I chose you - Chapter 7

I chose you – Chapter 7

"Alright Bradley, now it's time for papercrap!"

Kimblee had a wide smile on his face, wider than it should be permitted to a human's mouth to extend as he dropped a tremendous pile of paper sheets on Bradley's desk.

They were standing in their barracks' office, where each soldier who had survived the last war had an assigned desk and all the work related to it... Juliett had finished early, while Grumman was away on a new "adventure" as he would call it. Wrath had just walked in, since he had been running tests with his army of scientists to make sure that he was still perfectly in shape. Which he was, of course. Except his throat hurt a little and his mind was foggy, as if his head couldn't stop from hurting, but he put it all on the fact he hadn't seen Amelia for two weeks with all the training he'd been put through. Amestris was getting new methods for wars. And he had to learn them all, of course.

"Time for what?" asked the young soldier, thinking his ears were failing him.

"Meant paperwork, sergeant. You've been slacking off lately, so there is tons of it!"

Bradley understood just with the look in Kimblee's golden eyes that it was more the whole squad who had been slacking over it. It became a certainty for him as three other piles of paper joined the first one.

"Well then, enjoy yourself!" Kimblee said with his awfully cheerful tone.

Bradley had no idea how the guy could smile and look nice on the outside and chill him to the bones with his twisted attitude, but he wanted to be able to do something like that if just once! A smile that could scare the crap out of people! He was pretty sure he could manage that.

With a sigh, he started filling in the forms and paper that both Kimblee and Grumman had refused to complete. To think he was obliged to lower himself to do some petty paperwork, him, a prospective Fuhrer!

Since when did you become so wicked, Wrath? His souls inquired him.

I'm getting bored of being the one they're messing around with. When I'll be Fuhrer, people will see me for what I am. A force to be reckoned with, he mentally replied.

You should try on your sweet Amelia, the souls laughed.

His pen froze before the page and a drop of ink stained the white sheet. He'd never want to scare Amelia. What would she think of him if she knew though that... he wasn't as nice with other people as he was with her? Had he just nurtured evil thoughts? Okay, he was no angel, but to think about scaring the crap out of people just to avenge him for what he'd been going through? Of course, he could be scary. He remembered the look in his enemies' eyes. He could never forget. But somehow, being far from the battlefield for all these weeks had made it feel different.

Bradley ran one of his hands through his hair. Was this sudden urge of becoming scarier than Kimblee one day due to his homunculus' nature, or to the bat treatment he had endured for his whole life? Or was it already within him from the start? Amelia kept on saying how nice he was, but he couldn't seem to understand why. When she wasn't around, he barely showed any kindness. There was no good reason to do so anyway...

When he wasn't with Amelia, the only people he met were the gang of scientists from his life in the lab, or his fellow soldiers. The first were despicable and the last, well, he still had trouble understanding them.

Grumman was nice to hang around with, but since Bradley had understood how the young officer tried to hide his family, as if he was ashamed of it... He had trouble with that part of the man. He was a good soldier, but what man in his right mind would try to hide and reject his family when he had one? To be honest, Bradley was awfully jealous.

But that wasn't his only problem. His "Father" had summoned him and he was supposed to meet him in his underground base later in the day. The last thing King wanted was to get a speech over his part to play in the terrifying blond man's plan, or to be told of what he should or shouldn't do.

He focused on the paperwork to forget about his Father. Unfortunately, the office's door cracked opened and a pair of high heels foothold started hammering the wooded floor. His eyebrows rose in surprise before that he glanced at the woman walking in. Her dress' cleavage was outrageous and he couldn't believe she dared to walk around in open day like this, with the risk of being seen by any normal soldier which wasn't a member of their organization.

Her wavy hair was as dark as his, and somehow, he wondered why all homunculi had dark hair. He had seen Greed's picture and Glutonny was bald, and even Sloth was dark-haired. It was the only resemblance they shared with the ouroborous tattoo. The only way he could accept to call them his brothers and sister.

"What are you doing here, Lust?"

"Oh, I just wanted to see how our new recruit was going. You know, this uniform really flatters you." She whispered with a seductive voice.

He blinked once and as she sat on his desk, pushing the pile of paper sheets aside so that she could show him her curved hips –and well, all that he could guess that was under her black dress-, he blinked a second time. What was going on here?! Was she testing him? Was she really Lust or was it Envy? Envy loved messing around with him, showing up as anyone he knew just to make him jump as he would change his voice suddenly. But she didn't smell like Envy. He didn't like her scent either. There was something musky about it, as a strange moister in the air. Decaying was the only word in his mind for an instant.

"You don't like compliments, Wrath?" she sneered, a mocking smile on her perfect lips.

"I don't like having you sitting on my desk like a whore. I don't care about what you think of me." he acidly retorted.

Her smile faded one instant, but then she crossed her legs and pushed in his stomach with her heel, grinning wildly.

"You're so independent, young man. Do you think you know everything? The other soldiers
would be delighted just to have me looking at them."

"Then go look at them all you want, I've got work!" he barked, removing her feet from him and pushing her aside. If she had to insist, he was going to draw his blade and show her the exit the hard way.

Lust got up and walked around the office casually, as if she was taking a stroll which revolved around him. Bradley obstinately remained sitting at his desk, doing his best to ignore her high heels clicking on the floor. She stopped eventually and he felt her hands on his shoulders. And hell, his body was reacting already, before that she leaned down to him:

"This work isn't worthy of you, or is it?" she whispered to his ear on his blind side.

He felt his anger reacting, but contained it, shoving her away by bracing himself.

"If you want something, just say it!" he growled, scattering the paper sheets as he got up too quickly and swiftly turned around to glare at her.

She gave him a dirty look and though still innocent on many things about life, he could tell it was dirty.

"I should be the one saying that."

It would be a lie to say that Bradley didn't find Lust attractive. In a morbid way. She scared him as much as she could be fascinating to stare at. He hardly gulped down, scowling to hide his blush. He wasn't going to let her pervade him. His sin was Wrath and how angry he felt at her for treating him like a weak, "tentationable" man. But his throat was dry and his mind foggy.

Choke on your words, bitch, he thought. Run back to your Father and give me some air.

His throat was dry as sandpaper, but he still managed to laugh at her:

"Oh come on. Don't think too highly of yourself, Lust."

This time, her cocky smile turned upside down and her red eyes became icy, like shards of philosopher stone, darted at him. She crossed her arms in front of her too big chest, raising one doubtful brow.

"I think you're the one overestimating himself, Wrath. Rejecting me ain't clever."

"Dealing with you isn't clever. We're not enemies, but we're not friends nor comrads. You're my so called "sister".  So act like one and let me live in peace." He suggested on a more conciliating tone.

She could have bite back, but she accepted the compromise with a pout. And damn, she looked sexy even when she was grimacing.

"So, you're brighter than you look, young man. But don't think I'll call you my brother just for that. You still have to prove yourself," she observed before to throw her hair over her shoulder and walked to the door.

Before that she exited the room, she looked back and winked at him, as if to mean she could come back if he was a good boy. He swallowed his own saliva as the door closed behind her. He remembered the soldiers talking of what they'll do to their girlfriend once they would be back home. And his face flushed since there was no one to see it anymore. Had he made the right decision just now?

He sat back in his chair, trying to focus back on his paperwork. Had he just been tested? After all, he was meeting "father" in the afternoon. He'd rather meet Amelia, but the army was keeping him busy. And he didn't want to go and see her with the picture of Lust winking at him still fresh in his mind.

It took him the whole next two hours to complete his work and he barely ate anything, bored to see how this day of his life was going nowhere. He just wanted to escape, to be able to live something meaningful. He liked the army's routine, because it was familiar, but he yearned for more.

He wanted to see Juliett more often, and Amelia. And to trust a man, other than Grumman or Kimblee. It would feel good, to have informal friends. Real people, that didn't want to use him as a tool or a sacrificial pawn. He didn't need it, but he knew now it wouldn't be as hard if he had some real support. He needed to get some if just to stop talking about the military with Amelia.

And he was going to keep on seeing her even if it meant endangering her. He was strong enough to protect her. Then, he felt something disrupting his thoughts, slowly, and he couldn't make out the words on the paper anymore. His throat and his head hurt, but up till now, he had thought it was the reading and the lack of water.

He sneezed and wiped his nose with his sleeve, mad at the idea he was falling ill. Because he was falling ill, he could tell as much.

Why? His souls asked.

Because his mind was still a maze and his eyes had trouble seeing clearly and his hands were shaking as if it was suddenly cold in the room. It couldn't be that cold, not so quickly. He sneezed again, before to growl with anger. It really was a good idea to reject Lust now, his practical mind was comforting his ego on the question. To think he was going to meet Father in that sorry state. He already wanted to ditch on that meeting, but he was way too proud to do so.

...

It revealed to be a pain to stand still on his weakening legs to listen to his master ranting over what should be done and undone.

"First, I planned for you to become an instructor. You already have good experience. In the next three years, you should become liked and respected enough to be promoted to a trainer. You've already trained new soldiers, but I want it official. Consider this as your first step in the journey to you becoming Fuhrer."

Bradley had trouble understanding every word. His head hurt as if it was going to burst, which made listening intently a tremendous task.

"Is three years a time limit, sir?"

It sounded so long! He felt so young and so trapped. Three years. Three years just to
achieve a small step to his life's greatest goal!

I was made for so much more than this. I survived everything to climb higher and still, I need to wait?! And what do I have to pass time? What do I have to endure this unfairness? He thought bitterly.

He tried to clear his tied throat, but his breathing was stuck in his chest, knotted by a cough he had to hold back, so he could hide his human weakness. Who'd thought a homunculus could fall ill? He was super human, so how could he show failure in front of his ominous creator?

Not that he liked calling him his creator. His doctor Frankenstein, maybe, with the help of Goldtooth...

"You intend to go faster, don't you, my Wrath? Does it infuriate you, that you have to go through the human's system and its limits? What else can you do?"

You're still experimenting, having fun trying to understand me, because I'm not the same "greater" race as you. Try as much as you want, but you'll never understand!

He was stuck on that. He refused to answer and Father's patience quickly wore off.

"So you'll obey in your way, Wrath? Is that what I have to understand here?"

"I exist to serve," he retorted, blinking to chase away some sweat trailing down his brow.

His expression was unreadable, but still, his sentence got Father to laugh. It was such an irony, really!

"You're such a willing underling. I should have turned every homunculus into soldier first. It's quite handy, really..."

Father talked more, but Wrath barely heard anything. He had small goals to pave the road to him becoming the Fuhrer. He couldn't care less at the moment, he felt like a zombie. Hell, he had to be running a fever or something, his right eye was throbbing with pain. He barely walked out on his two feet and hardly managed to get himself to his squad's barracks.

His mind was filled with fog and the air felt terribly cold, inside or outside. He collapsed on his bed and crashed asleep, with horrid voices yelling in his head.

...

He was woken up by fingers gently replacing his hair and the soothing stroking of a wet piece of fabric on his forehead.

"I can't believe you got yourself sick, Bradley..." a familiar voice whispered, sounding slightly disapproving.

He blinked, his tattooed eye throbbing from pain and he looked around, to face Amelia. He was sweaty from the running fever and inhaled sharply as he realized she was seeing him in the sorry state. That was the last thing he needed to feel better. At least, regarding his pride... His breath turned into coughs and worries were clear on Amelia's figure.

"Who warned you?" he asked as the coughing died down.

He tried to raise himself up on his elbow, only to be pushed back down on his pillows.

"That would be me, sergeant. I thought it was the better way to get you feeling better soon. You've been pretty depressed lately, anyway, so sick or not, I guess it can't hurt to have a little company." Grumman observed from behind.

He was standing across the room, his back on the wall and his arms folded, looking rather full of himself, quite as always. But Juliett walked in and gave the blond man a slight punch in the shoulder, before to smile at her fellow soldier.

"It was my idea. Grumman simply followed it and went to pick up Amelia at her place."

Bradley was more touched by the gesture and the attention then he'd want to be, but Amelia's warm smile convinced him that it was alright and that he shouldn't worry. He lied back, slowly relaxing.

"Still, there was no necessity to come all the way out here for me. It's just a cold." He croaked, shivering despite all his efforts to look strong.

"I don't think it's your every day cold," Juliett observed. "Your left eye's wounds reopened, you know?"

He looked surprised; though that would explain the throbbing pain he had been feeling during the last hours...

"I think you overwork yourself." Grumman analyzed, nodding to himself, playing with his moustache.

"I didn't...!"

"Calm down, Brad." Amelia cut him off. "Being a soldier ain't easy. You wouldn't be the first one to overexert yourself."

He scowled, looking away from her. He wasn't too sure he liked that position they were in, with her sitting at his bedside and him merely trying to focus on staying awake, lying in bed like an invalid.

Maybe was he exaggerating a little, but still... He felt inappropriate and weak. And that wasn't a nice feeling, especially when he knew that he was a superior being than all the humans trying to comfort him about his state.

"Alright, maybe I need some rest." He reluctantly accepted.

They remained in silence for a moment, until that Juliett gently shoved her elbow in Grumman's ribs, and give her a non too subtle sign, as if they should walk away to give the soldier and his friend some air. Eli was clueless for a moment, and suddenly seemed to understand, as Bradley looked at them and wondered why he had to be surrounded by grown-ups acting like kids.

"I just remember, I got this important assignment to attend to, so I got to leave. If you need anything, miss Amelia, just talk to our boss in the other room."

That meant Kimblee and that guy was the last person Bradley wanted to see meeting Amelia, but well, she had certainly already seen him and there was nothing he could do to help it now that she was here.

"I've got work too," Juliett added with a smile. "Take good care of our comrade for us, Amelia!"

The pair of friends walked out, Grumman giving Brad one of his trademark grins that meant someone was lucky as hell to be ill. And Bradley couldn't help but feel manipulated. What was he supposed to do? He certainly looked like crap, his mind was still hazy, which made it hard to think clearly. He was going to say dumb things, and cover himself in shame and that was the last thing he wanted.

But Amelia didn't care about that. He forgot it a lot, but she wasn't that kind of girl. He was already starting to think there really were many kinds of girls, as Grumman had taught him.

"How does your eye feel?"

"What about my...?!"

Bradley shut up; suddenly realizing his eye patch was gone. He could feel the air directly on his left eyelids. He couldn't see anything though, his eye was shut, but he became worried sick at the idea someone could have spotted his secret.
He covered the left side of his face with his hand, trying to keep his voice calm.

"It's still hurt, but it's less painful than earlier." He tried to comfort her. "Where's my eye patch?"

He needed it to hide the truth, quickly. He wasn't sure if he could keep his eye shut, since he hadn't much practice at it. He would often open both eyes and just adapt at seeing nothing but darkness on the left...

"You can't put it back right now. At least, that's what the doctor said. It's your eyelids which were wounded, right? Your eye is shut so firmly..."

"I know... They burned me, that's why..." he quickly lied.

She shivered and he was ashamed of the lie. But what other choice was there, huh?

"It's really sad, that they did such a thing." He looked at her, surprised of her comment and she explained herself with a shy smile, closing her eyes: "You have such a nice eye's color."

And that, that was a real compliment, far better than whatever Lust could have told him moments ago. Though he didn't like to think of Lust while facing Amelia. And he was mad at himself for caring about what she thought.

"Thanks... I guess."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean... Oh, I don't know why I'm apologizing or why you're looking so down."

"Not too sure myself." He looked away and sneezed, which made her jump a little, but then looked back. "It's been a long day. And my head's like a battlefield."

She looked taken aback by his choice of words. But then she smiled, with a hint of bitterness in her eyes.

"Trying to say the war is over too soon won't get you anywhere. If you're running away from your fears, they'll get the better of you."

"I don't fear anything!" he protested, raising up to back his point.

"That's worst than running away," she retorted, gently but firmly pushing him back down.

"Come on Brad, we all have limits."

"Well that's a lie. Because your patience has certainly no bound."

"Oh, I'm not that patient with anyone."

The question slipped through his lips before he could utter a second thought:

"Then why are you like that with me?"

She blinked and blushed as she realized what he truly meant, looking at her with his sleepy right eye.

Why are you acting different with me? What are we to each other? I can spit on Lust, but I have trouble lying to you...What is this feeling that whatever could happen, as long as you'd be there with me... he thought.

He couldn't push the thought any further. It was scary. He felt dependant of her. He wanted her to be in the same state of mind. He wanted her to keep acting differently for him, because he was different. And she felt different.

"You're really perceptive, for someone with just one eye," she observed, trying to joke.

She seemed nervous suddenly, shifting a lot on her chair, running one hand through her messily tied hair. She had no idea what was exactly going on between them. And she was starting to wonder herself what that strange man truly meant to her.

"Hey, calm down. You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

He coughed a little and she shook her head.

"How could I be impatient with someone that sick?"

"I'm not dying, it's just a cold!"

She laughed at that.

"You're quite obstinate, King, you know that? That's why being patient is the only way to deal with you."

He grimaced at the name she gave him.

"It's Brad." He said, looking away from her.

"I think King suits you fine."

"Well, I like it more when you say 'Brad'." He insisted.

"And how should I say it then?" she playfully asked.

She tried an arrogant voice, which was as close as she could get to military way of calling someone: "Bradley!"

He smiled despite all his attempts to stay serious, before to shake his head.

"Brad", she then whispered, gently, as if saying it too loud could hurt him.

Another shake of the head.

"Bradley," she tried then, on a really seductive voice.

That got him blinking. So she could have that tone too? And how it send chills through his spine, but good ones this time. He bit his lower lip.

"I think someone outside will get the wrong idea if you say it like that."

She blushed, laughing though, because this was just a game. And it was okay like that. But then, her eyes reopened and became all serious.

"I'm pretty sure I can get you to like hearing me calling you by your first name."

"Well, you can try. Amelia..." He said it with a husky voice, just trying to mess with her a little.

It seemed to work, as she stiffened in her chair, before to look at the ceiling. Her cheeks turned slowly pink as he rolled on his side, cuddling his head in the pillow, staring at her with his one good eye, a sly smile on his face. He liked knowing he could have such an effect on her. He bet he wouldn't have any on Lust, and it was also reassuring.

"Sometimes, you make me feel like a young girl again, you know, King."

And he could admit that whichever tone she took and whichever name she choose, it sounded good in her mouth. But then again, he was sick and surely the fever was wrecking down his brain. It had to be an explanation. He wasn't going to fall in love. That was surely impossible for a homunculus anyway.

To be continued...