallen asleep in the middle of their conversation. He remembered that they’d been talking about Leon Mueller. Ed struggled to recall the content of their conversation, trying to remember whether Mason had revealed his location or given some kind of clue about where he could be found. He felt a surge of anger at himself for falling asleep in the middle of such an important exchange. How could he have done something so stupid?
Ed found his answer as he tried to climb out of bed and the floor rolled sickeningly beneath him. Unable to stand he dropped back onto the mattress and tucked his head between his knees until the sparks had cleared from his vision. It took a very long time.
Ed was used to physical challenges. He was used to training hard and to being constantly out of breath. He was used to pain. Still, he’d never felt anything quite like this before, this heaviness inside him, sapping the energy from his core outward, turning his limbs to lead. He tried to focus and employ the breathing techniques that his teacher had taught them, but no matter how deeply he breathed Ed felt like he couldn’t get enough air.
Ed surveyed the room. It looked so much different in the daylight, with little motes of dust floating in the shaft of light coming from the window. It wasn’t messy, but it was used, lived-in, and comfortable. His clothes had been folded and placed on the top of Mason’s desk and his red coat had been hung over the back of Mason’s chair at his desk. Ed’s suitcase was sitting next to his boots on the floor. Strange. It almost looked as if Ed and not Mason was the one returning home from college for a visit. Ed felt his chest tighten at the thought. It was times like this, when he was sick or hurt or run down that he longed for a place to call home. Ed mentally slammed a door on those thoughts. Thinking like that was a weakness. He refused to dwell on what he’d lost. He refused to think about what might have been if things had turned out differently. This was someone’s home and he was an intruder here, or at the very least an unwanted guest.
With the goal of dressing himself framed in his mind Ed mustered the energy to stand and walk the five or so steps to his suitcase. Once he was up and moving he found that things were easier. As he fumbled with his buckles and zippers he even managed to convince himself that he was feeling a little better, and would feel better still as the day went on.
Ed crept into the Biggs’ tiny living room, being cautious of anyone who might be asleep on the sofa, but the room was empty. He paused and listened carefully but he couldn’t detect anyone moving around in the other bedroom or downstairs. Ed couldn’t immediately tell how late in the morning it was by the slant of the light through the window, but outside the streets were still quiet. There was cold air seeping in through the cracks around the window. The air had a humid bite to it that spoke of rain. It made his stumps ache and sent a chill straight to his bones. Ed’s thoughts turned to the little brown and white house sitting on the edge of the river. He wondered if the water had risen high enough during the night to claim it. Maybe that was why no one seemed to be around this morning.
Ed let gravity pull him down the stairs one jarring step at a time, fully expecting Al to call out to him as he descended and scold him for not staying in bed. To his surprise, that didn’t happen. In fact the sheriff’s office was silent as the grave.
A feeling of unease crept over him.
When Ed reached the bottom of the stairs he discovered the reason for the unexpected quiet: the office was unmanned, and the front door was wide open.
To be continued... part 9
Thank you for reading. Feedback is welcome.
Note on the userpic (courtesy of Erica/Zelli): I love it. It is the embodiment of Ed throughout 90% of this story.
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Rating: PG
Category: Gen
Approximate length: 60,000
Summary: With Ed suffering from what he thinks is the seasonal flu the Elric brothers track a rogue alchemist in a small town outside of East City.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7
Spoilers: This story takes place about a year before the boys go to Lior. Anything that happened before that is fair game.
Disclaimers: I don’t own Fullmetal Alchemist. This story was written for entertainment only. I’m not making any money.
Notes/warnings on this part: This is a pretty quiet chapter. Some angst, some h/c. One swear. I am trying to post as much as much as I can while I have the time, so I apologize for spamming. Once again, please let me know if you see any mistakes and I will correct them.
Please enjoy.
PART 8
Ed dreamed, but his dreams were dark and indistinct. He traveled through them in slow motion, like he was underwater, never able to get his limbs to move quickly enough. He had a goal, but he didn’t know what that goal was. He only knew that in his present state it was hopelessly out of his reach.
Ed woke up tangled in sweat-soaked sheets and shivering like one of Al’s kittens that had been left outside in the rain.
His first impulse was to take a deep breath, and all that did was start him coughing again. Ed felt an arm snake around his back, hauling him into a sitting position. The arm was warm, so it wasn’t his brother’s, and thick, so it wasn’t Mason’s.
The sheriff’s uniform trousers were creased, as if he’d been sitting for some time. Ed wondered how long he’d been asleep, and what had happened while he was out.
After a few moments Ed’s cough quieted. He sat there, gasping because the air was too thick to breathe. When he could speak, the first words that Ed croaked out were, “Where’s Al?”
“Al is in the other room. Do you want me to get him?”
“No!” Al didn’t need to see him like this.
Greg Biggs looked a little surprised, but nodded like he understood.
It was dark except for a kerosene lamp burning on the nightstand and the dull orange glow of the stove leaking in through the open door. He could hear music and voices filtering in from the street outside, loud and spirited but muted by the walls so that individual words were difficult to distinguish. So it was night now, but not late enough for the revelers to have gone to bed. That answered Ed’s question about how long he’d been asleep.
Ed heard a clinking sound in the dark, and then felt the rim of a glass pressing against his lips. “Drink.” It was an order, not a request, and Ed managed a few sips before the water spilled around the corners of his mouth and he had to choose between turning his head away and drowning. “A little more,” the sheriff insisted, but Ed kept his lips shut tight. Swallowing hurt too much.
“Okay,” the sheriff conceded. “You win.”
Ed heard the clinking sound again as the sheriff set the glass next to the kerosene lamp. It was the sound of the sheriff’s wedding band touching the glass.
“Your fever is down a little,” the sheriff told him. “Your brother said you didn’t want a doctor.”
Ed let his silence speak for him.
“Well, for the time being you got your wish, Mr. Elric…Ed. We only have one doctor and he’s got his hands full right now.” The sheriff’s voice was calm and level, but his posture and movements showed his exhaustion. He ran a hand over his face. “One of the engineers that was working on our problem with the river slipped on a boulder and fell into the water. He broke an arm and a leg. Two other men were hurt trying to pull him out.”
Ed’s eyes widened. He found himself examining the sheriff more closely, noting the dirt under his fingernails, the scrapes on his big knuckles and the creases of exhaustion around his eyes. It looked as if the sheriff had had a hand in the rescue of those men as well. “You okay?” Ed asked.
The sheriff seemed amused by his concern. “Thanks for asking. I’m doing a lot better than you are.”
“Those stubborn idiots,” Ed muttered angrily. “Can’t accept a little help when they really need it. Can’t let the military dogs deal with a little problem like changing the course of an entire river. No, they have to move their own rocks around and mess it all up…” he trailed off, wanting to say so much more but lacking the stamina to do it. Besides, Ed felt sort of guilty for condemning the townspeople, considering what the military had done to them in the past.
The sheriff was regarding him with a surprised, almost amused expression.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he sighed. Then he stunned Ed by agreeing, “I know how you feel. It’s frustrating, but there isn’t a whole lot that you can do to convince someone that the beliefs he grew up with are wrong, so there’s no use dwelling on it. You just do the best that you can and hope they come around.”
Ed didn’t just feel anger at the townspeople’s prejudice. He felt remorse and sadness too. People had been injured unnecessarily, and they could have been killed. He was angry with them and angry with himself. He could have insisted. He could have repaired the river without their permission, although they probably would have resented him for it.
Ed was surprised to feel tears leaking down his cheeks. He blamed it on the fever, on the pain in his chest and the burning in his throat. He was grateful that the darkness hid his face.
“The doctor said he would come by when he has the chance, but that won’t be until tomorrow at the earliest. It’s late now. You should try to get some more sleep.”
“Sheriff?”
“Hmm?”
“Can I ask you something?” Ed struggled to master his abused vocal cords. He had to speak slowly to make his words intelligible. “How important is it to you that we catch this guy?”
The sheriff was shaking his head. “It’s less important than making sure no one else in this town gets hurt, and that includes you and your brother.”
“Well, catching him is important to me,” Ed wheezed.
“Stop talking,” the sheriff said in a low, soothing voice. He reached towards the nightstand where a shallow bowl of water rested. Ed could see the dim orange light reflecting off of the surface. It danced when the sheriff dipped a washcloth into it and wrung it out before placing it on Ed’s forehead.
Cool droplets of water rolled down Ed’s temple and soaked into the pillow, which was already drenched with sweat.
The sheriff was trying not to engage him in conversation. Maybe he thought that Ed’s words were feverish ravings. Maybe he was right. It didn’t make them less true.
“It’s important to me that people pay for their crimes,” Ed explained, unsolicited. “It’s not enough to fix his mistakes and hope he doesn’t do it again. I have to make sure that he can’t hurt anyone else.”
“I can see that,” the sheriff said. “You don’t have much faith in people, do you? Usually it takes a lifetime for a person to become so cynical.”
Ed looked down at his mismatched hands, lying on top of the covers. His arms were bare. Someone had stripped him down to his undershirt and shorts. He could feel the metal of his prosthetic leg rubbing against his real one.
The sheriff cleared his throat. “I knew that your arm was automail. I didn’t know about your leg. You must have had some accident,” he said sympathetically. “I suppose that’s why your brother wears the armor.”
Ed shook his head, “No accident.”
Although the sheriff had said ‘accident’, Ed felt as if he were only using that word to get to the truth. What he said next confirmed Ed’s suspicions; “You were injured in the line of duty then.”
Again Ed denied it. “My fault,” he insisted.
The sheriff looked at him for a long time, searching his face like the truth might be hidden there. Finally he said, “You’re young. You’re supposed to make mistakes. That’s how you learn.” He shook his head, “But someone should have been looking out for you.” He spoke with the authority and certainty of a sheriff and a parent both.
There was no easy way for Ed to explain away the choices that had brought him to this point. “I was old enough to know better.”
“Okay, mister state alchemist,” the sheriff said, his voice completely devoid of humor. He looked up, like he was studying the ceiling. “Children in the military. What’s the world coming to?”
Ed’s eyes drifted to the sheriff’s hand, to the scratched wedding band glinting in the lamplight. If the sheriff was going to get personal, then so was he. “Where’s your wife?”
Ed spoke out of pure curiosity, his candor fueled by physical misery. He was beyond caring how inappropriate his question was or whether or not the answer was something that he wanted to hear.
The sheriff paused. He appeared to consider his answer carefully before giving it to Edward, probably wondering whether or not Ed would remember it at all come morning. The sheriff kept his answer short and simple. “It’s been just Mason and I for a long time.”
“Oh…sorry.” Ed said through dry, cracked lips. He remembered what Mason had told him earlier, about his father becoming sheriff in order to pay the bills. Raising a child as a single parent must have been very difficult.
Raising two…
“Does Mason remember her?”
The sheriff didn’t have to think long about that answer. “I doubt it. She died when he was barely a year old.”
When he looked up Ed was ready to meet his eyes. “Better that way,” Ed said, very sure.
He began coughing and turned away. The sheriff held him upright. Ed felt him press a dry cloth to his mouth. It muffled the sound of his cough and caught the coppery wetness that landed there.
When he was done the sheriff fed him a few sips of water and eased him back onto the pillows that were piled at the head of the bed. Ed watched him examine the cloth in the dim light.
“Not good, huh?” Ed asked, a drop or two of fear seeping through the nonchalance in his voice.
The sheriff looked up. Both his eyes and his words conveyed the gravity of the situation. “Could be better. If you wear yourself out it’s definitely going to get worse. I want you to stay put. Rest. Understand?”
Ed nodded, an automatic response. Too late, he realized that he’d just taken an order.
“I’m going to make my rounds tonight, but I won’t stay out long. Mason and your brother are here if you need anything, and Walter is downstairs.”
The sheriff watched Ed quietly, either hesitating or waiting for an acknowledgment.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Ed said.
“Good. Get some sleep. Is there anything that I can get you?”
Ed’s body liked the suggestion of ‘sleep’. He let his eyes fall shut and shook his head at the sheriff’s question, anything to get him out of the room more quickly.
The sheriff opened the door and slid from the room quietly, the momentary increase in light barely registering against Ed’s eyelids.
With the sheriff gone Ed took deeper, less cautious breaths. As he expected the increase of air flowing into his lungs made him cough, and he curled into mattress, dampening the sound of his labored breathing. At least with the sheriff there Ed had had something to distract him from the pain in his chest, but left by himself the pressure on his lungs felt that much greater. The struggle to breathe was almost overwhelming, and Ed was tired, miserably tired, but with his chest in agony he didn’t see how he was going to be able to get the sleep that his body craved.
For a long time Ed concentrated only on keeping still and staying as silent as possible. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself and bring Al or anyone else into the room. There wouldn’t be anything that they could do anyway. Let Al think he was sleeping, and maybe if he stayed still long enough, he might be able to.
Eventually sounds began to filter in from outside, and Ed couldn’t help but concentrate on them. He could hear the noise of the people in the street, a bottle breaking, a deep, booming laugh. Then he heard the creak of the floor in the next room, and the sound of the door opening. Closer still, the soft clanking of his brother’s armor, the squeak of his joints as he moved slowly and cautiously to Ed’s bedside.
Ed lay as still as possible and fought to take shallow, even breaths.
After what seemed like an endless amount of time Al retreated and shut the door gently behind him.
Ed sucked in a desperate breath, seeing stars. He heard soft voices in the next room. They belonged to Mason and Al.
“He’s sleeping?”
“Mm hmm. I think he’s breathing a little better now.” Al sounded hopeful and a little relieved. Ed felt a guilty sort of relief as well.
“That’s good,” Mason said courteously. “My dad said that there was a little blood. Not much. His fever is still pretty high, though.” A pause. Then, “Hey…it’s okay.”
“I never should have let him come here. I should have stopped him,” Ed heard Al say tearfully.
“Do you really think you could have? Your brother’s pretty stubborn, but he’s a tough kid. I’m sure he’ll be okay,” Mason kept his voice upbeat.
“I hope so. The doctor in East City said that it was just the seasonal flu, but I’ve never seen him so sick. What do you think is wrong?” Al asked nervously.
“Dad thought it might be some kind of chest infection. We’ll just have to see what the doctor says.” On the one hand Ed was grateful to him for trying to make Al feel better, and on the other hand he was jealous because big brother pep talks were his department. “It won’t do your brother any good to beat yourself up about it. We’ll just have to wait and see.”
“I know…” Al sighed. “I just wish that there was something more I could do.”
“You’re already doing everything that you can for him.”
“It’s not just that. I…told Ed that I hope we don’t find Leon Mueller, but that’s not true. I know that Ed is right. What he’s doing is dangerous, and if he’s not caught he’ll probably hurt someone eventually. I wish that I could help you and the sheriff find him, but it’s going to be very difficult if the people in this town are against us. And I can’t leave Ed like this.”
Mason dismissed Al’s concerns, “Don’t worry about it. This is more important, right? You and your brother have done plenty to help this town already.”
“Brother said that the people in this town don’t like us being here. He was right, wasn’t he?”
There was a quiet moment. Mason seemed to be gathering his thoughts. Finally he said, “You shouldn’t worry about that. Dad and Walter and I sometimes aren’t the most popular people in town either. We just do our jobs and try to treat people fairly and hope that everyone realizes that we have their best interests in mind. It’s not easy but that’s what you have to do.”
Al sighed, “I know. I guess I was just hoping that you’d tell me that Brother was wrong.”
Ed felt his heart constrict for his sensitive little brother. As menacing as Al looked on the outside, he could be so easily upset by the cruel things that people thought or said to him, even if they weren’t true.
“Hey,” Mason changed the subject, “did you get through to your commanding officer? Mustang?”
At the mention of the colonel’s name Ed froze where he lay and focused all his energy on Al’s answer.
“Yeah, I did. Well, sort of. I left a message with his lieutenant. I told her everything that we’d found out and I told her about Ed. Brother will be mad, but I don’t care. He’s not well enough to finish the assignment.”
Well, Al was right about that. Ed felt a little betrayed, but what did he expect? Still, this had to be some kind of insubordination.
“Did she give you any orders?” Mason asked.
“Orders?” Al asked. Ed supposed he’d momentarily forgotten that Mason didn’t know that he wasn’t in the military. “No. She said to stay put and she’d have the colonel call me as soon as he has a chance…and she said she hoped Ed felt better.”
“What do you think the colonel will say?” Mason asked. His tone was casual but there was a note of genuine curiosity in his voice.
“I don’t know. He usually doesn’t say very much. Ed and I usually don’t find out what his plans are until afterward.”
“Do you think he’ll send someone else?”
A pause. “The colonel doesn’t like to leave loose ends. If Ed and I can’t take care of the situation, or at least find a way to make sure Leon Mueller doesn’t do something like this again, he’ll find someone who can.” Al answered ominously.
Al was being vague on purpose. He might be a little more inclined to see the good in people than Ed was, but Al was still sharp. He could tell when someone was shining him on. What he said next confirmed Ed’s theory.
“Deputy,” Al said formally. “I’m very grateful for everything you and your father have done to help us. Thank you.”
“Oh,” Mason sounded caught off guard, embarrassed. “Uh, you’re welcome.”
“Now I need to ask you a question, and I need you to be honest with me.”
“Okay…” Mason said guardedly.
“Earlier my brother said that he thought you knew something about this case, that you had information that you weren’t sharing with us. Was he right?”
A tense silence followed. Ed could hear only the beating of his heart.
“Al- ” Mason started. He made the name a plea.
“Tell me. If you know something then you need to tell me. If you don’t, I can’t help you.”
Examining Al’s words Ed noticed than Al had never said that he would help Mason even if he confessed.
After a long while Ed heard Mason whisper, “It’s not what you think.”
“I don’t know what to think, Mason. I’m not here to judge you. I’m sure that you had a good reason for helping Leon.”
“I didn’t help him,” Mason sounded vaguely offended.
“But you know where he is.”
“Al…it’s complicated.”
“I’m listening,” Al said gently.
Ed was proud of his brother. Al’s gentle prying could open doors that remained shut despite all of Ed’s kicking and banging.
“Leon is just a kid. He’s a freshman at the university. We have some of the same classes, but we’re not exactly friends. He’s more of… I don’t know… a tag-along. He was looking for something to do over semester break, so I told him he should come and check out the rock and gem festival. That was it.”
“So you invited him?”
“Yeah, well, I guess you could say that,” Mason admitted dejectedly.
“Did you tell your dad that he was coming?”
“What was there to tell? It wasn’t like I invited him to stay with us. At the time I just thought I was making a suggestion. Most of the other geology majors find their way here eventually. There are at least three or four other students in town right now that I know of.”
“Is he staying with one of them?”
“Not likely. They’re all upper classmen, seniors and graduate students. I wasn’t even sure that Leon had come here until after the earthquake happened and his name started popping up.”
“Have you seen him since all of this happened?”
More silence.
“Mason,” Al prompted.
“No.” Mason’s voice hardened; became determined. “Listen, it’s my fault that he’s here in the first place. It’s not your responsibility and I’m sorry that you and your brother got dragged into this in the first place. Leon’s a good kid. He just…doesn’t know what he’s doing. He isn’t a criminal and he doesn’t deserve to be punished like one. Please just leave this to me.”
“Maybe we can help. You don’t have to handle this alone.”
“Honestly? I’m a little afraid of what will happen if your brother ever gets a hold of him.”
Ed felt his eye begin to twitch at that. Deputy or not that guy had some nerve implying that Ed wasn’t a complete professional when it came to doing his job.
“You should at least tell your dad what you know.”
“I think it might be a little late for that now. Besides, I don’t think it will help at all. You’re not thinking of telling him, are you?”
“You know what’s right. If this is really your responsibility then you should own up to it. I came here to help my brother find Leon Mueller. If I can still find a way to do that, I will.”
“What about your brother?” Mason inquired.
“If I can’t help him get well, then finishing this assignment for him is the least I can do. If I do that then maybe I can put his mind at ease. He wanted to catch the rogue alchemist so badly that he was willing to risk himself to do it. That’s the way that he is. He pushes everything to the limit and he doesn’t think about himself.”
What was there to think about? He had a job to do, a mission that bastard Mustang had assigned him, like a challenge. It seemed like he was always looking for a ways to push his buttons, to test him, to break him. He heard that’s what they did in boot camp, and in those fancy military academies: break you down and build you back up into the kind of soldier that the military wanted. That was probably where Mustang had been taught all of his little games. It was easy for Ed to imagine Mustang as a teenager in one of those places. Bastard had probably been class leader, or a hall monitor or had some kind of bullshit responsibility reserved for overly ambitious, self-serving know-it-alls.
Ed opened his eyes, shocked because he didn’t remember closing them.
It was light in Mason’s room. Not nighttime anymore, but day. Full daylight was streaming through the curtains, laying well-defined squares on the bed linens that covered Ed’s legs.
Ed sat bolt upright.
When the hell had he gone to sleep?
He listened carefully, but Al and Mason’s voices had vanished completely along with the darkness. He must have fallen asleep in the middle of their conversation. He remembered that they’d been talking about Leon Mueller. Ed struggled to recall the content of their conversation, trying to remember whether Mason had revealed his location or given some kind of clue about where he could be found. He felt a surge of anger at himself for falling asleep in the middle of such an important exchange. How could he have done something so stupid?
Ed found his answer as he tried to climb out of bed and the floor rolled sickeningly beneath him. Unable to stand he dropped back onto the mattress and tucked his head between his knees until the sparks had cleared from his vision. It took a very long time.
Ed was used to physical challenges. He was used to training hard and to being constantly out of breath. He was used to pain. Still, he’d never felt anything quite like this before, this heaviness inside him, sapping the energy from his core outward, turning his limbs to lead. He tried to focus and employ the breathing techniques that his teacher had taught them, but no matter how deeply he breathed Ed felt like he couldn’t get enough air.
Ed surveyed the room. It looked so much different in the daylight, with little motes of dust floating in the shaft of light coming from the window. It wasn’t messy, but it was used, lived-in, and comfortable. His clothes had been folded and placed on the top of Mason’s desk and his red coat had been hung over the back of Mason’s chair at his desk. Ed’s suitcase was sitting next to his boots on the floor. Strange. It almost looked as if Ed and not Mason was the one returning home from college for a visit. Ed felt his chest tighten at the thought. It was times like this, when he was sick or hurt or run down that he longed for a place to call home. Ed mentally slammed a door on those thoughts. Thinking like that was a weakness. He refused to dwell on what he’d lost. He refused to think about what might have been if things had turned out differently. This was someone’s home and he was an intruder here, or at the very least an unwanted guest.
With the goal of dressing himself framed in his mind Ed mustered the energy to stand and walk the five or so steps to his suitcase. Once he was up and moving he found that things were easier. As he fumbled with his buckles and zippers he even managed to convince himself that he was feeling a little better, and would feel better still as the day went on.
Ed crept into the Biggs’ tiny living room, being cautious of anyone who might be asleep on the sofa, but the room was empty. He paused and listened carefully but he couldn’t detect anyone moving around in the other bedroom or downstairs. Ed couldn’t immediately tell how late in the morning it was by the slant of the light through the window, but outside the streets were still quiet. There was cold air seeping in through the cracks around the window. The air had a humid bite to it that spoke of rain. It made his stumps ache and sent a chill straight to his bones. Ed’s thoughts turned to the little brown and white house sitting on the edge of the river. He wondered if the water had risen high enough during the night to claim it. Maybe that was why no one seemed to be around this morning.
Ed let gravity pull him down the stairs one jarring step at a time, fully expecting Al to call out to him as he descended and scold him for not staying in bed. To his surprise, that didn’t happen. In fact the sheriff’s office was silent as the grave.
A feeling of unease crept over him.
When Ed reached the bottom of the stairs he discovered the reason for the unexpected quiet: the office was unmanned, and the front door was wide open.
To be continued... part 9
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Note on the userpic (courtesy of Erica/Zelli): I love it. It is the embodiment of Ed throughout 90% of this story.