Disclaimer: Characters belong to the various lucky people who own Hagane no Renkinjutsushi; Ed's internal monologue is of course, mine.
Warnings: angst, guilt, and more angst...nothing else, not even language. Wow. I'm slipping.
Kagi's notes: an angsty Ed POV inspired by the moral confusion that is episodes 23-24. Finished 24 and literally sat down and started writing; this is the result. No pairings; I'm fairly certain you can't even get implied Elricest out of this. Sorry; maybe next time.
Law of ConservationBrother....do you hate me?
I could never ask him that, until it was almost too late. I was too afraid of the answer. I never asked, because I was afraid it was the one thing that would finally break me, to know that he hated me.
I am glad he doesn't hate me, for trapping him in that body. I am glad he doesn't hold it against me that he is sentenced to his hollow iron mockery of life, but he should. It is my fault. It was my idea, that terrible mistake we made. We have both paid the price...but the sin was mine, alone.
I know, too, that it is only a matter of time, that he doesn't completely understand yet exactly what I've done to buy us both this chance. The only chance I have to get my brother back. It scares me, sometimes, that I think of it that way--getting my brother back. As if the shell which now houses his soul, is not quite truly my brother. As if, for all that his soul is still there, he is not quite human anymore, not really.
I try not to think too hard about that, not when I've already paid such a price to save even that much of him. I can't bear to think that for all the pain I've gone through, I didn't really save him after all. That my foolishness and arrogance not only did...that, to my mother, but did cost me my brother as well. Maybe it's not really him in there, but simply, as he said, my memory of him. Maybe he is right about that. I can't believe that, I refuse to consider that as a possibility--but it lingers like an ugly ghost in the dark corners of my mind.
I don't think about it, because it goes too near the thought that the brother I regain, someday, will be someone I don't know or recognize. That I manage somehow to finally give him a human body again, only to find the proof that he is NOT my brother. Not really; just an imperfect reflection of my old memory of him.
What do I really remember anymore? For years the only brother I've known is an empty suit of armor, that can't feel my touch, that I can't hold. A younger brother who is bigger and stronger, and taller than me. That is all I know. I believe it is really him, really his living human soul in there, but he is right--I can't know for certain. I'm not sure that it matters. Whether I have already lost him or not, I will, sooner or later. I don't like to think about it, but I know it's true.
No matter what happens, no matter how I try to fix this, I've lost. Some things are beyond fixing, and there's no way to undo what I've done. I tried to reverse the irreversible once, and failed horribly. It can never again be the way it used to be. I'm never going to really get my brother back.
He doesn't understand that yet, but he will.
And he will hate me one day, when he realizes what I've done. He is a soul without a human body...I am a human body without a soul. I've sold it many times over in my search for the chance to restore him.
I will restore him one day, I swear it. He wants to restore my body, as well, to exchange my metal limbs again for the human ones I used to have. But I won't, even if I have the chance. Even if it were safe to do so, even if it could be done without attracting the wrong kind of attention, I deserve no such reprieve from my sentence.
I will stay as I am, the Fullmetal Alchemist, a reminder of the punishment for challenging the sun. Of what happens when you touch the realm of god.
As I am, without a soul, with a metal body which I have sold in service, becoming only a dog of the military. I am a tool, nothing more, a means to an end. There is blood on my hands, both of them--the one that is still human, and the one that is not. I am guilty of things I once would never have dreamed of, though I regret none of it. I am a sinner who knows he has been damned. I've given up any right I ever had to be made whole.
All that is left of me are the pieces of who I used to be, and they are broken beyond repair; I am beyond redemption.
He will realize it one day. He will hate me then, when he understands that he has already lost the brother he once had. When he understands that my arrogance killed us both, that night. His body, and my soul.
I can never be restored to him. I can never again be who I once was. My soul is already dead, and I live only to find a way to give him back his life, his body. Once I have done that, the purpose of my existence is fulfilled, and it were better I am not there to remind him of the cost of his own. Better I am not there to once again, bring nothing but pain and death to the ones I love.
I almost think it would be better if that final transmutation kills me--it might. No one has ever done it successfully before; maybe, you cannot succeed unless you die trying. Maybe you have to give a life to make one--the ultimate equivalent trade. Human life is cheap, but it has cost me everything. It only makes sense that successful human transmutation would take what is left of my worthless life. A final atonement to pay for my sin.
At least then I wouldn't have to see his face when he realizes what I've done. See the hate and disgust when it becomes clear just how far I've gone, what I've become. It would be better for it to take my life, in exchange for my brother's.
I wonder if he knows that--I wonder if he realizes that the law of conservation demands it. A life for a life, a soul for a soul. My life for his, my soul for his. It is enough.
He will hate me, then. As I hate myself. One day, I will ask him again, without fear, for this time I will know the answer.
...Do you hate me? You should.