Chapter Text
Ed shivered relentlessly. The cold of the cell was endless and all-encompassing. He watched with dull fascination as the blood pooling out from the mess of his shoulder was soaked up by his hair, which was spilled loose on the floor. He wondered idly whether the blood would freeze or dry first. His body was littered with burns and cuts and surgical incisions -- the Drachmans seemed like they could not make up their mind whether they wanted to torture him for information or surgically remove it from him.
Ed suddenly picked up on a disturbance. Footsteps, a breath, something. Someone was coming! No no no . Ed thought, panic gripping him. It’s too early. They already came today. Everyday since his capture had been identical, precise in its timing. But this was different. His breathing sped as he heard the soft footsteps grow louder. Ed yanked the moth-eaten blanket around himself tighter and kicked back with his right leg, shoving himself further in the corner of the cell. He shook as panic completely overwhelmed him and buried his face in the blanket. He felt like a child hiding under the covers but he was just done. He couldn’t do this anymore.
He heard a noise like electricity--cattle prod--and then the door was swinging open. It was too dim in the hall to see the Drachman clearly, but he lifted his head from his blanket and snarled at them. The whine of panic in his mind deafened him and he kicked out at the hand that reached for him.
And then, another unexpected thing happened. Ed had slammed his eyes shut, expecting a kick to the face for his defiance, but none came. There was no jab of the cattle prod, no kicks to his ribs or his face. The approaching person...stopped.
Over the sound of his ragged breathing and whimpers, he suddenly became aware of a commotion past the still-open door of his cell. Thuds, like fists on skin, the sound of metal on stone, electricity, gunshots.
And then a voice he never expected to hear in this hell reached his ears, “--Ed please, open your eyes. It’s me. Shh…shh… open your eyes. It’s me, just me. I’m not going to hurt you.”
Convinced he must be dreaming, he cracked his eyes open, and his gaze met the wide, stricken blue eyes of none other than Winry Rockbell-Elric.
“Ed?” She said, in the softest tone of voice he had ever heard from her. Ed couldn’t speak, but looked and looked and looked, soaking up the image of her face like it was a glass of water in the desert. She reached a gloved hand toward him, and he flinched with a whine, ratcheting back against the wall. Winry sucked in a quick shaky breath, hesitating, then changed the direction of her raised hand, and instead used it to shrug off her coat.
“Ed, you must be freezing. Here take my coat. I know you’re hurt and I know -- I know you don’t want to be touched right now, love. But we really need to go,” Winry said, her voice still low and gentle. She reached out again, but this time, she did not stop when he flinched but extended her hand to where he was pressed firmly back against the wall and, telegraphing every motion, she gently grabbed the blanket from his shoulder and pulled it off of him.
Ed knew that it was only Winry, the woman he loved, that she must be here to rescue him, but he couldn’t help it. Weeks of torture and isolation had frayed his nerves and his sensibilities and he started shaking, gasping, and whimpering as she took away his blanket. His horrid, moth-eaten, damp, cold, wonderful blanket. He slammed his eyes shut again and focused every last scrap of his sanity into keeping his limbs from striking out in defense as Winry slowly eased his arms into her still-warm coat.
Then, Ed heard footsteps again as another person entered his cell, and his tenuous grasp on reality slipped. He struck out blindly, shoving the hands on his body away . He was cornered, pressed against the wall with nowhere to run. And he couldn’t run even if he wanted to, with his automail leg gone. He snarled in panic, wheeling on the Drachmans in front of him...only to be met with two familiar sets of eyes, one bright blue, and the other honeyed gold.
Alphonse and Winry crouched a few feet away from him, giving him space, their hands raised, palms out in surrender.
“Easy, Brother,” Alphonse murmured. “It’s just us.”
“We need to go!” A voice that Ed could not quite place called quietly from the hallway.
“I know,” answered Alphonse softly. Ed did not understand what the fuck was happening. His adrenaline from his panic early was still rocketing through him, making his body tremble and his breaths still coming in harsh pants. He knew that Al and Winry were probably waiting for him to say something, but he couldn’t. He could only stare at his brother and wife, and wonder if, perhaps, he was hallucinating.
His vision swam as the stress took its toll on his battered body. He was vaguely aware of some quiet conversation happening between his wife and brother before the smell of wildflowers and metal reached his nose and Winry’s hands were on him again. This time, an arm reached across his back while another reached under his right knee and left stump. His brain did not have time to connect the dots before he was hefted up. He cried out in pain and fear, his vision whiting out as his body left the ground. He sobbed and shook as he sensed them leaving his cell and entering the dreaded hallway.
A minute later, he heard voices shouting in harsh Drachman and the sound of a fight. He forced himself to peek his eyes open. He was gathered tightly against Winry’s chest, which was heaving with the effort of carrying him, but she did not falter in her stride. Further ahead in the hallway was Alphonse, ducking and weaving between the Drachmans fighting hand to hand and with a mix of alchemy and alkahestry as was his preference. Directly in front of him and Winry was Mei Chang, protecting them with her expert long-range alkahestry.
Ed’s breath froze in his lungs as he saw his brother and Mei face the last soldier standing, Commander Borisyuk. He felt like he was frozen to the bone, drowning in slime, as he watched her lip curl into a snarl. Unlike the other soldiers, Borisyuk was armed with a sabre rather than a gun, and Ed knew she had deadly precision and speed to match Bradley, Olivier Armstrong, or Ling.
But, to fight with a sabre, you have to get within reach of your opponent, and Al and Mei didn’t give her the chance.
In seconds the fight was over. With a resounding rumble, the entire hallway lit up in blue as Alphonse extended the walls, floor and ceiling to trap each of the now unconscious soldiers.
Borisyuk, who was still conscious, was trapped in the middle of the hall by a stone hand. Ed shuddered, hearing her phantom voice hiss in his ear as his body ached from her cruel torture. Mei stalked forward fearlessly, and stopped in front of the woman. “I am Princess Mei Chang of Xing and I have a message from His Majesty Emperor Ling Yao of Xing,” Mei spat, looking down her nose at Borisyuk on her knees, forced there by Al’s alchemic hold. “Edward Rockbell-Elric is under Xing’s protection. Harm him again and you’ll find the Amestrian army backed by all of Xing.”
“You don’t scare me, little girl,” Borisyuk said, chuckling coldly. “And you certainly don’t scare Drachma.”
“Enjoy your war then, scum. On your head,” Mei hissed, “ be it .” And with those parting words, she struck, quick as a snake, and then the woman was unconscious.
With that, Mei took a scroll out of her overcoat and stabbed a kunai first through the scroll, then the sleeve of the unconscious commander, pinning her arm to the ground. “We need to go.” Mei said, stepping away from Commander Borisyuk. When her eyes found Ed’s, where he was still cradled in Winry’s arms (like a child, jesus Ed, you’re worse than useless) , they immediately softened. “Hey Edward. I can heal you with Alkahestry, I promise. But we really need to get out of here first. Winry, Al and I spotted some cars on the east side of the compound. If we can get keys, do you think you could drive us out of here?”
“Do you one better,” Winry said tightly. “Just get me there and I can hotwire it.”
And then they were moving again, Al and Mei flanking Winry and Ed and matching Winry’s pace. The spike of adrenaline from watching the fight faded and Ed’s head swam once more.
Over the next few minutes, Ed could only process brief flashes of information. Winry’s arms around him, which were now shaking. Al’s worried gaze flickering over to him. A glint of Mei’s kunai.
The next thing he was fully aware of was Winry’s wildflower scent being replaced with Al’s familiar apple and mint. Ed gasped as they transferred him first into Al’s arms, and then as Al slowly lowered them both into a car. Ed shoved his face into the crook of his brother’s neck as he rode out the discomfort of the motion, as gentle as they tried to be. Within minutes, they were peeling out of the compound and onto the barely plowed road.
Al rubbed slow circles into his back as Ed trembled in his arms. Ed inhaled his brother’s scent and tried to tell himself that he was safe, that it was over, but he couldn’t shake his fear. It didn’t help that he still had no fucking clue what was going on. During the hours he spent in that cell, he ran scenarios through his head. Of him escaping. Of his brother finding him. Even of Mustang and Hawkeye and the rest of that crowd, coming in guns blazing. But he couldn’t make sense of this.
Suddenly Al spoke, startling him. “Mei? Do you think it would be safe to stop for a minute? Brother’s still bleeding and I don’t like how pale he is.”
Mei must have answered him, but Ed’s capacity for focus was slipping, and he tuned everything out except for the soft sounds of his brother’s breathing. As much as he tried to be the strong one, a good older brother that Al could rely on, he knew how much he leaned on his little brother. He missed him dearly when Al was away in Xing. He felt like he was missing something, a limb, his soul, his heart, as he traveled through Creta and Aerugo, and it did not lessen as he returned to Resembool. He would find himself wandering from room to room looking for something and not knowing what, until he would realize that he was looking for Al. He spent several nights restless, keeping himself from sleep, because he knew when his nights would be bad, and knew when he would be stuck screaming in nightmares that Winry could not pull him from herself. In captivity in the Drachman compound, it was Al’s voice he would hear whispering in his ear as the electric shocks, and the drugs, and the surgeries, and the solitary confinement threatened to drive him out of his head.
Now, Ed tucked his head into his brother’s warm neck, caught in limbo between hoping that this was real, and not caring if it was a hallucination, because as long as Al is here at least he feels safe, even if he isn’t.
Ed was vaguely aware of the car motion stopping, of being lifted and moved around, but it’s okay. Al had him and his pulse stayed calm and steady under Ed’s forehead and Ed could feel his brother’s even breaths. Al’s hands were warm and secure on his body, carrying him easily with the muscle he’s been building back since the Promised Day. Ed, frazzled and weak as he was at the moment, didn’t have it in him to protest being carried, and selfishly just tried to ground himself in the safety of his brother’s presence.
But then the feeling of safety vanished. Al’s body tensed under his, and he quickly said, “Mei, wait!” before Ed saw a lick of cracking blue electricity and fucking lost it.
He thrashed and twisted away from the cattle prod, but there were hands restraining him, increasing his panic, and he cried out, angry and so fucking scared. The hands moved him with relative ease despite Ed’s efforts, and one of the hands moved to the back of his head, trying to guide his face somewhere--not to the ground, where he was used to the Drachmans shoving it, but he didn’t want to find out what the alternative was, so he whipped his head to the side before they can get a grip to stop him and bit down. A second later, the hands were--gone, and Ed didn't wait. He kicked out at the body nearest him and hauled himself to his feet. He had forgotten, however, that the fuckers had taken his automail leg, so he came crashing down to the ground, sending a debilitating spike of pain up from where he bashed his mangled automail port on the ground, and he jerked to get off of his left leg, which of course sent his right shoulder into agony. A sob escaped him, borne out of fear and frustration. His one attempt at escape, and it was already over. If he had managed it, he would be free, but since he went and fucked it up, they’re going to punish him, and whatever hell they had planned for him will pale in comparison to what they’re going to do to him now.
But the pain didn’t come. He knew they were still nearby, but they made no move to approach him, and this too deviated from what he had come to expect in this hell and that freaked him out more than pain ever could. He could hear soft voices, and then two of the voices cut out and there was just one person talking. He couldn’t process what they were saying even if he could speak Drachman, and he couldn’t even really hear it over the rush of his blood, and his harsh breathing, sobs, and choked cries. But gradually, his body started to inexplicitly respond to the voice, even as his brain couldn’t quite process it. The tense line of his back started to thaw and melt a bit into the icy snow ( what? ) that he was curled on. His sobbing slowed, and while he couldn’t slow his breathing it was no longer interrupted by as many gasps and cries. He heard a crunching sound and could sense that someone was lying down next to him, but it almost didn’t matter, because the soothing voice was getting louder, and Ed could make out that the voice was singing.
“... Osservo te, semper te, latus tui costa te, autem solus, mitite, lutus tui hic sum …”
Slowly, Ed opened his eyes to meet the honeyed gold of his brother’s gaze. Alphonse was laying in the snow next to him, mirroring his curled pose, and singing just loud enough for Ed to hear him.
“ In somninum plati, floridus plena, dormite liberi, dulci mei dormite ”
The familiar words of his mother’s lullaby washed over him, bringing back memories of Ed stumbling over the words as he choked back tears trying to sing his four year old brother to sleep in the wake of their mother’s death. Of Al begging him to sing it every night, to teach him the words, and Ed struggling in his own grief and just trying to keep food on the table consistently for him and his brother, but unable to deny the quiet request of “it makes me think mom is still here, please Brother.” The two of them singing it together on Yock island, humming it as they set up ingredients for the human transmutation, and then silence in the wake of their failure. With Al no longer able to sleep and Ed, down half his limbs and weak and feverish, the lullaby seemed to bring up more bad memories than comfort for either of them.
Or so Ed had thought. After years of not singing it, Ed had woken, screaming from a nightmare about Nina, about their mother, about Scar after him, and not being able to escape, about his brother’s soul snuffed out, his blood seal broken by Lust, and when he woke Al wasn’t in the room with him, and he had panicked. Shaking and gasping from the nightmare and unable to assure himself that he was safe, that Al was safe, he had scratchily begun to sing, trying to self-soothe, and eventually had fallen back asleep. When he had woken the next morning, eyes puffy from tears he didn’t remember shedding, Al was there, quiet and pensive. Much later, Ed would find out that Al was just outside the door that night, had been about to enter at the sound of Ed’s scream, but stopped dead in the hall when he heard Ed signing. As it was, Ed had been unable figure out why Al was acting so unsure and shy about something, as if he had wanted to ask him something but couldn’t find the courage to, until after a shitty mission that turned ugly, Ed had jolted awake from a nightmare to the feeling of Al’s gauntlet brushing through his hair and his echoey voice singing the lullaby.
They had continued to sing it over the years, but only in the dead of night, on rough days, when no one else was around, and one or the other of them were drowning in hopelessness over what seemed like a fool’s dream of getting their bodies back.
Ed had struggled while on the run with Greed, Ling, Darius, and Heinkel. He had spent many sleepless nights, unable to get comfortable with the aching pain in his side and automail ports, and unable to feel safe without his brother there, and without the song to soothe his worries. He wouldn’t dare sing it to himself, not with all those people there, and so he would just bury his face in his flesh arm and mouth the words, trying to ignore the feeling of Greed’s eyes watching him in silent worry.
It was with a smile, though, that he had sung it to Al in the hospital after the Promised Day. It had been the first time either of them had dared sing the lullaby in any sort of public setting. The lullaby was sacred, for their ears only. But it had been important to Ed that he sing his brother to sleep for the first time in years, and when he had started singing, Al had looked at him like he hung the moon and stars, and it had warmed Ed to his very soul. Despite being exhausted, and not having slept for years, Al had trouble falling asleep that night, startling awake at the sensation of falling asleep, but Ed sang for hours, determined to sit vigil the way his brother had for him.
That wasn’t the last time they sang it in the hospital either. While Al improved steadily, gaining back weight and muscle mass easily, although he struggled with overstimulation, Ed’s recovery had been less consistent. Getting your arm impaled with rusty metal, isn’t the best way to avoid infection after all, and that coupled with broken ribs, and the damage done from being impaled is Baschool meant that Ed had had several surgeries to go through, and despite the doctors’ best efforts, he had gotten laid up with several infections and complications. Feverish, and out of his head with fuzziness and anxiety from a bad reaction to sedatives, meant several rough nights for everyone. They had barred Al from Ed’s hospital room to protect Al’s fragile immune system, but during the worst of it, Al had managed to charm Teacher into bullying nurses into wheeling him outside Ed’s room. Al had gotten them to give them some privacy, and then sang the lullaby through the closed door of Ed’s room until his voice gave out.
And even then, the song was kept mostly their secret. Then, one night after Ed had recovered, but before they were discharged from the hospital, Ed was woken by Al crying out in his sleep. As his body recovered enough to have more natural sleep, rather than crashing out of exhaustion and from making up for last time, Al began having nightmares as his mind and body finally started to process some of the trauma they had gone through. At Al’s cry, Ed had climbed into Al’s hospital bed and drew him into his arms. The movement had startled Al awake, and he clutched to Ed’s nightshirt, panting. Ed had begun to sing the lullaby, brushing away Al’s tears. Al had begun to calm at once, and relaxed, laying his head on his brother’s chest and listening. It was the dead of night, close to two or three in the morning, when Al had finally dropped off to sleep, a soft smile still on his face. Ed had kept singing the lullaby, happy to sit here with his brother and make sure the kid got some sleep, when he was startled by the feeling of eyes watching him. He had looked up, blushing furiously as he saw Hawkeye and Mustang in the doorway. With some shock, he had realized that Mustang was looking back at him --what the hell-- but then Al’s face had tensed in his sleep, and Big Brother beats Utter Mortification any day in a fight. Ed had ignored his little audience, and tightened his grip on Al, and had picked up the lullaby where he had trailed off. Al had snuggled his face into Ed’s neck and settled. Out of the corner of his eye, Ed could see Hawkeye’s and Mustang’s soft smiles, and after a few minutes, they left, and never spoke a word of what they witnessed to anyone. Later, Ed would learn from Hawkeye that Dr. Marcoh had just healed Mustang’s eyes, and that the first thing Mustang had wanted to see was Ed and Al.
The lullaby continues to work, even when nothing else does, because it reminds them not only of their mom, but of each other. It’s not necessarily the soothing quality of the song that calms Ed down, but the fact that it symbolizes his brother. The song means that they’re safe now. That they’re together. That all is well.
Al continued to croon the song to him softly, on the snowy ground they were both laying on. And slowly Ed became aware of their surroundings. Winry and Mei were standing nearby, both scanning the woods, giving the brothers privacy by not staring at them. With dawning horror, Ed realized that the electricity he saw wasn’t a torture device, but Mei just trying to help him with Alkehestry. And the hands he had fought against to get away weren’t his captors, but Alphonse.
Before he could spiral further though. Al caught his eye, and smiled. He finished singing the last verse and then said. “Hey Brother. There you are. Let’s try to get you bandaged up a bit, and then we’ll go home, alright?” The words could be condescending, something you’d say to a little kid not a former dog of the military, but they weren’t. Not paired with that tone, the one that says you’re safe because we’re here together.
“Bandaged?” Mei asked. “You know Alkahestry would be better.”
Ed didn’t even have time to tense before Al said. “No. No one will be performing alkahestry or alchemy on my brother’s body without his consent.” Al said this to Mei, but didn’t take his eyes off of Ed’s, so Ed knew it was also a reassurance for him.
“But--Al, Ed is hurt --” Winry argued, but Al’s attention was fully back on Ed and he didn’t answer her.
“Ed, I’m going to help you sit up now, alright. I’m putting my hands on your upper arms now.” Again, Al’s tone stayed even, open. He said what he was going to do before he did it, and didn't try to make Ed speak, sensing that Ed couldn’t at the moment. When Ed tensed, even minutely, Al stopped and changed tactics, keeping Ed as calm as possible. Mei handed Al bandages made from ripping the hem of her coat, and Al worked efficiently, under instruction of both Mei and Winry, who were technically both trained medical professionals. Ed knew Winry was probably wanting to do this herself. First aid is nothing when you’re used to performing surgery. She must have sensed, however, as Al clearly did, that Ed didn’t want to be touched by anyone right now, and was tolerating his brother doing so as an exception.
Ed sat still and let his brother wipe blood away from his mangled right shoulder. Al sighed, his eyes stormy, as he saw the damage, and then told Ed, “I’m going to wrap a bandage around this. It’ll probably hurt so if you need me to stop, tap my leg or just push me away, and I’ll stop.” Ed grit his teeth, but stayed still as Al wound a bandage around his shoulder. He was vaguely aware that they were still in Drachma, deep in enemy territory, but he had been so out of it in the car that he couldn’t get a sense of how far they'd actually travelled and how much shit they were still in. Mei was alert and on guard, and Ed knew that it would take a hell of a lot to get to them under her watchful eye. Since the Promised Day, she had been learning alchemy from Al while she taught him alkahestry and had strengthened her hand-to-hand combat under Lan Fan’s tutelage, making her a terrifying force to be reckoned with.
Ed was shaking again by the time Al finishes, cold and at the end of his tolerance for being handled. Al took off his coat, and took it behind a tree to prevent Ed from seeing the alchemic discharge. When Al came back, his coat was instead a shirt and a pair of pants. Ed blushed, aware again that he was naked under Winry’s coat, which Al had been moving aside to treat his injuries. It was nothing that Al and Winry haven’t seen, he supposed, although he knew he probably looked like shit, but Mei was standing right there for fuck’s sake. Al just smiled reassuringly and helped him into the shirt, pants, and then back into Winry’s coat.
As Al was buttoning the coat-- Ed tried to do it, but his hands were trembling far too much -- Mei turned to them and says, “I don’t see anyone, and I can’t sense any qi but ours. The Drachmans are either heeding my warning and not following us, or are unaware we took a car and are chasing us on foot.”
“We should probably leave the car,” Winry said. “Colonel Hawkeye said she’ll cover us, but I still don’t trust Fuhrer Armstrong not to order us shot on sight. At least if we’re on foot, they’ll recognize us. Hopefully.”
“Still. I want Al and I to have our hands free, just in case.” Mei said. She looked at Ed, a little uncertain, “Edward, we could move faster if you let us carry you again.”
Mei didn’t know Ed nearly as deeply as Al and Winry do, but that was just because she hadn’t known him as long as they have, and not for a lack of trying. It was nice of her to give him a choice, and he could tell that she felt bad for scaring him earlier, but she couldn’t have known that he would have been set off by alkahestry of all things. He wanted to reassure her, to respond, to let them know that as much as he despises being picked up, he knows they need to move quickly which is something he can’t do injured and down a leg. But still, the words don’t come.
Ed sat there, shaking in the silence, and could only manage a quick glance at Al before dropping his eyes to the ground. Al caught his look and stepped forward, speaking for him. “Could you carry him on your back, Winry? That might be easiest.” At her nod, Al crouched next to him, catching his eye before sneaking his hands behind his back and under his thighs. Ed gasped at the motion, focusing on keeping himself in reality as Al helped him onto Winry’s back. She firmly hooked her arm around his right leg, and positioned her left arm to support his mangled automail port. Ed tipped forward resting against her back and fists his hands into her sweater at her shoulders.
They took off, trudging through the snow. Mei took the lead, and Al followed behind, covering their tracks with alchemy. Al waited until their furthest tracks were at the edge of his range before transmuting the snow clean, limiting the amount of transmutations he did. Ed could also tell that he was trying his best to limit the crack of electric discharge, but every time he flinched at the sound, and Winry murmured, “Remember Ed, it’s just Al. You’re safe, love. I’ve got you.”
There was only so long that Ed’s body could maintain this level of panic, pain, and adrenaline, and despite the potentially dire straits they were still in, he began to drift off, dozing against Winry’s shoulder.
Ed had no idea how long he had been asleep, when a hand gently jostled his left shoulder. He jumped, breath catching, but it was just Al.
“Everything is okay, Brother. You’re safe. Here with me, Mei, and Winry. We’re still in Drachma, but we’re at the border now.” Al kept the litany going, his voice a gentle murmur, as Ed oriented himself. Winry was still carrying him, but she was shaking a bit with the exertion, and he could feel her heart racing through her back. Judging by the low light, they had been walking through the snow for hours. He’s not really light, even missing a leg, but she was strong as hell, and likely if it weren’t for the snow, she could have easily carried him like this for several hours more.
“Brother?” Al asked, getting his attention, “I’m going to whistle a signal to Colonel Hawkeye that it’s us here, okay? It’ll be loud, but it’s just me. Winry, Mei can you stand behind me? If they shoot at us I’ll have a better chance of making a barrier in time if it only has to cover a smaller area.”
That statement did nothing for Ed’s anxiety, but he stayed quiet and still on Winry’s back as she moved behind Al. Al took off a glove and stuck two fingers in his mouth, whistling sharply, mimicking a hawk’s call. The four of them tensed, but there was no gunfire, and a second later, the signal was returned. There was the soft sound of boots on snow, and then Lieutenant Colonel Hawkeye emerged, gun drawn. She relaxed when she saw them, lowering her gun, but not holstering it. Her eyes swept over Ed, and Ed lowered his eyes to the snow.
“Follow me,” Hawkeye said simply. “Let me do the talking. If you’re asked a direct question, answer without hesitation, but say as little as possible.” Then, her voice softened, “It’s good to see you, Edward. Are you alright?” Ed didn’t look at her, couldn’t answer her, and the silence rang tensely in the brisk air.
Al changed the subject, bless him, “Are you going to get in trouble for this?” he asked worriedly.
“Probably,” Hawkeye said wryly, “But Edward is safe, and that’s what I care about. How urgently does Ed need medical attention?”
“Very,” Winry responded. “None of his wounds are immediately life threatening, but they did something to the automail ports -- both of them -- and those kinds of injuries are excruciating.” By the last words, Winry’s voice was shaking with barely hidden fury.
“I’ll do what I can.” Hawkeye promised. “Follow me, now.”
With that, the group tensely walked on. Ed fisted his hands tighter in Winry’s sweater, ignoring the twinge in his shoulder. At the base of the Briggs wall, there was a pulley system rigged, with a board wide enough for two people to sit and be pulled up the wall.
Hawkeye pulled a few times in a precise rhythm and then said, “I’ll go up first so I can help pull the rest of you up two at a time. Winry and Ed come after me. Alphonse and Mei, can you guard our rear?” With that, she stepped onto the board and it began to rise.
Anxiety tightened in Ed’s gut. What was with all the cloak and dagger shit? Why was Hawkeye, cool under fire Colonel Hawkeye, acting like they were all about to be executed for treason or something?
After a long moment, the pulley came down into view once more. Winry stepped towards it and then hesitated and said, “Ed, this will be better balanced if you were standing. I’m going to set you down, okay?”
Ed shook as Winry’s hands slid so he was slowly lowered. He fisted her sweater, and gasped as his right foot touched the snow and pain wracked through his body. He blinked black spots from his vision as Al and Winry lifted him into standing on the pulley. Winry slung his left arm over her shoulder and slid her other hand under his left leg to lift it, easing the strain of gravity on his mangled port. The pulley lurched to a rise, and Ed clung to Winry for support as well as to resist the panicky urge to push her hands away from him. Ed tried to focus on staying present in reality, but ended up just needing to focus on not passing out.
As they reached the top, Ed glanced down and as he saw the shear drop his vision swam. Winry cried out and grabbed him as he swayed, making the pulley lurch to the side, then they were yanked up, first by a big heave of the pulley, then by several sets of hands as whoever was waiting at the top grabbed him before he could pass the fuck out right off the pulley.
Ed choked back a cry as the motion jostled his injuries, but any noise he let out was covered by Winry snapping, “Careful! He’s injured. Set him down and give him some space, please.”
Ed was slowly lowered to the ground, and he twisted away from their hands, catching a glimpse of blond hair and worried blue eyes -- Havoc -- before he lurched towards the edge of the wall. Winry caught him before he could gain any forward momentum, and held him still as he flinched and tried to jerk away from her.
“Stop! Stop, Ed. It’s just me. What’s going on?”
Panic was whirling through Ed as he tried to lean towards the edge, but he was too weak to fight Winry’s hold. Where’s Al? Where is he? He and Mei -- still on the Drachman side. Still in danger! Al Al Al Al.
Winry’s blue eyes filled his vision.
“Ed? What is it?”
Ed opened his mouth, but panic closed his throat and no sound came out. He made his mouth form the word even as he felt like he was suffocating, shaping his panting into sharp exhales of Al Al Al.
Winry’s face crumpled and she drew his battered and shuddering body into a tight hug. He hated that her touch made his panic initially spike, before his body slowly started to yield to the comfort of pressure and her familiar smell.
Winry pressed his face gently into her shoulder, even as he tried to jerk away from her. “Shhh,” She soothed, “Just wait. Al is coming, love.”
He heard Hawkeye and Havoc moving next to them, lowering the pulley, and then slowly bringing the pulley back up. Ed watched, shivering as the icy wind cut through them, until finally Al and Mei emerged and as one gracefully hopped from the pulley to the top of the wall.
A moment later, boots were pounding on the concrete. Ed jerked in Winry’s hold, and this time she let him pull away from her slightly. She rose to her feet, bringing him with her and leaning him against her to support his quaking body. Their group turned as three figures emerged from the darkness: Brigadier General Miles, Lieutenant General Mustang, and Fuhrer Armstrong.
Armstrong’s icy blue eyes bore into Ed’s and he trembled. Despite their features looking nothing alike, something about Armstrong’s glare reminded him far too closely of Commander Borisyuk, and the cold look in her silver eyes as she ruthlessly tortured him for information he could not give. Al protectively stepped closer to him, a half step in front of him and Winry, Mei at his side.
Unable to hold Armstrong’s gaze, Ed’s eyes darted to Mustang, noting his relieved look, and also his confusion as he took in the group in front of him. Did Mustang not know about this? Did he even know I had been captured, or is he just surprised I’m back? Judging by Miles’ sharp look at Mustang, he was wondering the same thing.
Beside them, Hawkeye and Havoc saluted. “Fuhrer Armstrong, sir!”
“Explain, Lieutenant Colonel Hawkeye. Now .” Armstrong snapped, not releasing Hawkeye and Havoc from their salue.
“Sir! The Xingese delegation has arrived to negotiate military aid. Fuhrer, this is Her Highness Princess Mei Chang.”
Hawkeye’s confident statement was met with silence, save for the wind whipping at their coats.
Mei stepped forward. “Your Excellency. Thank you for allowing me and my delegation safe passage into your country. It is a pleasure to meet at last. It is quite unfortunate that it is not under better circumstances.”
And suddenly, Ed put the pieces together. This was why he had suffered through icy hell for weeks. He had assumed that they couldn’t locate him, that they would have known he was missing from Al or Winry, but couldn’t find him. He was also ashamed to admit that in his darkest moments he instead considered that his high ranking military friends and acquaintances didn’t care to come to his rescue, although he knew that wasn’t true.
He had not considered that Fuhrer Armstrong had forbidden them to take action due to the war between Drachma and Amestris. Mustang was close -- so close to becoming Fuhrer himself. He couldn’t afford to be court martialed, and right now, with this bloody war between Amestris and Drachma, Ed could see how desperately this country needed Mustang’s ideals.
Hawkeye and Havoc, however, are not shooting for Fuhrership. If Mustang’s and Hawkeye’s plan for retribution goes as advertised, then Hawkeye’s career will end with their efforts to atone for Ishval. While not a War Criminal of Ishval, Havoc understands that there are things more important than his military job, especially after the events of the Promised Day.
Even so, by deferring to Mei and allowing her to take charge of Ed’s rescue, they could keep their involvement to a minimum, and thus avoid any backlash towards Mustang as their commanding officer.
That was as much politics as he could sus out, drained as he was. He still didn’t understand everything that was going on, like the note that Mei had pinned to Borisyuk’s sleeve, or why Hawkeye was referring to their little group of four as the “Xingese delegation” considering three of them were Amestrian, but he’d figure it out later.
Armstrong raised her eyebrow, “The Xingese delegation?” She said slowly, voice dripping with doubt. “Really. Follow me, Princess Mei Chang. Mustang, with me. Colonel Miles, escort Rockbell-Elric to the hospital. Lieutenant Colonel Hawkeye and Major Havoc secure the Wall, and then report to Miles’ office.” With that, Armstrong turned and stalked off, Mei and Mustang just a few steps behind her.
Out from under Armstrong’s frigid glare, Ed felt like a puppet with its strings cut. His knees buckled and he was swiftly caught by Winry and Al. Worried voices cried out, joining in a mumbled jumble in his head.
Hands moved once more under his knees and behind his back, and then they were moving, much quicker than they had trudged through the snow. The motion made him dizzy, and Ed closed his eyes, gritting his teeth against the pain, welcoming the encroaching darkness.
“Stay with me, Brother. Brother-- Ed !”