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Entry tags:
01 ⌇ ALL I ASK
Title: Rewind
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Prompt: #075 - All I Ask
Character(s): Frank Archer, Zolf J. Kimbley, Shou Tucker
Pairing(s): Frank Archer/Zolf J. Kimbley
Rating: R for language
Word Count: 1,793
Summary: He couldn't count the number of times he'd been through Liore. This time he would break the cycle. This time he would save Kimbley.
Author's Notes: And then Archer was Homura-- I mean. I took this seriously, I promise.
He had lost count of the number of times he'd been through Liore. This was only one in the string of many repeated tries to keep Kimbley alive.
And to think, he'd wasted a wish to keep the alchemist alive. It should have been easier to actually save him.
Archer wasn't sure what exactly had happened in that array, but he had hoped to save himself and Kimbley. The next thing he knew he was back in Liore, the day before the attack. Everything was just as it was, and he was forced to relive it.
Again and again and again.
There was no escaping the cycle, though each time it changed slightly. Sometimes Kimbley wouldn't leave until the morning. Sometimes Archer wouldn't send the troops in and the array wouldn't go off. But every time Kimbley died, he found himself taken back to the day before the array was activated.
The first few times he had tried to send Kimbley into Liore with more protection and the pocketwatch full of incomplete Philosopher's Stones. He had tried to follow the Fuhrer's orders and ensure Kimbley's survival. He had done everything in his power, but Kimbley still died. He'd given up on trying to appease both the Fuhrer and whatever was keeping him trapped in this cycle; he had decided to ignore the Fuhrer's orders. If they made it out of this, he would deal with the punishments when they were handed down. The Fuhrer wouldn't dare remove him from the military, not with the secrets he knew. He still had power over the man, and he was going to use it.
But that wasn't in the forefront of his mind. Instead the Colonel was making his way to the basement, where Tucker and Kimbley were holed up. Archer ignored questions and demands for him to make preparations for the attack - he was as prepared as he'd ever be, he told the soldiers. He knew what he was doing, he told Mustang. He was prepared for this.
Kimbley glanced up when he entered, the usual smug smirk already in place. "Hey, what brings you down here so early?"
"We need to talk." Archer pulled a stool over and sat beside the alchemist, looking him up and down briefly. He had seen Kimbley's dead body so many times it was hard to actually see him alive. The first few times had been brutal. He was getting used to it - that thought should have terrified him. It didn't.
"Yeah? About what?"
"You're not going into Liore."
Kimbley's expression fell, quickly replaced by a far more annoyed look. "What do you mean? Bradley's sending me in. You said I'd get to fight."
"And you will. Just not here." Archer picked up Kimbley's pocketwatch from the table, shifting it in his hands. He couldn't look at Kimbley. He was lying. Kimbley would never fight again if he had his way. If Kimbley wasn't put in danger, he wouldn't die. It was as simple as that. He wasn't going to let Kimbley die again.
The alchemist huffed. "You said I'd be fighting in Liore. You promised." He sounded like he was pouting, but Archer didn't look up to confirm it. "Besides, you're not one to go against the Fuhrer's orders. What's wrong?"
"I've received information that Scar is in the city."
"Who?"
"Scar, the man who's been killing State Alchemists." Kimbley didn't reply and Archer continued, "He's dangerous, Kimbley. I don't want to risk losing you to him. You're still incredibly important."
"I can handle him. You haven't even given me a chance to prove myself." Kimbley leaned back, nearly falling off the stool. Archer glanced up at him, watching him steady himself. He would have found that amusing if he hadn't watched Kimbley do the same thing at least five times before.
Maybe he was becoming so jaded with Kimbley himself and was only doing this to escape the cycle with what was left of his sanity. Maybe he didn't really care about saving the alchemist's life anymore. He reflected on that while Kimbley wandered off to play with the chimeras. Did he still care about Kimbley?
The answer was obvious. Of course he did. He wouldn't risk so much to save Kimbley each time otherwise. He would have given up on saving Kimbley long ago and would have tried anything else to get out of this cycle. He would have left Kimbley to die. Maybe that would break the chain of events.
But he couldn't do that; he couldn't let Kimbley die like that. Each death hurt, even if the pain was dulled after so many attempts to save him.
This time he wouldn't fail. This time he would save Kimbley.
"Promise me you'll stay here until I give you orders to leave."
Kimbley glanced up from the chimera he was petting, frowning. "You're serious about this? The Fuhrer's gonna be pissed."
"I know." Archer replied stiffly. "It doesn't matter. Just trust me on this, Kimbley. You'll be able to fight soon, I promise." It was a hollow promise and he knew it.
From the alchemist's expression, he knew it too. He always did know what Archer was getting at. "Yeah. Yeah, sure."
It would have to do. He had other things to attend to. Someone had to prepare the troops for the invasion tomorrow. Archer didn't care if the seven thousand men under his command died - none of them mattered. Kimbley was the only one who mattered.
Hours passed without a break. Archer already knew exactly what to do to strategically trap Scar within the city, but that didn't mean it took any less time to convince Mustang and the Fuhrer that his plan of action was the best one. When he finally managed to return to the basement, it was late at night. Tucker was still working in the back on Nina and all the chimeras were still in their cages.
Kimbley was missing.
Somehow or other, Archer knew he would be. He hadn't done a good enough job persuading Kimbley to stay. He hadn't made it clear that Kimbley would be allowed to fight (even though he wouldn't, that wasn't the point). He had failed. He knew that even before he snatched the note off the table, scrawled in a familiar chicken-scratch.
Sorry, but I'm following the Fuhrer's orders. You reinstated me to get me to fight. I'm going to fight.
- Kimbley
Archer balled the paper up and threw it. He slammed his fists on the table, anger overwhelming him for the first time in several cycles of Liore. No. Kimbley was fucking stupid. Why did he choose now of all times to disobey?
"When did he leave?" The question - more of a command, really - was snapped in Tucker's direction and the chimera-man jumped a bit.
"H-hours ago," He replied in a whisper. "He refused to take any of the chimeras."
"Dammit!" Archer shouted, turning toward the cages and slamming a fist against one of them. The chimeras within backed away, growling. Tucker looked mildly concerned about them, but Archer had no interest in taking his anger out on the chimeras.
"Get out of here once Mustang, Hawkeye, and Armstrong get here. Leave them to the chimeras." Archer commanded, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'll deal with Kimbley."
Tucker didn't ask how Archer knew Mustang, Hawkeye, and Armstrong would show up - he didn't want to know. He merely nodded and went about preparing the chimeras to attack. Archer left the basement, ordering one of the soldiers to drive him out to Liore, as quickly as possible.
It was too late. He knew that.
They arrived in the city before sunrise, but it took Archer far too long to find Kimbley. He was there with Alphonse (what was Alphonse doing here? he was supposed to be under Mustang's supervision!) and Scar - the Ishballan was holding him upright, serving as the only thing keeping Kimbley from falling to the ground. There was blood everywhere. Archer had never been ill at the sight of blood; this was almost too much for him.
A single shot rang out and Scar fell to the ground. He hadn't even seen it coming. Alphonse was saying something, but Archer couldn't be bothered to listen to him. He approached slowly, kneeling beside Kimbley. He ignored the blood seeping in through the knees of his pants.
"H-hey," Kimbley tried to laugh. "Guess you were right, huh? I thought I could... take him."
"Don't speak. We'll get you medical attention." Archer moved to wrap his arms around Kimbley. The alchemist was light enough for him to carry, he was certain of that. But Kimbley held up a hand, stopping him.
"Don't bother. You've got... you've got a war to run." Kimbley smirked. Blood was dripping from the corners of his mouth. It was almost transfixing. "Promise me you won't fuck it up."
Archer's grip tightened on Kimbley reflexively. The wound went straight through him. Archer could see the ground below Kimbley through the injury. His vision began to darken around the corners and Archer forced himself to focus on Kimbley's face. He wasn't going to black out because of this. He wasn't going to let Kimbley die. He couldn't let Kimbley die.
"Hang on. You'll be fine. I promise. Just don't... don't give up."
"It's been great... Archer." Kimbley coughed, the sound thick and when he pulled his hand away, blood stained it. Archer flinched. "Th-thanks... for... for everthing."
The alchemist closed his eyes. Archer's grip tightened immediately - it should have been painful. Kimbley should have flinched at how hard Archer was grasping his arms. "Kimbley? Kimbley! Don't you fucking dare die on me!"
He didn't respond. He wasn't breathing. He was dead.
Archer finally relaxed, letting Kimbley go. He didn't move from his position though, allowing Kimbley to rest on his knees. "I'm sorry," The apology was mumbled, soft. "I failed you."
His vision began to swim again. This was it; he would return to the previous day and he would be given another chance to save Kimbley. He'd watch Kimbley die again.
"You had one job." Archer's words were harsh, but his tone was soft. He ran a hand through the top of Kimbley's hair - the spiky haircut looked ridiculous, even in death. "You were supposed to listen to me. All I asked was for you to stay in the base. Why didn't you listen?"
He knew the answer. Kimbley thought he could handle himself. He wanted to fight. That was what it would always come down to; Kimbley wanted to fight and Archer didn't want him to.
"You idiot..." Archer mumbled, grip tightening on Kimbley one final time. "I'm sorry."
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Prompt: #075 - All I Ask
Character(s): Frank Archer, Zolf J. Kimbley, Shou Tucker
Pairing(s): Frank Archer/Zolf J. Kimbley
Rating: R for language
Word Count: 1,793
Summary: He couldn't count the number of times he'd been through Liore. This time he would break the cycle. This time he would save Kimbley.
Author's Notes: And then Archer was Homura-- I mean. I took this seriously, I promise.
He had lost count of the number of times he'd been through Liore. This was only one in the string of many repeated tries to keep Kimbley alive.
And to think, he'd wasted a wish to keep the alchemist alive. It should have been easier to actually save him.
Archer wasn't sure what exactly had happened in that array, but he had hoped to save himself and Kimbley. The next thing he knew he was back in Liore, the day before the attack. Everything was just as it was, and he was forced to relive it.
Again and again and again.
There was no escaping the cycle, though each time it changed slightly. Sometimes Kimbley wouldn't leave until the morning. Sometimes Archer wouldn't send the troops in and the array wouldn't go off. But every time Kimbley died, he found himself taken back to the day before the array was activated.
The first few times he had tried to send Kimbley into Liore with more protection and the pocketwatch full of incomplete Philosopher's Stones. He had tried to follow the Fuhrer's orders and ensure Kimbley's survival. He had done everything in his power, but Kimbley still died. He'd given up on trying to appease both the Fuhrer and whatever was keeping him trapped in this cycle; he had decided to ignore the Fuhrer's orders. If they made it out of this, he would deal with the punishments when they were handed down. The Fuhrer wouldn't dare remove him from the military, not with the secrets he knew. He still had power over the man, and he was going to use it.
But that wasn't in the forefront of his mind. Instead the Colonel was making his way to the basement, where Tucker and Kimbley were holed up. Archer ignored questions and demands for him to make preparations for the attack - he was as prepared as he'd ever be, he told the soldiers. He knew what he was doing, he told Mustang. He was prepared for this.
Kimbley glanced up when he entered, the usual smug smirk already in place. "Hey, what brings you down here so early?"
"We need to talk." Archer pulled a stool over and sat beside the alchemist, looking him up and down briefly. He had seen Kimbley's dead body so many times it was hard to actually see him alive. The first few times had been brutal. He was getting used to it - that thought should have terrified him. It didn't.
"Yeah? About what?"
"You're not going into Liore."
Kimbley's expression fell, quickly replaced by a far more annoyed look. "What do you mean? Bradley's sending me in. You said I'd get to fight."
"And you will. Just not here." Archer picked up Kimbley's pocketwatch from the table, shifting it in his hands. He couldn't look at Kimbley. He was lying. Kimbley would never fight again if he had his way. If Kimbley wasn't put in danger, he wouldn't die. It was as simple as that. He wasn't going to let Kimbley die again.
The alchemist huffed. "You said I'd be fighting in Liore. You promised." He sounded like he was pouting, but Archer didn't look up to confirm it. "Besides, you're not one to go against the Fuhrer's orders. What's wrong?"
"I've received information that Scar is in the city."
"Who?"
"Scar, the man who's been killing State Alchemists." Kimbley didn't reply and Archer continued, "He's dangerous, Kimbley. I don't want to risk losing you to him. You're still incredibly important."
"I can handle him. You haven't even given me a chance to prove myself." Kimbley leaned back, nearly falling off the stool. Archer glanced up at him, watching him steady himself. He would have found that amusing if he hadn't watched Kimbley do the same thing at least five times before.
Maybe he was becoming so jaded with Kimbley himself and was only doing this to escape the cycle with what was left of his sanity. Maybe he didn't really care about saving the alchemist's life anymore. He reflected on that while Kimbley wandered off to play with the chimeras. Did he still care about Kimbley?
The answer was obvious. Of course he did. He wouldn't risk so much to save Kimbley each time otherwise. He would have given up on saving Kimbley long ago and would have tried anything else to get out of this cycle. He would have left Kimbley to die. Maybe that would break the chain of events.
But he couldn't do that; he couldn't let Kimbley die like that. Each death hurt, even if the pain was dulled after so many attempts to save him.
This time he wouldn't fail. This time he would save Kimbley.
"Promise me you'll stay here until I give you orders to leave."
Kimbley glanced up from the chimera he was petting, frowning. "You're serious about this? The Fuhrer's gonna be pissed."
"I know." Archer replied stiffly. "It doesn't matter. Just trust me on this, Kimbley. You'll be able to fight soon, I promise." It was a hollow promise and he knew it.
From the alchemist's expression, he knew it too. He always did know what Archer was getting at. "Yeah. Yeah, sure."
It would have to do. He had other things to attend to. Someone had to prepare the troops for the invasion tomorrow. Archer didn't care if the seven thousand men under his command died - none of them mattered. Kimbley was the only one who mattered.
Hours passed without a break. Archer already knew exactly what to do to strategically trap Scar within the city, but that didn't mean it took any less time to convince Mustang and the Fuhrer that his plan of action was the best one. When he finally managed to return to the basement, it was late at night. Tucker was still working in the back on Nina and all the chimeras were still in their cages.
Kimbley was missing.
Somehow or other, Archer knew he would be. He hadn't done a good enough job persuading Kimbley to stay. He hadn't made it clear that Kimbley would be allowed to fight (even though he wouldn't, that wasn't the point). He had failed. He knew that even before he snatched the note off the table, scrawled in a familiar chicken-scratch.
Sorry, but I'm following the Fuhrer's orders. You reinstated me to get me to fight. I'm going to fight.
- Kimbley
Archer balled the paper up and threw it. He slammed his fists on the table, anger overwhelming him for the first time in several cycles of Liore. No. Kimbley was fucking stupid. Why did he choose now of all times to disobey?
"When did he leave?" The question - more of a command, really - was snapped in Tucker's direction and the chimera-man jumped a bit.
"H-hours ago," He replied in a whisper. "He refused to take any of the chimeras."
"Dammit!" Archer shouted, turning toward the cages and slamming a fist against one of them. The chimeras within backed away, growling. Tucker looked mildly concerned about them, but Archer had no interest in taking his anger out on the chimeras.
"Get out of here once Mustang, Hawkeye, and Armstrong get here. Leave them to the chimeras." Archer commanded, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'll deal with Kimbley."
Tucker didn't ask how Archer knew Mustang, Hawkeye, and Armstrong would show up - he didn't want to know. He merely nodded and went about preparing the chimeras to attack. Archer left the basement, ordering one of the soldiers to drive him out to Liore, as quickly as possible.
It was too late. He knew that.
They arrived in the city before sunrise, but it took Archer far too long to find Kimbley. He was there with Alphonse (what was Alphonse doing here? he was supposed to be under Mustang's supervision!) and Scar - the Ishballan was holding him upright, serving as the only thing keeping Kimbley from falling to the ground. There was blood everywhere. Archer had never been ill at the sight of blood; this was almost too much for him.
A single shot rang out and Scar fell to the ground. He hadn't even seen it coming. Alphonse was saying something, but Archer couldn't be bothered to listen to him. He approached slowly, kneeling beside Kimbley. He ignored the blood seeping in through the knees of his pants.
"H-hey," Kimbley tried to laugh. "Guess you were right, huh? I thought I could... take him."
"Don't speak. We'll get you medical attention." Archer moved to wrap his arms around Kimbley. The alchemist was light enough for him to carry, he was certain of that. But Kimbley held up a hand, stopping him.
"Don't bother. You've got... you've got a war to run." Kimbley smirked. Blood was dripping from the corners of his mouth. It was almost transfixing. "Promise me you won't fuck it up."
Archer's grip tightened on Kimbley reflexively. The wound went straight through him. Archer could see the ground below Kimbley through the injury. His vision began to darken around the corners and Archer forced himself to focus on Kimbley's face. He wasn't going to black out because of this. He wasn't going to let Kimbley die. He couldn't let Kimbley die.
"Hang on. You'll be fine. I promise. Just don't... don't give up."
"It's been great... Archer." Kimbley coughed, the sound thick and when he pulled his hand away, blood stained it. Archer flinched. "Th-thanks... for... for everthing."
The alchemist closed his eyes. Archer's grip tightened immediately - it should have been painful. Kimbley should have flinched at how hard Archer was grasping his arms. "Kimbley? Kimbley! Don't you fucking dare die on me!"
He didn't respond. He wasn't breathing. He was dead.
Archer finally relaxed, letting Kimbley go. He didn't move from his position though, allowing Kimbley to rest on his knees. "I'm sorry," The apology was mumbled, soft. "I failed you."
His vision began to swim again. This was it; he would return to the previous day and he would be given another chance to save Kimbley. He'd watch Kimbley die again.
"You had one job." Archer's words were harsh, but his tone was soft. He ran a hand through the top of Kimbley's hair - the spiky haircut looked ridiculous, even in death. "You were supposed to listen to me. All I asked was for you to stay in the base. Why didn't you listen?"
He knew the answer. Kimbley thought he could handle himself. He wanted to fight. That was what it would always come down to; Kimbley wanted to fight and Archer didn't want him to.
"You idiot..." Archer mumbled, grip tightening on Kimbley one final time. "I'm sorry."