Wow, am I a total bitch or what? Hahaha! So here is the rewritten chapter for what was I think my second story ever. It's so much better it kind of hurts . . . It is pretty sad what a bad writer I was back then. I'm sure I'll back a this a wonder, "WTF is dis shit . . ."
Anyways, this is the fanfaction I always wanted to read. Hp and Fma in total harmony.
Chapter title inspired by "Genesis" by Forgive Durden, which I claim no ownership to.
REVAMPED! As of July 2, 2012
Through the Looking Glass Towards the Sky
Chapter One: Place Your Hand in Mine . . .
"Feed the line through its eye.
Draw it from the other side.
Pull the strand to satisfy.
The need to compose.
The genetic map.
The scientific gap.
The detailed blueprints.
Swept away under carpets."
The Dusk was setting in as Edward Elric turned away from the building that loomed ominously over him. It cast an eerie shadow in contrast to the orange hue the sun dyed the land. Headquarters was home to many people, officers for the military needed a place to call home as much as anyone else. Someplace familiar where you could return after a mission, a place where someone cared. A place of comfort.
However Edward felt no feeling of comfort or consolement from the cold, stone building. Though he would find many familiar faces with gentle smiles and pitying eyes, in fact more than often someone had approached him offering to talk. He declined each and every time, with an apologetic smile and sad eyes. Behind those eyes held more sadness and frustration than he could ever show. Because the one person he wanted to talk to wasn't there. He was dead.
Scar's hand sat on Edwards head as Ed's eyes widened in shock and fear. He had messed up. His mechanical leg and arm lay detached on the muddy ground from when scar viciously pried it off during their skirmish. A dull throbbing pain had set in his ports.
Fuck had he messed up.
The blood in his mouth tasted sharply on his tongue, the harsh coppery taste doing nothing to distract him from the impending doom.
It was warm, he noted with a shocked soft of distance.
He hadn't expected the killers hand to be so warm. Really, it should have been icy and clammy. Dead feeling, like the way he made other's hands feel when he finished with his "justice."
The gritty dirt of the floor of the alleyway dug into his flesh knee, and he was sure it was bleeding. He felt a vague recognition of how terrible it was that he was going to die in the dirt and grime, but the fear, the fear overwhelmed everything. The vague, unpleasant notions that were lurking around on the edge of his attentions, were just the icing on the cake.
He felt dizzy, and nauseous. The adrenaline was the worst of it though. It ran through his system un-reigned and he couldn't do anything about it. It made his heart be so very fast, that he was sure that at any given moment, a vessel would surely rupture and he would save Scar the trouble of killing him, by bleeding out on the muddy, gritty ground.
The icy fear was finally sinking in as he realized that he truly was going to die.
"Oh God take this pitiable soul into your embrace and cleanse it from sin." The Ishvalan murmured as his arm began glowing red. It was point blank range. Survival chances were nonexistent.
'I'm really gonna die here,' he thought to himself, swallowing air, and feeling it get caught in his throat.
"Brother!" Alphonse cried as he suddenly and miraculously appeared in the entry part of the alleyway. The sun glared off his armor in sharp contrast to the dim backstreet Edward found himself in.
Those feelings of fear, the depth of his nausea and the irrepressible end-of-all-ends sensation only intensified when his brother arrived.
"No Al run! Don't let him get you!" Ed shouted through his numb lips. Panic was seeping deep into his bones.
"You idiot Al! Get away!" He shouted, his head straining ineffectually against the tight grip of the terrorist.
"Brother, I'm not leaving you! You're the idiot!" The echoed voice shouted back, and even the anger he felt from his brother was soothing somehow. Edward unconsciously took comfort in his brother's presence. The moment he realized this he was repulsed by it, as though the feeling was a betrayal of himself. No! He shouldn't be feeling comfort and relief from his brother. Alphonse needed to get the hell away from here!
Alphonse was watching Scar carefully for any sign of movement, and likewise, the Ishvalan was watching the pair with an unreadable look in his eyes. Edward was inwardly pleading with any deity, if there was one, that his brother would just run away.
It was Al that made the first move. He dashed forward, quickly closing the gap between them. He punched left, though it was a feint and he quickly swept his armored feet under the terrorist, trying to force him away from his brother.
Scar had read the movement easily, and instead of dodging the punch he blocked it with his free hand and jumped over the attack from below. Alphonse's glowing orbs widened as Scar too advantage of his opening and swing his arm to the armored head, knocking it cleanly from his head. The empty shell is what greeted Scar.
"Leave him alone you bastard!" Ed shouted, wiggling and squirming fiercely. Scar kicked the older brother to the side. The air whooshed from Edward's lungs and he resisted the pull of unconsciousness as he struggled to stay awake. Pulling his face up from the mud he glared at the dark-skinned man.
The armored body caught the man off guard as it punched and kicked forward, undaunted by the loss of head. Unfortunately, the other man's reflexes were enough to save him from the attacks. The oldest man dropped low to the ground and swept up with his foot, knocking the breastplate away. He would dismantle the suit of armor piece by piece if he had to, but there had to be an easier way. There was always a weak point.
His burgundy eyes narrowed the moment they spied the blood seal. Taking a leap of faith, he slapped his palm across it quickly and was rewarded by a low keening sound and a sudden rigidity in the armor.
"I see, so this is what keeps you attached . . ." he trailed off. The metal arms were shaking and jolting unnaturally as someone touched the very essence of Alphonse's soul. It felt so wrong. The boy could barely utter more than a half-gasp.
"Alphonse! Stop it! Stop touching him! Please!" Edward demanded and pleaded at the same time. His hand was automatically trying to make a transmutation circle, but the muddy ground wouldn't hold even the circular shape for more than a few seconds before it caved and became a smudgy oval. Edward rebelled against the unfairness of the situation. He cried out or his brother, willing for this to just stop, for it to end, for this to be nothing more than a horrifying nightmare.
To no avail.
"You are a product of this unnatural art. I'm sorry there is no way to restore your form," Scar began, his arm lighting in a telltale red glow.
"No! There is a way! Leave him the hell alone! Alphonse! Alphonse!" Edward scrabbled against the grimy floor, finding no purchase against its slippery surface. He slipped, the wet dirt stealing any warmth that was left in his body. The fear stole everything else that the mud didn't take.
It wasn't supposed to be like this!
"You were made into a monster. There is no rectifying this. Go with God," Scar spoke his twisted blessing, his hand coming to land against the dried blood binding the young boy's soul to earth.
"NO AL!" Edward screamed. The armor harboring his brother's soul deconstructed and exploded, the last thing Ed heard was his brothers disembodied voice screaming.
"BROTHER!"
"ALPHONSE!"
The world stopped turning for Edward. Everything seemed to freeze in that moment. Then in an instant it was over. Al was gone. Life was gone. The point was gone. The rest of the suit fell the earth slowly, and hollowly, like the hunk of metal it truly was.
"Freeze Scar!" Colonel Mustang shouted as he rounded the corner into the alley. He was followed quickly by Lt. Hawkeye, and twenty other low-rank officers. On the other side of the alley more officers crowded, effectively cutting off the exit. Mustang froze for a minute as he accessed the situation. He saw the suit fall, the motionless Edward on the floor and a feeling of horror swept through his system.
"Should we fire sir?" Hawkeye asked gently nudging him in the back, giving him reprieve.
"Yes. Fire!" He commanded as the officers took aim and let out a rain of bullets, careful not to hit the small teen that sat frozen in the middle of the alley.
Scar quickly deconstructed the wall closest to him causing an explosion and made his escape, uncaring of the fact he had just destroyed a young man's world.
"Should we pursue him?" Lt. Hawkeye asked hesitantly.
Mustang frowned "No we saved Fullmetal, that's enough for today."
It really wasn't enough, she knew. Because they had been too late to save Alphonse.
She looked over at the young man, lacking two limbs. He had pulled himself to the head of the suit of armor. He held it close to his forehead and cried. It was a wailing sound that sunk into the bones of even the most hardened soldiers. It was practically inhuman, the level of pure agony and sadness that was being expressed by the other man.
Mustang scooped the boy up, helmet and all, and carried him away from the dark alley.
It had been about three months since then. Ed had wandered back to the alley the minute he had awoken and sat there for a week, not moving, not responding to the people that came to visit him. Barely touching the food they gave him. After the first week Mustang had ordered Armstrong to move him as he was at security risk. They put him in an infirmary room where visitors poured in to see him and try to console him.
God did that just drive the knife in deeper.
Winry had visited as well. She stared at the ground for the better part of the visit as her Grandmother provided the automail leg and arm and attached them, all the while whispering consoling words. It was near the end of the visit when Winry finally snapped.
"Why is it always Al who has to pay for your mistakes!"
"Winry . . ."
"No! This time you took it too far, and now- and now he dead!" Fat tears started falling down her face and she ran away from the room.
"Winry! That child . . ." Grandma Pinako said a little miffed.
"She doesn't mean it, she's just a little upset right now. Give her time, she'll some around," Granny said soothingly to her scarred patient.
He was silent then, because he had known that Winry did in fact mean every bit of it. It was impossible to ignore the crushes she and Alphonse had been nursing for each other for years.
When Al got his body back they would be together. Forever.
"Turned out to be more of a never," Ed thought morosely as he wandered to a wide open field, where he decided to spend the night, opposed to the cold building that held too many memories of his deceased brother.
'And too many of those smiles.' Pity seemed to be poured into his cup, to the point of overflowing, these days.
Recently he had grown fond of wandering. He would walk for hours on end without stopping, exploring a new area or just to look at the scenery, maybe it was actually just to get away from the memories. At this point even he didn't know. Mustang protested in the beginning, and started ranting about his safety, however seeing the desolate look in Ed's eyes he quietly allowed the walks.
He flopped himself onto the ground by a tree root, and using the crook of his normal arm as a pillow he drifted off to sleep. As per usual, it was a long and lengthy process. He sometimes wondered why he even bothered, but then he could hear a memory. It was his brother, urging him gently to go to sleep.
After a few hours of fighting with himself he fell into a deep sleep.
He woke refreshed, which was rather startling in and of itself as he was used to waking up emotionally drained. He was so used to having the same dream over and over again. The dream of that day. The dream of the end.
'What a good dream,' He smiled to himself lightly, his face muscles almost hurting with the gesture that hadn't been used in months.
Deciding to take advantage of this strange development, he used it to do his morning workout. His mind pondering the dream he had as he punched the air.
He had dreamt of a teenage witch in a school of magic.
"What was her name again?" He asked himself out loud, trying not to lose the first good thought in his mind for months.
"Oh yeah, Hermione." With that he chuckled a little and remembered she was knitting thousands of hats for some weird little creatures called house elves, much to her friends' disbelief.
Focusing all his thoughts on her miraculously seemed to chase thoughts of that day away, and he was more than willing to ponder the mystery of the house elf. He walked back down to the city with a vaguely amused look on his face.
Yes, I am in fact chopping it off there. Short for me. Oh my God, after working on "National Security," Short chapters like this are freakin alien . . . Lol, the next one is hella long, so kyeh!
Haha! yay! It sucks less, so please review!
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