Is This Thing On? (crack_alchemist) wrote,
Is This Thing On?
crack_alchemist

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Crack is back for the moment

Sorry this took so long. I've been down with the flu (again), and me and Outline have been going round and round the mulberry bush. Go. me.

But, yay! The second Officer's Ball is coming soon!

Series Title: Battlefield
Series Rating:: PG - NC-17
Main Characters:Edward Elric, Jean Havoc
Other Characters: Various other members of the Peanut Gallery called Fullmetal Alchemist
Word Count: 1,764
Warning Yaoi; consensual, underaged sex (well, maybe it's underaged to some); potential overdosing of crrrrack.

Synopsis: Ed is offered a warning that he chooses not to heed. What else is new?



Author's Notes: Companion/Sequel to Games Without Frontiers. I think you can read this without having read that (especially if you’re not into het!fic), but perhaps you’ll enjoy it nonetheless.</a>

The story is completely AU. My own little private timeline; my own private little world. Yeah, and, just to add, my own little crackpot theories. If ever there are any spoilers, I will place the appropriate warnings. Commentary is certainly welcome and tends to make me go “you like me! you really like me!”



Battlefield 31

Part 32: Some Brimstone Baritone Anticyclone Rolling Stone Preacher From The East

The man was in a precarious position. Whichever direction they went in − whether Jean put a bullet in his brain, whether Ed slashed his throat − Scar was a dead man.

And, as tired as he was of seeing the man, Jean couldn’t be happier with the circumstances. He smiled tightly and pressed the barrel of the gun more comfortably against the man’s temple and looked at Ed, to see what direction he wanted to go.

“You never get tired of this shit, do you?” Ed growled, pressing the blade in his automail arm closer to the skin on the side of the man’s neck. He even leaned in a bit, just to see the blade press oh so gently into the skin. “Maybe I can go ahead and put you out of your misery right now.”

“I am not ready to die yet,” Scar said in a flat voice, as if he were forcing himself to say the words. Jean noted that the tone distracted Ed, made him take a closer look at his quarry.

“I don’t think you have a choice in the matter this time,” Jean growled, tapping Scar in the temple with the gun. “You think I’m gonna give you another chance to do what you do best?”

Jean couldn’t really tell because of the shades, but he could sense that the man had turned all of his attention to him and his gun. “You have no choice in the matter, Soldier. I cannot allow you to use your weapon.”

Jean snorted, then steadied himself. At this close of a range, the kickback would probably be a bitch and it was going to get very messy. “Try and stop me,” he gritted between his teeth and started to tighten his finger on the trigger.

In the time it took his brain to give his finger the command, Scar took his raised hand and reached. The man’s hand closed around the barrel − awkwardly, of course, but he still managed – and squeezed.

Jean heard the gun explode more than he felt it. His logic center tried to tell the rest of him that the explosion hadn’t really been that big, that it was fortunate that he hadn’t really fired it, but his hand begged to differ. Dropping the gun and pulling his hand to his chest so quickly had been a pure reflex, having everything to do with the screeching pain that lanced through his palm and telegraphed up his arm. Shattered? Perhaps. Jean didn’t really want to know at that point, he only wanted to get away from the fire lacing through him. He felt himself drop to his knees and heard himself cry out before he curled into himself.

He also heard Ed scream. “You son of a bitch!” Jean would have laughed if he could have. Such a standard response, but so like Edward. He heard the scuffling that told his ears that there was at least a decent struggle going on, then heard the breath choked out of Edward and the thunk that sounded suspiciously like a head against the alley wall. Jean cocked open an eye to see if his eyes would register anything beyond the red wall inside of him.

His vision confirmed an Ed pinned against the wall again by Scar, though this time he was being held in place by the arm that carried that dangerous tattoo. He tried to gasp out a warning − it came out as an impotent growl.

“I am not here to take your life, alchemist,” Scar said hoarsely. “I’m here to save it.”

Jean opened his other eye at that and stared. Save his life? What the hell?

Ed echoed the sentiment.

Scar clarified. “Do not follow the path those homunculi place you on.”

Ed stopped squirming enough to give Scar his entire attention. As Jean watched, something between them changed, from quarry and prey to ready combatants to… something else. Jean saw the flash in Ed’s eyes, knew what it was, but was too surprised to register it.

He’d never seen fear on Ed’s face before. Not actual fear.

“You don’t know anything about it,” Ed choked out.

“I know more than you could ever imagine. Don’t do it.”

“I’ll do as I please!” Ed started squirming again and this time, miracle of miracles, Scar let him go. “You − or anyone else − isn’t going to stop me!”

“The path you’re treading will not lead in the direction you expect.”

“So what? What else is new?”

Scar sighed and stepped back. He seemed to know he wasn’t in any danger; his stance was less combative than before. He ran his hand through the crop of white on his head. Jean vaguely wondered how the man had gone grey − no white − so young, because he didn’t seem much older than perhaps Roy. “You are hell bent on a path of destruction.”

“Anything to fix what I need to fix.”

“Then I won’t need to kill you... you’ll do it to yourself.”

“So be it.”

Scar took two steps backwards, turned on his heel and gave Jean a hard look. “Stop him if you can,” he said, then started down the opposite end of the alleyway.

As Jean watched him disappear into the darkness, he heard Ed shout, “Come back here!” and knew that Ed could not go after him.

“Ed!” he allowed as much pain as he dared color his voice. It did the trick; Ed halted mid-step and whirled back to him. It took him less time to get to him than Jean would have thought. He almost smiled. Almost.

“Let me see it,” Ed demanded, reaching for his jacket hem. Jean slowly unclenched his hand as he heard a slight ripping sound. “Hm. It’s bad, but not as bad as I thought. Here.” Ed wrapped it carelessly with the strip of jacket material and curled the hand back in. “I bet you got a medic kit in your house, right?”

“Hmm.” Jean got to his feet, swaying slightly. There was a throbbing somewhere in the vicinity of one of his knees, and the ankle of the same leg felt a big wobbly. Hell, if he sprained it… “Your jacket…” he protested.

“Fuck, Jean. It can be fixed with alchemy.” Ed pointed to Jean wound. “That can’t. Let’s get out of here before someone else decides to show up.”

Jean didn’t want to know exactly who Ed meant by someone else.

Ed hitched his automail shoulder under Jean’s arm and wrapped his own arm around Jean’s waist. “So where the hell are these military police that are suppose to be watching out?”

Jean tried not to put too much weight on Ed for a few steps, until Ed grunted and leaned into him, forcing him to give up the pretense of holding himself up. “They’re outside the district. There’s an agreement to keep the military’s nose out of here.”

“Nice,” Ed growled as they made their way out into the city proper. “And tell me again why you like to come here?”

Jean didn’t bother answering that question. “So… tell me,” he said instead, “what was he talking about? That part about following the path of the homunculus?”

Ed was quite for a while as they hobbled their way down a few streets. In the dark, it merely looked like he was helping a rather inebriated friend home. Jean was glad for the misconception; he’d hate to have to explain how they let the serial killer get away − again. “There’s this place that one of them told me about… says I can find definitive information about the Stone there.”

“And you believe them?”

Ed nodded. “Don’t ask me why. I just do.”

“Hmph.” Jean never thought the walk home would take so long. “You know you’re not going to go alone, then, right?”

Ed turned his head enough to look straight up at him. “It’s too dangerous for−” He bit off the rest of his words, threw his head back down and concentrated on their steps. “Look, Jean. I’ve been doing this kind of thing for years. Al and I can handle it.”

“Ed, we’re not going to have this conversation again. Especially not now.” Jean looked up in relief as he saw that they were rounding the corner toward his house. “This is apparently something bigger than you’re used to, if it’s going to get you that close to what you want. If you’ve got a killer telling you not to go, this ain’t a pleasure trip to some mining town.”

“That was no pleasure trip.”

“Well, get it through your head that you aren’t going by yourself this time.”

“And how are you going to explain to the Colonel?”

“I’m not.” Jean unwrapped his arm from around Ed’s shoulder and hobbled the final few steps to his door. “You are. After the ball.”

Ed groaned. “Did I mention that I didn’t want to go to the ball?”

Jean grunted as he walked through the door. “Did I mention the Colonel didn’t care?”

“Sometimes I really don’t like you.”

“Hey!” Alphonse’s voice cut through the rest of their conversation. Jean collapsed on the couch as the younger Elric brother leapt up from his place at the kitchen table and moved toward them. “Why don’t you like−” When he saw the cloth wrapped around Jean’s hand, he gasped and looked at the both of them, taking in their less than pristine appearance. “What happened to you? Brother?”
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