Soldier Blues

XI

Alphonse unconsciously pressed closer to Scar as they walked. It wasn’t that he liked the close contact – and he did – it was that the mud made it difficult to walk in his disguise. The younger Elric had been given Ishbalan clothing to wear, and it proved to be far too big for him. So Scar held him close and helped him walk through the mud, never complaining when the blonde found himself trying to negotiate a rather deep puddle to keep from tripping. More often, Scar simply carried Alphonse, but they were getting closer to a checkpoint for the rebel army and hey would get suspicious if Scar showed up carrying an Amestrian boy. It was still likely they would get suspicious of two Ishbalans, but they wouldn’t detain them to ask questions. Alphonse hoped, anyway.

“Keep close,” Scar said softly, “and keep your head low. If luck favours us, we’ll get through without incident.”

“Right,” Alphonse pulled the cowl of his shawl tighter around his head and face and did his best to keep up with Scar’s long strides. He had to be brave, like Edward. He only hoped that the rebels were more interested in fighting the Amestris military than looking at a couple refugees.

Scar’s hand fell on Alphonse’s shoulder, bringing him up short. Those hidden red eyes were focused on the road ahead of them, staring at some unseen force. Alphonse looked up at the Ishbalan and suddenly found himself pressed to the man’s chest as the rebel soldiers appeared on the rise. Alphonse hid his face as best he could, fighting to look and give himself away.

“Let me do the talking,” Scar whispered. Alphonse numbly nodded. Scar began to walk again, this time faking a pronounced limp, forcing Alphonse to support him and keep his head down. They slowly passed the rebels, acting the wounded refugees, but as they neared the end of the train, there was a barked order to halt. Scar tensed and raised himself up a little so he could look into the eyes of the officer approaching them.

Alphonse shivered and strived to keep his head down.

“State your name and business, Ishbalan,” the officer snapped, leveling a pistol at Scar’s head. “Why do you head away from your appointed camp?”

Alphonse gripped tighter to Scar, hoping his trembling was going unnoticed. Scar faked a hacking cough before answering. “I was wounded a while back. Closest doctor is in Resembool, so that’s where we’re headed.”

The officer didn’t seem quite convinced. “Who’s your companion?”

“My wife.” Scar answered without hesitation.

“Seems kind of young to be your wife.”

“Age doesn’t matter.” Scar said. “So long as she’s obedient and loyal.”

Silence form the officer. “I knew you Ishbalan scum were sick, but this is low.” The hammer on the pistol drew back. Scar moved. He caught the officer’s wrist and twisted, breaking it. Then he grabbed the pistol and fired one shot between the man’s eyes. For a moment, no one moved. Then Scar leaped at another man and pulled the trigger of the pistol, taking him out. He stole the man’s automatic rifle, and systematically took out each remaining man before they could run or get their weapons ready. Panting, Scar returned to Alphonse. He grabbed the boy by the shoulder and hurried him along.

“Resembool’s not safe anymore.” Scar cursed. He heaved a sigh. “It’s time we go back to my people.”

Alphonse stared at the taller man with a disbelieving stare. Then he swallowed. Envy was going to be so pissed.


Truth was, Envy was already pissed enough to consider blowing Central sky high. He’d gotten a report about the train disaster an hour before he was supposed to brief the higher-ups about it and then one of Greed’s subordinates had given him a missive from Lust and Gluttony who worked right beside the head of the Amestris government. His suspicions were confirmed and it only made Envy that much more determined to completely obliterate the government and institute his own. Of course, he couldn’t rule himself – too much work and he liked being around Greed far too much – so he had to find a suitable candidate. Thankfully, such a man was to be had, and so Envy found himself standing before Bradley at this very moment, grinning in such a way it would make any man’s blood run cold. But Bradley wasn’t just any man No, he was Wrath, the leader of this little army of sins as well as the unspoken leader of the military. Bradley’s eyebrow rose as he looked at Envy.

“A coup?” he asked.

“Exactly. These bastards are setting our people against each other to sniff out my… father’s… weapon. The rebels destroyed our trains to get at the weapon and kill their own brothers and sisters. And our President Fuhrer knows all about it.”

“So, a coup.” Bradley said. “And I would become President Fuhrer?”

Envy grinned. “That’s the idea.”

Bradley leaned back in his chair to observe Envy. The green-haired monster might have his own agenda, but then, Bradley had ever so desired the position of government leader. Who didn’t, after all? And Wrath certainly hated the internal war only because he sat on his hands most of the time while his six direct subordinates became pets of his rivals.

“Who’s backing you?” Bradley finally had to ask.

“Lust, Gluttony, Greed, Pride.” Envy shrugged. “Sloth is, but you know him.”

“And in the military itself?”

“Greed’s goons, several platoons and a few divisions. I was very discreet.”

Bradley – Wrath – tapped his fingers against his lips. “We’ll have to wait for an opportune moment to strike.”

Envy laughed. “We start small, Wrath. Get the whole of the military behind us. Maybe even the Ishbalans.”

“Those dark-skinned rats?”

“Even rats need a home,” Envy reasoned.

Wrath stared at Envy for the longest time before giving the younger man a semblance of a smile. “I expect full reports.”

Envy grinned in reply. “I wouldn’t give you anything less.”


“You can’t bring an Amestrian here!” Someone hissed in Scar’s ear. “You’ll condemn us all!”

Scar silenced the protester with a glare and looked back at Alphonse who stood in Ishbalan dress before the Council of Elders. The boy had done well so far; kept his mouth shut and listened, and answered only when required. Scar knew the younger Elric was afraid, and Scar couldn’t blame him. He’d been quite literally ripped form home an he didn’t know when he could go back. People who didn’t trust him surrounded him and Scar couldn’t step in to help him now. At least Alphonse hadn’t insisted for his Amestrian clothes after his bath; that would give him some points.

Scar couldn’t hear what was being said to Alphonse, but he knew the boy’s words. The Ishbalan priest wasn’t exactly sure how he could read Alphonse’s moves, but he figured it had something to do with their time together. He secretly hoped Alphonse could say – having an Amestrian among them could prove more fruitful than disastrous. Especially an Amestrian with a high-ranking brother in the military. That was the argument he’d given the Council before Alphonse was brought before them, and he hoped it swayed the final decision. If not, Scar would simply leave and follow Alphonse to Resembool. He had sort of promised to protect Alphonse Elric anyhow. Scar looked up from his feet to find Alphonse looking at him as if asking how his performance had gone. Scar simply canted his head and gave a single, sharp nod. Alphonse relaxed an gave a worried smile before he turned back to face the Elders.

“He who calls himself Scar, come forward.” One of the Elders called out. Scar moved forward obediently and came to stand beside Alphonse, suppressing the instinct to put his arm around the boy’s shoulders.

“Scar,” Another of the Elders continued, “you accepted responsibility for this child upon your arrival. Do you claim it now?”

“I do.” Scar rumbled, watching Alphonse shiver out of the corner of his eye.

“Take the child under your wing, then, and protect him as you would an Ishbalan child.”

Scar nodded and fought not to show the relief on his face. He led Alphonse form the tent to the outside where Several Ishbalans had gathered. Scar knew them all – they too, would have followed him if Alphonse had been made to leave. They certainly had not forgotten whom it was who had saved their lives. Scar simply nodded at them and they dispersed, allowing Scar to escort Alphonse to his own tent. Inside, Alphonse let out the breath he’d been holding. Scar looked at him curiously. The blonde shook his head.

“That was just a little more frightening than having a gun at my head.” Alphonse said with a small smile.

Scar made a noise and reached out, placing his palm against Alphonse’s cheek. He let it linger there until Alphonse’s face blushed bright red and then removed it, stepping past the Amestrian boy to get to his own side of the tent. Scar did well to hide his smile when Alphonse finally began to move again, hoping that maybe he’d left an impression on the boy. He waited until Alphonse had fallen asleep to move about again, writing a quick letter in military code. He only did this so that if the wrong people intercepted it, they couldn’t trace it back to the Ishbalan camp. Only one person would understand the writing and would be able to deliver the correct message. Scar left his tent and wandered around camp until he found a courier willing to go to the specified meeting place. Scar watched the man disappear into the dark and wondered what would come of this. He shook his head and returned to his tent, paused to watch Alphonse sleep and then, impulsively, pressed his lips to Alphonse’s forehead. The boy made a noise and curled up tighter to keep the stranger at bay. Scar smiled and returned to his cot, lying upon it heavily, he closed his eyes and tried not to dream.


- Fire swept through the city, consuming everything in its path. Buildings, people, cars – they were all fuel for these hungry flames. Gunfire and screams accompanied the fire like cellists and violinists accompanied the woodwinds in a concert. Bodies lay still, white and cold, accented here and there by a brown-skinned body. Destruction was rampant as fighters tore into each other like starving wolves. Innocents were caught up in the gunfire and smoke, screaming for help before someone silenced them. It was anarchy, chaos, and not one person stopped to scream a ceasefire. But there were survivors. They ran toward a huge building he knew to be Central Command, rallying within the gates and turning to fire round after round into their enemy. Among those in the gates were the military, herding in non-combatants and wounded. The fires were increasing, licking the sky and coming closer to Central Command. No one was going to survive.

Then out of the crowd within he walked, blood streaming down his face like macabre tears. His clothes were torn and stained and his expression was blank, as if something had sealed off all of his emotions. He went past the guns and into the midst of the fray, unaware bullets were flying around him. Through him. He reached the center of the two fields in No Man’s Land and his hands went to his ears, bleeding form the concussion of a grenade. All he could do was scream.

Sound was swallowed up by silence as that abused body began to glow red with blood runes. Brighter those runes glowed until one by one they simply exploded.

Alphonse screamed. “EDWARD!” -

Alphonse bolted upright, drenched in sweat from his nightmare. Without thinking, he crawled from his bed over to Scar’s and sough his embrace for comfort. After a moment, Scar relented and let the younger Elric press up against his side. Alphonse closed his eyes tight to keep the tears at bay. Whatever happened, he couldn’t let Edward lose control like that. He had to keep that future from happening.

Whatever it took, he had to keep it from happening.