FMA Fanfic: The Naming II
The Naming II. [all parts]
by arcanewinter. PG 2099 Maes x Roy. Fullmetal Alchemist. Ep25 spoiler, AU, Hugehsathon cont’n.
Identity can be a two-edged sword.
He woke slowly, as though waiting for his body to rise to the surface of a deep lake, where the depths were cold, dark, and silent, and the surface boasted all the trappings of life, if only he could get there.
Opening his eyes was no swift matter, either. In the meantime, aware of some light, at least, he remembered he had been sealed, and he remembered she would only release him again when he was needed. Was he needed now? Did this mean Roy would be in danger?
But the surface at his back was not the stone floor of the transmutation, but something softer. He opened his eyes, confirming it to be a couch, and in one of the rooms she called her own. Nearest to him was a table, and beyond that, on the other side of the room, was a chair.
But the figure in the chair was not the woman he expected.
“Where is she?” he rasped, his voice hoarse from disuse.
“Where’s who?” replied the other.
“Dante. The woman. Our leader.”
There was a pause before the same steady voice returned. “There was no one else here.”
He frowned. “You’re sure? None of them?” His head pounding, he managed to push himself up, hands gripping the armrest to remain steady. His balance was off. So was his vision.
“At least one of them is dead. The whereabouts of the others are as yet unknown.”
There was something cold in the man’s voice. It wasn’t what he had hoped for this meeting. It wasn’t what he expected. But what did he expect? He lifted his head enough to level his gaze at the other, needing to see the expression on his face, in his eyes, but his vision was still too blurred. He’d lost most of the red stones when he’d been sealed. What he could make out, however, was the bandaging that covered the left side of the other’s face.
“What the hell happened to you, Roy?”
He thought he could see him frown, but he couldn’t be sure. He eased himself from the cushions, gripping the table to steady himself, wanting to get closer to see.
But the other’s voice issued sharply from across the room. “I may be injured, but I can assure you there is a soldier outside that door whose marksmanship is unrivaled. Stay where you are.”
He sat down again with another frown, bowing his head as the ache intensified, catching sight of the inside of his left arm as he did. Of course. Of course he would treat him with caution. It didn’t matter what he looked like.
But he needed to warn him. “You should know it takes more than bullets, Roy. If you find any of the others, you need to have–”
“We are aware of that. And we’re prepared in this case as well.”
Doubly wounded, he lifted his head again, voice more fluid now, but somehow just as broken.
“You dug up my body, Roy?”
He was unprepared for the expression on Roy’s face, the severity in his features visible even despite his perceptive difficulties. But he did not hold the expression long. He turned his face away, his fist tightening against the armrest. “I know what a homunculus is. His body is as much yours as it is mine.”
“You’ve got it wrong this time, Roy.” Losing patience with the distance, he pushed himself again from the couch and rocked forward, gripping the table.
“I told you to stay where you are!”
He took two more steps before his balance gave out, and he dropped to his knees just as Roy stood up.
He laughed quietly, sadly, his hands splayed on the old, rotting rug. “For the love of God, Roy, do I look like I could do anything to you right now?” He closed his eyes again, feeling sick, feeling isolated and rejected. “I remember who I was. I remember because I touched you the night she sealed me and I remembered through you.”
“Then it’s no different from my having done it.” He spoke quickly, as though it were an accusation. “An alchemist puts only himself into creatures like you. If it were any different I’d have done it myself!”
“I remember things you didn’t know about, Roy.” It was all he could do to focus on the putrid pattern of the rug beneath him, inhaling its musty scent to remain anchored. “It’s not like that. Ask my wife. Ask her why we didn’t go away for our first anniversary. She’ll tell you. She’ll tell you it was because she gave me a black eye.”
“She’s not your wife!”
“Ask her!”
For a moment, both were still. He watched Roy’s boots, too weak to straighten again. What little strength he had wasn’t lasting long. But finally, Roy issued his command.
“Lieutenant!”
The door creaked open sharply, accompanied by the cocking of a gun. “Sir?”
“Go up to the surface and call Gracia Hughes. Ask her why she and her husband never went away for their first anniversary.”
“I shouldn’t leave you alone here, Sir.”
“Go! I have this under control.”
Although she paused, the quick fall of military-issue boots soon faded down the hallway, the door left open.
In the ensuing silence, he blinked slowly, his eyes remaining half-closed. “How did you find me?”
There was a pause, and he knew Roy was weighing how much could be said. “When Bradley was killed, we found what remained of an elevator in his office. We followed it here, and searched what we could.”
So they’d managed to kill Pride. “And you’re going to turn me over to the military, I take it?”
“If you exhibit even a shred of violence, I won’t hesitate. Until then, I see no reason to.”
He smirked faintly, resisting the urge to sink into the rug. His fingers tensed among the fibers, seeking purchase. “That’s kind of you.” He winced, feeling as though he might vomit again, but he knew there was precious little left for him to get rid of. Nevertheless, his hand moved involuntarily to his stomach, and his balance lost its support.
Another hand moved to his shoulder, gripping it before he could collapse. He raised his head, so heavy now, and he smiled blearily just to have Roy’s face in focus again, even just the half still visible. Roy remained stern.
“Sir.”
Roy looked quickly to the doorway. His lieutenant had returned, obviously having hurried though her breathing was fit and even.
“What was her answer?”
His lieutenant saluted him as she delivered the response. “She said they never went away for their first anniversary because her husband asked if you could come, sir.”
Roy returned his gaze to the homunculus at his feet, slow but cold.
The beating of his heart nearly stopped under its weight.
“And then she gave him a black eye.”
Yes. There. He knew it. He could have laughed.
Roy’s visible eye widened subtly. “That is all, lieutenant.”
The door creaked shut again, its latch clicking loudly in the silence.
Roy’s body shuddered as he descended hard on one knee. He reached for the other shoulder, steadying himself now as much as the other. Hughes smiled weakly.
“This shouldn’t be possible,” he breathed. He looked away. His grip was nearly painful.
“I don’t know how else to explain it.” Hughes finally let his head drop again, easing his neck, eyes lowering. He caught sight of Roy’s shoulder. “Corporal?”
Roy hadn’t lessened his grip. In fact, it had tightened further. It seemed to have gained all the strength his voice had lost. “I was demoted for what I did. I should still be in the hospital. But when I heard about this place, I thought . . . I thought I might find you here, and I made her bring me here . . .”
“But why?” Hughes returned his hand to the floor, wishing he wasn’t so damned weak, but glad despite it, and more grateful than he knew how to express. “How did you know to look?”
Roy didn’t answer for a moment, but he snorted softly as though deriding himself. One hand eventually released Hughes’ shoulder, and Hughes watched as it moved to the front pocket of his uniform to pull out a pair of glasses. His other hand released him, and he unfolded them, holding them up to Hughes’ face. His mouth was set precariously in a tight frown as he paused, as though laden with disapproval, but slowly he slid the sides of the frames behind Hughes’ ears, and the metal finally rested on the bridge of his nose.
Again there was that grip on his shoulders, too tight for comfort as he tried to focus on his friend, and then his shoulders were released as he was tugged forward, the grip now surrounding his torso.
He closed his eyes tightly as he tried his best to return it, unable to breathe within its confines, but he was smiling by the time he opened his eyes again, and he found that the window set into the wall behind Roy had finally come into focus.
* * * * *
He couldn’t stand on his own. He leant heavily on his friend as they rose to their feet, arm around his shoulders. He made certain it was his right arm, but the left was now clearly in view. If Roy noticed it, he said nothing. “You’re sure they’re not here?”
“The military is still piecing everything together, but everything just about collapsed two weeks ago. The homunculi are missing or dead. Alphonse Elric got his body back. Lieutenant!”
Hawkeye all but kicked open the door again, but she stopped there. Roy waved her to approach.
Hughes smiled, though he avoided the lieutenant’s eyes. “Ed should be happy.”
“Fullmetal is gone.”
“Gone?”
Roy nodded slowly, then lifted his arm as his lieutenant moved to his side to support him. He glanced at his friend, coloring mildly. “I told you, I’m supposed to be in the hospital.”
Hughes chuckled quietly, carefully. “Sorry, lieutenant.”
“It’s no trouble, sir,” she answered, steadying them both as she moved forward. “Who do you think carried you in here?”
The stronger color in Roy’s face confirmed Hughes’ guess.
His euphoria, though great, began to fade, however, as they made their way slowly through the house towards the elevator. As he passed other rooms, other windows, other reminders of the short but terrible life he had led, he knew it was still a part of him no matter who he knew himself to be now. He’d still done all those things. He’d still taken her orders.
He pushed it out of his thoughts for now. “Where to now?”
“Don’t you want to go home?”
His breath left him in an audible rush as he smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.” The words weren’t strong enough. No words could be. But his smile did not last. “It’s not going to be easy explaining this.”
“No,” agreed Roy, adding after a pause: “That’s why I’m coming with you.”
* * * * *
Exiting Central Headquarters in their condition, even with the lieutenant’s help, was only possible because of the hour of extreme morning.
Released finally to the back seat of a car, he sighed, glad for the rest. He felt better, but he was still just shy of awful. Roy soon joined him, seeming little better off.
His thoughts now were entirely consumed with where he was headed, the home to which he’d ceased belonging, the home he didn’t know would accept him now.
He looked down at his hands, speaking quietly while the lieutenant arranged their departure outside. “Before we go, Roy, I have to say something.”
Roy lifted his head from where it rested on the window. “What is it?”
Hughes frowned as he looked ahead of him, then down again as he caught sight of the mirror up front.
“I killed people for her, Roy.” He swallowed, folding his hands tensely. “Just because she told me to.”
A silence followed his words, extending their impact until they nearly stifled him.
When Roy finally answered, his voice was quiet, even. “I killed for the Fuhrer when he told me to. All of us did.” He glanced sideways at him, then looked out through the window again. “So I guess you could say I killed for her, too.”
The lieutenant pulled open the door, smoothly taking the driver’s seat in front of them. “I’m starting the car, sir.”
Roy nodded, and as the car hummed to life, Hughes smiled to himself. Maybe it would be all right.
