Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ Rehabilitation ❯ Live ( Chapter 5 )

AN: Well, we made it to chapter five. First of all, I would like to thank all of the lovely reviewers who said that the last chapter was worth the wait. Second of all, I would like to ask a favor of all my reviewers. Please, I love knowing that you like my story, but could you please write at least one full sentence? Ten words, and I want something other than “Will you please update soon pretty pretty pretty pretty please?” No “update soon” end of story. Understood? I want to know what I’m doing to make you like it so much so that I can keep doing it! I want at least ten good reviews before I post the next chapter. Pretty please?

And finally, I would like to apologize for the wait. I’m sorry to say that it is due to laziness and lack of inspiration. I finished the plot, but now I can’t seem to write anything. And to make it worse, I’ve got a new story stuck in my head.

Oh, yes, and I realize that that Ed’s birthday is in winter and it happens in episode 23, but... meh. Pretend those episodes happened at a different time. It is AU, after all. I apologize to anyone this may bother.

Now that that’s out of the way, you can finally find out where Havoc and Hughes are!

Standard Disclaimer: Sugarpony does not own Fullmetal Alchemist or Harry Potter.

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Rehabilitation

Chapter Five

Live

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Colonel Roy Mustang raced down the corridor, shoving any students pushing curfew out of the way. Mere moments ago, he had paused in his search for the Fullmetal Alchemist to look out the window and clear his mind. He had not expected to see his subordinate falling through the air only to stop mere inches from the ground. He had watched with bated breath as Ed had slowly risen to and entered what Roy knew to be the Owlery before sprinting off to knock some sense into the midget’s head.

Damn it, Ed, I swear you Elrics will be the death of me!

---

Edward hobbled down the blissfully clear hallway. He had just left the staircase to the Owlery, and all he wanted was to get as far away as possible. Before he had gone very far, however, he was stopped by the appearance of another person. His superior came running down the corridor, footsteps echoing off of the stone walls. Finally, he came to a rest in front of the young alchemist, an angry glare set on his face.

“What the hell were you thinking, Edward?!” Mustang clenched his right hand into a fist, resisting the urge to snap. Ed did nothing. “I don’t care what the hell you think you did to deserve death, but you do-not-try-to-kill-yourself!

Ed moved forward, wanting to continue on his way through the building. “Get out of my way.”

The Flame caught the Fullmetal across the chest, not letting him pass. Edward glared into the colonel’s dark eyes, perturbed at the fact that he had stopped him. Mustang glared right back at him, not giving an inch.

“Nothing,” he began again, though quietly this time, “ever gives a person the right to commit suicide. Death is the coward’s way out of a bad situation.” He paused, gathering his thoughts. There was a long silence before he spoke again.

“After the Isval Rebellion, I was disgusted with myself. I had killed hundreds of innocent people, all for the State. I was going to kill myself, but I couldn’t do it.”

Ed was still glaring daggers at the man in front of him. “So what’s your damn point?” he asked. “That you’re an even bigger coward than I am? That the State eventually corrupts everyone and we’re both idiots for joining? This is nothing I don’t already know, bastard.”

Mustang stayed silent for a moment, unable to argue with anything Edward had said. He knew that it was all true, every word of it. Still, though, he needed to talk some sense into the kid.

“My ‘damn point,’ Edward,” he said, “is that if you die, you lose. You admit defeat, and you can’t do a damn thing about it. But if you live, Ed, that is the true challenge. By living, you can repent for any sins you may have committed. You can make things right again.”

“Nothing can bring back the dead. You know that just as well as I do, you fucking bastard.”

“But you can save other lives, idiot!” Mustang was growing very agitated by Edward’s trademark smart-ass attitude. He pulled him towards him by his collar, hoping that a frontal assault would work against this enemy of his. “What the hell do you think Alphonse died for?! Do you think he just felt like getting his soul ripped apart?! He sacrificed his own life so that you could have yours! If you really feel like killing yourself, go ahead! I’m not going to stop you! But you would have to be pretty damn selfish to waste everything your brother gave to you!”

The colonel stopped shouting rather abruptly, breathing heavily. He had let his temper get the best of him, a rookie mistake. Hopefully, though, he had finally gotten through his subordinate’s thick skill. Damn teenagers and their grubby-assed attitudes.

Edward himself had averted his gaze to the floor. No matter how much he hated it, there had been a lot of truth in Mustang’s words. Al always was trying to help others. He never gave a damn about himself. He felt his eyes begin to burn, but he had spent the last of his tears that night. Bastard Colonel Shit-head.

Mustang could practically see the waves of resignation coming off of Ed’s body, so he finally released him. Ed stood still for several seconds before slowly bringing his head up to glare into Mustang’s eyes once again. “I get it,” he said. “I’m not going to kill myself, so let me pass.”

Roy allowed himself to smirk as he stepped aside. “Good,” he called as the blond passed him, “because I am not going to fill out any more damned paperwork because of you.”

“Bastard.”

---

Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley stood at the base of the staircase to the Owlery, just out of sight. They had all waited several minutes to head back to Gryffindor Tower, hoping to avoid any awkward situations with Ed Elric. Unfortunately, they had been the sad victims of circumstance, and they had overhead a rather loud voice yelling in the hallway. They waited several more minutes, hoping that the people had moved on, but eventually could not risk standing around any longer; it was very close to curfew, and they needed to leave if they were to avoid a confrontation with the caretaker, Filch.

Luckily, the hallway was empty as the three piled out of the stairwell, and they hurried back to their Common Room without a word. Only once they had safely passed through the portrait of the fat lady on the seventh floor and once again taken up their normal positions in front of the fire did Ron break the silence.

“Blimey,” he whispered (for the room was still buzzing with many Gryffindors chatting, playing games, and finishing homework), “what do you think could have happened to make him jump?”

Hermione let out a frustrated sigh. “Honestly, Ronald,” she said quietly, “don’t you remember what Professor Dumbledore said at the Welcoming Feast? He and his brother were attacked by a mass murderer, and his brother was killed. Obviously, he died saving Edward’s life.”

“Oh.”

Harry fingered the letter still in his pocket as silence fell over the group once more. Now more than ever before, he wanted answers to his questions. Why were these strange people here, really? If someone was trying to murder Major Elric, why would Dumbledore let them stay here and put the school at risk? (Then again, it could hardly be at any higher risk that it was already, as Harry was at the top of Lord Voldemort’s hit list.) He had probably missed his chance to find out any information before his meeting with the headmaster Saturday evening, but he was very much looking forward to getting as many details as he possibly could out of the old wizard.

But still-- Why was this kid so important?

---

Winry Rockbell stood in the Room of Requirement, laying out the tools of her trade on a large metal table. She had been very shocked about the entire situation when she had learned where exactly she was, but she was also thrilled; just look at everything she can take apart! What made her very upset, however, was the fact that none of her wonderful automail would work inside the castle. Thankfully, though, the headmaster had placed a charm on all of her materials that would allow them to function.

She had just finished unpacking the last scraps of metal from the tool kit she had brought with her when she realized that she was going to need help.

From her brief encounter with Edward in the Entrance Hall, Winry had observed one major thing: All of his automail was missing.

Including the ports.

Although Winry was a very accomplished automail engineer, she had never performed an automail surgery without the help and guidance of her grandmother. Unfortunately, Granny Pinako was still in Risembool.

“Damn.”

Luckily, Major Armstrong was with Winry in the room, and she could threaten him to get what-- and who-- she needed.

“What’s wrong, Miss Rockbell?”

Speak of the devil.

Armstrong had heard the mechanic’s blunt statement, and he was now standing behind her. Winry slowly turned around, a frightening look on her face-- the same look that she got whenever she found something new to take apart. Armstrong suddenly felt very scared, and he stepped back, desperately trying to find any excuse to leave the room.

“Major Armstrong, you know how you just brought me here and I didn’t have a chance to prepare?”

“...Yes...”

“Well, you see, Edo-kun needs to get the automail surgery redone because the ports were destroyed, but I’ve never done a surgery all by myself before. Would you please be a dear and go back to Risembool and get Granny Pinako for me?”

Armstrong relaxed, glad that his excuse had been given to him. “Of course, Miss Winry!” he said, his trademark enthusiasm shining through. “I shall be delighted to retrieve your most noble grandmother! Of course,” he added apprehensively, “it will have to wait until another guard returns to protect you while I am away.”

Winry’s face darkened and she grumbled at the last bit of information, but she was happy with the fact that, at the very least, she would not be forced to give Edward his surgery alone.

Before either could say another word, however, the door opened. Lieutenant Hawkeye walked inside the room, a look of great agitation on her face. “He’s been found,” she said, without making eye contact with either of the other two in the room.

Winry’s face lifted, and she rushed over to hug Hawkeye. “Oh, thank you so much, Lieutenant Hawkeye,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

Uneasily, Hawkeye returned the hug. She had never been very much of an emotional person, and she felt awkward at the sudden gesture. “You’re welcome, Miss Rockbell.”

After several more seconds, the two young women parted. Hawkeye cleared her throat and gathered herself before turning to Major Armstrong. “Fullmetal is still wandering around the castle, but Colonel Mustang is keeping a close eye on him.” She paused, an agitated look crossing her face. “He absolutely refuses to take a rest until Lieutenant Colonel Hughes and Second Lieutenant Havoc are found and can replace him.” She said no more, but both Winry and Armstrong would to this day swear that they heard her mutter “Damn stubborn, obsessive bastard,” under her breath.

After giving her a few moments to compose herself once more, Armstrong approached Lieutenant Hawkeye and saluted her. She gave a return salute, and they both fell to attention. “It has come to my attention that I must return to Risembool in order to escort Miss Pinako Rockbell here,” he said. “I will leave the protection of Miss Winry Rockbell in your capable hands.” Hawkeye nodded, and the two saluted each other once more before the major left the room, presumably seeking Dumbledore in order to obtain a portkey.

Winry continued to check her tools, making sure that they were in proper working order, while Hawkeye kept a close watch on the door. Several minutes later, Winry left her work table and sat down on a large, comfy pink pouf that she noticed sitting inconspicuously in a corner of the room.

“Well,” she said, mainly to herself, “that’s all I can do until Ed decides to show up.” She then turned to Riza. “Where was he found, anyway?”

The soldier fidgeted uncomfortably for a few seconds, refusing to meet the young girl’s gaze. She eventually looked into Winry’s eyes, a sympathetic look in her own. “Colonel Mustang found him just outside of the entrance to the Owlery, which I understand to be similar to a post office in the castle. Major Elric had tried to throw himself from the tower.”

Winry said nothing, simply gripping her favorite wrench tightly in her hand. Slowly, she stood from her spot, and she hurled the wrench across the room, which then hit the center of a conveniently located bull’s eye.

---

Sir Nicholas Mimsy de Porpington was floating along through the hallways of the second floor, having a pleasant conversation with the Grey Lady. “It is so wonderful that you share my sentiments, my dear lady,” he said, gesticulating greatly with his ghostly hands. “A school is never complete without a good, healthy rivalry, but the tensions between my house and that of the Baron are really quite overwhelming. I quite agree with the headmaster in the idea of interhouse relationships.”

“You don’t have to follow me, you know!”

Nicholas stopped and turned to his companion, quite insulted. “Well,” he said in a haughty voice, if that’s the way you feel, I do believe it to be best that we part ways.”

“Sir Nicholas,” the Lady consoled him, “it was most certainly not I who said that! Please do not leave me, I am having quite a lovely time with you!”

“Whether you like it or not, Fullmetal, I’m afraid that I do. I can’t have you wandering off again when you need to be measured for your new automail. Oh, and in case you’ve forgotten, there’s a mass murderer on the loose looking for you.”

The ghosts stopped as two people rounded the corner. One was a boy with blond hair and only one arm and leg who looked no older than twelve. The other was a black-haired man wearing a strange blue uniform. The two approaching caught sight of the ghosts, and they stood still.

The young boy had wide eyes, and he seemed to be in shock. “Wh... what the hell?” he whispered, barely loud enough to be heard. “What is going on here?”

The man in the uniform was unsurprised. “They’re ghosts, Ed,” he said. “They’re all over the castle.”

The boy, now known to be Ed, did an amazing impression of a goldfish.

This continued for several moments until he finally gathered his wits. “Gho--” He paused to clear his throat before continuing. “--Ghosts?” Ed sent an inquisitive look to the military man, eyes begging for answers.

“Yes,” he said. “Apparently, a wizard’s magic allows the soul a choice of whether or not to leave this plane after death.”

Ed’s eyes narrowed and gained a lost, hopeless look that no child should ever have. “I hate magic,” he bit out.

With that final comment, he stalked down the corridor, and the other man followed him.

“That child has suffered far more than either you or I.” Sir Nicholas looked at his companion, his eyes mirroring hers in an unspoken agreement. “I give my whole heart to that poor boy.”

Slowly, they continued down the hall, though silently this time, each lost in his own thoughts.

---

Professor Severus Snape had a headache. No, not just a headache, a migraine. Professor Severus Snape had a migraine. And as any of his students would happily warn you-- yes, even the Slytherins-- a Professor Severus Snape with a migraine should be avoided at all costs.

Snape skulked through the dungeons, hoping beyond all reason that no imbecilic student had missed curfew and managed to end up in the undeclared Slytherin territory. Unfortunately for him-- and the poor saps he was about to run into-- there were worse things than students to worry about that night.

Peeves was afoot.

As the Potions master passed the blank stretch of wall that led to a hidden passageway between the dungeons and Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom (Why on Earth did the founders even make this passage?), he heard several very suspicious sounds.

The first was an explosion large enough to have come from one Neville Longbottom’s cauldron.

The second was a high-pitched scream, shortly followed by another high-pitched scream.

The third was a loud, evil-sounding cackling.

Obviously, Peeves had set off some kind of explosion-- Probably a Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes product, Snape thought bitterly-- and frightened two young girls.

He wasn’t very far off from the truth.

Quickly speaking the password, Professor Severus Snape stalked inside the small, hidden corridor, fully prepared to deduct points and award detentions as needed--

--And stopped dead in his tracks as he reached the site of the chaos.

“Ahahahahah! Poor little Havoc got himself into some havoc and can’t get out!”

“No! My pictures! My precious Gracia and Elysia! He’s destroyed you!”

“No! My jacket’s on fire! Put it out! Put it out! Put it out!”

After taking in the sadistic ghost (which was holding the evidence, an empty box of Weasley’s Wizbang Firecrackers), the two military men (each mourning his own respective burning object), and the various fireworks flying around the cramped space, Snape wasted no time in taking control of the situation.

“Peeves!” he calmly stated, his voice raising no more than when he yelled at Potter for entering his pensieve, “Get out and behave yourself for the next month or I swear on Salazar Slytherin’s grave that I will have the headmaster throw you out once and for all!”

The poltergeist blew a raspberry at the professor and flew up and out through the ceiling.

Turning to the fires, Snape whipped out his wand and pointed it at the uniformed men. “Aguamenti!” A jet of water doused the pictures and both of the men in blue. Wanting to both escape the racket and keep the fireworks in quarantine, he grabbed the two by the scruffs of their jackets, pulled them out into the hallway, and shut the entrance before any Whizbangs could escape.

Seething, he turned to the soaked men and sent them a glare that could make You-Know-Who shake in his robes. “What,” he hissed, teeth bared, “are you two doing in my dungeons? Your superior has been searching for you all day!”

The man with the straw-colored hair simply pointed to his companion. “I blame him.”

The man with the blame, Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes, Snape recalled, sat in a silent shock. Then, quite suddenly, he jumped into the air and hugged him.

Apparently, he had a death wish.

No one-- not even the Dark Lord himself-- is allowed to hug Severus Snape.

Before his twitching fingers could reach his wand, however, Hughes started babbling.

“Oh, thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! There was this moving staircase and a trapdoor to nowhere and a crazy ghost and a talking painting and we’ve been lost for so long and thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you!”

-Twitch-

-Twitch-

“Stupefy! Stupefy!”

---

Roy Mustang paced in front of blank stretch of wall three times. Edward Elric was really beginning to doubt his superior’s sanity.

After the confrontation with the two ghosts, Mustang had managed to convince Ed to head towards the Room of Requirement, where he would be outfitted for his new automail. All of Ed’s doubts vanished, however, when a door suddenly appeared in the middle of the wall. Before either one could pass through the door, though, three figures came down the hall.

Two of the figures were floating in midair, heads knocking against the ceiling. The third was walking behind them, wand pointed to keep them suspended. A closer look showed them to be an unconscious Maes Hughes and Jean Havoc closely followed by a very pissed off Severus Snape. As soon as the two bodies were in front of Mustang, Snape dropped the spell that was holding them in the air.

“I do believe,” he hissed through his teeth, “that these belong to you?”

Mustang, not knowing what else to do, nodded.

Quickly, Snape pointed his wand at each of the men on the floor. “Enervate. Enervate.”

Havoc and Hughes both awoke, and they sat up groggily. Havoc put his head in his hands, feeling a migraine for some strange reason. “Did anyone get the number of that train?” He then heard a low growl, and both he and Hughes looked up into the face of Evil.

“If I ever catch you in my dungeons again,” Snape threatened, “you will wish that you had never been born.” He said no more, but they did catch him fingering his wand before turning on his heel and swooping down the corridor, very much like an overgrown bat.

By this time Mustang’s left eye was developing a twitch.

He quickly shoved Ed through the door, followed him in himself, slammed the door, and then proceeded to lock the dazed men outside. When that was done, he turned to see a gun pointed at him.

The Flame followed the arm attached to the pistol to the face of one Riza Hawkeye. He gracefully arched an eyebrow, wondering what he had done this time. His question was answered as Hawkeye spoke forcefully.

“You,” she said, not removing the gun, “have been awake for the past forty-eight hours.”

“So?” he asked, completely defeating himself by giving off a long, loud yawn.

Hawkeye gave off a warning shot, missing her superior by millimeters. “You,” she then continued, “are going directly to bed, no questions asked.”

Mustang smirked. “Now really, Riza, I know you have these certain feelings, but you must control your impulses to--” He was interrupted by another gun shot, this one scraping the edges of his uniform.

“You are sleeping alone, Sir.”

“Exactly! What made you think anything otherwise?”

And with that, he rushed off to a bed that had been hidden in a nook of the room.

Meanwhile, Edward was getting accosted by his wrench-wielding mechanic. Winry had jolted awake from her light doze at the sound of the door slamming, and upon seeing Ed she jumped up from her seat and threw her arms around him. “Oh, Kami-sama, Edward, don’t scare me like that!” she cried.

“Sorry, Winry,” he whispered in return.

After releasing her friend and wiping the tears from her eyes, Winry then frowned and slapped him across the face. “What the hell were you thinking, Ed? !”

Ed merely turned and walked away from the hysterical girl. “Spare me the lecture,” he said. “I already got it from Mustang.”

“Well apparently he didn’t get through that thick skull of yours, Ed!” Winry stomped over and cut off his path, forcing him to look into her eyes.

“What the hell are you talking about, Winry?” he asked. “I’m not going to kill myself, okay?”

The blond girl was not about to give up so easily. “You’re such an idiot, Edward!” she shouted. “Do you really think that Alphonse saved your life just so you could spend the rest of it sulking and blaming yourself? !”

“I get it, already!” Ed snapped, trying to move around her, but Winry threw out her arm to stop him.

“No, you don’t get it! Look, Ed! Scar is the one who killed him, not you! He was your younger brother, and he loved you! You were his whole world, Ed! What would Al think if he saw you moping around all the time?” She crossed her arms, waiting for an answer. “Well?”

He sighed, beginning to see her point. “He’d kick my ass until I stopped.”

“Exactly!”

“Look,” ; he said, “I know that what you’re saying makes sense, Winry, I really do. But you just don’t get it! Every single damn thing that ever happened to Al was my fault!”

“Ed--”

“No!” Edward raised his voice again, going into a tirade. “It was my fault he got stuck in that armor! It was my fault that he was dragged all over the country, in constant danger! It was my fault that Scar was following us, Winry! Don’t you get it?”

“No, Edward!” Winry grabbed the front of Ed’s shirt and pulled him close to her. Her eyes were burning. When she spoke again, her voice was low, but it was full of rage and sorrow. “Alphonse died to save your life. He followed you all over the country because he loved you and wanted to take care of you. What was he always saying when you two would talk about the Philosopher’s Stone, Ed? He said that he would fix you first. All that he ever wanted was for you to be happy. He looked up to you, and he loved you more than life itself. ‘Just live and be content’, right?”

When she was through, there was a moment of silence between the two. She still held Ed close, breathing heavily. They remained that way for an unknown period of time before either of them spoke again.

Edward whimpered. “But,” he whispered, “what am I supposed to do without him?”

Winry released him, but she then gently lifted his chin and stared directly into his eyes. “Live, Ed,” she said gently. “And I mean really live. ‘Just live and be content.’ ”

“Just live, huh?” Ed paused, thinking it over. “For Alphonse, I’ll live.”

---

AN: So, was it worth the wait? Please tell me. I really don’t care if you say something that is completely random, but please, say something! I gave you ten pages, you can give me ten words, right? Ten reviews with ten words each will get me started on the next chapter.

Just so you know, I’m predicting ten chapters total. Not a long story, but it’s not a very complicated plot line.... Or is it?... Anyway, it’s not an epic story like I’m planning my others to be, so I think it’s nice to have one that’s not overly long. At least you won’t be reading basically the same thing every time, right?

~Sugarpony

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Edited: 6/22/07