Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ I Skip the Little Ones ❯ Theme 15: The Scent of Blood ( Chapter 15 )

A/N: Recipe for this scene:
Combine one cup original anime and one cup manga/Brotherhood anime blend. Stir until there are no lumps.
Sprinkle liberally with author’s bias.
Bake at 375 degrees for fifteen minutes.
Remove and let cool.
Serve and enjoy. (serves 15 people)
Theme 15: The Scent of Blood
Death Never Filed My Resignation
The house was empty. Mustang found a door to the cellar. He called me over, and we went down together.

The stench hit me first. It was the scent of blood and charred, rotting flesh and was all too familiar. I had to fight an Ishbal flashback. I hoped Mustang wouldn’t fall back into the war, too. It had happened once before. I shuddered, remembering.

A huge transmutation circle had been drawn in chalk across the floor. Between my father, the Lieutenant-Colonel, and Major Armstrong, I knew quite a bit about alchemy, but I hadn’t the slightest clue what the complex circle was for. My understanding might have been aided if the center of the circle had not been completely obscured with blood. Nobody could lose that much blood and live, I thought, blanching. I glanced at the blood splattered across the walls. There’s enough blood for at least two people to have bled out. Maybe three. God, what happened here?

Mustang knew; that much was obvious. He turned on the local officer who had led us here, seized his collar and slammed him into the wall. “Where are those boys? Where are the Elrics?” he demanded. I’d never seen him so shaken up by something since that child in Ishbal. Then the officer stuttered out an answer, Mustang all but ran out the door. I followed, hoping he wouldn’t do anything else stupid.

He did. He burst through the Rockbell’s door. I smiled apologetically, was about to say something –and then I saw the boy. He sat in a wheelchair perched in front of a decorative antique suit of armor. His right arm and left leg were nothing but bandaged stumps; his eyes were empty and lifeless. The Lieutenant-Colonel had grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, too, and lifted him half out of the wheelchair. Their faces were mere centimeters apart. “What did you do? What did you make?” Mustang sounded horrified, angry, and –astonishing – a bit excited. I doubted that anyone else noticed that last; it was only very slight, and I knew his expressions too well; I was probably the only one he couldn’t hide a thing from.

I began to intervene, but apparently I was like Mustang on a rainy day because a young boy’s voice interrupted me. “We’re sorry. We didn’t mean to. We’re sorry. We’re sorry.”

I gasped. The suit of armor had moved, but its hand on the Lieutenant-Colonel’s arm. It had been the one to speak, too, with a young, tinny voice.

All the expression on Mustang’s face melted away to be replaced by absolute shock. I felt my heart instantly go out to the two boys. Something terrible had happened to them. No child should go through something to leave it with such empty eyes as Edward’s.

Later, after the Lieutenant-Colonel had spoken to the Elrics and I to Miss Winry, we headed back into town in that rickety old wagon and began to talk.

“… That boy had fire in his eyes.”

“Hmm. Permission to speak freely, Lieutenant-Colonel?”

He looked surprised. I did not normally ask. “Of course, Hawkeye.”

“I do not think our jobs ferrying across that river of blood are over. Else that would not be allowed to happen,” I said softly.

I had thought I’d done a good job keeping the sob out of those words, but apparently not well enough. Mustang stared at me for a moment, and I knew he knew what I meant; that I was crying on the inside; and I knew that he felt almost the same. He glanced at the cart’s driver, but the incident in the cellar was still fresh in his mind and the man was terrified of the Lieutenant-Colonel and was not about to pay any heed to his passengers. Noting this, Mustang leaned over and put a hand on my shoulder.

“Hang in there. I feel as if it’s almost over.” He told me. I could tell he was lying. We were far from done.

“I know, sir.” I got the impression he knew I knew he was lying, too.

A/N: Also, a real big thank-you to Starry Pink for her lovely review. :)