Homeward Bound

Destiny is no matter of chance. It is a matter of choice. It is not a thing to be waited for, it is a thing to be achieved. - William Jennings Bryan

'Separate universes are destined to be as they are named; kept separate. No part should cross, interlope or merge together, for to break such a fundamental part of nature, both entities should cease to exist.'

Edward Elric looked up from the passage he was reading with a sigh. From what he could tell, the world around him hadn't yet collapsed, and there was no indication of it merging. Wouldn't he have noticed if it had? He had thought, of course, at times that it had merged, but people, countless people whom he'd known their likeness in Amestris had no clue who he was.

Then again, philosophy was speculation for a reason and he very much doubted the author had ever been to another world altogether.

It was disheartening. It was difficult. It was hopeless.

For Edward, five years had passed. Five long, horrible, arduous years had passed. Vaguely, he wondered if time passed the same in this strange world like it had at home. Five years here had felt longer then they would have at home. Perhaps the absence of much of his previous lifestyle accented that.

Loneliness had probably contributed as well. Quiet life didn't seem to suit Edward Elric. A life where his knowledge was useless, wandering cost too much and his body was left to technology, which betrayed all expectations he used to have from the automail. Things weren't easy in this alchemy-less world.

At twenty-one, Edward had certainly grown into his looks. It didn't hurt that he had added height to his previously short stature (not that he towered over anyone, but at least he looked average) and his long hair had grown out even longer. He'd become leaner, less muscular, but still a decent match should he be accosted, and his golden eyes had darkened with age, but were still expressive as ever. He was by far one of the most fantastic available bachelors in his neighbourhood, limbs not withstanding.

He sighed. Birds were chirping outside and Edward was far too distracted to deal with studying anymore today. He slammed the book shut, with his good hand and rose from the desk. It didn't matter, he needed to sleep anyway. After three days straight, he was due for a break. Edward stepped to the door and paused to pick up the tray that had been left there with his breakfast. At least the old man new better then to disturb him.

For some reason, Ed's mind settled on his old man as he stuffed the pieces of dry toast into his mouth. As much as Edward wanted to hate him, which he did, he had to give the man credit. Despite their past, once thrust into this foreign world, his father had stepped up to take care of him at last. Ironic, wasn't it? Edward scoffed to the empty room. Ironic that it only took nearly dying and leaving Amestris and alchemy behind to gain attention from his own father. Grudgingly, Edward had to admit that Hoenheim took decent care of him. The man had procured his prosthetic limbs, fed him three times a day, got him access to the university's library and generally left him alone for the most part.

The oatmeal the man had left for him was cool, but that didn't deter Ed. He gobbled it up greedily, not wasting a single oat. Food was hard to come by in Munich, supplies scarce as the depression took its toll. Living off the land was also unacceptable in this world, though not for any reason Edward could see, except to keep the proletariat dependent on the bourgeoisie. This world was just plain stupid.

Breakfast packed away in his stomach, Edward fell back on the floor in his bedroom. He sighed and stared at the ceiling. For all the problems Amestris had, at least it was a fair place to live, if you didn't count being slaughtered by the military. But people here did it too, in wars that maybe didn't have to happen, maybe that was something that transcended worlds? Edward could be interested in such a subject, if he had the time to research it, but no, he wished to pass through the gate before he turned twenty-two. There was a deep sigh that came from deep in his chest before he closed his eyes to doze off to sleep.

Edward awoke with the sound of the door opening. He rubbed his eyes to clear the bleary vision and looked up and saw the bearded face of Hoenheim Elric. The man was thin, thinner then usual and looked a little sickly. Clearly his 'illness' was taking its toll on the old man's body. He watched as the tall blond leaned down and picked up the discarded tray.

"How are your studies going, Edward?"

"Fine, Hoenheim." Edward answered and watched the man grimace and shift. He never said anything, but deep down Ed knew it bothered him that he didn't get the title of father he so rightly didn't deserve. Just because the man was uncomfortable, however, didn't mean it was going to stop him from doing it. He deserved that discomfort.

"Are you taking a break?"

God, the man was so...obvious sometimes. Edward rolled his eyes. "No, I'm just lying here and waiting for the array to kick in."

Hoenheim blinked a few times. "I see."

Ed sighed. Sarcasm was lost on his father. "I'm taking a break because I can't concentrate and when that happens, it means I've had enough for a little while."

"I see." The man cracked a smile and chuckled at Edward's joke, as if it were actually funny.

Another deep sigh emanated from Edward. It was going to be a long lifetime if he had to stay here with him.

Most of the time, Edward was in his own little world. His behind was plopped on an old wooden chair, books spread out on the desk in front of him as he jotted down notes and read passages. Sometimes he heard the animals outside chirping and scavenging as they fought over scraps of food. Other times he noticed the front door opening and closing as Hoenheim went out to...well wherever the hell it was he went. Worst of all, he noticed the silence that filled the room. If they could have afforded a radio, he'd turn it on, but they couldn't afford it or to waste the electricity that way. Edward missed his brother, the way Alphonse worked and shifted and the way they discussed and debated over stupid points in a book.

He would give almost anything to be reunited with Al. Any time he was in this melancholy mood, work took a back seat. The pen was tossed aside, still on the table, but out of the way, the notebook was pushed to the edge and the useless arm was folded on the wooden desk before Edward's forehead was propped up on it.

Dreams came to him easily in this fitful sleep and mostly the dreams were good which is why he kept up with it. Regular, long hours of sleep brought along nightmares of reaching arms and grinning homonculi. Dreams of death, fire and that eerie red light swallowing up thousands of lives... all things Edward could live without, no, needed to live without. So, he slept in naps and he dreamed of his brother, alive and whole, grinning at him with a tooth missing, or running through the fields of Rizenbul with himself and Winry.

These dreams he cherished instead of banished.

If Hoenheim noticed the fact he rarely slept, the man never said anything. Edward had noticed the dark circles under his eyes, the listless, pasty look of his skin where it had once been darkened with a tan. He looked almost sickly himself, but he supposed that's what life was like in this world, where people were sick and starving and life ended for far too many on any given day.

Winter came, of course, inevitably. The rough winds shook the apartment complex where they were renting their rooms from and the wood and glass squeaked and strained to hold the place together, just like it had for the past five years. Like those years past, it triumphed once more and paid its debt to those living there by not collapsing in a heap on top of them.

With winter, came the chill that settled in the apartment and didn't leave for four months. Edward always knew when it was coming in the beginning, because where his limb twice were ached unbearably, and he always ran a fever, but within a day he was well enough to continue working. Unfortunately this year, the chill was somehow worse, the temperatures lower then the year before. While reading, Edward could see his breath, no matter what he did and his fingers were numb and sore alternating from the frigid air.

It was when he started coughing and it persisted that Hoenheim finally spoke up.

"You know, Ed, I think you need to rest."

"Don't tell me what to do old man." Edward growled at him.

"Edward, you're sick."

"I'm not sick!" The blond raged, standing up to argue this to the death if he had to. He hadn't counted on swaying back and forth a few moments before falling forward, and he definitely hadn't counted on Hoenheim catching him.

"You need to be in bed."

For once, Edward couldn't muster an argument.

As the days passed, Edward grew worse and worse. He had a fever most of the time and really didn't know what was going on anymore. There was always a cool cloth resting against his forehead, blankets piled on him as much as he could stand and warm soup being forced down his throat. Many times he saw Alphonse, eyes bright with life, but concerned, always concerned as he was watched over.

If Hoenheim heard him cry out for his baby brother, he was kind enough not to bring it up. Edward had to admit, when the illness was shaking his immune system, his father had stepped up again. Maybe the man wasn't as bad as he feared.

He still hated him though. That was his right.

The new year came and to celebrate, Hoenheim and purchased a small roast and cooked it. To celebrate, Edward left his room for a change and ate with his father at the table. There was no talk, that would have been too awkward, but silence instead. The silence wasn't as deafening as it once was, and was almost comfortable. Like Edward had settled into a silent routine with his father, one of understanding simply for the sake of cohabitation.

After they were full, completely full for the first time in ages, Edward looked up when Hoenheim spoke. He'd been lost in thought, so he hadn't caught what was being said. "Pardon?"

"Follow me. I've found a way to send you home and we're going to do it tonight."

Edward swallowed nervously. Would his father tease him about this? Maybe. He hoped not. He got up quickly and chased after the man. A small part of him called him pathetic for holding onto such hope but he kicked it aside. He was going home!

For the first time since he arrived, Edward entered Hoenheim's bedroom. An array was drawn on the floor which made the young man cock his head to the side. He was positive there was no alchemy in this world.

"Edward, I'm sorry you've had to endure this."

"What are you talking about, old man?"

Hoenheim walked out into the middle of the array. Edward stepped forward to the edge, but refused to follow him further. "Are you insane?"

Hoenheim chuckled softly. "No, Ed, I'm not insane. I owe you. I've owed you and your brother a lot...so I've been researching how to get you home while you've been cooped up in that room of yours. I've found a way."

Edward raised an eyebrow. His father had found the way home? How had he missed this?! "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was making peace...saving it for tonight, because tonight is special. I've lived for myself, but you've lived for Al, who I should have been looking after, not you. So...I'm prepared and willing to die for you, Edward."

"What?!" Edward flailed, looking really uncertain. He watched Hoenheim lean down to touch the line with his fingers before he took a knife and while looking at Edward, he added another nightmare to his son's roster, the memory of his father slitting his throat. The jugular sliced, the blood splattered everywhere, including Edward's clothing.

Edward screamed.

The scream broke the silence in the golden yellow realm. Edward wondered where it was coming from and how to make it stop. It took a few moments to register in his mind that the raw, animal-like scream plaguing his senses was his own. He willed his brain to work and the screaming stopped.

Two dark, creepy, familiar doors loomed before him, ominously projecting that sense of dread that always overflowed his senses when Edward saw the gate. Time stopped. His breath hitched. There was no sound, no movement and no senses in this hellish Purgatory. It was shaming to think that this was familiar, this is what Edward had longed for for five whole years! He'd lived and worked towards this moment. Remembering that breathing meant living, Edward exhaled the breath he was holding hostage and panted softly to regain his composure. Tremors shot up and down his spine. He didn't know whether to be afraid or excited, so he shook, clenching his good fist at his side. This was it, the moment of truth. Edward was staring down the very thing that could take him to Al, or tear him apart.

A screech rippled through Hell as the massive doors slowly opened. Sweat trickled down the back of Edward's neck, leaving an uncomfortable feeling where the pony tail rested at the nape. He licked his lips and took deep breaths to try and prepare himself, no matter the outcome. His eyes were focused solely on the infinite abyss he could see through that doorway. The darkness sprouted tendrils, grabbing hands and black faces with eerie purple eyes that lived only in his worst nightmares and in this very moment.

There was a snap and thick, dark tentacles shot out towards Edward. The young man took a few final deep breaths of air to compose himself and closed his eyes as the ghastly vessels of the gate snaked around his waist, wrapped around his arms and entwined the circumference of Edward's legs. It wasn't like him to be resigned to his fate, to let destiny come to him, but he had no choice but to submit to the gate's will. He put all of his anger and drive aside for a fleeting moment.

A quick jerk pulled the blond, hurtling him towards the void. As the doors closed behind him, Edward couldn't help broadcasting a mental prayer to every God in existence that he'd ever heard of. Just this once, he had to resign himself to fate and faith in the one person he hated most on Earth.

Please...let me make it home.