Chapter 1 Tea With the White Rabbit
The 'abandoned' house had various smells, not due to age but to the fact that nothing was touched for nearly a year. From the unwashed coffee cup in the sink to the dirty laundry sitting in the washing machine, those were the things that proved to Ed that he once wanted to call this place home (before he burnt it all down), unlike the untouched white of the walls and perfect teak furniture. Ed sat on the seat by the piano, the rag hanging forgotten at the edge of the long keyboard. His brow was furrowed as he pressed on a key, frown deepening at the note that was completely out of tune. Maintenance was in order. He sighed and quickly cleaned up that area, snapping the piano shut. He moved on to the countertops, where the black plastic phone and answering machine waited under a layer of fine dust, filled with messages.
"Ed! How's Europe? Lectures are hell without your short outbursts! Call me back soon!"
"Ed! Don't you answer this damn thing?! Have you been kidnapped by aliens? Oh well they'll kick you back to earth once they realise how annoyingly short-tempered you are! Call back now shrimp!"
Rolling his eyes for the hundredth time, Ed decided to shut it off, leaving it for a time when he wanted a laugh. Or to get infuriated. Or sentimental.
"Hi Ed!" His hand hovered over the button when he heard Alfonse's soft voice. "You haven't been in contact lately. Are you alright? Or did you give me the wrong phone number because that sounds just like you. I'm really worried so call back soon! Bye!"
"That was before I got your owl."
Ed immediately jabbed the button, whirling around to face Alfonse. The straw haired boy carried into the room a bowl of chips and two glasses, setting them on the table.
"The other two were from Joey."
Ed chuckled. "He always had nothing better to do."
Alfonse laughed but it didn't reach his eyes. "We kept calling you know. We only realised that you never received any of our messages after a few months."
Ed turned back to what he was pretending to clean. His head was down and eyes downcast, hair hiding his face.
"I'm sorry."
"I know you are. But you wouldn't do anything different if you could right?"
Ed nodded. He lifted his head but still refused to meet those blue eyes of summer sky. Eyes that mirrored his pain when they didn't need to. People can choose to forget douchebags like him that favoured isolation and disappearing without so much as a 'goodbye'. He knew he'd feel much better if those people ignored him back like how he ignored them. But no. There're just these few people who are as stubborn as him.
At least it made him feel as much warmth as it did guilt.
"And as usual, you won't say a thing right?" The young man's voice cracked and his companion flinched slightly. He hated how he sounded so betrayed. But he couldn't say a word. Ed sealed his mouth shut, not nodding nor shaking his head.
"What's happening?" Al stood up and his chair dragged upon the floor, the repulsive sound causing Ed to wince. "Ed, tell me what's going on!"
Was that a demand? A plea?
Ed stood up too, waving his hands in a casual gesture. "It's fine! I'm alright and everything's going well so you don't have to worry or anything!" He smiled weakly trying to salvage the situation. He was never good at lying to his brother, either of his brothers.
"You don't mean that!"
"It's none of your business!" Ed snapped, clenching his fists by his side, abandoning the 'everything's fine' facade for a 'go away' jab. Those worked better anyway.
Alfonse took a deep breath. As much as he wanted to scream at his blonde friend – brother – and take him by the shoulders shaking every bit of information out of him, he couldn't. Ed would just leave – it was his simplest way to solve, or escape, the problem.
"I said before I didn't care what happened in your past because what mattered was who you are in the present," Alfonse said softly, almost in a solemn whisper. "But now I'm part of your present, aren't I? Don't I deserve to know what's happening to you?" He scoffed. "At least tell me what I'm worrying about since I'm going to worry for you anyway."
Ed for once glanced at him, direct eye contact which made him flinch. The genuine concern was causing him to clamp up, shut tight like an annoying, small oyster. The past year made him realise many things and that dug up his soul, raw like precious metal from the earth, and made him determined. He would do his own stupid thing, wrestle with Truth one on one and take back all that he had lost. And he will do it without making the mistake he made before.
No one will know. When no one knew no one would meddle. When no one meddled no one would get hurt. No one will try to help and then die.
"Then you are not part of my present anymore," Ed said coldly. "Get out."
Go home, Alfonse.
That was the limit. Alfonse silently grabbed his coat and left, shutting the door with a small sound that rang out through Ed's mind as he bit his lip till it bled.
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Flashback
The elation that came with seeing his brother's carbon copy withered away pretty quickly; dread taking its place, leaving a sour taste beneath his tongue and nausea at the back of his throat.
Why was this happening now?
Was this a trap? A ploy? A test? Truth's way of torturing him?
Was this a sick joke?
Ed slammed the door of his new apartment, his automail hand creating so much force the walls creaked and bits of sand scattered into the air. He was angry, so angry. Then and there reality had punched him in the face; that he had done naught to reach his goal. He spent years just fucking waiting for nothing and his brother was still stuck in Truth's clutches. He did nothing to save him. His life was filled with absolutely...
Nothing
His brother. Al. Alphonse.
Ed screamed and his hands pounded the first surface they found. His glass dining table shattered violently. Red tinted pieces landed on his bare feet, a prickling sensation. Ed buried his face in his hands, flinching when he realised his flesh one was leaking sticky crimson liquid. The bleeding hand dropped to his side, twitching as he let the cool metallic feeling of his automail calm him, fingers pressing into his eyes to prevent hot tears from escaping.
He let Alphonse be taken from him and did nothing to get him back.
All he did was to rely on promises from the bastard that took him away in the first place. What was he, an idiot? But without Truth, he had no hope. If he didn't obey Truth, the same thing that happened in Munich would happen again.
And it was definitely Truth that placed this not-Alphonse in front of him. He put something within his reach that he could not have.
What was he doing?
Ed stared at the mess for exactly eighteen seconds before stepping over it and dragging himself to his room, flinging the door shut with too little strength. It hit its frame with a thud but did not close, opening just a crack.
Ed pictured the pile of glass through the little hole by the door. He ignored it all, the pile of hazardous waste and the bleeding hand. Flipping open his State Alchemist pocket watched to glance at the frozen time and carved letters (like he did every night), he crawled into bed, curled up and fell asleep with the sob wrenched up his throat and silence sewn in the air.
He couldn't run that far away. And that mess still greeted him in the morning.
It stank like rotten garbage.
The next day he loathed work but had to get up anyway. The wounds had dried up overnight so he didn't bother putting anything on them. The day was mostly filled with paperwork which he did and forgot immediately afterwards. The worst of it all was the lecture where he had to actually talk to people. He was angry and tired. Angry and annoyed. Angry and depressed.
His new students probably hated him. And when not-Alphonse came up to him with a question, he just walked away briskly. That day he smashed a vase right on top of the pile of broken glass, looked at his watch and fell asleep empty.
He saw not-Alphonse twice the next day and more in the following days. Each time he devoid himself of emotion and something else would land in the pile of broken objects. Not eating and sleeping with nightmares lingering in his unconsciousness took away all his energy, so much that he couldn't be quite as rude to anyone anymore.
He couldn't even bring himself to be angry anymore.
By the end of the second week he felt the total toll of his self-destructive lifestyle. So much that he was found stumbling (not fainting) and was promptly sent home on sick leave.
He collapsed on the sofa, right in front of the mess and closed his eyes, not thinking because if he started thinking he would break something again.
He was semi-conscious when the doorbell rang, so that he thought he dreamt it all. Dangling in a barely lucid state, he answered the damn door. He knew he shouldn't have, just let them think he was out. Or sleeping. Or dead. It didn't matter.
He regretted it tremendously. Not-Al stood in the corridor carrying a couple of plastic bags. He smiled brightly looking much like Alphonse that Ed wanted to punch him so he could stop it. Mutilate that perfect face.
"Ms Wilson at the reception told me to check up on you since my apartment is just a block from yours. She was quite worried. Are you feeling better, Teach?"
Just stop it.
Ed nodded dumbly. It was a lie; bile was practically trying to force its way up his throat, stomach acid which was burning whatever was left of his insides.
"You live alone, don't you? I brought a couple of things and some food. Could I..."
Ed stuck out his hand abruptly, just to receive the items so not-Al can leave and leave him to his not-life.
The boy just seemed more persistent at his unspoken rejection.
"I can't just leave you like this! You look terrible; why don't you go lie down, Teach, and I'll warm up some soup? "
He already had one foot in his apartment, kind and eager. It wrung Ed's heart dry like a piece of cloth, a painful sensation of twisting and pulling. Ed numbed himself as much as possible, trudging to the sofa and falling into the brown leather cushions.
Soon the smell of chicken broth wafted into the living room. Ed plugged his nose to keep nausea at bay.
Not-Al didn't even bat an eye at the mess. He sure gasped at the droplets of dried blood Ed left behind but he didn't seem to care at how pathetic everything was. There was not a shred of sympathy. Not-Al only watched Ed with sky eyes filled with compassion as he forced down spoonfuls of broth, then helping him when he began to retch.
Ed sat on the sofa heaving and feeling more terrible by the second. He pinched the bridge of his nose, covering his eyes with his left hand. In that time of sickness, his automail, his mess, his fragility and weakness was all revealed. His bleeding core was stripped down and naked.
"If you don't mind," Alfonse asked softly. "Could I pray for you?"
"I don't believe in God," Ed answered gruffly and it sounded a tad harsh.
"Then you might believe in what a man said. My father told me before he died that he wanted me to go through life not surviving but living."
Ed scoffed. "Was he a priest?"
Alfonse wasn't a slight bit offended. "No," he said. "But he was a good man. A happy man."
Ed coughed and replied in a small voice that made him seem like a frightened child. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I think you needed to hear it." Alfonse paused, thinking and studying him with those not-Alphonse eyes. "I think you're a good person, Teach, you just don't want to give yourself a chance."
Ed laughed a hollow laugh.
"You cannot understand," he spoke in a voice so finale. "Maybe it's time for you to leave."
Alfonse did go, knowing that whatever that he was trying to accomplish would only take time and patience. He stood at the doorway, shoes and coat on and umbrella hanging from his arm.
"I just want you to forgive yourself, Teach. Maybe then you could live a little happier."
Ed slammed the door in his face.
The ceramic bowl was emptied; Ed poured whatever in it into the sink. He didn't wash it, or leave it to rot, just stormed with anger boiling furiously and threw it down into the pile. The crash was thunderous but it didn't calm his mind like he thought it would. Ed just saw the little droplets of wasted brown liquid sticking to each crack and the dam broke.
For once, he let himself cry in front of the mess of glass and clay.
End flashback
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Ed poured the boiling water into the cup of preserved noodles; it being the only food that survived his absence, and gulped it down scalding, content with the warm fluid filling his insides. He yawned coming out of the kitchen, noticing the tall navy blue umbrella by the door, waiting for its owner's retrieval. Staring at it for a moment, the doorbell rang, cruel and true, startling Ed.
He could have pretended he was out, or sleeping, or dead for all it mattered, but he still went to the door like it had a strange magnetic attraction toward him. Even though he didn't want to answer, because he knew who would just 'carelessly' leave their umbrella behind to find a damn excuse to come back into his messed up life.
Alfonse looked guilty. What for, Ed had no idea.
"I'm sorry," he began.
"I'm not," Ed spat out, trying so hard to crush both their hearts, and failing miserably.
Alfonse laughed. "It's like before, isn't it? You try to get rid of people to protect them from some unknown danger. Wish I knew what it is; this is getting tedious."
"Usually when I kick people out, they don't come back," Ed commented but he couldn't keep that small relieved smile away from his face.
He remembered their second meeting. After the final episode in his apartment, the next day Ed cleaned up the floor and took a good look at his hand which by some miracle didn't get infected. Then he looked through his lecture notes until he was totally exhausted, glanced at his watch and fell into an instant dreamless sleep. Alfonse kept coming by with chicken soup which he gracefully accepted then proceeded to throw the boy out of his home. He kept leaving his umbrella behind though.
Maybe it was because that boy had no sense of self-preservation. Ed didn't want to let people get close to him for a reason. Reasons he blurted out to Al over and over again, no matter how ridiculous they sounded. He said he was a secret agent, running from the government. Said he was a traitor, running from the mafia. Said he was cursed and bad luck came to people near him. At last he couldn't help but tell the truth: what really happened to Maes Hughs. That would scare off even the most fearless of overly-compassionate brats.
He just didn't take into account that Alfonse Heinderich was stubborn as hell.
But he couldn't help be thankful for that fact.
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Flashback
And he couldn't help fear that he made a big mistake.
Fifteen years ago, he was walking home, carrying takeout dinner for one. Hughes and his family often knew that this fact went on for months, since he was alone, since he had no one. They made it a habit to share their table and countless apple pies, even the guest bedroom, just as long as Ed put a smile on their daughter's cherubic face along with his own. Then Ed made the mistake of getting too comfortable. He studied, ate and played, and got too comfortable with life. He let his guard down; he was content; and it was wrong.
One night, the sky was darker than usual, as if the setting sun rushed to hide away in fear. Ed trudged down the familiar alley, something amiss. There was not a soul and the wind was chilly. Households were silent and it was strange; strange because not even stray cats or rats wandered. The only light was a single flickering bulb in a street lamp at the end of the road, and it cast a long shadow behind Ed that shivered.
The stale, cold air suddenly filled with a coppery wet stench. Ed dropped his bags, food spilling from the holes but nothing came out of the shadows to feast, the aroma masked by the filth and the blood.
"Hughes!"
His shoes, combat boots splashed into a puddle, and more liquid dripped into the gutter. Ed was quickly at his side, only to witness the light fading from the eyes of a friend. Maes Hughes could hear and see his beloved family, but they could not. They will never again.
"Gr...Gra...cia..." He was choking from life spewing from his lips. "Eli...Eli..."
"Why are they burying Daddy?"
"They can't put him there! Daddy can't go to work if he's in the ground!"
Ed was shocked, frozen despite being familiar with such carnage. Hughes had been the closest thing he had to a real father, one that was around, that made him feel warm and happy. So he could do nothing. And he died, heart stopped before he could call for his dear daughter.
And the air changed again, an icy gust of wind carrying away the odour and the whisper.
Ed could hear from behind him, only metres away, a small giggle.
"Remember, Mr Alchemist, remember who owns you. Remember your master. And remember that you killed Mr Maes Hughes."
Ed looked over his shoulder at once, and he could see the small dark figure, skipping away, like a boy with a present. His eyes widened and tears overflowed, the lump in his throat forcing its way out of his nostrils as mucus, chest heaving as he choked and sobbed.
"YOU...YOU BASTARD!" he screamed and hunched into Hughes' unmoving chest.
And he had no clue whether he cursed Truth, or himself.
End Flashback
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"You know I don't want to lose you."
"I'm scared! I'm scared you'd end up like Al or Hughes! I don't want you to be taken from me! I don't want to find you killed and cold and dead! I don't... Don't make me!"
"You know you have to stay away."
Edward said the same thing before and Alfonse refused before.
Should've told him to get away. 'Stay away' – it sounds like you want him to stay.
"I'm scared too, you know," he said. "The last time, if I left you alone, Ed, you would have killed yourself out of sheer idiocy and negligence."
Ed chuckled bitterly. "I promise you, that won't happen again."
Alfonse replied with a snort. "I would apologise for not believing you, but you're a liar."
Edward sighed and uncurled himself in his armchair.
"Then I'll tell you." He saw Alfonse's eyes widened in disbelief. "Some parts are not too bad. Better than the stories about my brother and Hughes anyway. I'll tell you about my father and what I was doing. But you can't say anything to anyone; I'll get into trouble." Ed took a deep breath and began his story of magic, with dark flying horses and sticks that shoot light. He spoke of the infamous Moulding Bastard, the Horcruxes and that his task, but nothing of alchemy and Amestris and Truth. Technically he told Alfonse that he was just going to save the wizard world.
After all, Truth is watching.
Ed's voice was light-hearted. Alfonse's spoke words of relief. They were both lying. They both smiled with haunted eyes, seeing back to the time when they first met and everything was in pieces.
"Ed, promise me you'll be careful," Alfonse said, begging. "And that you'll at least try to give your father a second chance. At least you have one wanting to reconnect with you. And he could watch your back." The argument felt weak on his tongue. He looked bothered and upset. Merely spider web threads held the situation together.
The tension grew heavier and the he sighed. "You'll always have secrets, Ed. And they're always about your brother. You'll do anything for him, I can tell. You'll..." he gulped shakily, eyes watering. "You'll die for him."
Ed could not deny that. And he loved Alfonse like how he loved Alphonse; he couldn't lie to them both. "I will. But I'm trying not to. I'm...I'm fighting..."
Alfonse quickly swept away a stray tear and his azure eyes shone. "I understand. Just...just remember that you have a brother here too."
Ed sucked in a breath of air and it sounded like he was choking. He could no longer find his tongue, could no longer sprout even a half-truth. Like always, Alfonse stripped him bare and he could finally fully comprehend the sheer danger of his road ahead. It would not only be strewn with thorns, but with snakes and poison, and walls reached a thousand feet. He was nervous and eager at first, but now he was frightened, the weight of his burdens tripled. However, the fire brimming in him blazed on, stronger than before and he could see those behind him, beside him and waiting for him.
He wanted to say something, but cut himself off, his chest heaving as his heart decided to slow. He smiled and his eyes were no longer clouded, a strange emotion replacing the uncertainty.
"Why do you even put up with me?" He settled for something that sounded nonchalant but was actually endearing.
Alfonse sighed and smiled too, leaning back on the sofa, trying to relax.
"Because I love you, Brother." He shrugged. "I told you before; I won't die, I won't get hurt and I won't leave. You're bloody well stuck with me till you're at least ninety."
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There was a bit of time left before Alfonse's flight. Life fell into somewhat of a routine; with them both trying to spend as much time with each other. Harry was even included sometimes, after torturous chores with the Dursleys and lots of swearing and threatening on Ed's part. The atmosphere of summer holidays affected everyone and they all began to relax.
The week ended uneventfully with Edward on the sofa flipping channels on the television, legs crossed and perched on the coffee table. It was dark and hot; Alfonse was out grocery shopping, planning to make a dinner for once. Harry would join them and it would be strangely domestic.
There was the sound of a closing door. Ed perked up, stomach rumbling at the prospect of Alfonse's legendary food. But Ed froze; the rumbling turning into a flip for his greatest enemy had invaded his home. It stood all innocent, a child's dream and a mother's lifeline. Like it owned his house and controlled his life.
Milk.
"How...how dare you let that thing in?!" Ed stammered.
Alfonse rolled his eyes. "It's good for you, Ed."
A twitch. "I'm not drinking it."
"Yes you are! Do you want to stay a bean all your life?"
"WHO ARE YOU CALLING..."
The slamming of the door drowned out the rest of the profanity.
"Ed! The Daily Prophet's here! They're talking about Sirius!"
Harry burst in, darting to the dining table to lay out that animated atrocity of a newspaper. There strangely wasn't a picture of the 'mass murderer', just a boring shot of Dumbledore talking with some other geezers from the Ministry. There, in huge bold letters, spelt the truth – 'Sirius Black: Innocent', followed by a summary of what really happened that night along with a bunch of bullshit about how the Ministry was 'deeply regretful' for the 'misunderstood evidence' and how Peter Pettigrew and You-Know-Who were the true culprits.
Ed grinned; he had never seen Harry quite so happy, not even when there was news about Voldemort's return and how he wasn't the nutcase they thought he was. However, there was still a bleak note; Sirius still had not woken after his trip into the Veil. Ed wasn't sure what was taking so long and it was getting quite worrying as it could be another one of the bastard Truth's schemes. He made a reminder to visit 12 Grimmauld Place soon.
"Harry, you're here!" Alfonse popped out from the kitchen. "I'm cooking something special since I'm flying off tomorrow. It's my famous stew!"
The night ended with the trio bonding over bad television with full bellies. They laughed and yelled and the great enemy milk was spilt but honestly no one cried over it. And no one spared the thought that happiness could end when the war began. It was just a too warm too dark night filled with the incessant chirping of crickets.
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Hi guys! I'm back?
Firstly, I wanna apologise for leaving you all in the lurch with practically a teaser. Things just got busy and I got into different fandoms and everything spiralled from there. So if there're any readers left, here's chapter 1! I also just wanna confirm that this story is definitely not abandoned because I do have everything planned out and I'll need some time to get writing. I'm sorry I can't promise regular updates but I'll try getting the work done since I have a long break before university/college. So to anybody still reading, thanks for the support! Feel free to drop a review! Thanks!
Ssapphireangel
