TPA--Comrades of Brotherhood

An armful of automail



Once the Elric brothers (but mostly Edward) tied the kitten's front paws behind her back and tossed her inside the closet, writhing and hissing through the gag, the owner of the inn gave a knock on the door and questioned about the noise coming from inside the room. After a few frantic minutes of dressing in his boxers, trousers, and black sweatshirt he concealed his right automail with the towel and opened the door. "Is there something wrong?"

"I heard a lotta racket in there…" The owner inspected the room with an suspicious eye. Nothing was broken or shattered. Everything was in one piece. "…And I came to see if everythin' was okay…."

"Everything's fine," Edward assured the confused man. Then he cleverly added, "But I did hear something outside the window. Perhaps you should check it out."

"But I thought…."

He convinced him that there was nothing wrong with the room, that he should look outside and see if a couple of stupid burglars were doing there stupid plans of stealing valuable items from shops--or highly possible, his inn. Outraged that someone would dare do that to him, he thanked Edward and Alphonse gruffly and left.

"Whew! That was a close one!" Edward sighed. "He might come back, though. I doubt they let animals in here. Hey, Al, do me a favor, will you? Distract him for a while. And make sure he doesn't come in. I'm going to talk to our little friend."

Alphonse did not like the sound of this. "But, Big brother, please can I stay? Please! I want to see her, too."

"I know you do. That's why I'm asking you to do this favor for me."

"But, Brother…."

"Look, I know you want to see her. But I can't have any distractions. And you'll make a distraction for sure. I can't have you smothering her with your love while important questions need to be answered." Sensing that he might of hurt his younger siblings feelings he said in his gentle-big-brother tone, "I'm sorry. How about you stay in here and open the door every few minutes to see if he comes back. Is that better for you?"

Even though the youngest Elric was in a shell of metal, his eyes lightened with joy and excitement at his words. Like if he just saw all of the presents under the Christmas tree. It was amazing, really. That Alphonse, beloved brother and partner in this journey, could still be animated and alive in a empty suit of armor.

Edward was grateful that he had someone like him by his side. He smiled his gratitude.

But then the thoughts of the girl rushed in like a stampede of wild horses. And the thought of horses made him think of Roy. What exactly did Roy want with her? Damn it. Was he really going to do this? Was he really going to reach in her memories and steal information about her life, her past? Was that bad? Would it violate her? She'd never know, but he always would.

"All right," Edward said. "What we need now is the Philosopher's Stone. We now know for certain that she has it. We need her to tell us. But she is not here. Although, the cat…." He walked toward the door of the closet. A look of determination shined boldly from his eyes, making them glitter their golden light. "She's our ticket to the Stone."

"We won't hurt her," Alphonse said worriedly. "Will we, Edward?"

"Hurt her?" Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist, then replied bluntly, "No."
…………….


Clara lay crumbled in a puddle of helpless terror. Her nose was running, but the tears hadn't yet come. She was scared; shaking, whimpering pathetically, calling out Maria's name repeatedly. "Maria, Maria, Maria," she moaned and whined.

The only thing waiting for me eagerly is death itself, Maria's voice resounded in her head.

Everyone was waiting for that day to come. When death claims the life of the young alchemist. They've waited. But now they're impatient. They were going to--

The door creaked open slowly. The kind of slow creaks that tell you that something is going to change: either you're going to die or escape. Then the silence came. The kind of silence that fate does to you in a cruel, sickening way. Fate makes you wait in you're panic-stricken, soul chilling, nightmarish, bloodcurdling fear. A fear that nearly destroys a human being. Mind, body, and soul.

Just then, Clara remembered what Maria said when she asked if fear was a person what would it look like. It would be a man, she replied with adult seriousness, who would look like a criminal, a murderer, someone who has a scary mask. And when he takes it off, we wish he haven't had. He ain't scared or worried that when the mask is gone we would see something human eyes are forbidden to look at. He shows us; and eventually we'll become corrupted, crippled mentally, or die from terror.

Unless, we face him. Look at him in the eye and declare we're not under his control.

She decided to do just that. It took time, but Clara managed to wriggle the other direction with effort and difficulty. She looked at Fear in the face, ready to fight viciously if necessary; her eyes glinted angry green at his wickedness.

"What's with the serious face? I'm not going to hurt you."

Fear was in the form of a fifteen-year-old boy with golden hair and eyes and eyebrows. He wore black trousers and a black sweatshirt, a towel hung from his right shoulder in a limp way. A lifeless way. Behind his back stood that menace-looking suit of armor, standing dangerously and deadly to let his red glowing eyes rest on hers.

A stifled, whimpered cry came from her muzzled mouth. She wasn't ready to fight him yet.

"I told you, I'm not going to hurt you. Don't be frightened." He took a step forward; she cringed and scooted farther away.

"I know this looks scary, but there's nothing to be scared of." His face was stern, but his voice was gentle and calm. "We just need to ask you a few questions."

Questions? The thought drifted a little in the heavy, hard-to-breathe air. Why would they tie me up and gag me if all they want are questions?

Clara tried to say that to them, that what was the point in being restrained if that's all they wanted, but the words were deadened by the rag on her mouth.

Quietly and swiftly, the alchemist approached the trussed animal. She thought he would suddenly smack her, so she flinched. He didn't do that, to her surprise. Instead, he kneeled down on one knee and, with his hands, quickly untied the muzzle. Soft fingertips poked her furry cheeks. Her heart drummed against her ribs. She was scared senseless. "I'm going to take off the rag, but you can't make a lot of noise. So talk softly, okay?"

But when it slipped off of her jaws, instead of speaking in a hushed voice like he wanted her to do, she yelled hysterically, "WHY'D YOU KIDNAPPED ME!? I--I didn't do anything! Please don't do this, please! I'm-we're innocent! Take me back!" The tears started to well up and fall from her eyes; her breath came in quick, sharp gasps.

"Shhhhh," he whispered soothingly, doing his best to calm the terrified kitten. "Quiet. All we want are answers. That's all. I promise that's all we want." He placed his left palm on top of her head. "It'll be all right."

She shuffled away from his feather-gentle touch. "Get away from me," she begged brokenly.

Edward huffed a sigh, then turned to his armor-coated brother to stare at his expressionless helmet. This was not working. He needed her to be relaxed enough to talk. And he needed her trust. This calls for the big guns. "Your turn," he mouthed silently.

The ridiculously-immediate love for this sobbing, sorrowful puddle-of-a-kitten that Alphonse developed was, to Edward's point of view, a kind of puppy-love. He would have laughed at the deliberate way he walked toward her and knelt like if he was an older brother himself, but something clogged his throat tightly. That something made him solemn, like a sort of dread that was draining everything.

And that something made him think of the girl….There had to be a connection between them if she were this upset. Were they sisters? Cousins? Because, she wanted to go back to the prison. What was wrong with that kid's damned brain? (He was already seeing her as a child than a kitten for a weird, swirling moment.) He saw the condition the alchemist-prisoner was in. Hasn't bathed in days, possibly; hasn't eaten or drank water for a while; covered in blood…and still, the feline companion of the girl's wanted to return back. That was a little messed up for his taste.

The more he thought about it, the madder he got.

"We won't harm you in any way," Alphonse was saying. "But we need the girl. She has the Stone and the colonel wants her in the military."

"Didn't you hear her," Clara cried, " when she said she wanted nothing to do with the military?! You can't force her to do something she don't wanna do! It's bad!"

Alphonse waited a minute before asking, "Do you know about the Stone?"

"'Course I do!" Her sobs subsided into miserable hiccups.

"Well, we need it so--"

"But we need it!" she hissed, suddenly vicious like the tip of a killer's knife. "It's ours! We found it, not you!" She barred her fangs in a feral snarl.

"Listen, you scrap of fur," Edward boomed, perhaps a little more harshly than he attempted, "we need it also! We need that Stone and your friend happens to have it."

"You don't look like you need it." Clara's eyes challenged him, demanding for a reason to have it, daring with every bit and piece of her to take it away. But, of course, they wouldn't be able to because it's in a "special" place.

Edward's temper had exploded like a volcano when those words were uttered. Ignoring Alphonse pleas, he grabbed her with his right arm (Smart, huh?) and shoved her in his face. It was forceful and angry, seething with a terrible pain he kept for all these years. It obviously pained her, but he didn't see that; all he saw was red.

" I don't look like I need it?! I don't look it?!" He gave her a teeth-rattling shake. "Take a look--a really good look--at what's left!" And without even thinking about his actions, he threw off the towel.

Edward was so outraged. He didn't even noticed his revealing of his arm. But Clara did notice. She saw from the corners of her eyes a fast flicker of movement from the towel. Then, instantly, she was horror-stricken and dumb-founded all at once, and a fresh stream of tears blurred her vision, filming over what she couldn't believe she was seeing.

An…a arm of metal…automail…an automail arm.

Now she was sobbing again, harder this time, and filled with depressing pain. Memories raced inside her brain. She was remembering: the transmutation circle; the determined frown on Maria's face; agony, terrible agony--the sensation of her body splitting apart, tearing and tearing….Then waking, as if from a dream; the sticky and stomach-turning blood stuck to her; the knowledge of being, and feeling, insanely different; the scream that echoed when she caught sight of her friend….

Clara heard distant voices, far away to reach but close enough to hear the words:

"You scared her!"

"I didn't mean to!"

An argument was about to arouse. But she wasn't listening anymore, everything was terrifyingly quiet in her head, that was aching and hurting from tears and memories. Everything was slipping away. Clara turned from the suit of talking armor to the boy's right automail arm; back and forth, back and forth. Gasping and wailing, she was realizing something horrid and disturbing….
…………….


"You're done for," the remaining guard snorted in contempt. "Your alchemy-trash won't do you good now."

Maria was sprawled on the prison ground, which was splattered with her blood. Maybe, if she could concentrate, the pain would dull into nothingness. Almost like floating on clouds of comfort; almost like folding a blanket of consolation. The guard frowned in distaste. He gripped her bleeding chin and forced her to look at him. One of her eyes was swollen badly, and her cheek bore a gash. She was disoriented and hurting. And wanting Clara's fuzzy body back in her arms.

"Did you hear me, filth? Your life's is a good as a stray dog's!" the guard declared. "If I toss you in the streets the dogs'll most likely eat you, bones and all!" He threw her backwards. With a strangled cry, she crashed into the bars. The chains were too long to halt her fall.

"Your alchemy won't help you now!" he shouted. "It hasn't helped you in anything in your pitiless life, so it won't do you any good!"

Through a mouthful of salty blood, she mumbled, "You ain't right…you're wrong--"

She swallowed her words back down her throat when the toe of his boot smashed into her jaw, hard. They've hit, smacked, pinched, slapped, cut, bruised, and tortured her so much she no longer cried.

"What was that?" the guard sneered. "Guess you've been spending too much time with those orphans. I can hardly understand what you are saying."

Bastard. Good-for-nothing jackass.

The guard, around his early twenties and blond-haired, raised his eyebrows in mock amazement. "Well, well, well. Are you actually trying to glare at me? Oh, I get it you think you're God, don't you? Now, I admit that I am not sorry to say this, but you're not. You're not God." He leaned forward; Maria would of slapped him across the face for his closeness if she could. "You're a girl. Only a girl. A girl who needs to learn a lesson." He spat the last sentence out in her face.

I swear, once I'm dead, I'm gonna haunt your ass and harass you for eternity. She hurled her thoughts at him. I've been punished already. So cut some slack on me, okay?

Maria crumbled into a ball, overwhelmed by pain and memories. She refused to cry, though. She gritted her teeth and gave into anguish. Still, the tears sprinkled her lashes.

"God will judge you tomorrow," the guard said matter-of-factly, strolling out of the prison room, leaving behind a trail of disgusting pleasure.
…………….


Clara lay cradled in the crook of the alchemist's left arm; the one that was still flesh and bone, thankfully. She felt sickly distressed when those cool, metal fingers brushed her back tenderly. Everything--it was all too much! She buried herself deeper inside his arm, seeking a sanctuary, a safe place to hide for a few million years. She screwed her eyes shut.

Meanwhile, Alphonse was fussing over the kitten's well-being, and Edward was equally concerned about her reaction to the sight of his arm.

Anyone who would see it would be greatly shocked and scared out of their skin, but nobody cried when their eyes settled on it. Nobody….Again, the dread was draining him.

"What are we going to do, Brother?" Alphonse fretted. "She's probably terrified--she's shaking so hard! The poor thing…what are we going to do?"

"I don't know, Al." The kitten whimpered softly, oblivious to the conversation. Edward lowered his voice anyway. "I have a bad feeling about this. No one…." He trailed off, gesturing to the fluff ball with his head.

Alphonse instinctively knew what he was talking about in a immediate second. "You're right, Ed. She seemed…disturbed." He shuddered, shaking his helmet. "As if she were warding off something…unpleasant."

"But what could it be?"

"We could ask, but…really, Edward, I don't think we should. She's"--he turned to look at her, now huddling against his brother's chest, still shaking and crying-- "already suffering too much."

Alphonse was very sensitive to someone else's pain. Even if it were his enemies. He didn't care. So long as he could ease their suffering. Edward could nearly imagine tears forming in his eyes.

"I know," Edward consoled his younger brother. "But we've gotta ask. Remember? We have to ask why her friend has the Stone. Maybe we could do a little bargaining."

"Bargaining?"

"Yeah. That alchemist would have to give us the Philosopher's Stone if we promise she'll never see her friend again."

"So…should we…?"

"I think we should," Edward concurred. As gently as he could allow, he plucked the small thing from his arm and held her to his face. Clara braced for his hot, steamy breath in her nostrils as he screamed at her like before. But instead of a face that was on fire with fury only minutes ago it was a face of gentle understanding, he made sure to relax his grip on the little bones in her body and, in his softest of whispers, said, "Listen. We need to know. We need answers. We need you to answer our questions."

"The Stone is what you need," she informed.

"That too, but we need the answers now."

"Just take me back! Find yourselves another one! We're not gonna give it up that easily!"

"Just answer our questions and we'll take care of everything else."

"No!" Clara violently shook her head. She dug her pads in his hands and struggled vainly to escape. Resist, resist, resist! Maria was screeching in her head. Give up, you can't do this alone, you need help, a second voice rang alarmingly. The two voices were at war, making the blood rush in her brain, pulsating into a painful swirl of colors and beats from the pumping and throbbing heart. Get away! her friend's urgent commands were pitching higher and shriller.

You need help. That powerful and calm, yet alertful, voice won over Maria, drowning her into the dark abyss of her childish mind. They will help you. You must get their help.

"Stop wasting your time on me! Maria's going to executed in the morning if we don't do something! She'll die if--if we don't do a--anything! They'll kill her! P--please!"

The words flew out of her mouth like anxious sparrows hungry for the breeze beneath their feathery wings. Then, after a few heart-thumping moments, the alchemist whispered louder. "Execution? They're going to execute her?"

"Stop playing dumb, you know what happens to alchemists here!" she wailed. "T-they lock 'em up in jail and soon--sooner or later they shoot 'em. Beat them up to make them vulnerable and weak. Then kill them like nothing. M--Maria will be next if--if--!"

He was suppose to act reassuring, authoritative, all the things he wasn't at this moment. But he couldn't do anything except breathe.

Killing a girl that was around his age legally? Kill her?! Wasn't that illegal? Locking up a little girl in a prison, using her as a punching bag, and then killing her--it had to be illegal! Why hasn't Roy, colonel of the military, mentioned this? He told him about her safeguarding the Stone, but not about the kitten, nor about this! There was so many secrets in this mission, lurking around like shadows in daylight. He damned the colonel, the girl, and he damned this peaceful illusion the town manages to project.

And all of this cruelty because she's an alchemist. When Edward heard what the prison does to it's alchemist-prisoners, he blocked it out of his thoughts. He was going to get her out of there, even if it would risk his life. Because, simply, she had the Philosopher's Stone. Now, though, with the sorrow-racked kitten back in his arms, he felt doubtful. He had planned for her to fight by side, if it came to that. But if she was nearly dead from torture…he wouldn't be able to carry her weight and dodge bullets at the same time.

I can't think about this right now, he told himself. There will be time later on.

"You have to tell us," he said to her. "You have to."

"C--can't! Can't tell!" She was pressed against his chest again. Her speech was barely coherent, almost a babble. "N--no one's suppose to know! We've p--promised! Maria'll be mad--I can't--!"

"It's not a choice you can make. It's devouring you on the inside," Alphonse spoke at last, to Edward's great relief. "That's what pain is. It kills in many different ways. This is one of them. Talking about it to someone helps. You can tell us. I bet your friend will be okay with it for today. If you'll tell us, I promise we'll rescue her."

The kitten peered fearfully at Alphonse. Promises are full of crap, Maria had said once. They're meant to be broken.

"Let's start with your name. You can tell us that, can't you?"

"Yeah. Clara."

"Clara, do you want to tell us how Maria came to have the Stone? Why does she need it?"

Edward felt her stiffen. Her whiskers quivered. Her eyes had gotten huge. "No," she squeaked.

"Something tells me that you do."

"NO, NO, NO!" Clara hid her head under Edward's arm. "Don't know nothing!"

Alphonse shared a look with his eldest brother. Again, they whispered:

"Something is wrong, Edward!"

Edward's jaw was set. His face was pulled into an expression of…bitter anguish. The face that knows and remembers too much. Those memories, too, ran through his brain: his mother--still beautiful, even in death; he and Alphonse--when they were both still flesh and bone--standing at her grave; the words, "We'll bring her back." coming out of his mouth; meeting their strict teacher, Izumi; finally trying to resuscitate her with Human Transmutation, terrified and courageous all at once…then losing Al…his left leg. Gathering nearly-faithless hope; sacrificing his right arm for his kind-hearted brother's soul…recovering at Pinako's household; the visit with Roy mustang, presenting him with a second chance at the possibility with reclaiming his body, along with Alphonse--like he did with the girl ("Maria" Clara called her). But unlike Maria, he seized it with obsessive strength, telling Pinako to do the sugery for his automail limbs, promising her and Winery he'll be back on his feet in one year while usually it takes three…he got signed up, took the test that almost none pass, got favored by King Bradly, called him the "Fullmetal Alchemist"….

And a girl, an alchemist like himself, got arrested and other crap he doesn't know for only claiming to possess alchemy. She committed a crime that can't be paid.

He pulled Clara from him. "We need this stone. It has what we need. We need--"

Clara dug her claws in his skin sharply. The hot sting from them made him winced. "Someone special to you died. And you tried to revive that person…and failed. So now you need the Philosopher's Stone to get you're bodies back." She looked at him, understanding glittering in her eyes. "Am I right?"

The bones in his body felt cold, stripped from warmth. Edward stammpered, "H--how do you know that?"

The words she said next shocked the Elric brothers further into unbelievable silence. A silence that brought back nightmares. A silence that haunted them for the rest of their years. The dismayed Clara replied in more tears:

"'Cause me and Maria did it, too."