CHAPTER ONE
Pain. Darkness.
Choose. Choose. Choose.
This was wrong. Something important had been forgotten. If he could think, he'd figure it out.
Choose. Choose. Choose.
The murmur of sound continued. He didn't understand. Choose what?
Choose. Blood was given. Life was given. We were called. Choose. Choose.
The chorus of voices went on and on. Pain rolled over him. Darkness covered him. He couldn't think, could barely remember. Choose what?
Choose. The circle was bent, not broken. We were called. Choose. Choose.
The darkness shivered. Beyond the pain, hands grasped him. Dozens. Hundreds. Thousands. The number changed nothing. They poked, caressed, wiggled and squirmed, pushed and pulled – but always touched. Fear formed behind his confusion. Choose what?
Choose. The circle was bent, not broken. Choose. Choose.
The demand repeated. The hands touched. The pain throbbed. A minute, an hour or an eternity passed before he remembered. A large cobble stone floor covered in crisp chalk lines.
His tattered mind conjured another stone floor. It felt deep and hidden, made with a circle of blood. His blood. A third circle flashed by him: dark ink with glowing red cylinders of liquid at seven points. Alchemy.
Choose. Choose. Choose.
Alchemy. Three steps: analysis, deconstruction, and reconstruction. Reconstruct what?
Choose. Blood was given. Life was given. Choose. Choose.
Blood? Life? His blood? His life? No. He had a vague memory of a scaled serpent, pinned by spears in a circle. An ancient castle fell apart, weakened by forbidden alchemy. Forbidden… human transmutation?
Choose. Is this the choice? Choose. Choose.
No! Human transmutation was forbidden. They knew that. Al suffered because of his sin… but Al had his body now. No recollection of their journey, but his brother had a body. If only he could be in Amestris to enjoy it. But the German gate needed to be sealed.
Choose. Is this the choice? Choose. Choose.
No. He already chose to return. Another sacrifice in many. Thinking slowed once more. The hands continued their invasion. The voices persisted in their demand. He just wanted to be home. To thank Winry for the new automail. To see Granny Pinako. To see Teacher and Hawkeye and the rest… even the bastard Colonel. He wanted to see his brother's body; to stay in Amestris.
Choose. Is this the choice? Choose. Choose.
The choice. He supposed it was. Just leave him alone. Being a dog of the military was fine, as long as he was home, with Al, in his body. He remembered his brother, aged a few years with long hair pulled back in a pony tail. Nothing else matter save he keep hold of that image.
Blood was given. Life was given. We were called.
He didn't care anymore. He would give more than his blood or life. Just send him home.
The choice is made. The price is set.
The hands shifted, slithered, moved. Darkness changed to light; burning, blinding light.
"Ah! Just as I thought you left, you came back." One voice filled with many laughed at him. He squinted, trying to place where he was. A white figure, barely discernable from the white world smiled. "You might regret coming back you know. It's your home, but you might not think so."
A creaking door was his only warning. The hands returned, one by two by a dozen. Hundreds were touching, pulling dragging. The voices called out, but no words could be understood. Every part of his body felt like it was being torn apart. He tried to scream.
"Major Elric!"
Voices called, but they weren't the voices. He followed the sound; willed himself to find them.
"Major Elric!"
A worried female voice clashed with the strong muscular arms that lifted him. The pain increased. The need to know where, who – anything; kept him from falling into darkness once more. Gold eyes flinched at the dim light. Beyond the worried voices were explosions and a deep rumble. He remembered a large stone room that collapsed on him.
The arms moved and he suppressed a whimper. Squinting revealed a dimly lit room with crumbling walls. A broken suit of armor lay on the ground next to a carved transmutation circle he'd never seen before. Then his sight was blocked by a sculpted back. Trying not to pass out took priority over the confusion.
Each shift of the large body beneath him resonated through every nerve. Sound and reason faded. He pushed down the pain and focused on the coppery tang of blood in his mouth. He didn't care how it got there. It was the only constant he had to keep the darkness away.
More blood filled his mouth as he bit back voicing his pain when he was grabbed and lowered to the ground. Nothing felt right. His clothes scrapped at his skin. The air stung. The cold cement beneath him burned. And the hands...
Hands were trying the sooth taunt muscles and familiar voices spoke to him. His mind told him it wasn't the hands. It wasn't the voices. But instinct drove him to flee. An attempt to do so multiplied the shooting pain that permeated his entire being.
Unable to speak without screaming, he glared at the hands touching him. A few stopped, but a barked command ordered them to continue. Shifting his glare, he was unsurprised to see Hughes' stern face. Whether his old friend or his new German acquaintance; both versions were born to irritate him. He sometimes believed it was the only trait the two had in common besides Gracia. One pair of hands hit a sensitive spot were metal met flesh. He changed the instinctive whimper into a growl.
"Stop it," he forced through gritted teeth. Every hand paused at his voice. The lack of movement allowed him to relax enough to push more words through a clenched jaw. "Don't touch."
His horse voice gave out into violent coughs. There was no time to be grateful for the hands leaving him. He tried to make his lungs work right. The muscled arms came back when he succeeded in reducing the full body convulsions to small continuous bursts.
A glass pushed against his closed mouth. Short sips of water quieted the remaining cough. Sitting up, he found his automail arm responded better than his real one. The muscled arms were removed bringing a wave of relief. He still felt the phantom of those invisible hands. A shudder ran through him at the memory and was echoed back by pain.
Instinct and memory guided his actions. He needed to think, needed the control he was used to. He trusted those strong arms that came and went, that carried him away from that dark ink circle. That familiar female voice was still out there, even if he couldn't understand the words yet. No matter what version of Hughes it was, they both looked out for him. He could afford to turn inwards.
'Focus on breathing, ignore the world, find your center.' One of the first lessons his teacher had given; the only reason he made it through his automail surgery without screaming.
Inch by inch his body relaxed. The pain was soothed, or reduced. Without the encompassing pain, reason came back. For the first time since he left that place, he felt free.
"Ed. Ed. Ed." The repeated voice reminded him of the insistent voices. Gold eyes slit open in a dark glare. Hughes's face hovered in front of his and he added a scowl.
"What," he snapped. The relief that crossed the man's face was completely unexpected.
"Are you okay?" The gentle tone was alarming, as was the realization that the voices he had peripherally noticed were silent. With widening eyes he examined the Hughes in front of him. Intent jade eyes – filled with determination, not indecision. The man wore the military blue of Amestris, not the dark German police uniform.
A quick scan produced many of Amestris military scattered about the rubble strewn courtyard – including Lieutenant Ross and her partner. Major Armstrong sans shirt stood behind Hughes. Judging by the twinkle in his eyes, a valiant pose, complete with pink sparkles, was ready to be given at any moment. Dread settled in his gut as he caught sight of Fuhrer Bradley in a tight short sleeved undershirt that complimented his black eye patch.
"Ed." Hughes brought his attention back. "Are you okay?" he repeated. Looking at his old friend – the friend that died years ago – there was only one answer.
"You know… I don't think I am."
Jade eyes widened, Armstrong's twinkle disappeared and Ross squatted to feel his forehead for fever. The moment those fingers contacted his skin he jerked back in terror. Something soft, firm and warm impeded his flight. A crimson cloak covered the small form of his younger brother. Glancing at himself, he realized he was still wearing the tattered clothes from Germany.
"I apologize for my actions sir." The blonde caught the tail end of her quick formal bow. She left no time for him to absorb this new information. "Where are you hurt? Can we… Why does touch harm you?"
The woman was more overbearing than he remembered. A fond smile graced his lips. It had been far too long since he had been stressed over. Even Alfons, as worried as he'd get, would stay within the bounds society set; never crossing that line. It made him miss Al all the more.
"Ed. Ed. Are you still with us Ed?" He shook his head as his friend violated his invisible personal bubble. The Lt. Colonel never seemed to notice it before, why start now? After all, what could he do to a dead man? Edward Elric had done many thing in his life, including living two years in a world not his own. This situation was the strangest by far.
Marveling at the incongruity of it all, he replied, "I have to wonder. I think this is a dream."
"A dream? Why do you think that?" Hughes was as good as he remembered. If the man was confused or upset, no one would know by looking at him. Even his voice was back to his typical calm tone. It helped.
Coughing slightly, Edward sat back up, being careful of Al lying behind him. "Too many things. But you don't feel pain in a dream… right?" He ignored the Lt. Colonel's reply to concentrate on his brother's still form. A visual check produced no injuries despite the worn clothes. The steady rise and fall of his chest was comforting. "How's Al?"
He looked at Hughes to find narrowed eyes studying the body behind him. "Sleeping. We'll know more at the hospital, but we saw nothing but a few bruises." Their eyes met. "You were different. What happened?"
He coughed again, debating if anyone would believe he hadn't the slightest clue. Salvation came in the form of a new glass of water. He nodded in thanks to Armstrong and took his time sipping the water. With the pain down to a dull burn, exhaustion was setting in. Every muscle felt like he had worked them hard and then pushed a little more.
"Where are we?" he asked. Knowing the current situation, might lead him to how he got here.
"The 5th laboratory," his friend answered. Ed hummed his agreement, trying to place the location. "Central City," Hughes elaborated with a touch of humor. Glaring at the man, he recalled the lab he had investigated after cracking Dr. Marco's research notes. An armored soul like his brother's had fought him before he met that bastard Tucker as a chimera.
He frowned. The homunculi had revealed their existence and tried to make him create the philosopher's stone. They threatened Al, but he couldn't do it… how had he gotten out again?
"Ed? Do you remember?" Hughes used that gentle voice again. The young alchemist decided he didn't like it.
"No," he answered curtly. The grimace he earned made him feel guilty. "Not really. It's all mixed up."
"What's the last thing you recall clearly?" A short bark of laughter escaped him at his dead friend's question. How what he supposed to answer that? "Ed?" The Lt. Colonel was definitely worried. Giving him a small reassuring smile only increased the visible concern on the man's face.
The truth would be best. Not the whole truth, but he had to start somewhere, even if it was a dream. "I can't even tell you. I remember things: people, places… research. I just don't know how they all line up at the moment." Confused looks were his only reply.
"Look," he stated. "I know I'm Edward, that's Al-" He jabbed a finger at his brother. "You're Hughes, Armstrong, and Ross," he pointed at heat in turn. "I know where Central City is," he gave a dark look at the Lt. Colonel. "I even remember a bit about the 5th laboratory." They finally started looking a little relieved.
"I know I'm sitting here and I really don't want to be touched yet. The pain – wherever it came from – is better, and all I really want to do is sleep." He held up a hand to cut off Hughes's comment. "Yeah, I figured I wouldn't be able to… but I can't really help much. The only things I remember don't seem believable, and nothing is making sense to me right now." He sighed and scrubbed his face with his true hand.
"I don't think anything needs immediate attention…" He trailed off as something started to nag at him. "Ah!" Major Armstrong and Lt. Colonel Hughes were the only ones not to jump at Ed's exclamation. "Actually…" He thought for a moment to verify his information. "If I remember right, there's a bunch of chimera in there. A lot were human before… we should find a way to turn them back." The sudden idea diverted his original thought as he remembered Nina. That stretch lady that Al helped didn't seem too bad either. Tucker on the other hand… maybe he could be the test subject. No reason to help that bastard.
"Major Elric." Armstrong's commanding voice brought him back to the here and now, even if he didn't quite know where and when that was.
"Yeah?" He noticed they had all gone back to looking worried. Had he missed something?
"Do not worry about the chimera. Are there any other dangers we should know of?" Ed rummaged through hazy memories. He couldn't mention the homunculi, and the armored soul was already destroyed. Wait, there had been another. Didn't Al fight that one?
"The guards were in armor like Al's." Looking back at his brother, he realized his mistake. "Well, like Al before. When he was in armor… He used to be in armor, right?" It suddenly seemed rather obvious that he couldn't count on his memories. Had Al ever lost his body in this strange place?
"Yes. Until now," Hughes answered. Even confused, Ed could tell the Lt. Colonel was dying to ask more questions. Instead, the dark haired man turned to the others and started giving orders.
Lieutenant Ross crouched down next to him after being charged with his protection once more. "Are you hurt Major Elric?"
Snorting at the woman's formality, he shook his head. "No, not until you smack me for being an idiot. I'd rather you wait until I get a good night's sleep." Her eyes widened in alarm at his comment.
"I don't believe the Lieutenant would be so neglectful of her duties to harm the one she's protecting, Major." The low cheerful voice of the Fuhrer banished the lethargy that had set in. "I'm glad to see you and your brother unharmed."
Ed started at his clenched fists. There was no right way to respond to the man he believed to be his enemy. Every memory of the Fuhrer had been raked through. There had been no signs; he still couldn't see how his commander-in-chief had been a homunculus. But he trusted Al's word. It made him sick to remember that this was the man that had started the brothers on the path of the philosopher's stone.
"Sir!" His two bodyguards had no difficulty saluting the man. The smiling Fuhrer continued by without waiting for Ed to decide his course of action. With the danger pass, relief flooded his system. Willpower alone kept him from immediate collapse.
"Major Elric!" Lieutenant Ross had noticed his slumped form and he could tell she wanted nothing more than to help steady him.
"You think it's alright for me to sleep now?" The lazy grin he gave her received a sad smile in return.
"I doubt anyone would mind." Permission granted, Ed tilted to the side and enjoyed the feel of cold cement beneath him. Could someone fall asleep in a dream?
Author's Note: It's been very slightly altered from the original posting to fit the new plot line. Kudos to those that recognize the changes.