Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ Vengeance ❯ Deeper ( Chapter 3 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

By: Kellen

Vengeance

Chapter Three

Summary & disclaimers are stated in the first chapter.

Rating: PG-13

Author's Notes: Remember back in Chapter One where I said I don't envision this to go beyond 5 chapters? I'm an idiot. Don't listen to me. I changed things and this is turning into a very complicated story, but I am having a lot of fun with it. I'm not sure how long it'll be, but it'll be longer than five chapters…

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Visiting hours were over, but that didn't stop Roy Mustang from pulling every bit of authority he had to get both himself and Havoc past the night receptionist at the hospital. It had been awhile since he'd showed his pocket watch to get past any sort of security - especially the kind that was in the form of a short, fiery woman with no military rank that reminded the Colonel just how much Fullmetal annoyed him. Usually, his colonel's stars were enough for anyone looking for identification.

Annoyed, still dripping wet, and with a smirking Havoc following close behind, Roy stuffed his watch back into his pocket, carefully arranging the chain so that it showed. He wanted the fear of the State Alchemists in people's hearts for once. Tonight, he had a mission, and if anyone dared get in his way, he wanted that chain to show, just so they'd know they risked being burned.

When he reached the door, he turned to Havoc. “Wait outside.” With that, he pushed the door open quietly, peering around the corner. He almost left again when he caught sight of Gracia sleeping in a chair, blanket slipping down her arm and her head resting on the pillow Maes' occupied. Roy quietly shut the door, leaving it closed but unlatched. Havoc would know, then, that this conversation was private, but interruptible, if need be. He pulled off his wet gloves, then his coat,leaving it in a dripping heap in the corner. He made his way to Maes' bedside, opposite Gracia, and looked down at his friend.

“Damn it, Maes,” he whispered softly, mindful of Gracia's rest. “What did you do to yourself?” The window above the bed had the curtains drawn and heavy rain lashed against the windows. Mustang sighed.

The military man - the man born in war - took over, and Mustang placed bare fingers against Maes' neck, moving his other hand to hover over his friend's slightly open mouth before resting against the man's forehead. Pulse, breath and fever. Yes, yes, and … Mustang frowned. He couldn't tell if it was his hands that were cold or if Maes' skin was abnormally warm.

“There's no fever.”

Roy started at the soft voice before glancing down. Gracia straightened, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders before speaking again. “He's lucky.”

“How lucky?”

Gracia's green eyes shone in the darkness. Roy heard her sigh and she reached to the table beside her and turned on the lamp. Mustang blinked against the sudden brightness, brow furrowing at the sight of Gracia's face.

“What happened?”

Gracia touched the bruise on her cheek lightly, and then caressed the bandage on her temple. She shook her head.

“Gracia…tell me.”

She simply smiled grimly, tears welling in her eyes. “You came,” she whispered brokenly.

Roy shrugged. “Of course I did.”

Gracia ducked her head. “The storms. I was worried. I heard trains were delayed.”

“Lieutenant Hawkeye can drive a car as well as she shoots a rifle.”

“She's here?”

“Havoc's outside. Hawkeye's procured a bunk at Central Command and is sleeping. She had a rough few hours, driving us here.”

Gracia shook her head. “Poor girl. I'm glad, though.” She threw a fleeting genuine smile at Roy. “Visiting hours are long past.”

Roy smiled back, albeit a little forced. Small talk was well and good, but he wanted know what happened and he wanted to know now. “Damn pocket watch is good for something at least.”

Gracia snorted softly. “Guards will let anyone through.”

Roy's eyes narrowed. “Guards? Surely you're not thinking of the watchdog at the front desk?”

“I thought so,” Gracia commented quietly. “I hadn't seen them either.”

Roy pulled the empty chair close to him and sat down. “All right, Gracia. Tell me what's going on.”

She sighed and sat up straighter, tearing her gaze from her husband. “How secure are we?”

Mustang leaned forward, his wrists resting on the bed beside Maes' arm. “Probably not secure enough.” Gracia was a smart woman; Maes had chosen well.

“It's just as well,” she replied. “I'm not leaving him alone.”

“The story can wait then.” Mustang stood up and crossed to the door. When he opened it, he half expected Havoc to be chatting up the night receptionist. As it was, he started when he opened the door and found himself nearly nose to nose with the blond man. Snatching the ever-present and unlit cigarette from Havoc's mouth, he snarled. “Back up a step, would you?”

Havoc complied, his usual laidback manner replaced with a grim seriousness that Roy found disconcerting. “What happened?”

“Don't know yet,” Roy replied, glancing back into the room. He tore his gaze away from Gracia's hunched form and faced Havoc. “I need you to do something for me.”

“Name it.”

“Go to Command. Get Hawkeye out of there, and put us up in a boarding house somewhere. I don't care where; just make sure we won't be conspicuous. Once you do that, find Armstrong and tell him I need to talk with him discreetly.”

“Should I bring him here?”

Mustang frowned. The hospital was empty of anyone who could really see this impromptu meeting, except for one person. It can't be helped. “That'll have to do.”

Havoc chucked a thumb over his shoulder. “What about the she-wolf?”

Mustang narrowed his eyes, regarding the receptionist. She-wolf, indeed. “Don't worry. She'll be taken care of by the time you get back.”

Havoc turned to go.

“Oh, one more thing.” Havoc turned back at Mustang's call. “Don't let Hawkeye come back here with you. She's exhausted, and I need her in top form come morning.”

Havoc threw a salute and jogged down the hallway. The night receptionist watched him with sharp eyes and then whipped her gaze back to Mustang. Roy ran a hand through already messy dark hair and sighed before starting toward her.

It was time to turn on the famed Mustang charm.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Within just a couple hours, Havoc had secured lodging, tucked Hawkeye away - over her loud protests, he later assured Mustang - and escorted Armstrong to the room Maes Hughes and his wife occupied. He and Armstrong entered the room quietly to find Gracia standing next to Mustang, with her delicate hands carefully arranging the blanket across her husband's chest.

“…stabbed here,” she was saying, pointing to the side of Maes' abdomen. “Then, cracked ribs on the right side.” She rounded the foot of the bed, coming to stand opposite the colonel. “Finally, a hit to the head.”

“And that's what's kept him out for so long.”

Gracia nodded. “He has had periods of almost wakefulness, so the doctor tells me recovery is certain. He's not ever been quite aware of what's going on, though.” She frowned. “He keeps asking after Elysia.”

Havoc cleared his throat. Armstrong stood at attention next to him. Mustang turned, dipping his head in acknowledgement. “Major, Mrs. Hughes and I need some time alone. You will guard Major Hughes. No one comes near him. Havoc, with me.”

Armstrong nodded brusquely, for once not expounding on his called duty to protect. He then placed himself at attention at the foot of Hughes' bed. “Don't strain anything, Major,” Mustang added quietly, grimly amused.

Armstrong crossed his beefy arms and glowered down at the Colonel (who suddenly felt a little empathy for Fullmetal as he blinked up at the large man). “He will be protected.”

“See that he is,” Mustang muttered, grabbing his coat and then guiding Gracia outside. Havoc fell into step behind him. It wasn't until they passed the empty reception desk that Havoc thought to ask after the girl manning it.

“Where'd the she-wolf go?”

Unexpectedly, Gracia laughed a little while Mustang groaned and palmed his face.

“What?” Havoc asked.

Roy stopped, straightening his shoulders and then turned. “Don't,” he commanded, “ever ask again, Second Lieutenant.” And he tapped the pocket that held his watch.

Got it. Ask and fry. Havoc swallowed audibly before following his colonel and Mrs. Hughes out into the rain.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Riza Hawkeye had gone back to bed after Havoc woke her and moved their belongings. She'd put up a bit of a fight; she liked to remain “in the know” and she liked to know Mustang was safe. When Havoc had told her that Mustang had explicitly ordered she rest and not follow, she'd relented and had gone back to bed once they'd found a boarding house.

She was an intelligent woman; she knew Mustang wouldn't move them without reason. She knew that if they'd moved from Central Command, then there was a very important and dangerous reason they weren't aligning themselves with the military right away. She also knew that corruption had wound its way through the military ranks and Mustang trusted no one.

But for the life of her, she couldn't stay awake to mull over facts. The drive had been difficult. The storm was a furious one. Wind had howled and rain had lashed at the car and made the drive almost impossible. Havoc had slept - slept! With the way the car bounced and swerved, he slept! - in the back seat and Mustang had gripped the dashboard and door handle until his knuckles turned white as he peered out the windshield, trying to help her spot whatever obstacles might be in the way.

She was exhausted, her mind and body both weary. When she lay down to try to follow her colonel's orders, she never expected to actually fall asleep though, her worry was so great.

So Hawkeye was surprised when she woke up with a start.

For a moment, she didn't know where she was. She lay on her side, blankets tucked around her shoulders, and facing the window where rain still fell. She blinked, trying to figure out what had awakened her. She reached for the nightstand next to the bed; experience taught her that when her instincts cried “foul” then she had better listen.

Hawkeye watched out the window as she moved and her eyes widened suddenly. Aborting her attempt to reach for her gun, she instead rolled away from the window and hit the floor in a pile of blankets and pillows as the bullets shattered the glass. Even as the first gunshots faded, more echoed and bullets embedded themselves in the mattress. Lying on the floor, she reached under the bed and snagged the handle of her suitcase. Hurriedly, she pulled it toward her and whipped it open. In one motion, she pulled her extra pistol out, cocked it, and let fly a bullet through the broken window.

A flash of blue moved across the roof next to the boarding house and Riza narrowed her eyes. That shade of blue… it's a military uniform! When no more sound or movement reached her sharp senses, she dropped the pistol on the bed and hurriedly dressed, foregoing her uniform.

Moving out of Central, being attacked by someone who may have been in a military uniform… Riza frowned as she pulled on black slacks and stepped into her boots. If she was attacked, that meant they followed her and Havoc and that meant the rest of her small party was in danger. She stuffed her gun into its shoulder holster and ran out of the room, grabbing her coat but forgetting to close the door.

It wasn't until she ran outside and started making her way to the hospital that she realized the folly of trying to track down the rest of her party when they were the ones with the car.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A brawny fist slammed into the desk and the smaller man standing in front of it flinched. “She saw you?” The bigger man yelled, trembling with rage.

“Perhaps. I… I can't be sure,” the smaller man yelped.

“And you were stupid enough to wear your uniform?”

Knowing that lying wouldn't save him, but the truth certainly would condemn him, the sandy haired man nodded, closing his eyes.

“Look at me, you coward.” The voice was sharp, angry.

The man opened his eyes, and forced himself to look at the face of his superior. His knees trembled and his mouth dried.

“If you slip up once more, mister,” the burly man said in a low voice, “make no mistake that I will feed you to the dogs.”

The smaller man trembled; his life was forfeit if he messed up again.

“Go. Get out and get the information I need, Marcus.” He paused, sharp eyes pinning the smaller man in a threatening gaze. “I will be watching.”

TBC…

Editing and posting at 2 in the morning is probably not the best idea, but I got home and wanted to do this. Like I said, this story became more and more intricate the more I wrote and thought about it. And you know I'm having a lot of fun with this one if I'm updating this quickly.

I hope you're still enjoying the ride.

Cheers,Kellen