Poor Little Fool

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA, just any OC's I've created for this story. I don't live there either, I just like to play around and annoy the canon characters for awhile.

Author's note: Poor Edward, he was just beginning to enjoy having sex on a regular basis when it's all snatched away from him. Some wedding guests - not all of them welcome - are introduced in this chapter. Will Ed and Al make it to the church on time?

Chapter Five - Recessional


Patience, Hope, Faith, and Charity were their names.

The Williams sisters were well known in Little Wiring for their "good works". Patience, the eldest had six years on Hope, who had an equal number of years on Faith, who was four years elder than Charity, the "surprise" baby. Their father, Doctor (as in of Divinity) Williams surmised Charity was a reward from God for having sired three dutiful, hard-working, and deity-fearing daughters.

At the age of 16, Patience was introduced to Society at the Spring War Charity Debutante Ball of 1913. She came down the front stairs of the Williams house, a vision in swirls of light pink taffeta, which suited her dark hair and eyes, and strong coloring. Because of war restrictions on cloth, the dress was actually "made over" from the gown her mother had debuted in back in 1892. The skirt was narrowed, and some of the more ostentatious decoration removed from the bodice.

Doctor Williams, a stern Methodist minister stood proudly next to his wife and beamed at Patience. The girl had not only taken in the dress herself. She made her own corsage from flowers in the garden, and used vegetable dyes to color the shoes pink, from an old pair of white dancing slippers she'd found in the attic. There was a war on, and Patience was setting an example to all the other young people of the area by re-using old materials, instead of consuming something which might be needed for the war effort.

Patience's mother stood straight and tall in her weariness, for she was in the last few months of pregnancy with her fourth child. Which was a sort of a surprise because nearly seven months earlier, she merely thought she'd had the flu. Excited with the hope she was carrying a longed for son her husband had gone and filled out an application to reserve a spot for him at Eton. When he told her in the car on the way to the ball, his wife - Prudence was her name - laughed and patted his arm when she heard the news. But silently she asked God to grant her husband's wish and give him a son.

Sadly, his hopes were to be dashed.....

A few months later, Charity was born on a hot summer afternoon, the same day the engagement of eldest sister Patience to the Honorable Alexander Lewis Armstrong, heir to the squiredom of Hampden Welles was announced. The wedding, held almost two years later in the spring of 1915, was the grandest affair in the history of Hampden Welles. The wedding party was enormous, it consisted of the bride and groom, plus ten couples of bridesmaids and groomsmen. Both Hope and Faith were flower girls, and two year old Charity toddled up the aisle with a very young cousin of Alexander's as miniature bride and groom.

The newly married couple emerged from the twelveth century chapel on the grounds of Hampden House to the sight of a rainbow arching over the grounds after a brief rain shower. It was considered to be a good omen, especially when Patience came home for a brief visit a few months later to tell her parents she was expecting.

On the last day of 1915, Patience gave birth to their first child, a red-haired girl they named Sally Amelia Prudence Armstrong. Alex bore his disappointment well. Although not the son and heir he'd hoped for, Sally was healthy with his hair and eyes, and her mother's smile. When introduced to her "aunties", Hope and Faith pronounced her "simply darling", while Charity
took such a shine to the baby girl they got on more like sisters, rather than aunt and niece.

The Great War was still going on, and Alexander took a Captain's commission into the army unit while Patience accompanied her mother on rounds of hospitals. They first visited wounded soldiers, and then civilians injured in the Zeppelin bombing raids. In late September of 1916, Alex had come home on leave and soon after, he attended another war charity ball with his wife who had just returned from London a few hours ago.

Not wanting to put herself "forward", Patience spoke little of her work, but in the car on the way to the ball, she would tell her husband of the snappish boy only a few years younger than herself whom she'd seen in one ward. Although weak and sickly, the child had reared up like an angry cobra and hissed the filthiest words she'd ever heard at a man she supposed was the boy's father.

"He was an evil tempered little brat, and I'm surprised his father didn't box his ears for the things he'd said," she recalled to her friends at the ball that evening. The other young matrons nodded their heads of fashionably styled hair, and agreed the youth of England were going to come to a sad end unless they changed their insolent attitudes and learned to fear God the way their elders did.

"I think I ought to take my younger sisters along with me next time. Charity has become quite a pious child, and perhaps she could change that unhappy boy's heart around. His case is quite tragic, for his mother died when he was young and now he has lost his right arm, and most of his left leg to one of the Hun's bombs."

"Poor little chap," said her husband who had stood listening close by, but when she looked sharply at him, he agreed Charity could do much good in a world of suffering sinners. Just then, the band on the dais struck up "God Save The King" and Patience forgot her weariness to stand next to her husband and sing the patriotic song. It made her so proud to be English, she let all thought of a foul mouthed boy named Edward Elric slip from her mind.
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Nine months after that night, Patience delivered her second child, and great was Alex's rejoicing for it was a boy they named Arthur James Williams Armstrong, or simply "Wills" for short. Red haired and green eyed like his sister, he was the pride of his grandfather who loved to show him off to his friends.

But into every life must come rain, specifically the great flu pandemic of 1918...

Only a year and three months old, Arthur was put to bed with a cough and a slight fever one August night, and his nurse found him cold and unresponsive
in his cot the next morning. The funeral arrangements had barely been finalized when word came from Little Wiring that Prudence Williams, six months pregnant with her fifth child had also succumbed to the flu. When a stillborn fetus slipped from her body in a "coffin birth" a few hours later, her death was considered doubly tragic as she had been carrying the boy her husband was hoping for.

Doctor Williams was heartbroken, he mourned both his wife, and his unborn son for whom he'd finally gotten to reserve a spot at Eton for. But like a good Christian, he bucked up and turned his energies to raising his remaining daughters - fifteen year old Hope, nine year old Faith, and the five year old Charity. But at night he begged and pleaded for a sign from God, what sin had he committed to make his Lord take away his wife and an innocent babe? As is the habit of omnipotent deities, God never did give Doctor Williams the courtesy of answering his question.
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"Alphonse?"

Leave me alone, I'm having a wonderful dream...

"Alphonse, wake up."

What part of 'leave me alone' don't you understand?

"Alphonse!"

I'm at home, in Risembool. Our house is still standing, mother is alive, brother is whole, and father is never left. And I've got lots of cats...

"Alphonse! Get up!"

Why is the ground shaking? Oh! All the cats are running away! Come back! Oh no! Now the ground is cracking open, and I'm...falling! Brother, help me!

Alphonse woke up with a startled gasp, his vision blurred with afterimages of his dream which obscured the very real face in front of him.

And a very real arm which urgently shook his.

"Al? Are you all right?"

"Mmmph." Alphonse rubbed at his eyes, in an attempt to wipe the sleep away; he could still see the dream unfold like a movie in his mind.

Edward slapped his hand away. "Stop that, Al! You'll make your eyes all red, people will think you've been crying."

Alphonse gave Edward a narrowed glance. "Can't grooms cry?"

"No," his brother retorted flatly. "They can't. Brides can cry, her attendants can cry, the mothers can cry. Hell, all the women at the wedding can turn on the waterworks. But not the groom. He can't cry."

"Why not?"

"It's a rule, Al."

"Who says so?"

"People say so."

Alphonse huffed, and crossed his arms, before he rearranged his face into a mock pout. "Well, I say it's a stupid rule, if grooms want to cry at their own weddings, they ought to be allowed to."

Edward raised his left wrist and looked at his watch. "It's 9.20, Al, go wash your face. The car will be here soon."

Alphonse rapidly blinked his eyes some more, and he goggled in astonishment when Edward suddenly came into focus. Edward's chin was clean shaven, his hair was neatly brushed and pulled into a ponytail, and he was - he was DRESSED! All without Alphonse having to 'ride herd' on him - but - something was wrong. What was it? He looked down at himself. He was wearing the pants, shirt, and socks of his wedding suit, but not the vest, shoes, and morning coat.

Gaahhh!! I'M not dressed yet!

Alphonse lept up from the sofa, but Edward barred the way with his right arm before he could dash out of the sitting room. "I brought the rest of your 'monkey suit' down here Al. Go wash your face, then come back and finish dressing while I fetch the ring."

The Ring!

The ring had assumed mythic proportions as the wedding plans gathered momentum. Mostly because it had cost Al a large chunk of his monthly pay to buy the blasted thing, and even more to have it engraved in a graceful cursive script:

"A loaf of bread, a jug of wine - and thou."

Alphonse discovered this line in a book of poems he'd purchased from a secondhand book shop long before he'd even met Sally. It was only later, after she'd accepted his marriage proposal, that he'd had cause to crack it open again and scour the pages for inscription ideas. The Squire had suggested either a short Bible verse, or a notation like 'Psalms 20:1' or some thing like that, Alphonse couldn't remember.

While not as admant in his agnosticity as Edward, Alphonse still couldn't see carving into a wedding ring a verse from a book he didn't really believe in. "101 Great Poems" seemed more relevant to him, because he'd actually taken it along to a church fete last summer and read some of the more romantic poems to her, including the one that line was from.

He'd even brought along a loaf of freshly baked bread, and a jug - no, not a jug - just a bottle of a decent red wine along. All packed in a picnic basket, because he'd also required a bread knife, a butter knife, butter - of course, a corkscrew - naturally, a couple of small plates, two delicate wine goblets, two white linen napkins, and a blanket. But all those extras wouldn't fit on that small gold band which was destined for Sally's ring finger. So the inscription just read:

"A loaf of bread, a jug of wine - and thou."
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Some hours earlier, and several miles away in the village of Little Wiring, Hope Tomlinson was shaking her younger sister Charity awake. Or trying to anyways. Charity moaned in her sleep and turned over onto her back, and Hope saw the book clutched in her left hand. Fortunately, Charity was still deep in the arms of Morpheus, and Hope was able to slide the book out of her grasp.

"No, Lord Badger! Please don't leave me!" Charity cried out in her sleep.

She realized she really shouldn't do so because it caused such unflattering lines in her face, but Hope frowned again when she looked at the cover of the book. Lord Badger's Conquest by Felicity Endicotte. Another romance novel, a cheap trashy romance novel! Hope stamped her foot in frustration for she had supplied her little sister with all sorts of constructive books - as well as a King James Bible - written specifically to guide the minds and morals of the young people of Great Britain. And she reads these - these - romance novels!

They had argued about them at breakfast yesterday morning. In this Hope had the whole hearted suppport of her husband Derek, a most Godly man whom she was lucky to have wed. Together they had tried to convince Charity of her folly in reading romance novels: for starters they were poorly written, only floozies and other women with low moral standards read them, no serious author would sully her reputation with such trash, and worst of all, Hope had heard some of these writers were Catholics - that's right, these books were part of a vast Papist Conspiracy. A conspiracy designed by the Pope himself to seduce good Protestants, the children of light to the Papacy, and make them children of the dark!

Why her own father, Doctor Williams had inviegled against these books from the pulpit just last Sunday, and how it would break his heart to see his youngest daughter wasting her precious God-given mind on the equivalent of literary rubbish. When she finally got a word in edge-wise, Charity protested the books were actually morally uplifting: Lord Edmund Badger was a Christian Gentleman who rescued kidnapped fair damsels in distress from the clutches of Godless Heathens and bore them back to the loving arms of their distraught families.

Maybe Lord Badger would steal the odd kiss now and again, but he never, ever forced his Attentions upon a virginal maiden...well, there was the time he rescued the widow of Captain Taggett, who had been killed in the Peninsular War. She had been ripped from the still-warm arms of her dead husband and taken by a swarthy (all romance novel villians were swarthy) Spaniard who was secretly helping the forces of Bonaparte.

Just as the villian was about to Penetrate (that word filled Charity with dread for some reason) the lady against her will, Lord Badger threw off his disguise of servile henchman and ran the blackguard right through the heart with his trusty sword!

Like all respectable Christian Ladies, Mrs. Taggett promptly fell back in a swoon and...

"Stop right there, young lady!" Derek barked. "I'll have no more trash talk under my roof, you understand me!?" Charity opened her mouth as if to protest again, but stern looks from both sister and brother-in-law silenced her. She folded her arms and pouted, although her twenty-first birthday had just passed, Hope and Derek treated her like a small child...


That was yesterday morning. Now Charity was to stand up as the maid of honor at her niece Sally's wedding to that nice young professor and she was still deeply asleep! Hope shook her again and although she didn't want to, raised her voice, "CHARITY! WAKE UP!"

And with a startled gasp, Charity Williams rejoined the waking world.

"Who - wha" Edmund?" Charity muttered and woke up with a start. She blinked sleep-encrusted eyes and frowned drowsily at her sister through the shreds of her wonderful dream of being wed to Lord Badger. After fantasies of a perfect fairytale wedding, and dancing for hours at a romantic reception, Charity had reached the wedding night. Dressed in a silk peignoir frothy with lace, she would lie on a huge feather bed and await the entrance of her new husband. Edmond would knock softly on her bedroom door and at her reply of "come in", he would slip inside the room and approach the bed.

And here Charity's dream vision began to fail, for she wasn't sure what men wore to bed. Except his manly and hairless chest would be bare and his long blonde hair would be loose and falling about his shoulders in such a way he would look like a lion. Edmund would smile at her broadly and it would reach his deep blue eyes as he slowly crawled up the end of the bed to her side. Once next to her, he would reach over and softly kiss her forehead, then a hank of her hair, and finally trail kisses down her long white throat before he...

And Charity's vision failed her utterly here because she had no clue how married couples Procreated. Maybe they would just fall asleep together with her held safe in his muscular arms and God would magically put a child inside of her. Like most 'gently bred' girls of her class, Charity hadn't ever been told the 'facts of life' except that Carnal Knowledge without the Procreation of Children was no more than the mindless rutting of barnyard animals.

Her heart sank when she saw here sister glowering at her. Glowering, and holding her copy of Lord Badger's Conquest to boot! Charity realized it was best to be humble so she bowed her head and said softly, "Good morning, sister. Did you sleep well?"

"Never you mind! Hope snapped back, and her little sister reluctantly left her cozy fantasy world. "It's nearly seven. Go and bathe before you get your breakfast." She jerked her head to indicate to Charity where the door was, just in case her little sister's romance novel-addled brain couldn't figure that out on it's own.

Charity Williams sighed and crawled out of bed, but Hope snapped, "I'll do that!" when she began to make it. Still half in dreamland, Charity moved as if she was sleepwalking. She unhooked her dressing gown off the back of her bedroom door, then used the wall to support her as she made her way to the bathroom.

She felt a little more awake after a refreshing soak in cool water, and Charity came downstairs with a bright smile on her face.

"Good morning!" she chirped to her brother-in-law, who was spreading lemon marmalade onto a piece of toast. Her answered her with a sour look and a noncommital grunt before he went back to spreading more marmalade.

Charity's stomach twisted slightly. Hope msut have told him about the romance novel, and her appetite faded away with the anticipation of yet another lecture. She still got a bowl from the cupboard and went to the stove where she spooned a little porridge for herself from the big black pot Hope had recently made it in. Charity returned to the table and poured a little milk, then sprinkled a little sugar on the porridge. She paused briefly and said a silent little prayer.

Please God, let this be a good day of much harmony.

Today was, after all, the wedding day of her beloved niece, Sally. And it was going to be a beautiful day, if a rather hot one. She had not had the pleasure of meeting Alphonse Elric, but Sally had shown about a photo of him during her last visit to Little Wiring. And best of all, Sally asked her to be her maid of honor! Charity had asked who the best man was going to be and Sally replied Alphonse had chosen his older brother, Edward.

Edward. A good, solid English name. It sounds almost like - Edmund.

She picked up her spoon, absently stirred her porridge and began to daydream. The Alphonse in the photograph was a tall, and very handsome man. Sally told her his hair was the color of warm caramel, and his eyes were dark brown. Charity had neglected to ask her what Edward looked like, so she now assumed his hair and eyes were the same colors. With her chin cupped in one hand, and a dreamy smile on her face, Charity imagined Edward to be slightly taller than Alphonse (he was older, he HAD to be taller), broader of shoulder, and darker of eye.

His voice would be deep and sonorous (Charity loved the sound of that word: "sonorous"), and his eyes would flash with passion when he took her hand and brushed well-shaped lips over it in greeting. Edward would fill out his morning suit with a grace that put all all the other men at the wedding to shame. At the reception, he would dance tirelessly with her until dawn, and then escort her over to her sisters. Edward would bow to Patience, Faith, and Hope before he would turn to Charity and gently kiss her hand again. He would wish her pleasant dreams before he took his leave.

Charity sighed and took a bite of her porridge before she embroidered upon her daydream. Maybe...at the reception, Ednward would confess he had fallen in love with her. He would seek Derek's permission to first begin courtship, and then ask for Charity's hand in marriage. They would have the most glorious wedding and she would ask Sally to be her matron of honor. Alphonse would be the best man, of course. Now, who else would be in the bridal party? Sailly was to have twelves bridesmaids, which meant twelve groonsman partnering them.

Now, let's see...Charity began to mentally tick off the names of the twelve girls for -

"CHARITY!" Reailty as cruel and it crashed into her daydream like a brick wall. Or, the angry face of her brother-in-law. "Stop daydreaming like a schoolgirl and finish your porridge! You still have to get dressed. Or do y'think you will attend the wedding in your robe and nightdress?"

Derek had a mean side, and he employed it with demeaning and sarcastic remarks like this. He enjoyed telling her how cold and unforgiving the outside world was. Not that Charity would ever find out firsthand. She was a gently bred girl who would never be expected to work. Her fate was to do nothing more strenous than visit the sick, give charitable aid to the poor, and take food to elderly shut-ins. Charity would live with her sister and brother-in-law and perform "good works" until she either died, or got married. Whichever came first.
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Alphonse was dressed and ready in twelve minutes flat. The large black touring car sent by the Squire, and already decorated with white crepe paper streamers was just rolling to a stop in the circular driveway when he came out to the front hall. Edward was waiting for him at the already open front door. Clutched tight in his right hand was the ring in it's box, and two tall slik hats, one on top of the other rested on his left arm. Edward thought Alphonse looked just fine in his hat, but he privately considered his own to be ridiculous. And he would wear it for as short a time as he could get away with.

"Our carriage awaits, m'lord," Edward sketched a mock bow and stepped back to let Alphonse leave first. His stomach had begun to twist with nerves and he appreciated his older brother's attempt to lighten the mood. He was only going to his wedding, not an execution. It was all planned down to the last detail, they were properly dressed for the occasion, and Brother had the ring. After Alphonse took his hat, Edward had popped his own in a rakish tilt over his blond hair before he opened the white satin-covered box to prove the ring was in it's place.

Still...

As he walked down the front path towards the car, it's back door held open by a liveried chaffeur, Alphonse's stomach continued to churn. More than once, he wanted to stop, turn and run back inside the Old Vicarage. But Edward was right behind him and he wouldn't let him duck out now. The chaffeur bowed and said, "'Tis a fine mornin', Mr. Alphonse. A grand day for a wedding, a grand day."

Or a funeral. Alphonse stopped still right on the verge of bending down and getting into the car. Edward came up right at his back and clapped both hands on Alphonse's shoulders. He jumped and Edward chuckled before he began to massage those shoulders. "It's okay, little brother," he whispered while his hands worked on the knots formed in Alphonse's neck and upper back. "You'll have a great time getting married to the woman you love. You'll eat, drink, dance - and after all the guests have gone home - you get to make love to her."

Edward had developed a tendency towards "earthy" language not long after he returned to the machine world. So Alphonse was secretly glad his brother had not used one of the more shocking epithets for sex in front of the chaffeur, who Alphonse recalled was named Soames. His stomach had ceased it's flip-flopping, and it was with a gladder heart Alphonse entered the backseat of the car. Edward scrambled in after him and Soames shut the door before he returned to the driver's seat. The car started off down the drive, then turn right towards the Squire's estate, Armstrong Hall, once it reached the main road.

"You'll see," Edward smiled and ruffled Alphonse's hair until he smiled back at him. "Everything will turn out just fine."