The Alchemy of Love
Ch. 1 - Life Changing Nightmare
"Nothing is ever what it seems". It's the perfect example of my life, of myself. I may seem like a normal, harmless, 14 year-old girl, but nothing about me is what it seems.
My name is Harmony. My short, red hair is cut in a swing bob. My body frame is slender, and despite the fact that I can break my foot by merely bumping into a chair, I can withstand the explosion of an atomic bomb…with no side-affects!
My shoulder blades sport retracting wings, each being 5 feet long. My face is soft and smooth; as well as the soft color of creamed coffee. I may look as though I am older, but I am only 14. And, as it may seem that I would not be capable of lifting anything that weighs more than 10 pounds, I can throw a 4-ton tank over a house with ease. Words of advice: don't underestimate me.
I was walking down a dark alley, hidden in the shadows. It must have been about midnight, based on the position of the stars. The air around me suddenly grew cold, and I felt insecure…I just knew something bad was about to happen, but I kept walking.
It seemed like an eternity before I found someone I recognized. They weren't facing me, so I couldn't get a look at their face, but the 7-foot tall suit of grey-blue armor, white fabric covering the rear and crotch area, and the long, white ribbon extending from the back of the helmet gave me no doubt of whom the person was.
I took a few more steps, just to be safe. When I was able to see the unique tattoo design on the shoulder of the armor, I stopped. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't keep my knees from trembling. My hands began to shake, and my voice was hoarse and cracked when I spoke.
"A-Alphonse? I-is that you?"
There was only silence, and I became even more uneasy. Despite how sure I was that this was in fact, the Alphonse that I had come to love so long ago, I couldn't help but think of what I would do if it weren't. I honestly didn't know what I would do, but it didn't matter now. All I needed was to see that it really was him.
"Al," I tried again, fear and anguish clear in my tone. "Is that you? Is it really you, Al? Please tell me it's you."
I was getting desperate now. I had no idea where I was, or where to go, and Alphonse was the only person that I actually trusted. Despite the fact that we had lived over half my life almost as brother and sister, we weren't related at all.
"Harmony? Is…is that really you? You're okay?" he asked, sounding as if he had been crying. My heart fell. I had only seen Al cry twice in the entire time I had known him; both being times when I had nearly died. I wanted to comfort him, but I didn't know how. I still hadn't figured out, let alone understood, a lot of the emotions that people have…sadness being one of them.
"Of course I'm okay! I'm perfectly fine! I'm a lot happier now that you're-" he cut me off before I could finish.
"DEAD?" he yelled at me angrily. My eyes shot wide open at his tone. Al had never yelled at me before. I felt a sudden pain in my chest…my heart…and fell on my knees, clutching at the unreachable pain. And then I remembered the only word he had said just before the pain hit.
"What are you talking about?" I asked through clenched teeth. I doubled over as another round of sharp pains throbbed through my chest, and fought back not only a scream, but also tears. Al was the last person on earth that I wanted to see me cry.
He turned around to face me, and I looked up at him, a large, gaping hole being the first thing to catch my eye. It was on the exact spot where I was feeling the pains in my chest, except the damage was on his body. Not mine. Just seeing Al that way made the pain grow more intense. I failed at stifling another scream, and doubled back over the moment it left my lips.
Al's hands clutched into fists, and he yelled, "How could you POSSIBLY forget? How could you forget that we share each others pain? And why the HELL did you have to hurt me like that? What did I ever do wrong?" He collapsed onto his knees, holding his head as an ear-piercing screech tore from my mouth yet again. The pain was too much for me to bear, and I began to vomit up blood, tears streaming down my cheeks.
"You killed me Harmony. After all I've done for you, you kill me. Typical. I should've known in the first place that you're just a dangerous monster." he said quietly, almost gently, but the words stabbed into me like a million knives in my back. Then he continued with a little more force, which turned into a yell, "After all I've done for you, you never ONCE even said THANKS! I HATE you, Harmony! I always have, but now I hate you more than ever!"
I could have sworn I heard my heart shatter into a billion tiny shards, and then crumble into dust. He was right…after all that time, I had never told him 'thank you'. As another barrage of pain filled my chest, in unison, Al and I both screamed at the tops of our lungs, and I fell over onto my side, clutching my chest, writhing in agony, and desperately screaming out his name, each time causing more and more pain to surge through my seemingly swollen chest.
After about the third time I called out to him, everything began to dim into blackness, and my screams seemed to echo around me. And with one last agonizing screech, my entire body went cold in an instant, and everything suddenly turned pitch black.
Ch. 2 - A New Awakening
Just as I began to painfully call out to Alphonse one last time, I felt something cold and smooth rub against my forehead, and move down to rest upon my cheek. My entire body felt cold, and wet, and my chest felt as if it were literally swelling with pain. I gave one last agonized cry as my body convulsed into spasms, quickly ripping me from my hellish torture.
My eyes shot open as one last tremor shook violently throughout my body. I gasped for breath, my lungs heaving. I could clearly feel my pulse in every inch of my form, and realized how close I had come to experiencing a heart attack. My heart was beating extremely too fast; especially for someone my age. My eyes were already adjusted to the bright light of the bedroom, but my vision was too much out of focus too see anything but blurs of mixing colors.
As my heartbeat very slowly began to steady, I realized that I was sitting almost upright, and that I was not in the bed I had fallen asleep in late the night before. I was against something hard and cold, like metal. As I blinked my eyes, persistently trying to clear my blurry vision, I felt the same cold sensation rub across my forehead, and down to my cheek. My breathing began to quicken again, as I didn't know what was going on around me. I soon began to panic, and my chest heaved as I began gasping for air. My heart rate picked back up to a dangerous rate, and I felt cold sweat roll down my face.
Just as I before I could go into shock, I heard the comforting voice I had learned to call 'Friend', and 'Brother'.
"Harmony? Harmony, look at me." he said, his voice being closer than I had expected. I jumped slightly, startled at the close proximity, but began uselessly searching for the person who was speaking to me. I knew they were close, but I couldn't tell anything apart.
My eyes frantically darted from left to right, searching, but to no avail. I relaxed a little when I felt the large, hard, cold thing against my cheek once more. "Just close your eyes for a moment, your sight will be better." he said calmly. I did as I was told, and closed my eyes. When I opened them again, I was on the same hard, cold surface that I was before, except this time, I was lying on my side, curled up into a loose ball.
The lights were off now, so my eyes didn't need to adjust to anything bright, because the sky was dark. I rolled onto my stomach, in an effort to find a more comfortable position. When I got comfortable, and began to fall back into a much needed deep sleep, my back lowered and popped many times. I yelped, instinctively pushing myself up with my arms, which only caused my back to pop even more.
I sat up on my knees, massaging my lower back with my finger tips. "Are you alright?" said that same familiar voice from earlier. I looked up, and involuntarily smiled out of habit. I nodded my head in confirmation, and began observing my surroundings.
"Are you hungry?" the person asked me, a hint of humor etched into his tone. I sat there for a moment, waiting for my body to give me a sign. And sure enough, before I could answer, my stomach growled, loudly and persistently. I looked up and nodded eagerly, knowing that this one particular person would take me to get something to eat if I was hungry.
"Alright." he said, slightly tousling my hair, which seemed to be sticky, and clump together. "But first," he continued, "you need a bath." I looked up at him, confused. He glanced over me quickly, and then corrected himself. "Make that a shower." I smiled, but then my face fell. I was tired, hungry, and didn't know how to work a shower…I'd only taken baths up until now, so, what was I going to do? Then I got an idea.
"So, we need to find Riza then?" I announced with confidence. It was more of a statement than a question, but it fulfilled its purpose. He stared at me for a few moments, but the awkward silence ended when I spoke up. "Um, are you okay?" I asked, confused. After a few more moments, he said nervously, "Uh, yeah, it's just, I'm still not completely used to your speech."
"Meaning…what exactly?" I asked, chuckling slightly. "Well, what would YOU think if a toddler spoke to you with the vocabulary and pronunciation of a teenager?" he said, sarcasm caked into his tone. I knew he did it only to get on my nerves, but he did have a point. He was 14 years old and I was 4, but I have the vocabulary, understanding, pronunciation, and knowledge of a teenager, so I can only imagine what he must think when I speak to him.
"No matter," he began, standing up, and cradling me in his arms as he began walking. "You still need to have a shower, and after that, we'll get you something to eat." And with that, he lifted me above his head, and placed me on his broad shoulders. Being scared of heights as I am, I clung to his head for dear life, and he only laughed.
When we approached the showers, I knocked on his head with my fist. "Um, are we forgetting something?" I asked sarcastically. He looked up at me, and answered, "Lieutenant Hawkeye is with the colonel on a mission, and Lieutenant Ross is at home. So is Lieutenant Colonel Hues. And Ed, well, I think I know how you feel about Ed…" he said, with a hint of laughter in his voice.
"If you EVER let Edward give me a bath, shower, or ANYTHING having to do with him seeing me with my clothes off, I swear I will tear you apart and sell you as scrap metal!" I threatened, leaning over the back of his head so that our eyes were even. Sure, I was upside down, but it had the same effect…pretty much. He only burst into uncontrollable laughter.
"You know," he began, still laughing quite hard, "as funny as that may seem, coming from a 4 year-old girl, you can be very scary sometimes." He looked up at me, almost teasingly, which sort of ticked me off. My upside down glare made him laugh a little more, and I just HAD to give a smart-alecky comment.
"And oh, how I LOVE it when people don't take my death threats seriously." I couldn't help but to smirk.
"You know, you could get into a lot of trouble with things like that." he retorted, almost smugly.
"Well, the thing is, the cops can't arrest me, I can't go to juvie, and I can't go to jail." I said matter-of-factly, sitting upright into my original position of locking my arms securely around his head.
"Still," he began, "you're acting like a child, and even Ed acts more mature than you are right now." I mentally glowered at him, and thought of a snappy comeback.
"Speaking of which, I just want to get this thing over with so I can eat, otherwise I'll shrink to the size of your brother!" I exclaimed, and as if on cue, my stomach rumbled.
He laughed and shot back, "How is that a problem when you're already-"
"Call me short and I'll throw your metal head out the window." I said, threateningly. He knew I was serious, so he shut up. I soon grew bored, so I began to tap rhythmatic beats against his helmet-for-a-head.
Just as we reached the shower room door, I noticed that we actually HAD forgotten something. "You forgot the bubbles…"
There was a short silence between us once he stopped walking, he sighed and asked lazily, "Are you sure you NEED bubbles?" I mentally glowered at him again, using all my strength to refrain from smacking the back of his head.
"Al, if I don't use bubbles, then my brain won't get a break and I'll get major migraines and pass out all day long, or until I use or am around bubbles." I explained in the best 4 year-old princess way I could muster, which, in translation, meant: "Give me bubbles or there will be hell to pay…"
After a short mental deliberation, he decided to give in. After all, he knew I was right. That had happened one time, and Hues almost got torched by my father for not giving me bubbles for my bath when I said I NEEDED them. Because, yes, I do have the understanding, knowledge, etc. that teenagers have, but I am still 4 years old, have the mind of a 4 year-old. And the tiny bit of my brain that operates like a normal child's, can only kick in and give the 'older' parts of my brain a rest when I am around bubbles; otherwise, I get migraines that are so severe that they will cause me to fade in and out of consciousness.
Al turned around and headed towards the locker room to get the spare bottle of bubble bath that Lieutenant Hawkeye had given him to keep for when he had to give me a bath. The liquid was a mixture between bubble bath and shampoo, so I would still have bubbles, even in a shower.
He reached into his locker, pulled out the blue and white colored bottle, and shook it slightly before offering it to me. I instantly grabbed it and opened the snapping cap, deeply inhaling the scent of green apples. I gently squeezed the bottle, and out popped 5 round, shiny bubbles. As soon as I saw them, my 'child brain' kicked in, and I began to giggle and squeal like a happy baby, popping each bubble with my pointer finger, each time, happily exclaiming, "Pop. Pop. Pop!" this continued until we got to the shower room.
Al wasn't comfortable with taking me into the men's' shower room, but he knew that if he were to go into the women's' shower room, he would be in a lot of trouble. And I was fine with being in the men's' shower room, though I didn't particularly like it when some other guy would be in there and just carelessly throw off his towel right in front of me.
It happened one day when Armstrong was watching me for the day. Long story short, excluding myself, Ed, and Mustang, everyone was involved in a giant fight.
Ed wasn't involved because he had to watch over me while Al fought, plus he was the only person that I wanted to be close to. Al was just too pissed off.
Mustang wasn't involved because he was off on a mission. But when he got back, and Al was watching over me, Ed met up with Mustang, and they both had their fair share of punishing him.
One of the reasons why Al was so dead-set on staying and Edward taking me somewhere safe, was because the guy who dropped his towel in front of me, was the meanest, most violent and brutal person in all Central, and he tried to attack me when I was walking to Ed. I had been alone in that split moment, and he saw an advantage and tried to take it. If it hadn't been for Al and his speed and strength, I'd have probably died.
And now, here we are, at the same spot. As we walked through the door, I was amazed at how big the blood stains were. And, of course, there were some scratches from metal being scraped against the marble floor. No doubt, those were caused by Al's metal body. I didn't want to think about it, though; about Al pointlessly fighting for me. I understand the part about the guy trying to attack me, and Al protecting me then, but for beating the snot out of him for flashing me? Well…actually, that's a good reason too. I mean, I WAS only 2 years old then.
As Alphonse carried me to the largest shower stall, my grip on his head tightened intensely, and Al reached up to rub my arm in reassurance. Suddenly, I had a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach, and I wanted to leave. But I knew that if something were to happen, Al wouldn't let me come to harm.
Just as I was beginning to relax, in stormed the man who was the cause of everyone's fears…the Iron Blood Alchemist: Brigadier General Basque Grand.
Ch. 3 - Memories Relived
Upon seeing the Brigadier General, Al instinctively pulled me down from his shoulders, and rushed into the shower stall, and locked the double-sized doors as quickly as he could manage. I sat down in the far corner, and began to tremble.
Memories of Al fighting the Brigadier General with all his might, willing to sacrifice his life, flooded my mind. The sounds of glass shattering from my desperate screams for Alphonse, echoing off the walls of my mind. The humidity of steam from hot water, sticking to my skin. The smell of wet blood, filling my nose.
Wait…I hadn't smelt any blood. So, where?
I blinked my eyes several times as I saw Al holding the blood stained fabric in his hands, scrubbing it down with soap, and rinsing it off in the hot water from the showerhead. It was the same fabric that he wore over the lower part of his armor. Though he had taken it off, nothing was revealed. After all, his entire body was a big suit of armor, so nothing could actually be 'revealed'.
But still, the metallic stench of blood was heavy in my nostrils. Then, I noticed all the red water flowing away from me, and swirling down the drain. I followed the red trails, and for the first time, noticed that my baby blue silk nightgown was covered in dry blood that was softening back into liquid from the hot water.
I suddenly remembered how Al had looked at me earlier, and corrected himself when he'd said, "You need a bath…" to, "You need a shower…" I could only imagine what my skin looked like.
I got onto my hands and knees, and stared down into the clean water that was trailing from Al. My face was literally covered in blood, as well as my neck; and my arms only had a few red blotches. I couldn't tell how bad my hair was, so I decided to try an old trick that I used to do.
I closed my eyes, and focused intensely on my hair being a silverish color. I felt a strange sensation roll through my head, and I opened my eyes. It had worked. My hair was now as silver as a freshly polished diamond, but instead of being just past my shoulders, it hung down to my hips. My bangs were down to my chin, and were cut flat at the bottom.
I gasped when I realized how much blood had been in my hair. I tried my best to wring it out, but it was little to no use. Then, Al tapped me on the shoulder. I was about to ask him what he wanted, but I knew why he wouldn't speak. He was afraid of the same thing I was. And so, I simply nodded, understanding what he had meant.
He turned his head away as I began to slip out of my silk nightgown, and placed it in his hand. He sat on the tile floor in the middle of the stall, so that the water from the showerhead would fall on the gown while he scrubbed it clean with soap.
I crawled over to him, grabbing the bottle of shampoo that we had retrieved. I flipped open the cap, and squirted some of the light green liquid into my hand, rubbing it on my arms and blood-caked legs. Once I was sure I'd rubbed off all the blood, I rinsed off under the hot water.
I sat there for a moment, just relaxing as the water hit my body. The heat began to make me drowsy, and I began to doze to sleep. I was startled when I felt something soft and warm against my back. My head shot up, and I looked around, only to find Alphonse behind me, gently scrubbing my back down with a warm washcloth. I was sure he was washing off dried blood, but as I turned around to rinse off the soap bubbles, the water suddenly ran cold, and I shivered.
I was angry when I realized that I had not gotten around to washing my hair before I ran out of hot water. Al was out of the path of the falling water, and he pulled me closer to his metal body once my teeth began to chatter and my body began to shiver and break out in chill bumps. I wasn't sure what he was doing at first, but then I realized. Metal warms up quickly, but cools down slowly. He was trying to keep me warm.
As I rested against his warm, metal chest, he began to rub the shampoo into my hair. When a trail of bloody water would roll down my back, he would rub it off. The touch of his warm hand against my cold skin sent chills down my spine. It felt nice - the warmth.
A few stray bubbles floated off my hair and in front of my face. Al noticed just as soon as I had. He watched my reaction, and was shocked when I remained perfectly still, only my eyes following the multi-colored floating spheres. They popped once they floated into the falling water, and I directed my attention elsewhere. I began tracing invisible designs into the soapy water around my feet, but soon grew bored of it.
Once Al had finished thoroughly rubbing in the shampoo, I stood, placed my head under the falling water, and began rubbing the bubbles out of my hair. Al watched me in earnest, wondering if something was wrong with me. I noticed him staring in my direction, so I looked around, hoping he was staring at some weird design on one of the wall tiles, or something.
"What?" I asked him, half amused, half creped out. When he continued to stare at me, I got a little annoyed, so I wrung my hair out, and flipped my head back. The long strands of now-gleaming-silver flying everywhere, and landing in random, uncontrolled patterns. He continued to stare at me.
I walked over to him, and knelt down so that our eyes were level. "What is the matter with you, Al? You look as If you've seen a ghost." I said quietly, not wanting to sound as if I were making fun of him. He only continued to stare at me.
Just as I stood and headed towards the shower door, he stepped In front of me, placing his hands on my shoulders. "Harmony, are you feeling alright?" he asked me, his voice full of worry. I eyed him down carefully. "Well, I feel fine, but, are YOU feeling okay?" I asked, half amused at Al's actions.
We stood there, staring into each others' eyes for a few moments, and then I realized something was definitely wrong, here. First of all, my feet were flat on the ground. Second of all, I only had to tilt my head back a little to see his eyes. Third of all, my shoulders were only a little lower than his.
"Holy CRAP!" I gasped, stepping back to the wall. He turned his head away quickly, blushing furiously. "That's not all…" he murmured. I stared at him for a moment, my head tilted to the side slightly, but I quickly caught on to what he was trying to tell me.
I slowly and nervously looked down at my body. My eyes grew wide, and I yelled at the top of my lungs, falling to the ground, my arms wrapped across my chest, "What the HELL?" My cheeks were glowing 10 different shades of red.
No sooner had I made my exclamation, Brigadier General Basque Grand broke the shower door down, earning a yelp of surprise from both Alphonse and myself.
When I saw that it was the Brigadier General, and that he was staring at my naked body, I screeched at ear popping decibels, "RIZA! GET HIM OUT OF HERE, NOW!"
When Grand didn't budge an inch, I chucked the shampoo bottle at him with all my strength, knocking him to the floor, and soon, unconscious. Al jumped over him, grabbed a large towel, ran back to me, helped me wrap it around my body, lifted me into his arms, and carried me right out of the shower room door (while I grabbed my nightgown and his…loincloth-thing, on the way out).
Just as we turned the corner to go to Al's room, Riza stopped us. "Alphonse! Have you seen-" she stopped mid-sentence, and looked over my now much larger, and more…developed body.
"What the HELL?" she said, more of a question than an exclamation. She glanced over my body once more, then asked again, in a more thorough manner, "What happened to you, Harmony?" I just looked at her and thought, how the heck should I know? I didn't even notice until Al got all up and personal on me! But I decided to keep that to myself. And thank God that he's mine; Alphonse decided to explain for me.
"One minute I'm rubbing the shampoo into her hair, and she only watched the bubbles float in front of her, she made no reaction whatsoever! Then, next thing I know, she's washing the shampoo out of her hair, and she's…different!" he said, sounding more than a little embarrassed. I looked up at his face, and sure enough, he was blushing.
I felt SO bad! This was my fault! If I hadn't been for me, he wouldn't be in such an uncomfortable situation.
"So," Riza began, seemingly distracted by something. "What are you going to do about her? I mean, she IS your responsibility, after all." I slowly turned my head to glare at her, and she merely winked at me. Was she up to something? I couldn't tell for sure.
"Well, I suppose I should ask if she can borrow some of your clothes until we can go shopping for her. So, may we please borrow some of your clothes so she isn't walking around in a towel all the time?" he asked politely. Riza gave a sly grin, and said suspiciously, "Oh, I know the perfect outfits…"
Ch. 3 - A New Wardrobe
"NO! I won't do it!" I protested. People were beginning to gather outside Luitenant Riza Hawkeye's dormitory door. Colonel Roy Mustang turned the corner beside the room just in time to hear a loud, "OUCH! Son of a! GAH!" I exclaimed in pain.
"Would you stop whining already? You look lovely!" Riza argued.
"I look like a floozy!" I countered. Apparently I hit a nerve.
"What the HELL did you just say? This was my favorite outfit when I was your age!" she scolded.
"I don't even know how old I am anymore! I hate this! I don't even know why Al puts up with me; I only cause him more and more trouble. It's my fault we're in this mess in the first place." I said, my voice cracked and hoarse with sorrow.
Just then, Alphonse and Edward were walking down the hall, laughing about some joke they had heard earlier. Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hues got the brothers' attention, and motioned for them to come over, quickly.
"He puts up with you because he loves you. Whether he loves you as a sister, a friend, or something more, I don't know for sure. But what I do know is that he does love you. And you just need to keep reminding yourself about that." she said, understandingly.
"I know, but, it's just that…well, yesterday, I had a dream." I began explaining.
"More like a nightmare!" Riza corrected. "People could hear you screaming from down the street!" she said, smiling, but it soon was replaced by a saddened frown when she realized that this was not something that I wanted to smile about.
"Al was there. We were in a dark alley, and he said that I was killing him, and that he hated me, that he'd always hated me, but now he hated me more than ever. And when he turned around, there was a huge hole blasted in his chest, exactly where I was feeling the pain. But then, it started to hurt us both. Then, everything went black, and my entire body was cold." I said, tears swelling in my eyes. There was a large lump in my throat, and it became harder for me to breathe.
Everyone was silent as they tried to imagine the kind of pain I must have been in, how much Al matters to me for it to hurt me that badly. Ed looked over at his younger brother, who looked as if he hadn't slept in 8 weeks, and was on the edge of a total meltdown.
As Alphonse turned around, and staggeringly began to make his way back down the hall, he fell against the wall, leaning against it for support. Just then, Riza spoke up, her voice worried and frantic.
"Harmony, what's wrong? Harmony?" she shouted. Then, there was a dull thud inside the room, followed by a loud, metallic smack on the marble hallway floor. Everyone turned around to see Alphonse lying on the ground, curled into a tight ball.
"Harmony, say something! You've got to stay with me, Harmony! Harmony!" she yelled, followed by Edward's distressed calls to Alphonse.
"Al? Al, get up! What's the matter with you? Get up!" he yelled, kneeling beside his younger brother. No more than 3 seconds later, echoing throughout the entire building, were the unisoned, anguished screams of Harmony and Alphonse. Al was clutching tightly at his chest, fighting back tears, and trying to stifle out the screams, while Harmony was in much worse pain than he was.
Harmony had fallen unconscious once again, and was having another nightmare that was leading to a panic attack. Alphonse was seemingly sharing the same pain as Harmony, except not as severe. With one final, lasting, pained screech, she called out to the one person she truly trusted…
"ALPHONSE!"
There was silence for a long while, the only audible sounds were those of Edward, Lieutenant Hawkeye, and Major Armstrong…weeping.
"Come on, the Colonel needs you, Harmony! You can't give up on the Colonel! And what about Alphonse? Are you just going to leave him like this? He LOVES you, Harmony! He loves you! He needs you!" she scolded softly, trying to draw the young girl back to life, but so far, nothing was working.
"Al, you need to get up. Get up. GET UP! You can't just leave me by myself, Al! And what about Harmony? She needs you, Al! She needs you right now! Are you just going to give up, and quit? After we've come this far? What would Harmony say? WHAT WOULD SHE SAY, AL? SHE'D SAY TO NOT GIVE UP! TO KEEP MOVING FORWARD! TO HELP THE PEOPLE YOU CARE ABOUT, AND TO TAKE CARE OF THE PEOPLE YOU LOVE! She needs your help, Al. You're the only person that can help her; you're the only one. Don't let her die. DON'T LET HER END UP LIKE MOM!" Ed yelled, tears flowing freely down his cheeks.
And as if something had clicked in his mind, Al stood, groaning, and headed towards the room that Harmony had been in, stumbling in the process. Some people clapped, others whistled, and some just cried.
Mustang could no longer hold in his tremendous sorrow. He had nearly lost Harmony just the night before, but even then, it hadn't gone this far. He knew she was dead now. He knew, that his only reason for surviving this long, had given up on the one thing she encouraged him to pull through, day, after day, after day.
Armstrong began remembering how easily entertained she could be, if someone was willing to entertain her. He remembered how she had first reacted to his large muscles, and how she had challenged him to a weightlifting competition. He had lost…HORRIBLY! And he had actually tried his hardest! He also remembered how she would play with his mustache when he held her. She would take his cap off his head, place it on her own, and run around, flexing. The very first time she had done it, she even shouted, "I stwong! I Armstwong! BEAUTIFUL ARMSTWONG!" A small smile spread across his face at the thought.
Hues remembered when they would sing songs, and her voice was so lovely that people would actually cry. Her favorite song was Love. He smiled slightly when he remembered how hard Harmony had laughed when mustang chased Hues through the entire building, trying to blow him up for teaching her that song, all because it said "hell" one time.
Sheska, the librarian, remembered how Harmony would always help her organize books and paperwork. When Harmony was sick, Sheska would visit her during her breaks, and read to her. And when Shaska was sick, Harmony would do the same. She was amazed the first time she had seen Harmony use alchemy. She had transmuted a small, papermachet cherry blossum tree…without a transmutation circle! She smiled, and cried at the thought of how proud the little girl had been of herself. She had given the tree to Sheska as a token of appreciation for all that she had done for everyone. She pulled the tree out of the hidden pocket in her coat, and looked at it, more tears pouring down her face.
Serjeant Major Fuery remembered all the times Harmony had easily repaired radios and speakers and anything that he wasn't able to. And she hardly ever used alchemy. The only times she did was when she was extremely tired, in a hurry, or sick. He also remembered how every year, for his birthday, since no one remembered it, Harmony would hack into all the speakers on the premesis, and lead everyone in singing Happy Birthday to him. And before that, she would always transmute something very unique, and give it to him as a birthday present.
Second Luitenant Jean Havok had to stifle a short burst of laughter when he remembered how Harmony would always try to stop him from smoking because she didn't want Alphonse to get lung cancer and die. She was a scary child when she wanted to be, though! Everytime he would even mention wanting to smoke, she would hit him, HARD! She would chase him everywhere just to smack him for smoking. He would scream like a little girl and she would use the battlecry of Godzilla! He stifled another bit of laughter, and tears began to fall from his eyes as he missed those moments already.
Mustang recalled the first time he had seen her.
He was walking down the sidewalk of the most dangerous street in all of Central. When he passed an alley, he heard a strange noise. He stopped, and slowly walked back to the end of the alley. "Who's there?" he asked, authority clear in his tone. He heard the noise again.
"Who are you? Show yourself!" he demanded.
"Help…her. Please, help her." called a saddened voice. Mustang approached carefully, slowly, debating on whether or not it was a trap.
"Who are you?" he asked again, his voice softer this time; more kind.
As he continued to walk, he noticed a shape taking form in the shadows of the night. It looked like, a basket? No, maybe a box?
"Hello?" he called out, seeing no one. As he approached the dark figure, he realized that it was a fruit crate, with a wound-up blanket inside.
"Help…her." the voice pleaded again. Mustang looked around him as he knelt to the ground just beside the crate. He snapped his fingers once, causing a small trash bin pull of paper to catch fire. Once the light reached him, he noticed that the blanket had a shape to it. He reached down slowly, and poked it. He was shocked at what happened.
It squirmed!
He stared at it for a moment, taking this in. finally, he made up his mind. He reached inside the makeshift crib, and slowly, gently pulled the blanket down. His eyes opened wide as he gasped at the sight. He fell backwards as a set of tiny eyes opened to stare back at him.
The eyes were silver, and appeared to be full of sorrow, hate, and fear. There were dark circles surrounding them, a few strands of brown hair hanging just over the eyelids.
"What the hell?" he said into the darkness, looking around once again. Snow was beginning to fall, as it was winter. "Who leaves a baby lying around like this, in this part of town, and most of all, in this season?" He was furios that someone would even consider such a thing!
He felt pity for the thing, and reached in to gently lift the child out of the crate.
The dark colored blanket slowly fell off, only to reveal two large, white wings, cradling the baby securely. His eyes grew wider, if that were even possible; and the silver eyes continued to stare at him. He blinked at he child, turning it over in his hands to examine its back.
He noticed that the two wings were attached to the skin of the shoulder blades, and they were clearly able to move, as they would shift slightly when he ran his fingers down the soft, white feathers. He looked around the now dimly lit alley, hoping to find someone. He wanted to find this child's parents, even if they HAD left it here; he wanted to know why they did.
Finding no one, he sighed, deciding to take it back to HQ, and ask the Furher what he should do about it. He wasn't sure how he would react, but he knew it couldn't be too bad, because King Bradley had a son himself! He HAD to understand, at least a little.
When he came to the door of the Furher's office, he took a nervous, shaky breath. He had at least 7 explanations as to why he had the child, and at least double that in why he brought it here. If all else failed, he would take in the child himself.
He nervously knocked on the large, wooden door, 3 times. He entered, and closed the door quietly behind him. He had the child hidden beneath his jacket, a large lump being the only proof it was there. It hadn't made a sound since he found it.
Mustang took another shaky breath, and turned to face the Furher. A bead of sweat rolled down the back of his neck as the large, burley man in front of him, stared in confusion at the awkward bulge in the stomach of the colonel's jacket.
"Colonel Mustang, is there something you would like to explain to me? Perhaps, about the abnormality of your uniform? Or are you only putting on a few pounds for hibernation?" he joked, a small grin befalling his features.
Mustang saluted attentively. "Sir!" he barked, "I have-" he cut short, another drop of sweat rolling down his face as he suddenly forgot every excuse he had thought up on the walk back. "I…I need your help, Sir; if you will?" he asked slowly, his arm gently falling to rest against his side, and then to cradle the bundle against his shirt.
"I would suppose so, seeing as you have your arms full at the moment!" he joked again, chuckling slightly at his own sense of humor. He quickly regained his composure, and asked Mustang solemnly, "What is it you need, Colonel?"
Mustang released a breath of air he hadn't realized he'd been holding in. The Furher wasn't angry…yet. He still had a chance.
"Sir," he began again, his tone slightly pleading. The Furher raised his brow to this. "I need to ask of your advice." he said uneasily. He hated asking people for help, but he knew this was no time to be prideful. He slowly reached up, carefully unzipping his jacket enough to where the head of the sleeping baby could be seen.
The Furher sat back in surprise. He had imagined the Colonel to have some kind of animal; such as a dog, hiding beneath his uniform. Not a human child!
"What is it you are proposing, Roy?" he asked, his tone taking on a heavy edge.
Mustang looked at the man with fervor. "As I mentioned before, Sir, I wish for your advice. What should I do with it?" He stared into the larger man's un-patched eye, showing that he was serious about this. The Furher did not let this go unnoticed.
"Well," began the burley man. "I suppose you should bring it to me." he said simply, sitting back in his chair, his arms welcomingly open. He stared at Mustang, who was staring back at him, a strange, contorted look on his face. The Furher looked at him, one eyebrow raised amusingly. "Is…something wrong, Colonel?" he asked, stifling a chuckle.
"Mustang pulled away from his roaming thoughts, and cleared his throat. "Um…no, Sir." He was already uneasy about the Furher's rather calm reaction to the child, now he was dumbfounded that he wanted to HOLD the child! It was amazing! He hadn't imagined he would react like this! And yet, he didn't trust the large, one-eyed man to hold her. He didn't know why, but he suddenly felt a strong need to keep her away from him.
Mustang looked at his superior once more, finally deciding to ignore this sudden instinct and do what he was told.
His gentle grip around the tiny bundle tightened defensively as he neared the highest ranked person in the country. He stopped when he was about 5 feet away from the tall, tan, burley officer, and asked rather cautiously, "What do you intend on doing, Sir?"
Bradley looked at his Colonel, and lowered his outstretched arms. "Well, you DO have to work, go on missions, and you're busy almost constantly. How do you think you will take care of this child with that sort of lifestyle?" The grin on his face was slightly relieving, but also alarming.
Mustang rose a brow questioningly. "Sir?"
Bradley smiled, and began an all-out tirade of laughter. "Why, I'm going to let you keep her, take care of her, raise her! But you can't do it all by yourself!" he said through heaving bursts of laughter.
"Sir?" Mustang repeated, not sure what to make of the situation. "If I may ask, Sir, what exactly are your intentions?" He shifted on his feet uncomfortably. The Furher noticed his action, but kept to himself.
"I believe we need to find someone to care for her when you are unable to be there. And what better way than to find an eligible babysitter…or rather, babysitters?" he said gently, a small grin turning up the corners of his mouth as he stared at the still-sleeping child.
"And why does she need to leave my hold, Sir? She is sleeping peacefully. I see no need to wake or disturb her." Mustang was becoming very anxious, and his tone clearly showed it, despite how hard he was trying to control his rising temper.
His face relaxed slightly when he realized the plural that King Bradley had used. "Do you mean, as in, more than one person, Sir?" he asked, relieved that this tough man would care enough about the child's safety to appoint more than one person to tend this defenseless angel-like child. Even her eyes seemed otherworldly. And he just couldn't bare to think what he would do if any harm came to this precious little girl.
Something about her shining silver eyes, thick, fulllength, black eyelashes, and gentle yet defensive form, made him want to go to extraordinary lengths to keep her from any form of harm. But he just couldn't think of anyone who would be able (or rather willing) to care for a child on the little free time that they had, or take off because someone else couldn't do it. Unless…
"Sir, if I may ask, just who do you suppose would do such a thing?" Mustang half-knew what his answer would be, but he wanted to be completely sure.
The supperior officer closed his eye, turned to his desk, and held his head up with his hands folded, reveiwing the choices. "Well," he sighed, "There is…no, they won't do; they're too rough. There's also…but they are in…there's always…but she's busy enough as it is…" he mumbled to himself. After a few moments of total silence, excepting for the occasional sound of feathers brushing against each other as the child's wings twitched suddenly; the burley man exclaimed in triumph.
"THAT'S IT!" His voice echoed throughout the room, startling the small child awake, yet she made no sound. Nor did she cry; her eyes went wide at the man's sudden burst of joy, and she turned wantingly into the warmth of Mustang's tight stomach, and pulled her arms free of her tiny wings, clasping on to his white shirt. He instinctively pulled his jacket back around her small body, and soon was able to feel the gentle, steady beat of her heart, and the warmth of her tiny hands and face.
Mustang smiled inwardly, and for the slightest moment, thanked God for leading him to her.
"Roy, I've got the perfect idea for the main babysitter!" Bradley stated, clearly proud of his accomplishment. Mustang looked up as he was torn from his thoughts. He blinked several times, trying to register what the other man was saying.
"Sir?" he asked, confused, but also wanting to know who the person was. They were probably going to be a woman, perhaps Hawkeye, or Ross, or maybe Sheska, or maybe even…
"ALPHONSE!" the man exclaimed suddenly, throwing his arms in the air.
"W-what?" yelled Mustang. "But, he's only a kid! Not to mention, he most likely has NO experience in this sort of thing, WHAT SO EVER!"
Bradley smiled, lowering his arms. "Exactly. That is why I will help him until he is comfortable with doing it on his own. Alphonse is the type of person who is not afraid to ask for help when he needs it, or is faced with something new. He is also calm, collected, and is not easily irritated or set off by insignificant things. And having a child of my own, I have plenty of experience in the subject of childcare."
He smiled reassuringly at Mustang, adding, "Trust me, Colonel. If there is any person on this earth who is more certified to care for a child, they are surely dead." And with that, he stood, walking to the door as he heard the clanking of Al's heavy armor against the marble floor.
"Don't worry." he repeated. "He won't object. I just know it." Mustang felt slightly more confident as the Furher opened the door just as Alphonse was rounding the corner, heading away from the office. "Not to mention, he is a fine gentleman. It will be good for the girl to be around him. Especially when she is older. He is always respectful to everyone around him, and only refers to violence as a last resort to self-defense or protecting others."
Mustang grinned slightly at the thought of Alphonse teaching the girl etiquete manners. He almost laughed at the image, but was soon pulled back to reality when the Furher called out, "Alphonse, would you mind coming here for a few moments? You aren't busy, are you?" he asked as Al turned around to face the man, bowing respectfully as he answered, "No, not at all, sir. Is something wrong?"
Bradley smiled at the large suit of armor, and said with a slight chuckle, "No. Quite the opposite, if I do say so myself. Come in, please. I just need to talk to you for a few moments.
After bowing respectfully once more, Alphonse entered the large room. "Yes Sir. Oh, hello Colonel! How is Luitenant Hawkeye doing?" he asked in his kind, but not irritatingly cheery voice.
"She is doing fine, Al. Right now, she is at home, resting. By the way, where is your brother? Usually you're together, aren't you?" Mustange asked suspiciously.
"Yes, but he fell asleep in the library earlier, so I took him back to the room. He was snoring quite a bit, and I was sort of uncomfortable with his conversations with the people in his dreams, so I decided to go back to the library to read some more while I had the chance." he answered simply.
"I know what you mean." the Furher said. "My brother used to do the same thing when I was younger. Sometimes the converations he had when he was sleep-talking were just downright scary! They would range everywhere from his first crush to his most hated rival!" he said, laughing.
"Most hated rival? If I may ask sir, who was it?" mustang asked curiously.
"Celery…" Bradley said, grinning in an evil way, and speaking in a mysteriously eerie tone for a more dramatic effect. Mustang shifted uneasily, grunting at the sickening thought of the horrid vegatable. Alphonse looked at Mustang, and stated casually, "Well, I always enjoyed the taste of celery since, well, as long as I can remember. I never quite understood why people act badly towards it."
Bradley glanced at Mustang through the corner of his good eye, a smile finding its way onto his features. Roy knew exactly what the man was thinking. 'He even likes celery! That's perfect! He'd have her eating healthy in no time!' Mustang's mouth twitched upwards at the thought of Alphonse setting down a plate of celery in front of the girl, and how she might react to the smell.
"Well, Alphonse, what I called you in here for, is that I have a few questions to ask you. Are you up for the challenge?" he asked in an almost playfull tone.
"Of course." Al said in a cooperative way. He was always ready to help anyone in anyway he could, as long as it was for something good, anyway.
"First question: do you have any experience at all with children?" Bradley asked, skipping strait to the point, and becoming very serious. As Alphonse began to answer, the Furher sat back down in his chair, folding his hands on his desk.
"Yes." Al stated simply, remembering how he and his brother would play with a young girl, Nina, when they were using her father's library to try to find information on the Philosopher's Stone.
Bradley shook his head, satisfied. "Second question: are you a good role model?"
Mustang glared at the Furher, wondering where he was going with this.
A few moments passed, and Alphonse still hadn't answered the question.
"Alphonse?" the Furher asked, surprised at the boy's delay. "Your answer?"
Alphonse looked up at him, and said quietly, "If I said yes, it would sound as if I'm full of myself. But if I said no, it would seem as if I were unsure of myself."
Bradley stared him down, struggling to keep composure of his facial expression. "No negative assumptions will be made here, Mr. Elric. Now, please answer the question: do you, or do you not, think of yourself as a good role model? Remember, we will make no negative assumptions. If you answer no, we will still only think positively of you. We will because we will appreciate your honesty, no matter what you may answer."
After another moment, Al finally answered, "Yes, I do believe I am a good role model." Mustang was extremely taken aback by the strength of his tone. He was definitely sure of himself, not full of himself.
The Furher smiled at this, and asked the final question. "Would you be willing to care for a young child of about the age of 11 months, Alphonse? And be aware, If you choose to say 'no', it won't be a problem. If you choose 'yes', you may freely change your mind at any time, and you will not be judged or punished for it. But think long and hard of which you shall choose. If you DO decide to pick 'no' because you do not feel as though you are up for this sort of challenge, you may also come back when you feel that you ARE ready; that is, if you would like to." he said, becoming serious again.
Alphonse thought for a few minutes, and said slowly and quietly, "What child are we talking about, exactly?"
The large, burley man looked to Mustang, debating on whether or not to reveal the child just yet, but he was quickly given his answer.
"How could I give you a true answer if I don't even know what to expect?" Alphonse asked in a very sure tone. Bradley smiled once more, standing, and made his way to Mustang. After whispering something to Mustang that was inaudible to Al, The Furher began to make gestures from Mustang to Al and back to Mustang.
Mustang was obviously ticked off, and when he made a gesture to Al, his jacket fell back slightly, revealing white feathers and curly brown hair. Could this be the child they were speaking of? But, what was with the feathers? Why were they there?
"Um, excuse me, Sirs?" Alphonse politely interrupted, raising his hand slightly in the air. "Is that the child you were talking about?" he asked, staring at the few tiny curls hanging over the Colonel's hand. The two bickering men looked down at the dozing child simultaneously, then looking at Al, then back at the shild.
Mustang finally sighed in defeat, and opened his jacket farther, only to reveal more white feathers, and two tiny hands loosly clutching onto his shirt. Bradley carefully lifted the child out of Mustang's arms, and into his own. He then began walking towards Alphonse, stopping half way.
"There is one more thing that must happen before we can answer all of your questions, or as many as we can." he said quietly, as to not disturb the sleeping child. When Al looked up at him questioningly, the man explained, "She must choose whether or not to accept you, and yout must do the same for her."