Soldier Blues

XIII

To describe Envy at this moment, Greed decided ‘furious’ would be too light a word. Envy was just sitting on his desk in full uniform, studying the report that had just been faxed over. Greed usually would be laying Envy out on that desk at this moment to make him forget the bad news, but not this time. This time, Envy needed to keep his mind on this report. Because it came from Roy, who had shown up at Southern Command bleeding rather badly from numerous bullet wounds, it meant that Edward had been captured. Roy was on his way back to Central under armed escort provided by Greed’s subordinates, but that wouldn’t be enough of a mollification for Envy. He wouldn’t rip Roy a new hole to breathe out of, but he’d find something to take his aggression out on. Unfortunately, that something would be the rebel army, and Envy would soon have the entire Amestrian military behind him via Wrath. Bradley. Greed sighed. Whatever. The point was the rebels would fear the green-haired monster sitting there so serenely like a Lorelei.

“Envy?” Greed dared to voice the other’s name, knowing full well he could become a victim of that anger boiling just beneath Envy’s skin.


Dark eyes slid to him. “Yes, Greed?”

“Maybe we should step up our plans for our coup.” It was suggested mildly, as if Greed were inspecting his hand of cards for the aces.

Envy was silent for a long time. “Maybe we should,” he purred. “Go collect your band of misfits. You’re going to locate and confiscate all of their weapons depots. Bring all finds back here.”

“And you?” Greed asked, rising.

Envy grinned like a hyena.

Greed grinned in return because it was the safest thing to do and left the Brigadier General’s office, releasing his held breath when he was well down the hall. As much as he loved Envy, by God that man scared him. Greed shook himself and broke into a brisk walk, not quite hurrying out of the building to the streets of Central. He abandoned military uniform for black leather pants and a furred sleeveless coat and meandered toward the back alleys that held home for many of those he’d rescued over the years. Since Dorochet, Marta, and Loa were collecting one Roy Mustang, Greed was left with the dregs. Good people, all, but Greed didn’t quite trust them the way he trusted Marta, Dorochet, and Loa.

“Yo,” Greed said upon entering his followers' hideaway. When all eyes fell on him, Greed gave a grin. “We’ve got a job to do.”


Alphonse shivered against Scar, watching the rebel tanks slowly pass by. He carried for the Ishbalans bombs supplied by Envy and someone else Alphonse wasn’t allowed to know. They had been asked (promised things, more than likely) to begin sabotaging the insurgents’ weaponry. It was a simple request, but Alphonse wasn’t stupid. Scar was keeping him close on purpose and Al knew it wasn’t because the silent Ishbal native wanted a gopher to carry the bombs. The younger Elric knew something bad had happened, and while he probably instinctively knew what, he forced himself to think of a hundred other possibilities. It didn’t make the boy feel any better, but it was something other than the worst to think about.

A mirror shone on the other side of the road, once, twice. Scar lifted his own mirror to reply. Then he turned to Alphonse. Without saying a word, Alphonse handed him a bomb and watched the dark-skinned man dart across the road up into the blind side of the tanks and set the bomb. Another Ishbalan crossed to Alphonse’s side performing the same act. They moved quickly, without hesitation, and when Scar was back with Alphonse he looked to the boy and nodded.

Alphonse pressed the button on his remote detonator.

The forest rocked with the concussions of multiple explosions, kicking up debris and bodies as craters were left in the wake of the tanks and men. Alphonse watched numbly and wondered if Ed had felt this way when he killed people.

He didn’t have time to really think about it because the soldiers that had survived the blasts were firing blindly. The Ishbalans had chosen their cover well, though, and no bullets found a target. At least, the rebels’ bullets didn’t. Alphonse flinched each time a shot went off and a man dropped. He wanted to cry. He wanted to go home and forget all this. Alphonse clenched his fist and stared at it. He couldn’t leave. He had to be brave. Because he had to rescue his brother before… before that could happen.

Scar put a hand on Alphonse’s shoulder. Alphonse looked up into the man’s red eyes and only nodded. Scar stared at him a moment longer before he finally canted his head and emerged from the forest onto the trail moving with the rest of the refugee army to clean up the mess they had made. Alphonse moved to help too, though Scar only made him pick up metal debris instead of bodies and body parts. Alphonse said nothing; he particularly didn’t want to see them either. He worked until Scar came to collect him and when the Ishbalans arrived back at their camp, Scar gave the younger Elric a push toward their tent. Understanding the silent order, the boy moved to first wash up and then get ready for bed.

But Alphonse couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned and when Scar entered the tent, Alphonse kept very, very still. All too suddenly a large warm hand fell on his shoulder and the blonde rolled slightly to look up into crimson eyes. They stared at each other for a long time before Scar shrugged and bent down, capturing Alphonse’s mouth and claiming it. Alphonse squeaked and squirmed in an attempt to get away. It was happening so fast and Scar refused to let the younger Elric escape, intent on taking what he wanted with complete disregard to Alphonse’s wishes.

The kiss lasted only a few moments – to Alphonse it seemed an eternity – and Scar pulled back, simply staring at the red-faced, panting boy. Scar simply picked Alphonse up then and shifted to lay beside and half-beneath the smaller, holding him tightly. Somehow, Alphonse found it far easier to sleep.

And he couldn’t help but wonder why Scar chose to stop.