A/N: Well, this is going to be my first multi-chapter fic. the plot in it's entirety came to me in a giant rush of inspiration while i was brushing my teeth. You could call this a divergent ending AU from the 2003 anime (with a few scatterings of brohood canon bc it's important- not extremely noticeable though). This chapter is more of a prologue. Hope ya stick around!
White. Endless white. It stretched on everywhere he turned. He leaned back to gaze up, and he bent forward to look down; there was no ceiling, no floor, no walls or structures of any kind. He thought he was standing, though he couldn't feel any kind of floor beneath him, so maybe he was floating. After all, he couldn't sense any of his weight. When he moved he didn't feel it, like there wasn't any mass to him at all. He felt light, easy, and ethereal, ghosting through a blindingly white void. He studied his arm — it was blurry and soft, like it wasn't really there, like he didn't really exist anymore. It seemed as if the air was passing through him without resistance; brushing lightly, coolly, almost imperceptibly on top and inside of his skin. It felt strange, but it was a good feeling; it tickled. Alphonse smiled.
It was quiet here. It was a poised, untroubling yet almost deafening silence. Alphonse couldn't have made a sound even if he'd wanted to. He didn't need to though, he was content to revel in the peace he felt. It was a kind of limpid amity, one he wouldn't ever be compelled to disturb. He was lulled into motionlessness; he yearned to be still and absorb how relieved the feeling of nothingness was. All his life he'd been constantly traveling, fighting, searching; there was never a moment's repose. But now he could feel things again; he never wanted to let this inner serenity cease. For the first time in four years of restless imprisonment, Al could perceive all the things he'd dearly longed for. To his calm surprise, it wasn't overwhelming in the slightest, and even though Al could sense his time running out, he didn't feel rushed. Despite the vast emptiness encompassing him, there was no room here for anything but a comfortable, placid tranquility. He was relaxed, his eyes were closed and he was breathing softly. His muscles were loose and refreshed. He didn't have any worries anymore. He was sure neither he nor his brother had ever experienced such an all-encompassing contentedness in their lives.
His brother.
"Edward," he whispered solemnly, though no noise came out. Speaking was pointless here.
Alphonse would miss his brother. He'd always notice it like a lost part of his soul, even if he wasn't going to exist for much longer. He was certain Ed would miss him too, but he hoped it wouldn't hurt too much. His brother had always been burdened with so much heartache and it wasn't fair to him. He was so selfless, but all he ever got was the short end of the deal. But now it was Al's turn, he had to step up for once and make the hard decisions. Ed deserved something good for once, he deserved to actually live his life; without Al to always burden and remind him, maybe Ed could finally begin to forget all his pain. He could move on, find closure, and start his life anew. Al wouldn't be a part of that life, and he mourned it, but he could rest easy knowing he was the one able to give Ed this second chance.
This was his final sacrifice, and it was for his brother's sake, so he would die with no qualms and no bitterness. This was all he'd ever wanted, after all. His only wish was for Edward and himself to end up okay; perhaps 'good' was a little far-fetched, but he believed they'd be able to strive for 'alright'. Maybe Al wasn't able to achieve that goal anymore, but there was no reason Ed couldn't. His brother deserved it more than he did anyway. He wished Ed a long, healthy, happy life before severing their bond with one last goodbye.
I hope you won't be too sad, brother. I never want you to be sad, not anymore. I know you've never believed in an afterlife but even so, maybe I'll see you again one day. For now though, I guess we'll be apart. It was nice, being by your side all these years. I wouldn't have spent it any other way, if it means anything to you. I wish it could've lasted longer, but that's okay. Really. I wouldn't have traded that time for anything in the world. Make sure you take care of yourself, brother. I'll miss you.
Alphonse waited. He waited to start fading out, or to start drifting away. Anything that signaled death was taking him. He thought back on his life and deemed it satisfactory. It had been a little rough near the end, but they'd helped a lot of people along the way, hopefully more than they'd hurt. That's the only thing Alphonse thought was important; how had their lives affected others? Maybe he would've liked a little more time, but he and his brother had seen and done more than most people did in their lifetime, so he had no right to complain. Anything left undone could be finished by Ed. He had faith in his brother. He always had.
Suddenly, he noticed a shift in the atmosphere despite the lack of any difference in his surroundings. It was something disturbing his intuition, creating an uneasy feeling that resounded through him. He shivered and tried to shake off the foreboding feeling in his mind. The ambiance was no longer shrouded with placating calmness but rumbling lowly with anxiety. It was thrumming through his body like the subtle hum of electricity. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Something was going wrong; Alphonse couldn't afford to have this get screwed up now. He'd be forced into the cold embrace of death any moment, he was sure, and he didn't have enough time to fix whatever was causing problems.
No! No, not now! It was perfect! This can't happen now!
Slowly, his feet were becoming heavier. He glanced down towards them, watching each foot get sharper, more defined, more solid. Mass was slowly filling his form, crawling up his legs, diffusing through his body. This wasn't right, this wasn't how it was supposed to be. It felt like he was being crushed yet simultaneously full to bursting. It felt like he was drowning in matter and substance after being weightless for so long. His heart rate picked up, he could feel it pounding in his chest and thumping in his ears. That wasn't right! He was supposed to be dead! He couldn't have a heartbeat if he was dead!
He jerked violently when all the sudden he was bombarded first with screaming, then with the soft, gentle tones of his mother singing lullabies. He let the laughter of children penetrate the quietude, and then those same children were wailing helplessly. He was frozen, to scared to turn around. Where were these sounds coming from? All this noise was like taking a bomb to a sanctuary. He heard yelling, sobbing, cheering, shrieking, laughter, singing, screaming, crashing, clanging, barking, ringing — it was too much! He clamped his hand to his ears and squeezed his eyes shut trying to block out the horrible din. It hurt his head. What the hell was going on? Why would someone disturb such a peaceful silence?
When he opened his eyes again he yelped in surprise. When the hell had this happened? How the hell had this happened? He turned in a complete circle, checking all around him. This once empty nihility was now spotted with moving tableaux. There were people and animals and objects all around him but none of them seemed to notice what wasn't directly in front of their noses. None of them moved very far from their origins. Once he stopped reeling from the deafening shock of so much racket, he was thrown again for another loop when he actually realized just what was surrounding him.
This didn't make any sense. Al couldn't wrap his head around how this was possible or why it was happening, and why some things were familiar and others weren't. He stumbled back and tripped on his own feet when he turned directly to his right and saw a younger version of him and his brother trying to resurrect their mother. He watched as his younger self was viciously torn apart, screaming and clawing vainly for help, right in front of his powerless brother's eyes. Ed continued bleeding out, shouting and cursing all the while, crawling over to the suit of armor that would soon house Al's own soul. Ed drew the seal with the dark, congealing blood on the ground, clapped his hands, and Alphonse gaped as his brother's arm dematerialized right in front of him. He watched, shocked, horrified, and unable to get up off the ground from his position. He couldn't tear his eyes away from his own childhood trauma. He was almost hypnotized by it, how macabre and surreal it was, looking in from the outside. When he thought it had finished, it disappeared for a split-second only to reappear just as swiftly and replay from the very beginning. Al understood then that it would never end for them. They were trapped in infinite suffering.
Al turned on his hands and knees, ready to crawl away if need be, but when he faced the opposite direction he was greeted with more perturbing, disconcerting scenarios. This time it was his brother's figure, only twelve years old, beating Shou Tucker to a pulp while Alphonse, trapped in that damned suit, tried to dissuade Edward in his dismayed rage. Nina growled behind them both. It was painfully obvious how upset Ed had been when he was compared to Tucker. You could hear it in his tone and see it in his eyes how voraciously he was trying to deny it. Edward wasn't like Tucker at all. Maybe he'd made mistakes and maybe they both were scientists, but Ed would always value his remaining family over anything else. He'd always value human life over everything. That was something Tucker had shown he wasn't capable of. Al's heart broke at this specific memory. It would never not be like a spike to the chest, a blaring reminder of their first significant, ideal-corrupting failure. Neither boy had been the same person afterwards. They weren't so naïve now.
Again, Al turned slightly, trying to find a happier scene. Anything that could offer him a shelter to recompose himself. He spotted one with his mother. She had plopped down next to his and Ed's bedside. Edward couldn't have been older than two years old, and Al was only a year at the most. They were curled up next to each other, though Ed was still full of energy. Trisha had a picture book open on her lap; she began reading.
"Mom!" he shouted, his voice seeming to work again. She didn't move. Alphonse laid a hand on her shoulder, "Mom?"
She didn't notice. She kept on reading as if Al wasn't there, and to her, he wasn't. Al was an infant, asleep on the mattress. Al tried shaking her shoulder and taking her arms, but it was futile. She kept turning pages and reading in that gentle voice of hers, trying to lull the remaining boy into sleep. He watched this particular scene play out a multitude of times; he couldn't get enough. Al's heart twisted and overflowed with longing, jumping into his throat. He wished he could go back to that time, when nothing had been ruined yet. When their family was whole. His mother seemed so real, so solid and sturdy and safe, but she wasn't real, was she? Al didn't know what was going on, so he couldn't say for certain whether or not what was happening around him was real or not. Everything but her lack of response told Al she was really there, but it just wasn't registering to her. Al should move on.
Reluctantly, Alphonse turned his back to her in order to get a better look at all of his surroundings, collectively. It was then he noticed an abundance of Trishas. Even more commonplace were Als of various ages, but most of all there were Eds. That was the only obvious commonality between all these bizarre snippets. His brother was in all of them and a great many of them were, frankly speaking, horrifying. Al had heard of most of these stories at some point, but he'd never realized just how unnerving all his brother's encounters and escapades had been.
He watched as Ed transmuted his automail, then slapped his hands together again and put them on Greed's torso. As far as Al could tell, he hadn't done anything, until his brother used that arm to impale him in the same spot his hands had been. Greed caughed up a bucket of blood and fell to the floor, blood spewing from his middle. His body writhed grotesquely for a few moments, contorting and spasming; his face finally settled into a severe expression of horrified pain. Ed promptly attempted to deny what he'd just done by kicking Greed's dead body and telling him to stop joking around. Al winced. His brother shoved his hands into his hair, pulled, and screamed out his anguish in a way Alphonse had never heard before. His heart stuttered and fell apart as he watched his brother fall to his knees, sobbing and screaming for the life he'd just taken. That was the day he believed he'd become a murderer. He hoped and prayed Edward would forgive himself for it. He never spoke of it, but knowing his brother, this personal transgression was likely gnawing at his conscience everyday like an insidious infection. Al sighed sadly and tore his eyes away. He couldn't bear to watch it any more.
As he pivoted though, he almost strode straight into a meat cleaver. Al shouted his shock before abruptly backpedalling, bumping straight into a bound and gagged Winry, outwardly unfazed by his sudden appearance on the spot. She didn't notice him either, despite being jostled from her precarious stance and whimpering. She was looking at Ed though. Al spun around in time to catch Barry digging his cleaver directly into Ed's flesh shoulder. Blood spilled down his arm. His brother hissed but put on a brave front. Al instantly felt pride for his big brother swelling in his chest; Edward was always brave, no one had enough strength to match his. The pride only multiplied as he watched Ed manage to escape with only a single arm that was tied behind his back, to boot.
He was trying to run away and rescue Winry at the same time, fighting back only when necessary. Al didn't feel cold at all, but he saw the breath from Ed's panting condense in the air. His brother tripped, and even though Alphonse knew how this ended he couldn't stop his racing heart. The panic was starting to settle deep in chest; he was shouting for Edward to get up and run, damn it, in spite of Ed's inability to hear him. His older brother took the opportunity to reconnect his automail arm to it's port, finally giving him a fighting chance. He transmuted the steel into a blade, even though he was using it more as a shield against the foot-long knife aiming for him. His flesh arm got torn up in the battle. Al gazed on sadly as he watched his brother strike out against Al's formerly-armored chest in his blind terror. He watched as Ed cried and confessed how afraid he had been just moments before as the military police swarmed Barry. He was sobbing purely out of grief and past fear, now that the adrenaline in his veins was starting to recede. Winry and both Als looked on in sympathy for their friend.
Out in the distance Al saw a large gray structure. It was the Gate, he knew. Alphonse thought he could see three Ed's standing near it, surrounding that faceless jackass. But why were there three? The smallest version of Ed was standing calmly next to that bastard that called himself 'Truth'. That had been for the first time they committed the taboo. The other two Edward's were exact copies of each other, from what Al could determine. He needed to get closer.
He passed the scene where Hohenheim had finally come back home to the company of everyone from the base. He'd been flirting with lieutenant Ross and Edward had half used that as an excuse to kick him in the face. The other half of the excuse didn't exist. Alphonse snickered as he passed by, but quickly shut up as he approached a figure of Ed leaning over their mother's grave. He acknowledged the growing pile of dirt to the side and eyed Edward digging and whispering something repeatedly, frantically, trembling and on the verge of tears. He hesitantly leaned in closer in an attempt to figure out what his pleas were.
I'm sorry, mom. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry.
I'm sorry! Forgive me! I'm sorry! Please! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!
Alphonse's eyes watered, deciding to move forward before the tears spilled over; he'd been furious at Edward for defiling their mother's grave, unfortunately the necessity overrode the morbidity of such a heinous act. He didn't dwell on it too long, he just couldn't.
Ignoring any other potential distractions, he pushed his way closer to the Gate. As he approached he saw that there was one major difference between the two remaining Eds; one had a gaping hole in his chest while the other did not, though he was still slathered in blood. The one that had been mortally wounded was crying silently; soundless tears trailed down his cheeks despite the peaceful smile on his face. He was staring off into the distance like he was watching something, but Al didn't see anything. The third one was discussing something with God, having not yet been aware of Al's approach.
The young one was clearly there for transmuting their mother, standing there with one leg and trying to hang on to the gatekeeper. The second one had obviously just been here before Al had pulled him back out again, but why was there a third one? Unless...No.
"Edward, you idiot! Stop! What the hell do you think you're doing!?" Alphonse screamed.
He wasn't going to let Ed do this! It was Al's turn to make a sacrifice for once, his brother didn't have much left to give up! Didn't he realize that? Edward deserved better and Alphonse wasn't going to let him throw his life away just for his sake! He'd done too much of that already. In his life, Ed had devoted everything to him; every action and decision he'd made was done with Al as his primary focus, he'd never consider how the decisions would affect him if it's what was best for Alphonse. Even if it was obviously detrimental to Ed, he would always insist he was fine. He never put himself first. In fact, everything he'd ever wanted was his last priority. Al wouldn't let him be that way in death, too. Edward was entitled to something more, something to pay him back for his wholehearted dedication. Ed was the one always going on about equivalent exchange; where would the equivalency be if he died? Al needed to repay him for all he'd done; he'd never be able to do that if Ed went and killed himself.
"Edward, don't!" He yelled again.
Once the third Ed had stopped talking to that thing, he looked solemn. He had closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, before looking back up. He'd heard Alphonse that time, but as he watched Al hurdling towards him, Ed just stared blankly for a few moments until he flashed Alphonse a confused smile.
"Brother, no! Stop!" Al pleaded. However, there was nothing he could do anymore. The deal was done.
Behind Edward the doors swung open, creaking eerily as they moved. When they opened as wide as they could, a bang reverberated throughout the astronomical vacancy; it seemed to dwarf all other noises in comparison. It was almost as if all the people in the scenes around him had finally taken notice of such a significant development.
Ed didn't move. He simply continued grinning with his brows furrowed, staring at Al like he couldn't comprehend what Al was saying or why he was shouting at him. Alphonse felt his heart sink as he watched those ghoulish, thin, black hands shoot out towards his brother, trying to take Ed away from him.
"No! Stop! Stop, dammit!" He felt his legs wobbling and his heart beating fast in his chest. The panic was buzzing through his body and making it hard to breath; it felt like there was a globe lodged in his throat.
"Ed!" He barely choked out.
His big brother didn't resist being pulled nearer to the Gate, just out of Al's reach. He seemed almost uninterested in what was happening to him. He kept staring at Al, although he wasn't smiling any longer. He was scrutinizing Alphonse. You could almost see the gears struggling to turn in his head; Al would've given anything to know what was churning through Ed's head right at that moment. Why was he looking at Alphonse like he wasn't supposed to be there? Like he was an object out of place? Al reached out for Edward; it was déjà vu, like some sick role reversal from the act that first launched them onto this path of self-devastation. Edward was being pulled towards the Gate, while Al could do absolutely nothing to help him. He didn't appear too alarmed, though. He'd disappear, regardless of what either of them did. It was too late. Suddenly, Ed's confused face was cloaked in deep blackness, vanishing into a nebulous, unfamiliar territory. The doors slammed shut with a damning finality.
Except Al never got a chance to properly react. Just like all the other weird groupings of people dotting the blank landscape, this same scene vanished in a flash before playing back on an endless loop. Al didn't understand, shaking his head in denial. To his even greater horror, another exact version of him materialized seemingly out of nowhere, yelling all the things he just had while the third Ed stared back at him the same way he'd just been doing. Al couldn't make heads or tails out of these ludicrous, nightmarish affairs. He stumbled back wide-eyed with his eyebrows practically hidden in his hair.
Before Alphonse could clear his head enough to realize what was even more wrong with what had just occurred, he felt something tug at his shirt and something else wrap snugly around his forearm. He startled and jerked his arm to his front, only to get a firm tug back. It was more of those demonizing, ghostly hands.
Swiftly and without provocation, Truth turned to him and smiled derisively, but revealed nothing.
"What do you want!?" Al shouted, trying to mask his fear and appear more intimidating. Truth just continued grinning, silently mocking him. Alphonse immediately felt a hand being dragged across his forehead and down his cheek, finally settling to tug on his shirt collar.
"No! Let go!" He yelled frantically.
More arms wrapped tightly around his limbs and torso while others weaved their hands through his hair, pulling on the thick strands and hurting him. Some fisted their hands in his shirt and caressed his face while Al tried valiantly to extricate himself from their grasp. They dragged him backwards. Alphonse was kicking and screaming even though his hassle was pointless; it was instinctual to to not let such unnatural extremities touch him. All they'd ever done to him was take, and then keep taking.
That peculiar, terrifying feeling of drowning in his own body mass was coming back to haunt him. It was spreading from the core of his gut, cold, quick, and abundant, making him feel bottom heavy. It swiftly reached his lungs and suddenly the pressure on his ribs was too much to keep breathing. He stopped his scrambling, in spite of his screeching inclination to do the opposite, in order to conserve oxygen. His chest was heaving up and down with tremendous effort; despite the deep, enormous breaths he was taking, it still didn't feel like enough air. He thought he was suffocating when he was actually hyperventilating. Al's body started slumping and relaxing under the threat of unconsciousness; his vision was going dark around the edges and he started feeling faint yet he still couldn't control his respiratory rate.
Soon enough his limp, lethargic form was being hauled towards a Gate too far away for Alphonse to have seen beforehand.
To Rose, the old, abandoned cathedral had seem lonely, hollow and much too disturbing with so much blood staining the ground on top of all these large, intricate transmutation circles. She would've said it looked like a ritual human sacrifice if that hadn't been exactly what it was. She felt small and alone in such an vast, open space. However, when Al woke up, it felt almost claustrophobic compared to the void he'd just inhabited. He almost welcomed it, though.
Al came-to easily on the floor of the empty underground church, opening his heavy eyelids but briskly sitting up to focus on the most recent catastrophe. Someone put a hand to his back to help him sit up. Al whipped around.
"Rose!" He exclaimed.
Her eyes were gleaming and watery, but her smile reached from ear to ear, "Al...your body," she gasped.
Al looked down at his torso; he wasn't in the armor anymore. He was a normal, healthy, fifteen year old boy again. He could eat and sleep and feel things again. He could taste food, smell what was in the air, he wouldn't have to worry about accidentally hurting people anymore because he didn't have a good concept of his strength. He was free, Ed had restored him, but instead of feeling grateful, despair was burning a hole in his gut. Ed was gone, he had disappeared and Al couldn't do anything for him now!
A tear rolled down his flushed cheek.
The only reason Al had even had a chance of bringing Edward back before was because he embodied the philosopher's stone. That was the only thing that could ever be enough to pay for someone else's return. A life had never equaled a life when it came to payment — how could Ed have pulled it off? What had he done? And to put him back in his normal body too? He must have done something different, the Gate just didn't work without valid payments.
Alphonse didn't know exactly what his brother had traded in return for his life, but he didn't think Edward was dead, no. He couldn't be sure, but there was something off in the way the exchange had been made. Alphonse was fairly certain that when a person died, they were not dragged back out of the Gate. Al had been fully returned to normal, he was alive, and he was well; and that was because he had been lugged back out. But Edward had also been pulled through, only it was through a different door he'd exited. And what were all those unexplained looping scenarios that were scattered throughout the entirety of the void? What did that mean? Where had Ed gone to? Was he okay? Alphonse would bet anything his brother was still alive somewhere, and he was going to find him any way possible.
Edward had always done everything he could for Al, and if there was even the slimmest chance Ed was still alive, Alphonse would pull out all the stops in order to bring him back home; back where he belonged.
A/N: so...should I keep at it? (also: sorry for any and all typos, now and in the future)