Distant Love: New Sight

Chapter Three: Blackout

Edward and his friend—for Oiseau was his friend, someone he could hold a conversation with, which was quite rare in Fort Soleil—were again on time, reaching the lieutenant's office just as the sun started to dip down below the horizon. He answered the door and welcomed them in, a smile adorning his face and his manner as benevolent as it had been earlier. It was more like they were cherished friends, rather than soldiers.

Despite the apparent kindness, Ed and Oiseau looked attentively at Avoir d'Argent. Not only was his voice eerily familiar, but his looks also triggered something in Edward's mind. Who could it be? The problem frustrated him; he would recognize anyone he'd seen before in an instant, but this man was different. It made no sense!

He pushed those thoughts from his mind, mentally shaking his head. d'Argent had started to speak. "Please, sit, make yourselves comfortable," he said. Both Edward and Mesquin's eyes visibly narrowed, but they took the offered seats anyway; he was their superior, after all.

The lieutenant sat down with them after retrieving a tray of biscuits and tea, pouring a generous amount of the steaming liquid in each of the three cups. Edward raised an eyebrow: the man must have a lot of money to afford such luxuries as these in such a troubled time. Sipping their tea, the sergeants listened attentively to d'Argent.

"Tomorrow we can begin investigating the progress of the Amestrian military and attempt to discover their vital supply stores. A multitude of parties shall be formed with capable persons to examine the camp they have recently set up; you will be in the group that is taking a census of all able Amestrian soldiers, including rank, physical description, commanding officer, a list of subordinates, and, if applicable, state title and area of specialization; and…"

The lieutenant's mindless babbling droned on and seemed a meaningless buzz to Edward. His eyes focused on d'Argent's lips; his vision dimmed and there was a 'thunk,' taking no notice of the chair's sudden disappearance from beneath him. He wasn't at all aware of the other body collapsing beside him.

There was a long silence: the calm before the storm. Not a person moved, the wind was not blowing, and the twilight cast an eerie gloom over every person who dared to step outside. Breath caught in the throats of those who knew what was coming. It would be a miracle if they survived, on either side; both forces were strong and frightening, which was shown by just how much land was in their country.

Then, the silence was broken and the fight began.

A loud 'crack' echoed through the air at a barely discernable signal, startling all the gathered soldiers into action. Orders were yelled and shots were fired, yells of pain went coupled with puddles of blood. The sticky red liquid soon covered much of the battleground, half-hidden by the thick clouds of smoke floating in the overheated air.

The cacophony died out as quickly as it had come, leaving few Nimbian men alive and none unwounded—not surprising, considering their pitiful number in the field. It was an order to leave the survivors as they were—the loss of life was to be as minimal as possible, by order of the Fuhrer. Still, a few of the more unsavory soldiers disregarded this, striking a final blow on some of the dying people that they passed. It was not to be unexpected, as Nimby had many more soldiers hidden throughout and sure to show themselves with weapon in hand, aimed at the chests of their enemies.

Mustang scowled at the destruction around him but said nothing; none of those soldiers being cruel had been placed under his command. He led his section of the large group up to the gate and gave the command to destroy it, and they were joined in moments by the other forces. Fire aided their attack as Mustang snapped his gloved fingers, helping to obliterate the dry wood.

The march continued into the fort, no one specifically leading. Houses were broken into and destroyed, the inhabitants—all of them enlisted in the Nimbian army—were either taken peacefully as prisoners or killed if they attacked. Already they had a plentiful following of red-uniformed men; a couple of them also happened to be spies under service of the Fuhrer. Checking them off of his mental list, Roy recalled the others who would be there: Tina Compton, Jessica Tingle, Kevin Taylor, and Dennis Wilson. At least Edward wasn't at Fort Soleil; he would be at Fort Marais, at Roy's orders. So unless one of his own higher-ups had changed Edward's plans, his lover would not be there. In a way that was a relief, as the black-haired man would not want to accidentally attack the beautiful blond. In another way it was a disappointment; there would be even more time until their next meeting.

Snapping again and barking out even more orders, Roy cleared his mind and walked on into the last night of this dying fort.

A rough hand whacked him on the head, forcefully awakening him. Bright eyes snapped open, flinching closed again when they were met with glaring light. The attempt to bring a hand to his face went unsuccessful, and he found that thick rope was binding him to a chair. Cursing in his mind—seeing as he was gagged—Ed quickly registered his surroundings and the people with him.

To his right, Oiseau was in the same position as him: bound to a chair and gagged with a dirty rag. It appeared that they were both in the same seats as earlier, though why d'Argent would want to capture them was beyond…

That was it. That had to be it.

First Lieutenant Avoir d'Argent was a spy.

And he hadn't been able to see that.

Panicking slightly, Ed turned his head to the left and drew in a sharp breath through the cloth in his mouth. d'Argent was wearing the uniform of the Amestrian military, there was no doubting that. The stripes and star on his shoulder clearly marked him as a second lieutenant, which was a rank lower than what he was as a Nimbian soldier. But the thing that shocked him most was not that he was a spy; it was his identity that stupefied Edward.

The man held an intricately designed pistol in his left hand. Thorny vines trailed along its barrel, curving around two beautiful roses that were shining even brighter than the light that now seemed to be quite dim. If that gun wasn't a dead giveaway for the owner's identity, Ed didn't know what was. Now that he saw d'Argent in the navy blue outfit, he could tell why he had seemed so familiar.

His name didn't resemble anything close to 'd'Argent'. Second Lieutenant Kevin Taylor was a man under Ed's command. A soft, kind guy, but he could have a backbone when needed. That occasional confidence was probably inspired by his best friend, a gunsmith with a sly personality who supplied arms for the military.

Taylor looked very different from before with his red hair; its former color was black. And the glasses… perfect disguise. He had no eye problems at all! They must have fake lenses in them, thought Ed. But back to the problem at hand… if Taylor had taken him and Oiseau as hostages, then that meant that the note he had received yesterday… had been a command to attack. But Roy would have told the lieutenant that he was there… unless he didn't know. Then how did the note get to him?

Edward was rudely disturbed from these thoughts by a harsh smack to the face from his subordinate. Stubbornly, he tried to yell at the man, but only received another slap in return. Holding back a wince, Ed growled and glared at Taylor. Oh, that kid was going to pay for this… he was going to pay dearly.

Before long, he and his fellow captive were yanked up and made to walk out the door. The sight outside was stunning. Dancing red fire burst from the roofs of the buildings, flames licking the dark sky and creating a haunting image. The stars were lightless compared to the meandering heat, which cast its brightness onto the people walking beneath.

Edward had been under the impression that enough things had shocked him in that one night to last him a month, but he nearly fainted as he saw the man beneath the flames.

Roy Mustang hadn't changed a bit in the time they had been separated. Ed stepped towards him, but was yanked back again by Taylor. He stumbled and then collapsed as his sight gave out again, red-hot pain searing through his skull and centering on his eyes.

Golden eyes fluttered open to see shimmering water, ripples dashing out from somewhere in their silvery blue backdrop to lap lightly at the soft edges. Vibrant green grass lay beneath the blond alchemist, and that, accompanied by the warm rays of the sun, was tempting him to stay and sleep there for eternity.

He was about to do just that when he saw a form walking along the side of the lake, stopping to lean against a tree. It took but a moment to realize who that form belonged to, and Edward pushed himself off the ground effortlessly and made his way over to the man… Roy.

His lover smiled down at him, a true, honest smile. Ed had once believed that a smile would never exist on his face, but had been mistaken greatly. The first time he had seen the expression was when they had first kissed. It had appeared many times after that as well, and would keep on appearing if Ed had anything to say about it.

The two stood in each other's embrace silently for a long time, watching tiny silver fish dart about beneath the glassy surface. Nothing needed to be said. The moment was peaceful, and would be one of many times they had spent together without making a sound, merely enjoying the current company and sense of contentment. Their lives, at the moment, were not nearly as frantic as the movements of the swimming creatures in front of them.

However, silence could not last forever. Edward turned his head to speak to his lover, but stopped short with mouth open as he saw the raven-haired man's face- or lack thereof. Indeed, his whole head seemed shrouded in darkness, giving off a frightening aura of sheer emptiness. His body moved in a way as to suggest a tilting of the head, and he said with concern, "Edward? What's the matter?"

The younger alchemist backed away, a look of abject horror adorning his face. Roy had no head—or so it appeared—and yet he could still speak. Ed's scientific mind was screaming that something was dreadfully wrong with this scene, and his heart was in the same place. He had no words to respond to Roy's question.

Again the brigadier general inquired, and again he was met with silence. Looking around to see if anyone else had noticed the headless man's condition, he froze with even more terror on his face.

The world was slowly fading before his eyes. The water lost its shine, the sun lost its light, and the grass lost its vibrance. Then, the world became completely dark to his eyes.

Betas: FHT and The-Autumn-Alchemist

Spent lots of time away from writing this… recently became obsessed with the German band ASP, and I've taught myself trumpet so now I'm attempting to play it better, and I'm trying to teach myself violin. Also, I'm pissed at the fact that the next Banjo Kazooie game is coming out on the Xbox 360 and NOT a Nintendo system. For a full rant, check out my deviantART account.

And, MSN had been making me busy… I've become addicted to it. Add me? Email's on my profile.

Another thing: I've started on an original story for , although it's not up yet… same name on there, if you ever feel like checking it out.

Okay… this note may seem a bit rushed, but I really should get to bed before I get in trouble… Thank you for all your reviews! Please do review if you read this, as I would really love some more feedback!

Last thing: Kevin Taylor and the new names belong to ChibiEdo.

PLEASE REVIEW!