Worth Hearing
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the Conqueror of Shamballa DVD.
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"No story is not worth hearing."-Angael(Crisis Core)
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Edward had always told the wildest stories-stories of mystical battles and soulless monsters, of flames exploding out of thin air and of precious little brothers in suits of armor. Alfons never believed him, but he never thought that the golden haired teenager was insane. After all, what insane person had that intelligent gleam or the terrible sadness with the frightening clarity of understanding in their eyes?
Ed had come in late that night, slipping his coat off, a soft smirk on his lips. Alfons had noticed the fingers missing from his artificial arm, although he doubted that Ed would say anything about it.
"You won't believe this, but I saw him tonight. I saw my brother Al and there's a chance I'll be able to go home after all." Ed offered as an explanation although there was a good deal of the story missing. Alfons found that strange, for Ed never left out details of a story.
Noah had seemed confused when he said that he saw his brother. Noah had assumed that Ed was an only child. After all, wouldn't siblings be living together in these hard times? She didn't say anything though, but Alfons had a feeling that even a clairvoyance as accurate as hers wouldn't do much good against Edward, whose mind ran with too much to fully comprehend.
It hadn't been but a few days later when Ed had sat up from his spot on the bed and had told him that his sponsors were plotting a war. Of course. Edward was always right, wasn't he? It was all about his stories, his world and his dreams? Alfons wasn't going to drop his own dreams simply because Ed had made up yet another wild story. Maybe Ed needed those stories to live, but Alfons needed his rockets.
Alfons had felt something strange when the ceiling opened and he saw the light filtering in. The circle that they were drawing on the very top ceiling was something similar to the ones that Ed had sketched in his notebooks, along with the scrawled handwriting in his own language filled with equations and theories. There was an enormous snake, thick and emerald green.
Ed had slammed feet first through a window and Alfons had feared it was the end of him. The eighteen year old straightened up from his landing and Alfons swore he saw something different in the amber orbs, a confidence that was always under the surface or a fearlessness that the German man had never seen.
"Well, it's not Shamballa on the other side, I can promise you that. What waits for you on the other side, it's no dream." The clarity remained in his eyes as he spoke and a new wisdom accompanied it.
Edward was heavier than he looked, his slight body having the added weight of muscle and prosthetics. Alfons heaved him into the rocket, strapping him in carefully. The golden-haired man had started and had looked around, the honey orbs searching for an escape out of pure habit. His eyes finally fell on Alfons and he relaxed a bit more, although his voice spoke his confusion.
"She shot you right in the fake arm. Good thing she's a bad shot." The German was a little awed internally by the ease at which Edward was acting now. He easily ripped the sleeve of his coat and shirt to show the hole and his eyes were calculating something, although Alfons was having trouble figuring out what.
"This rocket'll take you home." Alfons pressed on as his friend tried to protest, "We're real, Edward. We're not just part of your dreams like you thought."
Ed had frozen when Alfons took his hand and told him not to forget about him. The German had closed it, cutting off anymore protests that were sure to follow.
As flames flared and the rocket began soaring upwards, Alfons smiled and he thought that maybe he'd believe in all of those stories of other worlds and magic now. He continued to think that even as the bullet entered his skin and he fell to the ground, the blood pooling around him, his azure eyes focused on the gate above him.