damned_institute | Day 69: Sun Room

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Day 69: Sun Room

[From here]

Scar lumbered into the sun room, hair still damp from the shower. He had been sure to be as quick as possible. The damn communal shower was miserable.

He settled down in one of the couches, his shoulders drooped and eyes tired. What the hell had happened out in the courtyard? One moment, he had been fine, and the next he had been completely deaf. Had something been done to him when he died? His ears were fine, as far as he could tell.

At least he could sit in a comfortable chair in the sun. The small luxury was something he would never take for granted after camping in the wilderness and the sewers of Central for years. There was too much on his mind, too much to keep track of. The simple knowledge that Frank was dead was enough to sap the energy out of him. He was too tired to even be angry.

[Alphonse!]

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Al had decided to stay in the Sun Room after lunch, lounging on the sofa he and Ed had napped on before. He'd had his eyes half closed while he rested some more, but happened to spot Scar out of the corner of his vision. After looking again to be sure it was him, he smiled widely and stood to head over to him.

"Scar! Brother told me you were up and around again." He took a seat next to him, pulling up his feet to sit crosslegged in the cushioned chair. "I'm glad to see you again."

Scar looked up at the sound of Alphonse's voice. It was strange, hearing him without the metallic echo. But it was him, whole and in his proper body. A great mix of emotions welled up in Scar's chest as he saw the boy up close. He was okay. Whatever insane idea Scar had come up with to save his life had worked, and now somehow it had been taken one step further.

But he was here, of all places.

What did it mean? Scar could not speak for the other patients he did not know, but what was the likelihood that of all the people pulled from Amestris would know each other? What was their common connection?

For now, though, Alphonse had his attention.

"You as well." It was good to see him, outside of the context they were now living in. "Especially given your new... circumstances." Scar had never been good with words. But he was pleased for Alphonse's return to his proper body, and he wanted the boy to know it.

Al smiled, nodding in understanding. "I am too, even if it wasn't on mine and Brother's terms. It's been a little overwhelming, when I let myself actually think about it." He looked down at his hands, flexing them. "I get startled sometimes feeling my muscles working, or the blood flowing in my veins. And it's...really nice, to be able to sleep again." 'Nice' was an understatement--it was an oblivion he'd longed for ever since that first night in the armor, an escape from the world an his thoughts.

He looked back up at Scar, his smile gentle and tinged with sadness. "Thank you for giving me the chance to be able to. I won't pretend to be okay with how you saved me, but you still gave your life for me. Thank you."

A hint of genuine softness crossed Scar's face, if only for a moment. Something tightened in his throat.

"It wasn't... You don't have to thank me," he said quietly. There had been no question in what he should do. As soon as there was a chance Alphonse could be transmuted to be saved, his decision had been made. Alphonse deserved to live, more than anyone else who had been in the desert that day as far as Scar was concerned.

The Elrics lived for each other. He couldn't forgive himself if he let that connection break.

"Of course I do. You could have left me there, but you decided to sacrifice everything you'd been working for for my sake." Nevermind all the complications behind their respective motivations and history--what Scar had done for him was an amazing gift that Alphonse was determined to repay in some way. It wasn't in his nature to accept that sort of thing without any other thought.

To be honest, ever since he'd learned about Scar's past and the truths behind the Ishbal war, he'd wanted to save the man from his self-destructive path of revenge. He could see a lot of himself in him, if broken and fractured by the horrors of his life, and could sympathize with his thoughts and feelings--he'd said before he could well have gone down the same path in his shoes, and that hadn't changed. If there was a chance to let him heal from his trauma, Al wanted to give him the help to do so.

"It's more than that." Scar couldn't explain why he'd had to do it. Or- he could. He just couldn't guarantee himself that he wouldn't grow emotional about it. After everything that had happened recently, all leading up to the brothers' appearance, it was very likely.

Even just Alphonse's sincere recognition of what had happened was causing the corners of his mouth to turn down, his eyes to feel heavy.

Al frowned, concerned. "What do you mean--"

And then suddenly, he was not where he had been. It was a house, but not one he recognized. There was a chill to the air--not a physical cold, but one of murderous intent focused solely on him. He stumbled up to a standing position, looking around wildly. "S-Scar? Scar!"

He didn't know that it was all in his head, of course, which was rather the point.

Scar sat bolt upright, watching as Alphonse struggled with the illusion. It was when the boy called out his name that he finally reacted properly.

"Alphonse? Alphonse, I'm right here." He stood and took him by the shoulders, firm but gentle, watching his frantic eyes. "It's not real. I promise." There was an edge in his tone, though he tried to be comforting for Alphonse's sake.

He couldn't see or hear Scar, and the sudden grip on his shoulders made him yell and backpedal in terror, trying to get away from whatever it was. He tumbled backward over the hair, frantically scrambling to his feet. "Who's there?!"

Scar's hands snapped back from Alphonse as soon as he reacted so badly to the touch.

"It's me. Scar. Nothing is happening." He glanced around the room frantically for somebody who could help, but he didn't want to take his eyes off Alphonse.

This just wasn't a good day for anyone, was it?

Al paid no attention to Scar, eyes sweeping over the 'house' to try and find some sign of the ghost, a pocket of shadows or the cat, anything. But he couldn't see anything, and started to creep warily around the edges of the room. His heart was hammering, and a very large part of him wanted to find a place to curl up and hide. But he knew that would only make him an easier target--he could only hope he'd have some warning before the next attack.

"God dammit!" he snapped, looking around the room once more. But Scar wouldn't call a nurse over. He couldn't. What if they only made it worse?

"Alphonse you need to listen to me. Please."

Al would feel horrible about this, but in the moment he was still terrified and trapped in his hallucination. He turned along a corner, peering nervously down a hallway--which incidentally seemed to be on a path to one of the tables.

One of the nurses noticed Al's unusual behavior, and motioned to one of the others before heading over to intervene.

When Alphonse moved, Scar followed. But of course they hadn't been able to avoid catching the nurses' attention.

"Sir, it would be best for you to give him some space, right now-"

Scar tuned them out, struggling to reach the younger Elric despite some of the larger male nurses doing their best to hold him back.

His reaction to the first grab was immediate, ripping his arm out of the man's grasp and swinging towards the source, hitting the orderly in the gut. This was signal enough for the rest to grab and hold him, which only made Alphonse thrash and fight back harder. In his mind it was shadows grabbing for him, holding him tight as something moved closer and closer. "Let go! Damnit, let go of me, let go!!"

"Can you not see that you're making it worse?!" he snapped at the orderlies. Damn these bastards who called themselves doctors. And they were still ignoring him!

But what could they do? Sedate the boy? If there truly was nothing else to be done...

No. They knew exactly what was going on.

The orderlies ignored Scar, focused on keeping Al from hurting himself or others. They turned to lead him out of the room, in Al's mind the shadows pulling him towards the presence that sought him. He fought and struggled desperately, but it still drew closer, and reached out--

Leaving him in the Sun Room again, being led out by two very large men. "Wh-wha--what just happened? Hey!"

Scar could see the change in Alphonse the moment he woke up.

"Alphonse-" He broke through the orderlies, making his way over to they boy. "Are you all right?" There was a tremor in his voice. What had just happened? Scar rested a hand on his back as he approached, watching him closely.

The orderlies were suspicious for a moment, but relented and let Al go again once it was clear his 'fit' was over, but still kept a close eye on him. "I...I don't know," he admitted in a shaky voice, breathing deeply to try and settle himself again. "It must have been that ghost again...I was in a house, and I knew something was there that wanted to kill me. I was scared half out of my mind."

"The thing that attacked you last night?" Edward had mentioned something along those lines. And something strange had happened to him this morning, as well.

Scar gave Alphonse a gentle push in the direction of the couch they had once sat at. It would be best for him to rest himself, right now.

Alphonse let himself be led along, nodding to Scar's question. "It did something that's been making me vomit hair all day. The nurses just think I've caught a bug or something, of course."

"Vomit... hair?" Like a cat? Scar couldn't help the repulsed expression. He led Alphonse over to the couch, sitting down with him and firing the nurses one last glare.

He nodded, sitting down and leaning back into the couch with a pout. "It used it's hair to grab me last night, and it tried to get into my body anywhere it could. It didn't feel like any was left behind when we got away, though."

Scar had to repress a shiver.

"You don't feel like that right now, do you?"

He shrugged. "I don't think so? My throat feels itchy before it happens, so I have enough warning to not vomit all over someone."

Al sighed and shook his head. "I've kept my salad from lunch down, at least. I gave my sandwich to Brother after he found a bunch of fingernails in his. Whole ones," he added with a grimace.

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