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A Little Light of Love	By : squallstorm Category: Fullmetal Alchemist > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 7987 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Full Metal Alchemist, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Disclaimer:
I do NOT own Fullmetal alchemist or it's characters.....I'm just
playing with them.

Author's
note:

This
fic takes place 2 years after the movie, Ed and Al are on the hunt
for the Uranium bomb and are currently travailing through a
politically unstable Italy. As near as I figure it Ed's 20 and Al's
16. The year is 1925.

Seniore
- major who commanded a cohort (battalion)

Capomanipolo
- First Lieutenant

Chapter
2 – Version 2.0

As
the horrible screeching of the train brakes faded, Ed began to pick
himself up off the floor where he was currently wedged between the
toilet and the wall. He threw a puzzled glance at the doctor who was
clearly as puzzled as he was. Trains didn't just stop like that with
out any warning unless it was an emergency. Marcoh returned his
glance quickly before tending to his knee tenderly, rubbing it
tenderly.

Standing
in the small washroom, Ed stepped over the prone form of the doctor
seated by the door, and looked out into the hallway. Passengers were
popping their heads out of the sliding doors looking as bewildered as
Ed felt. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see people running
along the train outside and turned towards the movement. Soldiers
were marching around the train, surrounding it. Lots of them.

“Looks
like we got company...” Ed said under his breath. He watched
warily as their train car was surrounded. If this was a random
raid... Ed hoped they would be okay, but knowing their luck...

Getting
to his feet stiffly, Tim looked past his shoulder and hissed. “We
got trouble more like. Italy is currently under authoritarian rule;
the government is using the police and the military to enforce its
hold on the people. Watch yourself, if you even look
at
them the wrong way they're liable to lock you up and throw away the
key. We'll wait here and see what they want.”

“I
can't stay here. I got to get back to Al.” Panicked now, Ed
made to leave. Something about this world's Marcoh had him bothered.
As soon as he mentioned waiting here, Ed was on alert. It seemed
too...off to him. He couldn't begin to say why, but he didn't trust
this man.

“You
will if you know what's good for you.” Tim grabbed his arm
holding him back. Ed whirled around ready to shake him off. “Don't
provoke them, they may just shoot you for trying to 'attack' them,”
warned Tim. Ed considered his options, he didn't like them one bit.
Mollified, Ed resigned himself to staying put. No matter what his gut
was telling him, there was no way he could take on all those soldiers
and hope to live.

Al,
you'd better stay safe. I won't be able to help you in this
situation,
he thought feeling worry settle in his stomach. Looking down the
length of the car, Ed watched as two soldiers boarded, pushing anyone
who had come out of their cabins back inside. They seemed to know
what they were looking for, heading straight for a cabin two doors
down from the washroom.

Easing
back away from the door and closing his eyes, Ed let the sounds wash
over him, processing the movements and actions of the two soldiers.

It
sounded like there was a scuffle. Now, a woman's raised voice. A door
being thrown open. Rustling of cloth on cloth. A triumphant muffled
shout. Male voices discussing something. A woman's cry, pleading. The
sound of flesh hitting flesh. A grunt and footsteps. A whistle blew
outside, then the two solders went by manhandling a woman and an old
man in front of them.

The
soldier bringing up the rear stopped short as he passed by the
bathroom, glancing at Ed and Dr. Marcoh.
A
strange look flickered in the soldier's eyes as he locked gazes with
Dr. Marcoh. Ed fought the urge to turn his head and look askance to
the man standing beside him, and he continued to watch the solider
warily. He didn't want to draw attention to himself. After a brief
moment, the solider motioned them to follow with a jerk of his rifle.
Ed did look at Marcoh then, quickly, before falling in beside the old
man, and then proceeded outside. Marcoh's face was impassive and set,
but Ed was sure he caught a knowing glance between the soldier and
the doctor.

The
sun was beating down on the small dry patch of grass that the
soldiers had chosen as their gathering spot. It seemed that all the
passengers were being evacuated from the train, and being made to
gather together in the field next to the train tracks. Ed looked
around the chaos trying to spot the dirty blond head that belonged to
his brother. The fact that he was only 5'2'' didn't help matters for
he had a hard time seeing over anyone's head in general.

Giving
up for now, he took the old man's arm, lending him extra support to
which he nodded gratefully. The old man was already sporting a bruise
on his left cheek that looked like it would turn into an impressive
black eye in a day or two. Glancing around him as the crowd settled
uneasily, waiting to see what would happen how, Ed kept an eye peeled
for his brother, and leaned back to whisper a question to Dr. Marcoh.
Just as he was opening his mouth to speak, Marcoh hissed at him. When
he turned to look, the doctor was shaking his head, looking very
worried. Perturbed,
Ed let it go and just stood silently.

Once
everyone was assembled to the army's liking the capomanipolo
addressed the crowd waving a badge at them all. Whatever was said, Ed
could feel the tension rise a few notches. The hairs on his arm rose
and goosebumps came soon after as his body responded to the
seriousness of the situation. When they leveled their guns on the
crowd, there was no mistaking it, they meant business. Ed cast about
looking for his brother once more, and still could see nothing.

At
the far edge of the crowd, a few passengers were being quite vocal
about this new development. Knowing what would come next, Ed looked
away. This was one aspect of this world that he couldn't stand. The
sharp report of gun fire confirmed it. As the sound slowly died away,
the stillness of the air was palpable and made his skin crawl
further. The old man wavered in his arms, and Ed increased the
pressure on the arm in his hand to steady him.

Again
the capomanipolo was addressing the crowd, but Edward didn't want to
know—didn't want to see what this military could be capable of.
He had seen too much already. He didn't want any new nightmares. The
ones he had kept him company enough. Before he knew it, the
capomanipolo has worked his way down the line, and was in front of
the old man examining him. What were they searching for? Ed couldn't
figure out. It seemed so random.

The
old man wavered again, sharply this time, slipping out of Ed's grip,
and he flailed for balance before he caught a hold of capomanipolo to
steady himself. Disgusted, the capomanipolo threw him off with a
violent flick of his arm, and into the dirt. The old man just lay
there motionless, moaning weakly. Suddenly angry at this whole
situation, Ed whipped his head around to glare at the officer. The
officer hissed something to Ed that he didn't understand, but he
certainly got the gist of it.

He,
Edward Elric, was in loads of trouble. For no reason other then he
had dared to look on the officer's stupid, ugly face.

Turning
aside, he motioned for a solider to take Ed out of the line up. With
a rifle pointed at his chest there wasn't a lot of room for
negotiation. Remembering Dr. Marcoh's warning, Ed was going to make
sure that he didn't provoke them further, but since he has
notoriously bad luck...well, he'd just have to try. He was brought to
a stop in front of an officer with a lot of stripes; the man in
charge of this whole crazy situation.

The
Seniore was addressing to him in sickly sweet tones, but it made no
sense to him. He only ever bothered to learn English and German. “No,
sorry, didn't get that,” Ed replied in English, his tone
somewhat snide despite his best efforts to keep it neutral. The
officer narrowed his eyes at Ed and stepped aside, gesturing for a
huge giant of a man to come forward.

Being
the smart-ass that he was, Ed uttered, “Well, he's not going to
be much help is he I don't even think he even has an IQ.” He
cringed at his own stupidity, mentally kicking himself for the
automatic comeback.

He
looked way up as the giant towered over him, smirking at him. With
just enough time to widen his eyes, a heavy backhand landed on the
side of Ed's jaw, almost throwing him to the ground. He side stepped,
trying to keep his balance and to remain upright. Recovering his
equilibrium, he tested his lip with the tip of his tongue and found a
large split right in the middle of his lower lip. Resuming his place
Ed looked up at the giant again, defiant, and spit out a fat gob of
metallic tasting blood directly in front of the giant's feet.

Another
brutal strike was hurtling towards his midsection at almost the exact
moment that the blood hit the ground. Ed's whole body seemed to mold
around the giant's fist as the force of it moved through his body.
Something had to give, so his ribs cracked, loudly echoing through
his body. Ed gasped, and tried to draw air into to his shocked lungs.
The pain, sharp and agonizing.

Removing
his hand from his stomach, the giant cracked his knuckles and
grinned. Bereft of support, Ed had nowhere to go but down. He
crumbled to the ground, landing hard on his knees and cradling his
midsection. Every movement caused him sharp, blinding pain. He could
only squeeze his eyes shut as each minute movement he made the broken
bones click against one another. Despite the pain, Ed thought that
had to be the single strangest sensation he'd ever experienced.

Ed
got very annoyed when someone dared to interrupt his suffering by
grabbing a fistful of hair and yanking his head back, hard. Blinking
back tears of pain, the Seniore loomed over him. Ed squinted against
the sun as he looked up the man's body to try and make out his face.
The man spoke again. As the blood traveled down his throat, Ed could
barely work up the strength to breath let alone form words.

His
braid had fallen apart; just a mere suggestion of what it once was as
the loose strands fluttered in the wind. The Seniore reached forward
and caressed a lock of hair. Fingering the spun gold, a strange look
glimmered in the Seniore's eyes. If it weren't for the fact that he
was hurting, Ed might be truly alarmed. As it stood now, he just
blinked and tried to stay as still as possible.

The
officer became distracted when someone from the crowd spoke up and
addressed the Seniore in Italian loudly enough to carry across the
field. The man in front of Ed dropped his hand away from his hair,
and turned his attention beyond Ed's shoulder. Sensing movement off
to the left, Ed's eyes darted to the side to try and identify who was
coming. Dr. Marcoh walked into his line of sight and spoke with the
officer in front of Ed.

They
conversed for several heated moments before Marcoh finally turned
towards Ed. Tim took a moment to asses his condition before he spoke.
Pressing his lips he mentally shook his head at the physical, totally
unnecessary, methods of the army. “Edward, how are you? Can you
talk?” he asked, his voice filled with concern.

“Yeah...”
grunted Ed after swallowing a few times. The pain was starting to
become less sharp now, though any slight movement left him gasping.

“Edward,
do you know what this is?” asked Marcoh. In his hand was the
badge the capomanipolo was brandishing earlier. Not waiting for Ed to
answer, Tim continued, kneeling to be able to look Edward in the
eyes. “This is the Star of David; it's a Jewish symbol of their
faith. Ever seen it before?”

Studying
it for a moment Ed just shook his head. Dr. Marcoh's eyes flickered
across Edward's face closely for any sign that he recognized the
star. Edward betrayed nothing. “I see... This man....he wants
to know about you. Your facial structure and coloring suggest a
German dissent but your eyes are the wrong color. He believes you may
be Jewish. Could it be true?”

“No...I'm
not Jewish--ugh...I haven't believed in faith...or religion for a
long time. Why would that matter?” Ed asked, wincing in pain.
Beads of sweat were rolling down his face and into his eyes making
him blink.

Dismissing
the question, Dr. Marcoh tried another tact. “What about your
arm? Losing that—didn't it test you? By the way...you have a
very good prosthetic there. How is it that it moves so well?”
Leaning forward, his hand snaked out as if to touch it. The
prosthetic was holding his damaged chest so very tenderly.
It was truly an amazing piece of work. Shaking slightly with
excitement, his hands trembled as they came closer and closer to the
arm.

“Like
I said...I haven't believed in a long time...doctor. Why do you
want...to know about...my arm?” Ed growled between his pants.

The
hand hesitated. Frowning, the doctor stood and spoke again with the
Seniore. Having come to an apparent agreement, Dr. Marcoh scanned the
crowd.

“Alphonse
Elric, please step forward,” Marcoh finally called when he
didn't seem to be able to find whatever he was looking for.

Edward
was not expecting that move. He had started to suspect that something
strange was going on back in the washroom. Plus how'd he know Al's
full name? He was sure that he'd only said the short version and he
hadn't said their family name. Dr. Marcoh waved impatiently at the
crowd.

“I
believe that you are in possession of your brother's travel
documents,” Marcoh said, speaking over Ed's head.

Ed
scowled all the more at that statement. How did they know that?
He turned his head slightly to watch his brother.

“Yeah...”
said Al hesitantly. He placed their suitcase on the ground and
reached into his coat. He hesitated, but Ed nodded in resignation,
there was nothing they could do at this point. Ed let his eyes drop
down to the ground in front of him. They were screwed now anyway, he
could feel it. He heard Al gasp, and he whipped his head up as far as
the grip in his hair would allow, in time to see a soldier walking
towards the Seniore with what had to be their documents.

The
soldier handed them to the Seniore with a crisp salute and then took
up a position behind Al. The commander reviewed their papers very
carefully, with Ed narrowing his eyes at the man as the minutes tick
by. Addressing Ed, he motioned to the papers and seemed to be
demanding something further.

He
looked to Dr. Marcoh for an explanation as to what was wrong now.
Marcoh
paled. When he turned to speak with Ed, he seemed to be looking quite
ill. Ed just smirked at the cheesy acting the doctor was doing. For
who's sake was it for, anyway?

“He
says that your documents have been stamped in the incorrect place and
they are, therefore, fakes.” Ed frowned at that. “He also
believes that you two are spies sent from America to undermine their
fascist government. As this would be unacceptable to the people of
Italy, and to the great Benito Mussolini, you are remanded into their
custody until further notice. I'm sorry boys.” He glanced at
Al. “If I could do anything I would. This is beyond me.”

The
hulking man behind Ed released his grip on his hair, pushing Ed face
first into the dirt and instead grabbed the back of his collar.
Lifting Ed high in the air like he was nothing the giant dropped him
hard on to his feet. A stiffed gasp worked its way from his throat as
he fought to remain upright and conscious.

“Ed!
EDWARD!” Al screeched at him.

An
officer was taking his little brother away in a different direction.
Ed just looked at him grimly as he was half dragged, half walked away
in a different direction.

- - - -

Al
was taken around to a transport truck and made to get in. Other
passengers who had been removed from the crowd were here as well.
Finding a spot on the bed of the truck, Al squeezed his long legs
tight to his chest, trying to processes how the day went so wrong, so
fast.

More
people of all ages were being added to the truck all the time. Some
of them were together, husbands and wives or travel companions, but a
few of them were kids that had been removed from their parents.
Everyone was either looking very scared and crying, or were being as
brave as they could. Al tried to fold his legs into his body to give
the new arrivals more room to sit. It didn't matter to him if he was
cramped, he would share what space he had to spare gladly.

An
ancient old man was loaded unkindly into the truck next. Al watched
with a frown as he stumbled over everyone's feet and shuffled towards
the back. He quickly stood and offered his seat with a sweep of his
arm when no one else moved to help the man. The man gave a weak smile
as he sunk into the seat gratefully. Al stepped over the other
passenger's feet, maneuvering so that he now stood awkwardly along
the back of the truck beside the man.

Sweeping
his eyes over the people with pity, Al dropped his eyes to the truck
bed and sighed. Noticing that the old man was bleeding from a head
wound, Al pulled out his handkerchief and held it out for the man to
take. But he wouldn't look at him or the offered handkerchief.
Puzzled, Al thought, I'll
just press it here and hope he doesn't get mad at me.

The
old man started at his light but firm touch as the handkerchief was
applied against the wound. Looking up at Al whose seat he had taken,
the old man's eyes softened. Placing a warm dry hand over top of Al's
he spoke to him in kind tones. Al wished that he could understand
him. Shaking his head to show that he didn't speak Italian, Al just
smiled at him and patted the hand covering his with his other hand in
a comforting gesture.

“He
wants you to leave him alone.”

“Eh?”
grunted Al in surprise to be hearing someone speak English. He turned
towards the speaker behind him.

“He
says, he'll die soon anyway and he would like to know that a kind
young boy like you will live on for him.”

A
man in his forties smiled benignly at him. An old, military-green
hat, frayed and dirty was pulled low over his eyes, making him crane
his neck up or down to see anything properly. The man's hair was
curly and unkempt, tucked behind his ears it became a curly rats nest
as the base of his neck.

His
jacket lay across his lap, revealing his thin frame and the
thread-bare, sweat stained t-shirt he wore underneath. He wore baggy
pants with a large rip in the right knee, with the bottoms tucked
into dirty, clunky boots. He was playing with a large coin, rolling
it over his knuckles, trying to amuse the young girl that sat next to
him to stop her crying.

“Stick
with me kid....” the man said. He could have been addressing Al
or the girl next to him, he wasn't sure. “And I'm sure that we
can make it out of this alive.” He finally turned, and tilted
his head up to winked at Al. The coin flashed over his knuckles,
drawing Al's eyes.

“What's
your name?” wondered Al. Reaching up to hold onto the tarp
frame, he pulled his gaze away from the coin to look into what he
could see of the speaker's face.

“Macy.
I collect things. You?” he said by way of introduction. He
tilted his head up to look at Al and flicked the coin into the air
making it disappear into his palm.

Al
wondered what kind of a collector dressed like this. Or better yet
what kind of collector dressed like this and could still call himself
that. The girl at his side sniffled loudly, watching Al intently.
“Alphonse Elric...just call me Al though.” He wanted to
ask Macy about what type of collectibles he worked with, but it
didn't seem to be the time to make small talk.

“Right
on, my man. I like that name,” drawled Macy. The little girl
lifted her arms to Al, begging silently to be lifted up. Macy smiled
wider at that. “Go on, sit her in your lap, you can take her
seat. It's a long way to the interment camp.”

“Interment
Camp? What will happen to us there?” asked Al, getting slightly
worried about what was going to happen to him now. He settled the
young girl in his lap as she burrowed in to his shoulder.

“Oh!
The usual things. It's not that much of a big deal. Not like the
other camps at all. There, they just want to gather information about
you and if they think it wise they may 'ask' you to work for them.”

Al
pondered this. Macy hummed a tune happily to himself. Of course, he
was worried about Edward and what was happening to him. Would they be
taken to the same place? The train whistle blew behind them,
signaling its immanent departure. Looks
like we're were going to miss our boat to Egypt,
thought Al resignedly. Leaning forward so he could look out the rear
of the truck, he could see the train make its slow painful start.
There was no sign of Ed anywhere.

-
- - -

Ed was thrown clear
across the truck bed, with such force that he was unable to stop his
forward momentum with his hands alone, and he cracked the left side
of his head on the back of the driver's cab with a loud gong. He fell
to the floor of the truck on all fours, the impact making his flesh
limbs shake with fatigue. Only his auto-mail was keeping him stable.
Bright spots swam in his vision, threatening to make him pass out,
and he blinked rapidly to fight it.

Fresh
blood made its way down the left side of his face; flowing freely
into his eye. His stomach rolled as his head pounded, threatening to
make him expel the contents of his stomach. Closing the left eye
against the blood, Ed tried to focus on the giant and the opening at
the back of the truck. He wished that those pills Dr. Marcoh had
given him packed more punch.

There
was a chance, a small chance, that he could make it out before the
giant came in after him, but he wouldn't leave Al, and he didn't
think he was in any shape to fight right now. He was quickly fading.
Even if he made it out of this truck and somehow avoided the giant,
he still have to somehow find Al. He couldn't even work up the energy
to stand let alone run around. The only thing to do was stay and play
this thing out, hopefully were would leave with their lives, or at
least in one piece.

The
bed of the truck dipped alarmingly as the giant climbed on and
advanced slowly, seemingly enjoying the pain he was inflicting on his
prey. He smiled down from his great height; the top of his head
pushing at the fabric roof of the carrier. A large meaty hand
descended towards him. Putting up an arm to shield himself, Ed waited
for the next blow to hit. The giant caught his left forearm and
squeezed, grinding the bones together painfully. A cry of agony
caught in the back of Ed's throat, and he tugged feebly at the grip.

Voices
calling out in greeting, and coming towards the back of the truck
stopped the giant from braking Ed's arm in half. The giant turned and
addressed the soldiers that now stood there looking in at Edward in
mild curiosity. The giant released Ed's arm where it fell to the
floor, and the giant joined his comrades outside. Ed pitched forward
to land on his stomach with a grunt of pain as he jostled his ribs.
The cold metal felt wonderful on his face, his eyes dropped to half
mast as he began to slip dazedly in and out of consciousness. Unable
to fight it anymore, Ed gave himself to the darkness with pleasure.
He couldn't do anything about it right now anyway.

-
- - -

“Sir,
an urgent telegram.”

“What
is it?”

“Sir,
it's been confirmed. The Elric's have been detained and separated.”

“Hmmm...and
their condition?”

“Unknown.”

“Send
word to our contacts in Italy. I want them released and sent on their
way.”

“Yes,
sir.”

--To
be continued--
- 1
- 2
- 3
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A Little Light of Love