temperance, part 4.1
Aug. 23rd, 2004 04:20 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mikkenekoI can't believe I have to ship this computer away tomorrow. *weeps sad tears* No more writing for at least a week, and then I'll be at school and oh so busy...
'N other words, part 4, section one. Sigh.
[Edit] Added a bit more text, which made a better ending to the scene.
Fandom: Full Metal Alchemist
Title: Temperance (working title only.)
Warnings: Angst, action, drama, drug use and abuse.
Rating: R
Pairing: None
"We'll have to confront Doring directly," Ed said, sitting up straight and clutching weakly at the bucket like a talisman.
"Are you sure that's a good idea, Brother?" Al had definitely calmed down, by this time, enough that he could think sensibly once again. "We could be walking right into a trap."
Ed bared his teeth in what could charitably be called a smile. "Doring's a third-class," he said. "He's not much better than an amateur. He's got no idea who he's dealing with."
Al could have continued to protest; that Doring was clearly powerful enough to dominate an entire good-sized town, that Edward himself was hardly in his top form, and that even a third-rater could set up a decent ambush with all this time, but he kept it to himself. He watched Edward haul himself to his feet, holding on to the last remaining chair for a few minutes as he swayed.
"If we wait," Ed said as he forced himself upright, "He'll just come to us. We should take the fight to him."
"Brother," Al said. "Are you sure you're up to this?"
"I'm sure, dammit!" Ed snapped. "I'm not going to let somthing like a few nightmares get the better of me." As if to spite him, a few shivers shook his frame. Ed clamped his arm across his chest, and tried to ignore it.
"You know it's not just that, Brother," Al protested. "That drug is like a poison, and it's still not out of your system. You haven't been able to keep down any food, or more than a few sips of water. And you're shaking."
Ed scowled at his brother. "I'm not weak," he said testily. "Let's go. Where's my coat and boots?"
"In our room." Al surrended with a sigh. "I'll go and get them. You need to take it easy."
As he clanked up the stairs to the room, Al touched one hand to his chest plate and tried not to think about what was inside. He hoped that the strange shivers that wracked his brother's form were just a result of the stress that he'd placed on his body. He hoped that simple things like coats and boots would stop them. But he had the other, just in case.
The hard part wasn't going to be finding Doring. The brothers realized this almost as soon as they stepped out of the mostly demolished hotel. With the sun up, they realized that they had come around the bend in the valley, and the rest of Elliotsburg lay under the hill to the east. Factories clustered along the valley floor, but as the slope of the hill rose, so did the sight of the large mansion, dominating all the smaller buildings around it. Unlike the houses they had passed on the way of the train station, it was perfectly kept up and tended, clearly inhabited; and in this town, there could only be one person living in a house like that.
"He's certainly not trying to be discreet," Edward grumbled, as they dragged themselves through the street. "Setting himself up in a big fancy mansion on the hill. Guess he wants to remind everybody where they stand in relation to him, huh?"
They could hear the clatterings of the factories as they passed them; the rattlings of machines mixed with the clamor of hundreds of human voices. But the people they passed in the streets were unnaturally still and quiet; most of them just stood or sat in one place, propped up against the walls, lost in whatever despair or haze of drugs that had dumped them there. Al tried not to look too closely at them; he didn't want to get too close and realize that somebody was as dead as they looked.
"Yes, brother," he agreed, but he wasn't really listening. He was paying more attention to the way his brother moved; he was stiff, and halting, as he had never been since the first day he gained his automail limbs. One hand was clasped firmly across his chest, as though fighting against nausea or tyring to move with broken limbs. Sweat stood out on his forehead and neck, and the shivers were still visible, even under the heavy coat.
"It'll be a treat to pull him down out of his high seat," Edward continued to rant, dragging himself along. "Gonna rub his face right in the street. That'll show him he can't just walk all over people."
Edward wasn't up to this. Al knew this, but he also knew that there wasn't anything he was going to be able to say to his stubborn brother that would convince him to slow down and take a rest. Not that Al was even sure that resting would help; there was still too much he wasn't sure about this terrible drug, but what he had seen, and what he was piecing together, he didn't like.
"Brother," he said instead, to try to distract himself. "Why are we doing this?"
"Huh?" Ed swung around to stare at him in disbelief. "Al, what are you talking about? This guy's the one who's responsible for ruining this town. We're gonna take him out. That's what we're here for."
"No, that wasn't what I meant," Al said hastily, although it sort of was. "But, Brother, we were sent to investigate the mystery of the disappearances -- to find out what's going on in this town. Now we know why, isn't our job complete? Why can't we report this to the authorities and let them sort this out? Surely they'll be able to take care of Doring and give the city back to the people who live here."
Ed was silent for a moment, then he turned on his heel and started off towards the mansion again. Al was left to chase after. "Wait, Brother!" he called. "I don't understand."
"Not enough yet," Ed said lowly. "We don't know enough yet, Al."
"We know all we need to know," Al argued.
Ed shook his head, mouth pressed in a thin line. "Not yet," he said stubbornly. "We have some of the pieces, but not all of them. Some things I need to hear from Doring's mouth, himself. And then we can decide what to do."
"What to do?" Al stared at his brother's stiff back uneasily. "What are you thinking about doing, Brother?"
"If the military --"
Ed broke off, stumbling suddenly. He grabbed wildly for support with his free hand, and finding none, sank to his knees, doubling over in the street.
"Brother!" Al was at his brother's side in an instant. "What's happened? Sick again?"
"It's not that," Ed gasped. The tremors had doubled in force. "All of a sudden, cramps -- really bad --"
He dropped his head, fists clenching as he fought against the spasms knotting his muscles. Slowly, agonizingly, he was able to uncurl from his tight knot, and struggled to his hands and knees. Al hovered nearby, not quite touching.
"Gonna kill him," he muttered through clenched teeth. "That bastard..."
"Brother."
Al was blocking his way. Edward blinked up at him, confused. "Al? What are you doing?"
With a clatter of steel against pavement, Al knelt in front of him. He was still tall enough to block the light. "Brother, you won't make it this way," Al said in a hushed voice.
"What are you talking about?" Ed tried to cover up with bravado, but that couldn't hide the tremors knotting his limbs, the pallor of his skin. "I'm going to go and kill him if I have to crawl the whole way there --"
"Even if you get there, what are you going to do in a state like this?" Al reached up and unbuckled his armor, and pulled a thin flat object from underneath it.
Ed froze, staring. "Al -- what is that?" he said, warily. His pulse was pounding.
Al hesitated, turning the slim brown envelope over in his hands, and then held it out to his brother. "You need this," he said, voice wavering and then firming. "Don't you?"
Ed took the envelope with shaking hands. He slipped open the top flap with clumsy, gloved fingers, and a fine grey powder spilled out into the palm. "Where did you get this?" His voice was shaking almost as much as his hands.
"I told you I went through the kitchen back at the inn," Al said, sounding subdued. "This was all that was locked up in a cabinet."
For a moment, Edward was riveted, feeling the hunger rising up from his middle -- but then he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and pushed it down. "It's no good," he said, and was proud at how calm he sounded. "We don't know enough about this stuff. I've got no idea how much she used to make the food last night, and the last thing I want is to start talking to elves and fairies again. Some chance I'd stand against Doring in that state."
"What chance do you stand against him the way you are now?" Al argued, though he didn't sound happy about it. He fiddled with something small for a moment, completely hidden in by his large fingers, before turning his palm up to show Ed. It was a small measuring cup, no more than an ounce in volume. "This was also in the cabinet."
Ed could feel the further protests dying in his throat. "It's not safe," he argued feebly, but it didn't even convinve himself, much less Al.
"I'm sorry, Brother." The armor was hanging its head, and that stepped quite firmly on the rest of Ed's resolve. "I wish that it wasn't necessary... but you can barely stand, or walk, much less fight. If you need it -- then -- you need it."
"I need it." The admission was harsh, forced out past a tight block in his throat. It made his pride curdle, to admit it, and a part of him -- one he didn't really want to face -- cried out in fear, too. But Al was right. It couldn't be helped.
The powder didn't taste like much; maybe a little bit sour. It dissolved as soon as it touched the moisture in his mouth, his throat, and made him really wish for a glass of water. Ed wondered, in a detatched way, if that was the usual form of the drug, or just one that had been given to the innkeeper that could be stirred undetected into food. He swallowed, trying to get the mostly imagined aftertaste out of his mouth, and wondered whether different forms had different potencies, and how each one affected the chemical structure. He breathed in deeply and slowly, waiting for the drugs effect to kick in, and wondered if the dusty street was about to sprout horrors on him, too; whether he was about to lose his mind and reason to the paranoia again, and if it did, whether he would ever be able to climb out of it again.
~tbc~
'N other words, part 4, section one. Sigh.
[Edit] Added a bit more text, which made a better ending to the scene.
Fandom: Full Metal Alchemist
Title: Temperance (working title only.)
Warnings: Angst, action, drama, drug use and abuse.
Rating: R
Pairing: None
"We'll have to confront Doring directly," Ed said, sitting up straight and clutching weakly at the bucket like a talisman.
"Are you sure that's a good idea, Brother?" Al had definitely calmed down, by this time, enough that he could think sensibly once again. "We could be walking right into a trap."
Ed bared his teeth in what could charitably be called a smile. "Doring's a third-class," he said. "He's not much better than an amateur. He's got no idea who he's dealing with."
Al could have continued to protest; that Doring was clearly powerful enough to dominate an entire good-sized town, that Edward himself was hardly in his top form, and that even a third-rater could set up a decent ambush with all this time, but he kept it to himself. He watched Edward haul himself to his feet, holding on to the last remaining chair for a few minutes as he swayed.
"If we wait," Ed said as he forced himself upright, "He'll just come to us. We should take the fight to him."
"Brother," Al said. "Are you sure you're up to this?"
"I'm sure, dammit!" Ed snapped. "I'm not going to let somthing like a few nightmares get the better of me." As if to spite him, a few shivers shook his frame. Ed clamped his arm across his chest, and tried to ignore it.
"You know it's not just that, Brother," Al protested. "That drug is like a poison, and it's still not out of your system. You haven't been able to keep down any food, or more than a few sips of water. And you're shaking."
Ed scowled at his brother. "I'm not weak," he said testily. "Let's go. Where's my coat and boots?"
"In our room." Al surrended with a sigh. "I'll go and get them. You need to take it easy."
As he clanked up the stairs to the room, Al touched one hand to his chest plate and tried not to think about what was inside. He hoped that the strange shivers that wracked his brother's form were just a result of the stress that he'd placed on his body. He hoped that simple things like coats and boots would stop them. But he had the other, just in case.
The hard part wasn't going to be finding Doring. The brothers realized this almost as soon as they stepped out of the mostly demolished hotel. With the sun up, they realized that they had come around the bend in the valley, and the rest of Elliotsburg lay under the hill to the east. Factories clustered along the valley floor, but as the slope of the hill rose, so did the sight of the large mansion, dominating all the smaller buildings around it. Unlike the houses they had passed on the way of the train station, it was perfectly kept up and tended, clearly inhabited; and in this town, there could only be one person living in a house like that.
"He's certainly not trying to be discreet," Edward grumbled, as they dragged themselves through the street. "Setting himself up in a big fancy mansion on the hill. Guess he wants to remind everybody where they stand in relation to him, huh?"
They could hear the clatterings of the factories as they passed them; the rattlings of machines mixed with the clamor of hundreds of human voices. But the people they passed in the streets were unnaturally still and quiet; most of them just stood or sat in one place, propped up against the walls, lost in whatever despair or haze of drugs that had dumped them there. Al tried not to look too closely at them; he didn't want to get too close and realize that somebody was as dead as they looked.
"Yes, brother," he agreed, but he wasn't really listening. He was paying more attention to the way his brother moved; he was stiff, and halting, as he had never been since the first day he gained his automail limbs. One hand was clasped firmly across his chest, as though fighting against nausea or tyring to move with broken limbs. Sweat stood out on his forehead and neck, and the shivers were still visible, even under the heavy coat.
"It'll be a treat to pull him down out of his high seat," Edward continued to rant, dragging himself along. "Gonna rub his face right in the street. That'll show him he can't just walk all over people."
Edward wasn't up to this. Al knew this, but he also knew that there wasn't anything he was going to be able to say to his stubborn brother that would convince him to slow down and take a rest. Not that Al was even sure that resting would help; there was still too much he wasn't sure about this terrible drug, but what he had seen, and what he was piecing together, he didn't like.
"Brother," he said instead, to try to distract himself. "Why are we doing this?"
"Huh?" Ed swung around to stare at him in disbelief. "Al, what are you talking about? This guy's the one who's responsible for ruining this town. We're gonna take him out. That's what we're here for."
"No, that wasn't what I meant," Al said hastily, although it sort of was. "But, Brother, we were sent to investigate the mystery of the disappearances -- to find out what's going on in this town. Now we know why, isn't our job complete? Why can't we report this to the authorities and let them sort this out? Surely they'll be able to take care of Doring and give the city back to the people who live here."
Ed was silent for a moment, then he turned on his heel and started off towards the mansion again. Al was left to chase after. "Wait, Brother!" he called. "I don't understand."
"Not enough yet," Ed said lowly. "We don't know enough yet, Al."
"We know all we need to know," Al argued.
Ed shook his head, mouth pressed in a thin line. "Not yet," he said stubbornly. "We have some of the pieces, but not all of them. Some things I need to hear from Doring's mouth, himself. And then we can decide what to do."
"What to do?" Al stared at his brother's stiff back uneasily. "What are you thinking about doing, Brother?"
"If the military --"
Ed broke off, stumbling suddenly. He grabbed wildly for support with his free hand, and finding none, sank to his knees, doubling over in the street.
"Brother!" Al was at his brother's side in an instant. "What's happened? Sick again?"
"It's not that," Ed gasped. The tremors had doubled in force. "All of a sudden, cramps -- really bad --"
He dropped his head, fists clenching as he fought against the spasms knotting his muscles. Slowly, agonizingly, he was able to uncurl from his tight knot, and struggled to his hands and knees. Al hovered nearby, not quite touching.
"Gonna kill him," he muttered through clenched teeth. "That bastard..."
"Brother."
Al was blocking his way. Edward blinked up at him, confused. "Al? What are you doing?"
With a clatter of steel against pavement, Al knelt in front of him. He was still tall enough to block the light. "Brother, you won't make it this way," Al said in a hushed voice.
"What are you talking about?" Ed tried to cover up with bravado, but that couldn't hide the tremors knotting his limbs, the pallor of his skin. "I'm going to go and kill him if I have to crawl the whole way there --"
"Even if you get there, what are you going to do in a state like this?" Al reached up and unbuckled his armor, and pulled a thin flat object from underneath it.
Ed froze, staring. "Al -- what is that?" he said, warily. His pulse was pounding.
Al hesitated, turning the slim brown envelope over in his hands, and then held it out to his brother. "You need this," he said, voice wavering and then firming. "Don't you?"
Ed took the envelope with shaking hands. He slipped open the top flap with clumsy, gloved fingers, and a fine grey powder spilled out into the palm. "Where did you get this?" His voice was shaking almost as much as his hands.
"I told you I went through the kitchen back at the inn," Al said, sounding subdued. "This was all that was locked up in a cabinet."
For a moment, Edward was riveted, feeling the hunger rising up from his middle -- but then he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and pushed it down. "It's no good," he said, and was proud at how calm he sounded. "We don't know enough about this stuff. I've got no idea how much she used to make the food last night, and the last thing I want is to start talking to elves and fairies again. Some chance I'd stand against Doring in that state."
"What chance do you stand against him the way you are now?" Al argued, though he didn't sound happy about it. He fiddled with something small for a moment, completely hidden in by his large fingers, before turning his palm up to show Ed. It was a small measuring cup, no more than an ounce in volume. "This was also in the cabinet."
Ed could feel the further protests dying in his throat. "It's not safe," he argued feebly, but it didn't even convinve himself, much less Al.
"I'm sorry, Brother." The armor was hanging its head, and that stepped quite firmly on the rest of Ed's resolve. "I wish that it wasn't necessary... but you can barely stand, or walk, much less fight. If you need it -- then -- you need it."
"I need it." The admission was harsh, forced out past a tight block in his throat. It made his pride curdle, to admit it, and a part of him -- one he didn't really want to face -- cried out in fear, too. But Al was right. It couldn't be helped.
The powder didn't taste like much; maybe a little bit sour. It dissolved as soon as it touched the moisture in his mouth, his throat, and made him really wish for a glass of water. Ed wondered, in a detatched way, if that was the usual form of the drug, or just one that had been given to the innkeeper that could be stirred undetected into food. He swallowed, trying to get the mostly imagined aftertaste out of his mouth, and wondered whether different forms had different potencies, and how each one affected the chemical structure. He breathed in deeply and slowly, waiting for the drugs effect to kick in, and wondered if the dusty street was about to sprout horrors on him, too; whether he was about to lose his mind and reason to the paranoia again, and if it did, whether he would ever be able to climb out of it again.
~tbc~
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-08-23 01:30 am (UTC)Also...*pets Al* Good little brother. Keep being cute. <3
no subject
Date: 2004-08-23 01:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-23 10:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-23 10:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-23 07:00 am (UTC)Meh, no writing for a week? But... that means I'll actually have to get a life now, and those are expensive. Garr, I say. <3
no subject
Date: 2004-08-23 10:34 am (UTC)