FMA fic: Season of War: A Time to Rend
Season of War: A Time to Rend
S J Smith
Characters: Ed - Winry - Al
Rating: Teen for language
Prompt: Supernova
Word count: 1589
Summary: It only takes one little thing to change your life.
Disclaimer: I am not now, nor have I ever been, Hiromu Arakawa. (I just play her on TV.)
A.N.: Written for 7stages. Thanks to cornerofmadness for the edits and suggestions.
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It started with a simple telephone call; one that dragged Alphonse and his brother out of their room at some unmentionable hour of the morning.
The hotel clerk rapped on the door until Edward stumbled from his bed, his curses almost unintelligible, his hair a ragged halo around his head. Alphonse canted his helmet, watching as his brother staggered around the couch, as Edward snatched open the door with a savage, “This sure as hell better be an emergency.”
The clerk, all too accustomed to the elder Elric’s propensity for rage, didn’t even react beyond saying, “The gentleman on the other end of the line said it was, sir.”
As Ed gaped up at the clerk, Alphonse rose to his feet, joining his brother in the doorway. “Did he say who he was?” he asked, crowding against Edward, wondering who might call at this hour of the night.
The clerk said, “Only that it dealt with ‘that stupid rock’ and that I was to be quick about getting you.”
The brothers had exchanged a look, Ed nearly starting out the door in his boxers and t-shirt but Alphonse hauled him back by his hair. “We’ll be right down,” he told the clerk, closing the door and propelling his brother towards clothing.
Ed didn’t bother with shoes or either of his jackets, just dragged on trousers and buckled his belt on the way down the stairs. The courtesy telephone on the counter waited for his attention and Alphonse hovered nervously over his brother as Edward picked up the telephone, barking out, “Who is this?” His expression slipped from angry to questioning to concerned to confused, all in the space of a few seconds and Alphonse saw the way Edward’s knuckles tightened to whiteness on the telephone receiver. “What are you…no, wait. I don’t…tell me you’re joking.” His voice nearly cracked on that last word and Alphonse strained to hear what words filtered through the telephone line. “You what?” Ed asked, almost breathlessly and he swallowed, glancing over his shoulder, almost as if he could see right through Alphonse’s armor to the street outside. His spine stiffened and Ed spat, “The hell you say. I’m not - no, I’m not.” He flung his free hand out, nearly rapping Alphonse’s chest plate with it. “Al can!”
Al can what? Alphonse wondered, picking up on his brother’s tension and anxiety. Edward’s brows drew down in a tremendous scowl, his lower lip shoved out. “I am not,” he argued with whoever was on the other line. “I’m not. Oh, no.” He shook his head once, savagely. “Don’t try it.” His hand slammed on the countertop and he hissed, “That’s playing dirty, Hughes.”
Lieutenant Colonel Hughes? Why would he be calling? Al’s plate armor rattled and he wanted to pace, to do anything but he refused to leave his brother’s side, hovering as much as he could, wishing that he could hear whatever Hughes said.
Edward’s voice dropped even more, the words, “Fuck you,” barely registering before Ed slammed the receiver into its cradle. Whirling around, he nearly rammed into Alphonse, his hands waving out to the sides to keep his balance. “C’mon, Al,” he growled, dodging around his brother, heading purposefully towards the stairs.
Alphonse caught up to his brother on the steps, asking, almost tentatively, “Brother, why did you say that to the Lieutenant Colonel? He’s always,” he dropped to silence at the heated look from Edward.
“Something’s going on, Al,” Edward’s voice was still low, a bare rumble in the air, his eyes lit up with fury.
“What?” Alphonse hesitated, feeling unbalanced, though he stood perfectly still.
“Hughes ordered you,” his gaze slid past Alphonse, “to take Winry and get out of Amestris.”
Alphonse made a sound that translated to a sigh. “Brother, you know I always know when you’re lying. And the Lieutenant Colonel wouldn’t order just me.” He dropped a gauntlet on his brother’s shoulder, wishing he could actually feel the tension he knew Edward had to be experiencing.
Pulling away roughly, Edward started back up the stairs. “It’s an order, Al,” he said over his shoulder, not looking back.
“But I’m not even in the military.” Alphonse hurriedly climbed after his brother. “He can’t order me around.” Edward kicked at the partially open door to their room, his automail foot booming off of it. Alphonse winced, saying, “Brother! You’ll wake the other guests!”
Ed ignored him, reaching for his suitcase. Opening it on the bed, he grabbed his scattered belongings, throwing them inside. “I don’t care, Al,” he said, leaning over the bed, his hands tightening into fists.
Alphonse could just see his brother’s knuckles going white on his left hand. “What did the Lieutenant Colonel say, Brother?” he asked. “Why would he want us to take Winry and leave Amestris?”
“Not us, Al,” Edward said, without turning around, slamming the lid of the suitcase and latching it closed. He turned to face Alphonse, his mouth a knife sharp line. “Just you. I’m going to Central but you and Winry need to just keep going south.” He pulled out his journal, picking up a pencil to scribble in some information and ripped it out of the book. “Use this,” he shoved the paper at Al, “to get out of Amestris. That’s my account,” he added, almost unnecessarily, “and you might need this.” Edward’s hand hovered over the watch for just a second, maybe two, before thrusting it into Alphonse’s hands.
“I don’t believe you, Brother,” Alphonse said firmly, blocking Edward on his path around the room. “Lieutenant Colonel Hughes would’ve wanted to talk to me to tell me to do this.” He tried to hand back the watch and paper to Edward but his brother backed away, refusing to accept the items. “He told you that we needed to leave Amestris. Why?”
Swallowing hard, Edward’s head turned to the side, a frown darkening his profile. “He said,” the words sounding quiet and ragged, “that something bad is coming. He doesn’t want us involved.”
“Us.” Alphonse pounced on the word. “He doesn’t want us involved.”
Ed jerked back around, his scowl deepening. “You,” he barked out. “You or Winry. He wants you out of Amestris. Where it’s safe.”
“Where would that be, Brother?” Alphonse asked as Ed yanked his jackets off the bedposts he’d thrown them at the night before.
Shrugging them on, Ed fished in his pockets for his gloves. “Creata. Drachma.”
“Those places aren’t safe for someone from Amestris,” Alphonse whispered softly as his brother headed for the door, suitcase in hand. “What’s going on, Ed?”
His shoulders slumped heavily, head drooping forward. “He…Hughes said,” Edward’s voice trailed off and he looked over his shoulder at Alphonse, his mouth turned down. “He said we need to go.”
The door boomed open again, Winry standing in it, her hands on her hips. “Are you two aware that people are trying to sleep?” she yelled.
A sick grin appeared on Ed’s face. “Winry,” he said, “go get dressed. We’re leaving.”
She blinked, surprise and confusion warring for room on her face. “What do you mean?”
Edward brushed past her, heading into the hall. “Brother,” Alphonse said, raising a hand as Winry spun around, both of them following Ed into Winry’s room. He gathered up her toolbox, tossing it to Alphonse.
“What’s going on?” Winry lifted her head to Al then screeched as Edward dug into one of the drawers of the dresser, his hands coming up with pastel, silky underthings. “Edward!” She grabbed him by his hair, jerking his head back and Alphonse thought he’d never seen his brother turn that particular shade of red before.
“You need to get packed.” Despite the blush, Edward’s voice was level and sure and he thrust the panties at Winry and went back to the next drawer.
“Al?” Winry gave him a wide-eyed look. “What’s going on?”
He shrugged, the clank and slide of armor plates emphasizing the movement. “Brother says we have to leave.”
“But why?” Her plaintive question made Edward turn around, holding Winry’s shirts to his chest.
“Hughes called,” he said softly, his mobile face set in downcast lines, “and said we should get out of Amestris before…” Edward shook his head and leaned back against the dresser. “Before the war starts.”
“War?” Winry whispered, looking from Edward to Alphonse.
“Get packed, Winry.” Ed laid the shirts on her rumpled bed. He dropped a hand on her shoulder, surprised when Winry caught his wrist, holding on when he attempted to move away.
“What are we going to do?” she asked softly.
Edward lowered his eyes. “Go to Central first. If…if it’s true…we need to know for sure.” He gently extracted himself from Winry’s grip. “Get dressed, Winry. We’ll be waiting for you downstairs.”
Alphonse followed his brother out of the room, closing the door softly behind him. “Brother? Should we? I mean, should we really go to Central?” Alphonse lowered his helmet. “If it’s dangerous there,” he hesitated then plowed on, “especially for Winry, shouldn’t we just keep going south?”
Shoulders rising and falling, he said, staring straight ahead, “I don’t like running away, Al. I want to know for sure. And if you won’t take Winry away,” Edward looked back then, and Alphonse felt a wrench in his soul at the expression in his brother’s eyes, “then we have to stay together.”
The ‘and keep her safe’ resonated in the air between them, an unspoken promise that Alphonse knew that they’d both fight to keep.
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