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ageless-aislynn · 7 years ago

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Title: “Bad Habits” Chapter 2 Author: @ageless-aislynn Characters/fandom: Caitlin Snow/Harrison Wells|Eobard Thawne (ReverseSnow), The Flash Summary: It looks like the Reverse Flash is developing a bad habit of his own: coming to Caitlin's rescue... For Snowells Week 2018 Day 1, prompt: Caitlin’s childhood Rating: PG Length: 1,913 Spoilers/warnings: None Disclaimer: Definitely not mine but I do enjoy borrowing them just for a bit! ;) A/N: I had to miss last year’s Snowells Week, so I’m really happy to be able to participate this year! “Bad Habits” is a multi-chaptered prequel to my Good Day series. Reading that isn’t required for this entry nor is chapter 1, but this will probably make more sense if you’ve read that first. I tried not to make it incomprehensible if you haven’t, though. *fingers crossed* ;) If you read, I hope you enjoy! ♥

PS - Since I wasn't able to add a chapter last year like I'd wanted to, I'm planning two chapters for this Snowells Week. Chapter 3 should be along shortly! *crosses rest of fingers* ;)

The building started to collapse with a deep, ominous rumble. Had Cisco heard her call for help? Was Barry already on his way?

"Try to take cover under something!" Caitlin yelled to the civilians around her but before she could heed her own advice, debris struck a glancing blow along the side of her head. Everything went black.

***

She came awake in a dizzying wave of nausea. "'M gonna throw up," she said, slurring the warning into one long word.

"Not on my suit, you're not," said the distorted voice of the Reverse Flash. Thankfully, the sickening sensation stopped when he did.

She struggled to open her eyes but her eyelashes were coated with something thick and sticky.

"Don't," he said as she raised a hand to try to clear her vision. "You've cut your head and it's bleeding."

He was carrying her bridal-style against his chest. She intended to push away from him but her limbs didn't agree with that idea, twitching without much in the way of coordination.

"Stop squirming," he said, walking at a much more sedate pace. "I'm getting you to medical attention."

For a moment, she just relaxed into his hold, even though her brain felt like it was quivering in her skull. Then it tardily dawned on her.

"Are you vibrating?"

He gave a suggestive chuckle. "Most women don't complain about that."

An undignified snort escaped her. She blamed it on the head wound and recent shock of having a building fall on her.

The building...

"Oh," she said, stiffening in alarm, "there were about two dozen people in the room with me. You've got to go back and get them out!"

"You're mistaking me for a hero again, Dr. Snow," he said drolly. "You really need to break yourself of that bad habit."

She automatically tried to slide out of his hold so to get her feet on the ground. What she was going to do without even being able to see, she wasn't sure. But she wasn't going to just let people die. She'd find a way.

"Hey," he said sharply. "Unless you want to end up on the ground, I'd suggest you stay still."

"But--"

He gave a long-suffering sigh. "Don't worry, he's already on the job clearing the building. Yay for the hero of Central City."

There was more she wanted to say but the next thing she knew, she was waking up in the hospital -- thankfully without blood gumming up her eyelashes this time.

Cisco was asleep in a chair to her left, head back and mouth open, snoring softly. She smiled, even as she raised a hand to find a bandage on her right temple that made her wince when her fingers grazed it.

"How are you feeling?"

Startled, she looked to her right, where Harrison Wells observed her thoughtfully from his wheelchair. For some reason, it took her an extra second to get the words to form. "Dr. Wells, ah, I wasn't expecting you."

The corner of his mouth twitched in one of his patented dry smiles. "You're an important member of the team, Dr. Snow, and you had a building dropped on your head. Where else would I be? So, the answer to my question is...?"

Why was she getting flustered? It had to be all of the trauma. "Um, I'm feeling all right, thank you. Better than I could be, for certain."

He nodded. "Good. I'll get back to S.T.A.R. Labs, then. Barry's cleaning up the mess that the Blue Dominator made."

"'S a dumb name," Cisco mumbled without opening his eyes. "That's what happens when the metas name themselves."

Harrison shook his head, raising an eyebrow as he met her eyes in a moment of solidarity, and she inexplicably blushed. His smile widened slightly.

I've got to have a concussion, she thought as he left, covering her eyes with both palms and leaning back against the thin hospital pillow.

***

A cool hand brushed her forehead and she murmured, "Hm?"

"Everything's fine. I just wanted to see if you could wake up."

The whisper was familiar but her sleepy brain couldn't put a name to it at first. "Hm," she said as a statement this time and tried to descend back to sleep.

"That means you need to actually wake up, Caitlin." The voice was louder this time, with a distinctive distortion.

Even as that processed and recognition dawned, she still only surfaced gradually. Her bedroom was dark, though the light from the front room was on, providing a bit of illumination through the open door.

He was a shape next to her bed, red eyes glowing in the darkness. There were half a dozen easy reasons why she should've been frightened and only a few concerning ones why she wasn't.

But she did wake up. "What are you doing here?" she asked, starting to sit up, only to discover that moving too much made her head throb in sick waves.

"I just told you: to see if you could wake up. It's standard practice when dealing with a concussion patient, though I notice that none of your comrades could be bothered to show up."

He sounded thoroughly annoyed, like he was personally offended by their lack of care.

"I didn't need anybody to stay with me," she said, feeling the need to defend her friends. "It's mild."

"Having a mild concussion is exactly the same thing as having a concussion," he countered. "I'm surprised that you're not aware of that fact, Dr. Snow. Anyway, go back to sleep. You need your rest."

She squinted at him and not only because he was a shadowy blur. "So, you're... planning on staying... all night?"

"Didn't we just cover this? Yes. Now, do you need something for the pain?"

"Why are you doing this? It doesn't make any sense. And how did you get in here, anyway? I know I locked the door."

"Magic," he said flatly. "Speedster magic. Pain meds, yes or no?"

She started to shake her head then quickly realized that was a bad idea. "Um, no pain meds, thanks. So you phased through my door?"

His sigh was barely audible. "Sleep, Caitlin. If you need anything, call."

He disappeared through the door and very faintly, she detected the sound of her TV coming on. The light switched off.

Should she call Barry or Cisco? And tell them what? That the Reverse Flash had let himself into her home because he thought she needed somebody to watch over her? The absolute absurdity of the situation made her head swim all on its own.

He hadn't answered her question about why he was doing this. That answer was most certainly important and she was still pondering it when she drifted off to sleep again.

***

He woke her two more times and didn't answer her question either of them. Though, honestly, she was a bit out of it, so it was entirely possible he did and she just didn't remember.

***

Her eyes fluttered open in the darkness, her bladder providing its own wake-up call. For a moment, she wondered if he had left. But then there seemed to still be the telltale flicker of light from the other room to indicate her TV was on.

Crawling carefully out of bed, moving slowly not only to be as soundless as possible but because she felt none-too-steady on her feet, she made her way to the door. There, on her couch, was a silhouette stretched out, boot soles hanging over the arm so to not soil the fabric. The TV's illumination ran across the yellow of his suit in a pale imitation of the lightning he could generate. He was still watching over her.

A sudden, sharp memory came to mind, being young and having come down with pneumonia and her mother staying up with her all through the night to give her medicine on a strict schedule so that Caitlin didn't have to be in the hospital.

I haven't thought of that in a long time. It brought a wave of feeling safe and cared for. Of that rare experience of feeling like she was truly loved and cherished by her mother. How odd that the Reverse Flash was the one to remind her of it.

From this angle, she could only see a sliver of the skin not covered by his mask. There was no glow from his eyes and he didn't seem to be vibrating. Was he asleep?

I could sneak over, maybe be able to recognize him by what I can see of his face...

The thought crept in temptingly. Like Christine pulling away the Phantom's mask or Psyche lighting a candle to see her beastly husband's face, what would she find? The deformed Erik or the beautiful god of love Eros? Her fingers practically itched to know.

She mulled it over for a moment longer, then exhaled a long, slow breath and let it go. Whatever all he was to her: enemy, weird friend, a combination of both, he had saved her life yet again and he had showed up to take care of her in the aftermath. He deserved respect for that, if nothing else.

So she went on to the bathroom then, on her way back, stopped at her doorway once more. He didn't seem to have moved, but there was a soft red glow coming from his eyes.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said. "Do you need a blanket or anything?"

There was a hint of a smile in his tone. "No, but thank you anyway. I appreciate your... consideration."

I believe I just passed a test, she thought and said, "Goodnight, then."

"Goodnight, Dr. Snow."

***

He left sometime before she woke in the morning. She found a note in the printer tray -- Does that mean I'd recognize his handwriting, then? -- which read, "Eat breakfast and take it easy. Central City can exist without one of its heroes for a day. And try not to let anymore buildings fall on you."

For a split-second, she thought it was signed Eros, which would've been disturbing for a number of reasons. The Reverse Flash being a telepath would be an intimidating prospect, indeed. But no, it said Eo, which was equally strange and mysterious but slightly less alarming.

She called S.T.A.R. Labs while she made breakfast.

After she'd reassured Cisco a few times that she was fine, he said, "Maybe you can help us figure something out. Barry said when cleared the building, you were already gone. How'd you get out?"

She shrugged even though he couldn't see it. "I got knocked out and the next thing I knew, I was in the hospital." There was a middle step that involved a speedster in a yellow suit but she left that out.

Barry said something in the background and Cisco went on, "Yeah, and there were those people outside who said that the Flash had saved them but Barry said that floor was empty when he got there. What do you think that's all about?"

She should've been dismayed at the fact that she was now going to have to outright lie to her best friend. But she thought, Eo, if you're not careful, you're going to start turning into a hero yourself, aren't you? and wasn't able to keep a slight smile from curving her mouth.

"Sorry, Cisco," was all she said. "I just can't help you."

#the flash #snowellsweek2018 #reversesnow #snowells #aislynn's fics

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bluebookbadger-blog · 8 years ago

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The Price of a Life - Chapter 3

Title: The Price of a Life Fandom (s): Fullmetal Alchemist/Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood Summary: I always thought waking up in another world would be a lot more…interesting. At least slightly exciting and terrifying, but it really wasn’t. It was more of a sudden and underwhelming event, that landed me in the company of fiction and its ignorance to modern physics. I thought it was a dream. Boy was I wrong. Characters: SI/OC, Maes Hughes, Edward Elric, Alphonse Elric, etc. Rating: PG-13

I couldn't sleep again that night, or even the next, not even getting a few seconds of splendid nothingness in my anxiety. I had come across a dilemma in my planning, and worst of all there was no more milk. The problem was, Tucker's experiment on Nina and Alexander was an important step to Ed and Al realizing how important it was for them to stay alive.

In order to keep the story straight, I needed to keep the emotional and character development as the same as possible. For Hughes, that just meant keeping him out of the picture or at least convince others (aka Flame Colonel) of his death. However, when it came to the deaths of characters influencing the development of others, it meant that some degree of death and suffering had to be involved.

I was the kind of girl who saw these kind of moral decisions in black and white most of the time. Something was right or it was wrong, good or bad, that kind of stuff. But the lives of people? Intentionally making Edward get depressed and in effect attacked and almost killed by Scar? Not to mention his automail and Alphonse would get all busted up...poor Winry. This was a little much for me to deal with, let alone practically decide the fate of the whole series.

'An Alchemist's Anguish' and 'Rain of Sorrows' were the first really serious life and death episodes people cried about, unless they had some weird attachment to Cornello or McDougal, and it's not as if the story focused on the past trauma the Elrics had endured (not a ton I could do to help them now).

I didn't want to think about how I would deal with future situations, let alone this one, so I decided to draw some silly doodles of Maes instead. Now, I was no artist, which was why I was calling them silly doodles. They're literally stick figures with glasses and a cowlick. That was it. That was my artistic ability.

The 'drawings' (if you could call them that) clashed horribly with my messy consideration of Nina and Alexander' experimentation/deaths as a) preventable b) necessary and c) reversible. I could try to find a way to keep the resulting chimera of Tucker's experiment alive long enough for proper research to reverse their condition to be discovered, however, that meant the two having to live as that monstrosity for who knows how many years.

Not to mention the Tuckers' deaths were something that really sent Ed over the edge, thus creating the whole 'look how cool it is to be alive!' speech Alphonse had to give him. It also updated Winry on the Elric's situation, and lead to the meeting with Dr. Marcoh, which led to the fifth laboratory, not to mention Sheska's job - it all came from that event practically, and without it, no one would be able to stop Father on The Promised Day. The snowball effect of the plot was awful when considering the impact of people's deaths, but it also made one hell of a show.

All these moral and plot questions were really messing with my head, so I decided to get a glass of water. This was a mistake, as it seemed to have woken Maes up. Well, he didn't look like he'd gotten much sleep either. I almost bolted for my bedroom when I heard his door open, but decided against it since my ankle was acting up again.

I had the notebook in my room, so it was probably safe so long as Lucha didn't try to eat it. He was still acting weird, sleeping more than usual and eating less. I was starting to get worried he was depressed or something. Anyways, Hughes walked in on me as I sat down at the table. I was wearing a new nightgown Gracia had bought for me, all frilly and white like something out of a horror movie.

"Can't sleep?" I asked, peering up from my glass. He wasn't wearing his glasses, and it was just downright weird. A Maes without glasses was like an Irish without a Lucha. It was just damn unnatural. Besides the bizarre lack of glasses, Maes seemed kind of beat down, barely cracking a smile when he walked past me to start the coffee machine.

I never noticed how old it looked. Like, it was a freaking dinosaur. Probably this world's equivalent of an early Pavoni Espresso Machine. I wondered if they still drank it with or without grinds in, what year was this, 1913? The invention of filters came out in 1908 I thought… Wait, no, Elicia turned three not too long from now and she was born in 1911 so...1914-ish? So yeah, no coffee grinds.

I hate coffee, and in an episode of hyperfixation, I spent several days researching everything about my nemesis. As they say, “know thy enemy”.

In reality though it was for a school project, but I still fucking hate that vile bean juice.

"I was about to ask you the same thing." Hughes said, waking me from my coffee musings. He had the machine running and sat down across from me, waiting for it to finish. "Want to ask me that question from earlier?"

No. I really didn't want to ask the damn question. I was a little distracted by the consequences of saving lives to think about taking them. Still, it was probably the reason I snapped at Elicia earlier and the reason I hadn't been sleeping. I rested my chin on my hands, looking across the dark room at the pictures on the mantel.

"You've killed people, right? In the civil war?" I was glad I was collected enough to act like I was making assumptions about Hughes' career as a soldier. "How do you...is it possible, I mean, to get over it?"

My heart felt as if someone had stabbed me through and through with a hot iron, and my mouth had suddenly become the Mojave Desert. My cheeks were crimson, and I knew the dark couldn't hide the tears that slipped down my cheeks. Part of me thought I was being weak, another felt vulnerable and scared, and a final piece was ready to break down sobbing and hug Maes like he was my own father.

It was quiet for a while, as if Hughes was letting me collect myself a little before he said anything that might upset me more. I realized how long I had been sitting there trying to stop the tears when I heard a short, quiet click from the coffee machine. Hughes got up and poured himself a cup. I was considerably more relaxed now, but still on the verge of tears. I had to stop crying every night, it was starting to become a bad habit. Maes sat next to me, not drinking his coffee as he thought for a moment.

"It's not something you're really supposed to 'get over'." He said slowly, assessing my lack of reaction. I tried my best to not mentally berate the statement, he wasn't finished. "But it is something you need to learn to cope with. I'm no expert in trauma - at least not on paper - but, just try to accept what you did and move on." Oh snap, I brought out the serious Hughes. Shit was about to get real. Okay, so it seemed I coped with humor.

"It's hard at first, but it helps to have someone to talk to when you start obsessing with it - blaming yourself, others, denial, that kind of stuff. You shouldn't avoid it necessarily, but it shouldn't be something that runs your life." I nodded, feeling slightly better. I was considerably more collected than I had been a minute or two ago, suddenly feeling stupid for even bothering Hughes. It probably brought up bad memories for him, not to mention there were probably books about trauma in the library - though, it would burn down before the Elrics got back from their trip to Resembool to recuperate, right? Ugh, stupid, stupid, stupid!

"Thanks, really, thank you." I said, my voice raspy from all the damn crying I'd been doing. I really hated crying in front of people, if you couldn't tell from my little self loathing speech up there. This is the most I had cried all month. He almost awkwardly rubbed my back in an attempt to help me calm down some more. Sweet of him, but it seemed to only make me more upset. My dad would always rub circles on my back like that when I was upset."Can I ask you something else?"

"Sure, anything." Maes said softly, taking a sip of his coffee, a faraway look misting over his eyes. Ugh, I was so stupid for asking for help - why couldn't I learn to deal with stuff on my own? Part of me was aware that I did the right thing by asking him for advice, but it still made me feel bad. I needed to change the subject before I started to cry again.

"What does my Honorary Citizenship come with? Why did it impress Miss. Reich enough to get me a job?" I asked, genuinely curious. It seemed all official and pretty, but what was special enough to a) get me out of prison and b) get me a job with a prejudiced shopkeeper who had zero knowledge of my skills or abilities? Hughes also seemed happy to change the morbid subject to something else.

"Well, they aren't common to say the least. I'm pretty sure only two have even been issued before you - both before King Bradley was Fuhrer. They're the highest honor that can be given to a citizen. If you ever decide to join the military, you get a starting rank of a corporal once you graduate from the academy. And even if you don't, you still have access to the same career benefits - insurance and whatnot - that a corporal would.

"There's also some legal power with it, I'm pretty sure you have the power to arrest someone under certain circumstances - I think you have to have witnessed the crime with multiple witnesses and have at least a sergeant present." I nodded, a bit intimidated by the power the small piece of paper held. It was like having Order 3066 in your back pocket, except it wouldn't cause, you know, mass genocide and that kind of stuff.

I knew about military ranks, at least a little. My older sister back home was a Chief Petty Officer of the U.S. Coast Guard, so we heard plenty of this and that, but naval ranks weren't exactly the same as army ranks.

"A corporal? What kind of job would I do?" I asked, interested. If I became involved with the military, I could keep a closer eye on Hughes and the Elrics. However, that meant Pride and Wrath would be able to keep a close eye on me. The Fuhrer had most likely already figured out that my story had some small plot holes, especially the Drachman part of it. I didn't know shit about Drachman culture, let alone some religion - I should have probably given it a name so they didn't think the story was too vague. I'll call it...Utkism? Yes. A religion named after the Russian word for duck. After finishing this little tirade with myself I realized Hughes was looking at me oddly with a small, sleepy smile growing on his face. "I'm sorry, what did you say?" He stroked his scruffy beard sagely.

"You could work with me, once you finish at the academy that is." I realized I probably missed a whole spiel on what the hell a corporal was supposed to do, so I just nodded. All this nodding was starting to hurt my neck.

We talked for a little longer about the academy; how long I'd be there if I applied, what it'd be like, stuff like that. It was around two in the morning when I realized how often we were both yawning. We had gotten to the subject of state alchemists somehow, probably by talking about Edward, and were both struggling to maintain the conversation.

"I'm heading to bed," That was a lie, I was going back to awful moral questioning and arguing with myself over the lives of people, but Maes seemed to believe it as he too began to make his way back to his room.

"See you in the morning," The man said with a yawn, making me yawn as I entered the room. Sitting on my bed, I was happy to find the notebook unscathed. The bed was really squishy and comfortable, but I couldn't fall asleep with all the planning I had to do.

The first page of the notebook had the title of the pilot episode 'Fullmetal Alchemist'. There wasn't really much I could 'plan' for the past, but I did jot down a few notes about who I came into contact with - Kimblee probably listened in on me and McDougal, Wrath (which I simply marked with a WWE symbol just in case Seliem, or rather, Pride, was up past his bedtime spying on me), Mustang, Riza, The Armstrong Squad, the Elrics, ect. I also made a minor note of the other officers and soldiers I had met, and my 'story' of how I got there and my background. It would be both embarrassing and terrifying to screw up a lie.

The next page had both 'The First Day' and 'The City of Heresy' episode titles just to jog my memory (I lied about having an eidetic memory to you, I was only good for memorizing lists, names, and numbers. Did I forget to mention I was a compulsive liar? Just kidding, that was a lie.). I had recently given up on 'An Alchemist's Anguish' as it nearly took up two whole pages and I didn't know how long this little book was.

The next episode was really sad with lots of rain, when Scar went after the Elrics...ah, yes. 'Rains of Sorrows' would happen the day after the Tuckers were murdered. It would be cool to see if I could prevent Ed and Al some pain, but then they wouldn't have to go to Resembool and meet Marcoh on the way so I guessed I had to let shit go down between Scar and the state alchemists. Speaking of which, I was pretty sure all of this would happen in East City. I should have probably found a map so I could figure out where the hell I was at least half the time.

On another note, Lucha was finally awake for once, and not hungry. But he was still acting strangely, a twitching mess acting as if he had never walked before, stumbling around the bed like a drunken pig. I sighed, walking over to the extra bed and picking the snake rat up.

"Are you sick little buddy?" His eyes were cloudy, as if he had cataracts. This made me nervous. I didn't think the vets here would provide care for living slinkies, let alone know how to remove a cataract. I kept trying to get a better view of his eyes, which was hard considering how fidgety he was. "Geez, would you stop-" I squeaked in pain as he bit me. No blood was drawn, but it hurt like hell. "Fu-dge." I said, curbing a curse as Lucha found his footing on the bed and began to tentatively shuffle over to the notebook. "No you don't you evil little-" I stopped when I realized he was picking the pen up in its mouth, dragging the tip over the page.

Okay, I knew ferrets were smart, but he was not really one to stick with stereotypes so Lucha was always a bit of an...astronaut. Yeah, an astronaut. He was never really all there, a bit dopey and clumsy (my brother dropped him when we first got the ferret, I cried the whole way to the vet and back). Anyways, no ferret - no animal (at least without an opposable thumb) should have been able to write.

I finally got out of my stupor when he made this strangled squeak, like he was afraid to make too much noise. Lucha seemed to want me to look at what he wrote. It was three simple words, messy and with letters that were somewhat backwards and too large for me to read the first few seconds I stared at the ink.

"I AM TRUTH" It read, which made me let out a short bark of laughter. Lucha in turn glared at me and gave a short snarl.

"Sorry, it's just," I really couldn't stop giggling. One of the most powerful and all knowing beings of the series, so powerful and influential some called it a god, came to earth in the form of a ferret. "You're so weak, in that form I mean." Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't, but it was hilarious. The cloudiness of Lucha's eyes cleared to reveal a violet eye, rings circling around a small pupil, like the eye that appears in the middle of a human transmutation circle. Lucha - Well, Truth I guessed, picked up the pen again. "Oh, not on the notebook!" I said, snatching the small tome from the pen's inky reaches.

Truth snorted, looking around for something else to write on. I guess I gave that pen to Truth, I didn't want to write with a slimy bitten ferret pen. Finding nothing, Lucha crawled up to me and began to draw the pen's sharp tip over my shin. It hurt a little, but it would wash off later. It took me a minute to read when the ferret had written, I had to turn my head to read the upside down letters.

"What do you mean you don't like it but have to deal with it? Is this about the thing you said when I was at the Gate, you know, about not being able to possess a creature with a soul?" The ferret's snow white head bobbed up and down. "Aw, but I was kind of the person who thought that maybe-" Lucha shook his head, practically having a seizure suddenly. "Lucha!" I whispered urgently, catching the small animal before he fell off the bed to the hardwood floor below.

He looked up at me, his green eyes sparkling with their little golden flecks. Crawling around my neck, Lucha nuzzled my cheek before resting on my shoulder. I sighed, knowing Truth probably could tell me something I was wondering.

I did remember what I learned from seeing the Truth, I just needed to know if I was applying that knowledge correctly. I learned that a life would have to be taken if my presence interrupted the death of another person, meaning that if I did save Nina and Alexander, someone would die. I had no way of knowing who or when, but that could seriously screw with the timeline more than plain and simple stopping an event.

Are you starting to see my big problem with saving them? And don't even mention Hughes, I was not ready for that kind of emotional trauma after the little therapy session I just had. I just wanted to ask Truth if there was a way to predict who would die in the other person's place. But, I was stuck with a sleepy slinky that was now chewing on my hair. Was he trying to force me to bathe again? Probably.

By the time I rubbed the ink off my leg, it was only 2:30. Needing something to keep me busy, I decided to go for a walk around town and get my bearings. It'd be easier to walk around at night too, not as many people out and such. Was there a curfew? Maybe, but I'd just whip out my wondrous Certificate and get a free pass. Hopefully. I left a note on the table anyway telling Maes to call the police station if I wasn't back for breakfast.

Before I could get out the door, thunder shook the building, and lightning flashed outside as a downpour began. Just my luck. And here you would think a girl named Irish would be lucky. Still, the thunder and lightning seemed to have stopped and the initial flood of rain had quickly been reduced to a light shower. Okay, so maybe I did have some luck to my name. I decided to wear one of the skirts Gracia had bought me.

Now, I'm down to wear steel toed boots and jeans and work in the mud and drive tractors all day, but I spent my first twelve school years in a skirt and blouse. In high school, I did wear jeans and boots and hoodies daily, but dressing up was my absolute favorite thing to do.

But I digress, the skirt was long, like, traditional and formal western style. It was blue with a belt that she had bought for it. Not really my style, too loose for my liking but it would do for a quick walk. The white blouses she had bought made me uncomfortable with its relatively see through fabric, so I decided on wearing one with this cute little dress jacket that mostly hid my grey sports bra from peeking out from beneath the thin fabric.

Everything was relatively comfortable, except for the frilly collar of the blouse, it was kind of itchy. To top it off, I found this hat Mrs. Hughes had left in the bottom of the closet. It had lost most of its 1900 feathers and flowers that it once adorned, and I wished they had some cloche hats around that I could use instead, but at least this would hide my hair, which was beginning to look more like a mane.

I felt very proper, with all the old clothes I was wearing. Resisting the urge to narrate my journey to the front door with a British accent, I decided to recite a few lines of Jane Austen's Emma mentally. At the front door I was contented to find a pair of shoes that, though not my size in anyway, would suffice for a quick run through the rain. I was about to put the dress pumps on when I realized the rain might ruin the old shoes. Industry was just starting to get back to producing peacetime goods after the war, so they probably weren't the best quality.

"Okay, so barefoot it is." I said quietly, checking to make sure I had everything I needed before quietly heading out with Lucha around my neck like a breathing fur scarf. As much as I loved my slippers and orthotics, barefoot was always the way to go in the rain, so long as there weren't any broken bottles lying around.

The lights in the reception area were still on, but no one was there to stop me from stealing an umbrella from the cute old umbrella stand. There were lots of umbrellas, and it wasn't as if anyone was going to be in such a rush at this hour.

Outside it was beautiful. The street lamps were still the type that needed to be lit every evening, which resulted in some of them sputtering out of existence with the rain. However, the few left burning were enough to light the streets. The shower was lightening up, but the rain was kind of peaceful. I walked all the way down main street before I saw anyone. It was starting to lighten up a little, almost an hour had passed since I left the Hughes' residence, but it was still pretty dark out.

The man was military, his blue uniform bearing many medals and awards, which made my heart skip a beat out of fear. He was also imposing in his own right, taller than Maes with a pointy handlebar mustache. The officer was familiar, but I just couldn't put my finger on where I had seen him. Believe it or not, seeing 'characters' as 'people' was strange. Like, actually imagine meeting a living breathing human being with gold eyes like Ed? It just was a lot different than seeing it through a screen. You saw imperfections, small things that make them human instead of flawless animations. Real freaky.

The rain had stopped and I had as well in my maladaptive daydreaming about how easy it would be to mistake Hughes for anyone other than himself if you saw the man in a crowd. He would honestly look just like any dad, and unless you talked to him, you'd have no clue who he was, super fan of the show or not. In my distraction, I didn't realize that the man had slipped into an alley until I heard what sounded like my little brothers starting a pretend WWIII with opening speeches. Still clutching my umbrella, I ran up to the alley way before stopping to listen to the conversation.

"-You've picked the wrong target!" A voice said brusquely before an alchemic reaction took place, blue lightning crackling and lighting up the alley way. Literal canon fire came towards my end of the alley, causing me to duck away as smoke and fire reigned for a moment.

"You're fast," The same voice said, the scene still not clicking quite yet. "Try this!"

The smell of chemistry class was bringing on flashbacks to the great Disaster of McCarthy, in which a friend of mine a) put out match with his tongue and then b) broke the Bunsen burner and made an impromptu flame thrower. Chemistry class was not fun. What sounded like chains broke my post traumatic stress visions of the boy fearfully wielding the weapon of minor destruction. The voice continued onward as his assumed combatant avoided the attack.

"A little more!"

Why all the yelling? Was he trying to attract attention or help, or was this just how people duel in the olden days of 1914? There were three consecutive bangs as something closed, the moment of silent prompting me to peer around the corner.

"Hm, that wasn't so difficult." I finally recalled the opening scene of 'An Alchemist's Anguish', watching in horror as….Brigadier something or other Grand approached the newly made iron box.

"Oh fickle fudge balls." I said under my breath, dropping my umbrella and hiking up my skirt to quickly sprint over. "Mister officer sir please don't-" An explosion interrupted me as Scar broke out of the box using his deconstruction alchemy to grab the Iron-Blood Alchemist by the face.

"What? No, how?" His muffled voice said in surprise. I backed away, terrified but unnoticed thus far. I put my back against the box's wall, not wanting to intervene or be noticed. My heart felt like a car's piston as it pumped, fast and loud.

"Now you perish," A new voice said, husky and solemn as the crackle of an alchemic reaction occur, Grand falling with a thud and blood dripping to the ground. It was quiet for a moment, and I started to back away from the scene as blood came into view. I kept back up, keeping my eyes on the blood before I bumped into someone.

It felt like my heart was going to explode as he used a hand to pin my head against the box. Lucha had been knocked off my neck, falling into a puddle along with my hat. I squeezed my eyes shut to stop the brimming tears, but calmed myself. This was Scar. He only killed State Alchemists, right? I slowly opened my eyes to look up, and was surprised by what I saw.

So, you know how Scar was always portrayed as this grumpy looking guy with a permanent scowl and all? Yeah, went right by the real design. Okay, so the scowl thing was spot on, but his face was a lot softer looking from what I could see (his hand was on my forehead but it still blocked a good part of my view).

He didn't kill me, he was just, looking at me. For a split second by the direction of his shaded eyes I thought he was looking at my chest, but he was looking at my choker necklace. It had popped over the blouse's collar uninvited, sparkling in the moonlight that now peeked from behind the clearing clouds.

My hand instinctively grabbed it as I tried to make eye contact. It was kind of hard to make eye contact with people when they wore shades like that, and he was really tall, okay? Maybe not Armstrong tall, but Scar was up there in my list of Tall People of Amestris.

The man wouldn't make eye contact, his view shifting to the amazing rainbow of colors my bruises had acquired as they finally started to fade. Geez, I didn't want pity, especially not from a guys who was in the position to kill me or worse. We both looked down when Lucha growled the most adorable growl a ferret could make, attacking Scar's shoe with ferocity.

He finally stopped trying to squish my head against the box, allowing me to see the infamous scar. It wasn't marring, just a light cross of pale grey across his darker skin. I was enraptured by his tattoo, the intricate and conspicuous design mesmerizing.

Scar abruptly turned and began walking calmly away, Lucha losing his grip on the shoe and curling around my ankle and snarling angrily. Looking down, I realized it wasn't Lucha (the little bastard would never bite anyone, unless he was hungry). Truth's purple eyes stared up at me for a moment before the white ferret seized and writhed for a few second before lying still. Sliding to the ground, I held my snake rat out of the puddle he was inadvertently drowning in. Scar was still walking away, and I could hear sirens somewhere in the distance. My eyes went back to his arm.

"You're older brother wouldn't want this." I said quietly, but my voice echoed in the empty, window lined alleyway. The man took off running as the blare of sirens advanced, not acknowledging my statement beyond a short pause in his step. I curled my knees to my chest, holding Lucha close.

The realization of what just occurred hit me like a wall of bricks, and I ended up retching. It didn't last long, but I still felt disgusted with having to wipe the vomit from my mouth. Lucha had managed to escape the episode unscathed, I almost crushing him against my chest to keep him away from the mess I made. Believe it or not, it was relieving to throw up for once. It felt as if all of the pent up stress of the past few days was gone in an instant.

I should have just waited for Hughes and Armstrong to show, I knew they would get here to investigate the body before morning and they'd find me and question me and maybe take me to a hospital and everything would be okay in the end. But I panicked and ran. Not after Scar, oh Truth no. I ran home, or at least tried to. About halfway there, a familiar pair of voices yelled,

"Stop! You're under arrest-" I crashed right into Brosh and Ross and we all went tumbling to the ground. Lucha managed to survive yet a second crash landing that morning.

"M-Miss. Irish?" Brosh stuttered, helping me to my feet once he found his own. I was a mess, the skirt's hem all muddy and the entire skirt soaked from when I went to pick up Lucha earlier. I was in a bit of shell shock just staring around me at the familiar faces as if they were total strangers. I started run again, wanting only to curl up with a cup of hot cocoa if such a thing existed in this world.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" Maria asked, catching me by my arm. My breathing was speeding up, an asthma attack seeming imminent as I began to stress about how I would explain that I was a witness fleeing a murder scene. "Woah, calm down, tell us what happened."

Why did she have to have that motherly tone? I was about to start crying again when I noticed Armstrong and Hughes getting out of a car. So that was why Maes was up last night (or, well, this morning), he never did sleep because he was working on this case. In my daze of confusion and realization, I almost forgot about Maria's question.

"Oh, um," Well, I couldn't say I was enjoying an early morning walk now could I, even though that was the truth a little while ago. I looked at my feet. "I saw something I probably shouldn't have." I said quietly, Maria and Denny looking to each other before gently leading me in the direction of Hughes and Armstrong.

Great. This was going to be lots of fun, all rainbows and unicorns. I just wanted to go home, I might have even gotten some rest knowing that the story was progressing. But no, I had to be interrogated - for like the second time this week! Why couldn't I just do something normal and get a normal experience in return? Equivalent exchange and all that stuff? Hughes looked up from the body, which they had thankfully covered with a sheet. The blood stains on the ground still made me feel physically ill though. Armstrong and he turned to me and my two escorts.

"We found her fleeing the scene, sirs." Denny said, I having to restrain a glare. The guy made it sound like I was the one who killed Grand.

"She claims to have witnessed it." Hughes nodded as Maria said this, his fatherly attitude earlier nowhere to be seen.

"Thank you, 2nd Lieutenant and Sergeant. Take Irish to central command and make sure she's okay. Don't question her until we get there." Maes said. I wasn't liking his serious tone, I had heard too much of it already this morning. Before I could get a word out otherwise, a new car pulled up, Bradley stepping out of the passenger door and approaching us. All of the soldiers saluted, but I just nodded in the general direction of the car. It's headlights were like looking at the sun. "Fuhrer Bradley, your excellency, what brings you here?" Hughes asked as the man approached Grand's body.

"I got word of what happened." He said gravely, looking down at the blood stained sheet. "Lieutenant Colonel Hughes, you're the officer in charge of this case?" Hughes looked up, replying with a curt,

"Yessir."

"Should you need any additional personnel, just ask." Bradely's voice suddenly became rather frightening considering what he personified. "The man doing this is a traitor, I want him stopped." Both Hugh and Armstrong mirrored my own slightly nervous expression at the Fuhrer's seriousness before nodding.

"Sir." Hughes said in acceptance of the task. Bradley turned to leave, but stopped as he saw me with his good eye. He probably saw me earlier with his 'all seeing eye' thing but wouldn't have been able to with the eye patch under normal circumstances.

"Irish?" I lowered my head, looking at my bare feet. They were cold, and wet, standing out starkly against the dark stone ground. "You just can't keep out of trouble, now can you kiddo." Ugh, could he not call me 'kiddo'? Only my Uncle Thomas was allowed to call me that, not the physical manifestation of Wrath.

"I'm sorry sir," I looked up making eye contact. "Trouble has a funny way of finding me." He nodded before taking his leave, allowing me to finally relax. It made you tense to be in that guy's presence, he just made you so damn nervous that he would kill you if you said the wrong thing. I sighed, looking to Hughes then to the Armstrong Squad. "Let's get this over with, I might even take that coffee offer now Hughes."

We all got into a car, I was pretty sure it was the same one Hughes had driven me to his apartment complex in because the crumbs on the floor were suspiciously similar to the cookie Lucha had been eating that day. The drive was mostly quiet, in exception for Lucha's snoring.

"Where are your shoes?" Maria asked at one point, noticing my bare feet. I shrugged, stroking my ferret's white fluff.

"I didn't want to ruin the new shoes Mrs. Hughes bought me by using them in the rain."

"So, you went barefoot?" Denny asked, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. I nodded, happy we weren't talking about the murder.

"Yep. Why? Did I break another law?" I asked, worried I had broken some stupid law like we had back in the states. Did you know that in some places it's illegal to walk backwards down the street with an ice cream cone in your back pocket on a Sunday? Weird.

"No. It's just a little…" I sighed, nodding as Maria faltered.

"Strange, I know. I never really wear shoes that much since there are never any my size." I explained, even though it was a partial lie. I didn't wear shoes when they messed with my balance or I didn't want to ruin a new pair. And they did have shoes my size, the problem was, well-

"But you're feet aren't that small." Denny pointed out, observing my left foot. "Even if sizes here are different than Drachman sizes, I'm sure there'd be something-"

"No, not like that." I interrupted, putting my heels together to show the two the difference. "See? My left foot is a size seven and a half, but my right foot is a size three, uh, in Drachman sizes that is." They really were in American sizes though, which made it a pain to buy shoes. You would already spend a hundred bucks on a pair of dress shoes but oh, you have to buy a second pair! It really sucked.

"Oh…" Both of the officers said, Maria speaking up and saying, "Is foot binding from Xing practiced in Drachma?" Eek, they had foot binding around still? Ouch.

"Nah, it's a genetic thing. The bones in my feet never properly formed so when my feet started to grow, the bones were still partially fused together and, well, my right foot's the result." Denny grimaced.

"Sounds like it hurt." I nodded.

"Like hell, but it stopped when I stopped growing so it's not so bad now." They were looking at me weirdly. "What?"

"How old are you?" Maria asked, a puzzled expression on her face as she and Denny looked me up and down. I looked at my chest and crossed my arms defensively.

"Seventeen, why do you ask?" That made Denny uncomfortable, and probably Maria too but she seemed to hide it better than him.

"Uh, well, you just look...young, for your age." My turn to raise a brow at him.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"We're here." Hughes said, glancing momentarily at us as he pulled the rickety old - well, old to me - car up the road of the monstrous building known as Central Command. Sunlight was finally blessing the land with its warmth, which meant I had another long day ahead of me.

I was getting real tired of this building, we're good acquaintances, but I was not overly fond of Command so I think we need some time apart. It was not Command, it was me. Actually no, it was the guy running Command and this whole damn country that I needed to spend some time away from. Unfortunately for me, it seemed no one in the car heard about my breakup with Command, so they dragged me along anyway.

After a long series of ridiculously baffling hallways, we somehow arrive at Hughes' office. Quaint little place, nothing like Mustang's temporary office he had while he was in Central, but kind of comforting. I was actually pretty nervous. I did have my certificate with me, laminated and tucked safely into my belt, but that piece of paper couldn't protect me from interrogation methods of the 1914s.

"Sit down." Hughes 'offered' motioning to a chair in front of his desk. Armstrong, Brosh, and Ross were on the couch behind me, taking notes. Well, Maria was the only one with a pad of paper and a pen so I guessed she was the one taking notes. "So, can you tell us when happened?" I sighed, unintentionally cracking my neck as I retold the events.

"Well, I was just walking down the street and it was raining - oh Tru-ck I dropped an umbrella I borrowed, do you think we'll be able to get it back?" I asked, looking behind me to Denny and Armstrong. They didn't realize I was actually looking for answer until Hughes cleared his throat.

"Don't worry about that for now, so you were walking in the rain, how did you stumble upon the murder?"

"Well, it wasn't exactly a murder, it was more of a fight. I heard some guy talking all preacher like about judgement and all so I decided to eavesdrop since it seemed interesting-"

"You didn't think to get the police?" Hughes interjected, not looking up from a note he was writing. Well, shit. Never thought about that…

"Um, well, no. There wasn't really anyone around except for the guy - Grand or whatever - and I got a little distracted after he went down the alley so anyway the guy was talking all preachy-like and I was eavesdropping. Grand sounded really confident he would win when they started fighting. I missed some of what he said, but after the fight started the preachy-guy didn't talk much. Anyway I decided to look when everything was quiet and I wasn't being shot at by freaking canons, and Grand got the guy trapped in a box. I went to go ask him if he was okay but then there were blue sparkles - alchemy I think - and a hole in the box formed. The guy had Grand by the head and I looked away when he used the alchemy stuff to-"

"You said he used alchemy?" Hughes asked, looking up. Oh, frickle frackle firetruck. Did I screw up? Truth, if you posses Lucha and tell me I didn't just give away info that might change the story in some way that'd be real great.

"Uh, yeah. I think. It was a little like what McDougal did when he froze that guy's arm back at the prison. That's the only alchemy I've ever seen before."

"They don't have alchemy in Drachma?" Armstrong asked, surprising me with his low, booming voice.

"Uh, not that I've seen." He nodded, allowing me to relax a little. Why was this so nerve racking? You're telling the truth mostly - but you probably shouldn't mention what you told Scar about his brother, that would screw shit up for sure Irish.

"Continue, please." Hughes asked, his glasses hiding his eyes from view with their glare. I never really got how glasses did that, maybe you needed special lenses...Adjusting my own spectacles, I did as he asked.

"Yeah so after Grand died I started to back away because I didn't want to mess with the guy - he wasn't going to let a witness go probably. But I kind of bumped into him and he grabbed me - oh Hughes, I lost my hat. I found this hat in that closet, real vintage 1900s stuff and it hid my hair well but it's probably still there-" Hughes cleared his throat. "Oh, sorry. Um, yeah he just kind of looked at me for a minute - my hair and eyes kind of caught him off guard I guess, and he kind of was starting to creep me out when he stared at my necklace." My hand touched the sterling silver Celtic cross.

"He took interest in your hair and eyes - your necklace, what is it, a religious symbol?" Hughes asked distractedly as he jotted down some notes. Thank Truth for me coming up with a name for the 'religion' earlier.

"Yessir, it's an Utkist cross. A symbol of martyrdom, unity, and struggle." Eh, close enough?

"Utkism, would you care to elaborate? Is it a well known religion?" Well, um, improvisation!

"The religion of Ire, my home village. It's very far in the north of Drachma by the sea, very secluded. I'm afraid it's not a well known religion by those who don't live there. Even in Drachma it has little influence beyond the far northwest." Were they buying it? Truth, why did Hughes have to have such a good poker face? Probably learned from surprise attacks on Mustang with pictures of Elicia and Gracia. That man was the absolute best. Wait, wrong time to compliment the guy interrogating you Irish - bad timing!

"Hm, a murderer of State Alchemists using a form of alchemy, and a possible connection to a small religious group." Oh, Truth. Hughes I am so sorry if this screwed up your investigation. Please don't ask me if there are any other people from Ire in Amestris please! "Could he perhaps be from your village?" Ugh, I guess that's not as bad.

"No way, I got a pretty good look at him and I knew almost every one of the maybe hundred people that live in Ire when I left only a few years ago. Besides, his skin was too dark and he had a weird scar on his forehead." I said, making up the little village of Ire in my head. A cute village where you know your neighbors and have your children marry them in arranged ceremonies. Also home to the duck religion, that worships a legendary duck called Mother Goose that was fabled to lay golden eggs. Yes, this would work nicely. Apologies any actual religions that worship ducks and geese - I needed something to convince these guys with!

"So, the Scarred Man struck again." Maria said with a sigh.

"Yes, who else has been targeting State Alchemists and killing them in an odd fashion?" Denny responded.

"The who now?" I asked, hoping to stay off the topic of the actual interrogation. Hughes looked up from his notes, his glasses no longer hiding his hazel irises.

"The Scarred Man, though most of us just call him 'Scar' for short. He's been targeting and killing State Alchemists, and it looks like Grand was his latest victim." Maes said, compiling and straightening his notes. "How'd you get away? You seem to have a knack for escaping murderers."

"One of my many unusual talents acquired from living with my weird family of freaks. One of the many…" I said wistfully, smiling at his confused and slightly concerned expression. "He let me go if you're that concerned. Lucha did bite him but, in case you haven't noticed, Lucha's a bit of a wimp." The living slinky was exploring the office, currently gnawing on Armstrong's boot lace, which seemed to entertain the big man greatly.

"Did you see where he went?"

"Nope," I swung my legs back and forth, my feet barely touched the ground in this tall chair. "I got sick with stress - you try facing off with murders twice in one week - then I ran like the wind and hoped to curl up in a ditch somewhere and pretend it never happened." Hughes nodded.

"And then you ran into 2nd Lieutenant Ross and Sergeant Brosh, correct?"

"Yepsterdoodles." He looked at me as if I had grown three heads, but said nothing as he nodded nonetheless and handed his notes to Maria.

"Thanks for your help Mac, you're free to go!" Hughes said in a suddenly jovial mood. This guy had some serious mood swings sometimes.

"Uh, can I stay for the day actually?" He looked at me in a kind of surprised manner.

"Sure, why?" I shrugged looking around the office.

"I guess I want to see if there's anything I can help with. But, I do want a list of the State Alchemists if you could get me that. There's something I want to check out." Maes seemed to think for a moment before looking to Armstrong and the amazing babysitting duo.

"Armstrong, see if you can get that list for Mac; Brosh, Ross, could you two make sure she keeps herself out of trouble - or at least keep trouble from finding her.

"Yessir," The three said, Armstrong leaving to get the list of Alchemists. Hughes turned to Denny and Maria.

"Can you two take her home so she can get a change of clothes? You must be uncomfortable in those clothes Mac." I nodded, the soaked skirt and frilly blouse collar not helping me relax.

"Yeah, sounds like a plan."

Masterlist

#fullmetal alchemist #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #si/oc #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #bbb writes #bbb #bluebookbadger

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