Interlude
The Road Taken

The village elders could not believe he was gone. The young man had ingratiated himself into their ranks, earning their trust, only to betray it at the first sign of real responsibility. None had seen it coming, least of all his heartbroken wife, labored with a young baby to raise on her own.

There were no kind words uttered for the missing father. A few of the men gathered up weapons, ready to punish and return the absentee man. Elise was like family to them; she had seen them through the hardest trials of their lives, and now it was their turn to return the debt. At first she had resisted, pleading with them that she wanted no part in forcing him to stay, but as the days passed, she finally relented, asking them to seek out her wayward husband.

It was no coincidence that this coincided with her discovery of the missing Stone, her impotent fuming rage threatening to consume her. Though she would need the Stone for her next body, she also knew there were many places to create one. Why, even if the situation became desperate enough, the village would more than suffice, she thought with a bitter smile.

Her disappearance came soon afterwards, unannounced and without warning. There was no letter left behind, no explanation. The old woman Kayide sensed something amiss, however, and spent the remainder of her days searching for the last of her family. Ultimately she would die on her journey, alone, without comfort or answers.

--

His life as a hermit began the day he left. It was not a life he embraced wholeheartedly, recognizing the longings in his heart for social interaction and comfort, but it was the life he understood was for the best. With no one to ask questions, his work could resume where he left off. No one to worry about, no more innocents to watch suffer and die for his lost cause. It was a lonely time.

He stayed close to the mountains; even Dante, with all her resources and skills, could not hope to find him within the confines of that dense region. It was still risky, however, as he knew other villagers had braved the dangerous gaps and fiords of the valley in his pursuit. The people would hate him, revile him, despise him. Though it was not a distinction he particularly enjoyed, it was one he was growing more and more accustomed to.

--

They caught up her in the field beside the main road. She had spotted the blockade miles away, but underestimated the tenacity of the military men. They snatched her baby away, eyeing her appreciatively after pinning her down. Rage was replaced by fear, seeing these dirty sweaty men leering at her from above.

"Release her at once," came an order from behind them. The men stiffened at the voice, immediately assuming the proper military stances.

"What's going on here," asked their captain, striding towards them as he sheathed his sword. "I hear a woman scream, and this is what I find?"

"Captain Greeley, sir," bowed one of his men. "This woman sought to elude the roadblock. We were merely pursuing her."

"So it seems," he said, kneeling before the frightened woman. His dark hair rose in short spikes, and his thoughtful eyes betrayed a wiry, confident strength. "Are you okay, miss," he asked, helping her up. Unlike his officers, he was clean-shaven and immaculately attired. One had to wonder if he was even in the same unit as those filthy faced men.

She nodded, straightening her tousled hair with a defiant air. "And what are you going to do about your men," she asked angrily.

"Rest assured, they shall be disciplined," said the captain, his eyes sparkling. "Perhaps I can provide you with a hot meal and bath to make up for this…misunderstanding."

"And my baby?"

"Tsk, tsk," chided the captain smoothly, his eyes never leaving the girl by his side. "A baby and still you men attacked her. We shall speak of this later," he said briskly, guiding her towards their camp.

--

The river stream dribbled its way down the gray brown stones, clean and serene as the untouched valley. Fish floated past, dead and bloated. He saw the boy crouched by the river's edge, hunched over in pain. Where the water once ran clean, a muddy current had polluted its way into it, caking the riverbank with a dark, viscous substance.

After long deliberation he finally emerged from the underbrush, striding over to the sick boy. He did some cursory vital checks, and finding most in order, carried the unconscious boy back to his hut. The boy was young, no more than ten, and frail for a child of the mountains. Bony arms swung askew as he spirited his burden to safety.

Looking at the sleeping boy, he couldn't help but feel a bit nostalgic. Was this how Kayide and Elise felt when they found him all those years ago? Sick, near death, with nothing in the world save a tenuous hold on his life? And how fragile now looked the boy, tucked under the comfort of his thick quilts. The man thought of his son, somewhere out there, hopefully warm and safe.

--

"Again, I apologize for my men," said the officer, pouring her a tall glass of wine. "They have a tendency to go above and beyond the call of duty…an attribute usually appreciated here in the military, you understand."

"And what exactly is the military doing out here, Captain Greeley?"

"Please, please," he said, waving his hand. "Gabriel, if you will…Gabe, even."

"Very well," she said, sipping her wine daintily after seeing him drink his. "What is the military doing out here, Gabriel?"

"Searching for suspected…terrorists," he replied smoothly. "And why did you feel the need to skirt the checkpoint, miss…?"

"It's missus," she said coolly. "I was traveling eastwards to visit family, and felt I had no need to explain myself to the likes of you."

"I see," he said, swirling the wine in his glass. "Your husband is a fool to let such an attractive creature as yourself roam about this area on her lonesome, much less with a baby in tow."

"Even barbarians deplore violence when a child is close at hand."

He laughed gustily. "You have a lot to learn, my dear…still, it is not my place to tell you where to go, or how to do it, but I beseech you to at the very least find a capable bodyguard. It shall only get harder upon you as you head eastward."

"I am hardier than I appear," she said through clenched teeth.

"So it seems," he said, eyeing her over again. "If you have not heard, the eastern lands are in much turmoil; it is not the region you may be familiar with, judging from your…ah, background."

"Is it the bandits? Or the Ishbalans again?"

"Take your pick," he replied. "If either were to get their hands on you, I doubt there would be anything left to speak of."

"The Ishbalans may fight with the tenacity of demons, but they will not harm an innocent woman, or her baby."

As she spoke, the captain's eyes wandered to the ridge beyond his tent's flaps, the glow of his men's fires twinkling in the twilight.

"War changes people," he said, his eyes distant. "To fight us back as they have, they must have traded their souls over to the Devil himself. You look different from them; that is all they will need to persecute you and your son to the harshest of degrees."

She sighed. "And what man can I trust? What man will take nothing to guide a woman to such a dangerous land?"

He looked at her in surprise, as if the answer were obvious. "Why, me of course."

--

"I trust you least of all," she said, pushing her plate away. The food remained untouched.

"You wound me," he replied, playfully holding a hand to his chest. "I am a man of position, of honor—"

"You are a dog of the military," she shot back.

"You misunderstand," he said lightly. "If I desired your soft, sweet-scented flesh, I could simply take it now. Nothing you said or did could stop me. But I do not, do I?"

"All part of your game," she said, turning away.

"Game," he asked innocently.

"You take on the role of protector and provider for me and my boy, with the purest of intentions. We begin to count on you, depend on you. Then, when the time is right, you threaten to take it all away. With only my body to barter, you have me completely, mind body and soul," she said succinctly. "You want to have your cake and eat it too."

He laughed, his eyes wide with wonder. "You, my dear, are the most suspicious, jaded, and…insightful woman I have ever met."

"So your game is up," she said. "Greedy as you are, you always want more," she added, waving her hand across his tent of valuable possessions. "It shall be your downfall someday, Captain."

"You are simply too cute for words," he said, standing. "If my game is up, what is to keep me from taking what I want now that my 'game' is up?"

"Because you have this silly notion that you are a gentleman's scoundrel," she answered calmly, admiring the stitching on one of his finely tailored suits hanging by the table. "You aspire so fully to it that you actually believe it."

"We are a dying breed," he said, bowing graciously. "But there is still the matter of your attempt to elude the roadblock, miss. Before I…let you go, you must tell me why."

"I told you already," she said angrily.

"A lie for a lie," he said, his eyebrow arching as he stepped towards her. "No self-respecting man would allow someone like you to travel alone, much less a husband."

"Tell me whom that roadblock was set up for," she said, stiffening at his nearness. "And then I shall answer your question."

"You are in no position to make demands, miss," he said, touching her face lightly. "While you may have been correct about me, you would be wise to not think so highly of my men," he added, turning her face abruptly towards the camp beyond. "I doubt they will be as…gracious as I."

"I-my husband…he disappeared recently, and I got so worried," she began, her eyes welling up with tears. "I just had to try and find him, no matter what," she said.

"And why did you not ask my men of your husband possibly traveling through?"

"He-he is a criminal, Gabe, wanted by the authorities all over," she wept. "I did not want to give away his location to the authorities…"

The hard part in his eyes cracked, his body language softening towards her. She felt his sympathetic hand on her back, trying to rub away her tears, and she smiled into her hands. This man was putty to her; all it took was a few crocodile tears.

"Men such as he do not deserve women like you," he said gently. "Turn back, head to your home; I am sure the people who truly do love you are waiting…and worried."

"I cannot," she said, wiping away the tears. "A boy must know his father."

"A boy must have a mother too," he said. "Your son deserves a life without such a man posing as a figure of respect…I tell you what; give me his name, and I shall find him for you, off the record. No one shall know why."

"In exchange for…?"

He held his hands up. "You caught me," he said with a wry smile. "No woman has ever caught on to me, and so quickly, at that. I…respect that. Just…just tell me your name, forget the circumstances of how you were here, and we will call it even."

"Dante," she finally said. "My name is Dante."

His brow arched at her words. "And your missing husband…?"

"H-his name is Denton," she replied, but she saw something suspicious flicker in his eye.

"You want to know the real reason we are out here, Dante," he asked, shuffling some papers into a folder. "We are looking for alchemists."

"You mean witches?"

"Call them what you like," he said lightly. "But if we find even one, I will probably be awarded a promotion…"

"I had no idea the military had taken to burning heretics, much less rewarded officers for such a menial task."

He laughed. "No, not to burn," he said. "To recruit."

A thought occurred to her. "To fight your Ishbalan front."

"Nothing so glamorous," he denied. "Here, look at this," he said, handing her a thin piece of curved metal.

"What is this," she asked, suddenly interested in what he had to say. The metal was lighter and stronger than any she had ever seen.

"It is a brand new technology our scientists are working on," he answered. "See, if a regular soldier takes a sword or shrapnel to his heart, he will die. But that there…that will stop such an attack."

"Your new technology is armor," she scoffed. "No wonder you are losing your war."

He smiled. "Not so simple as armor, for armor is heavy, it can rust, it is cumbersome in desert warfare. That, however…that will someday be placed under our skin, to become part of our bodies. Imagine bones reinforced with metal, vital organs shielded by the finest tempered steel. They are calling it 'under-mail'."

"That is the dumbest thing I have ever heard," she said, making no effort to mask her contempt. "Metal would still be heavy under the skin; in fact, it will more likely cause infection and corrosion of the metal due to the blood's element—"

"And here we thought you were dead, Dante," he interrupted, leaning towards her with a satisfied smile. He snatched back the metal piece, tossing it casually aside.

"I do not know what you speak of," she said, but his confidence told her he already knew the truth.

"I must say, I am impressed," he said. "The reports did you no justice, or your mother, or whoever the hell the first Dante was…frankly, I don't give a damn which Dante you are, but if I knew what you looked like before today, I would have been looking a hell of a lot harder…"

"You are mistaken," she insisted.

He waved his hand. "There is no use denying it," he said, lighting a cigarette. "And really, this is a good thing for you. Your research can continue, with no limitations, no budgets, and we'll provide you with everything you could ever need. Your son of course will be well taken care of, and most importantly, safe."

She sighed. "If I were to admit I was this 'Dante' you speak of, what would you say if she had more important research to find in the east?"

"Our resources are just as vast," he countered, blowing smoke through his nostrils.

"But your knowledge is not," she argued. "There is a city to the west wholly dedicated to the alchemic arts; there, everyone is a master."

"I have heard of no such city," he said, his interest rising.

She scoffed. "Why would you? The true face of Xing is unknown to even those who live within its walls."

"That is a great distance away, Dante," he said, stroking his chin. "We could lose you rather easily in such a vast region…"

"There is great power there, Greeley, I can feel it," she said, her eyes bright.

"Very well," he finally sighed. "You may go eastward for your research—"

"Thank you," she interrupted with a bow. "You will not re—"

"But your son stays," he finished patiently. "I shall find a home for him until your return, Dante, which we shall both eagerly await."

"You cannot…you cannot do that," she said weakly, her heart sinking.

"You misunderstand," he said again, grinding out his cigarette unceremoniously. "I already have."

--

The hermit's bitter medicines and tender ministrations had the boy up by nightfall. The night was darker, masked by the thick clouds that had settled over the area of late. Many of the farmers blamed their dead crops on the darkness, while those of a more superstitious lot proclaimed it a harbinger of evil.

The hermit heard none of these claims, however, focused instead on the dark veil that had blanketed itself across the region. His research had led him to this area, trailing the symptoms of the plague to the epicenter.

One look at the upper ridges of the mountain told the whole story. Even the weeds struggled to survive there, the faint wisps of greenery turned slate gray. Dust clung to withered tree trunks; bark peeling like dead skin. It was quite puzzling; after all, what would be a better place to bask in the sunlight than a mountaintop?

"The mountain is dying," the boy finally spoke. His accent was light, as if he had spent a good amount of time beyond the mountains' range.

"Where is your village," asked the man. "Close by?"

The boy nodded, making no effort to rise from the pallet. "Most of the people are dead," he said grimly. "Both young and old have been afflicted."

"What can you tell me of the plague?"

"What anyone else can," he shrugged. "It came suddenly, without warning of any kind…plants and pets dying, our old growing deathly ill…until everyone was hurting."

"Were there any strangers, or unusual people in the area?"

"Not that I know of," he said, shaking his head. "I have heard legends of entire cities to the east falling under a plague, destroying entire races…are they true?"

"It is as you said," shrugged the man. "They are legends, spread by mouth, changed and exaggerated for effect."

"And what of the city Xing?"

"What know you of such a place," asked the hermit abruptly, visibly shaken by the boy's knowledge. "Such a place does not exist!"

"Exists no longer, you mean," said the boy knowingly. "Vanished in a night without a trace. Just as our village shall disappear…"

"Where did you hear of such a tale," asked the stranger, his eyes flaring hotly.

"The people of the lower towns speak of nothing but that, ever since the sun was blotted out and the plague came."

"You traveled such a distance on your own?"

"I am no child," said the boy angrily.

"My mistake," smiled the hermit faintly. "I have a son about your age out there; I imagine him saying very much the same thing."

"And where is he now?"

"I do not know," he said quietly. "And I doubt he cares to find out."

"Oh," said the boy, fingering a nearby clay bowl. "What medicines did you give me," asked the boy suddenly. "Perhaps you have more for the other villagers…?"

"It would be of no use," replied the man. "They would fall ill soon again afterwards."

"But this is better than anything else we have tried," argued the boy. "At least…at least tell us how to make it."

"I…I cannot," he said slowly. "I am sorry."

"We would pay you whatever we could for it," he said bitterly. "Anything we have, you can take."

"You give away the possessions of others rather easily," said the hermit, stirring a bubbling pot. "But that is not the reason I cannot help."

"Then why," fumed the boy.

"That medicine was made with a heathen science forbidden by your people; they would never allow for the use of it."

"That is nonsense," shouted the boy, rising from his bed. "We are not so prideful to suffer needlessly!"

The man shrugged, angering the boy further. Grabbing the hermit by his collar, the boy pushed and pulled at him, struggling to shake some sense into the much larger man.

"Tell it to me then, and I shall make it," he cried. "Then I will not tell them where it came from!"

"It is not so simple a task," said the man. "I cannot."

"You mean you will not," wept the boy, punching him weakly in the chest. "You could help us, but you choose not to!"

"I understand what you are feeling, but—"

"Understand? You could never understand what it means to lose everything you know! Your family, your friends…your homeland? Unable to do anything but watch as someone with the power to help does nothing!"

The boy ran to the door, tears streaming down his face. "Your cowardice sickens me, hermit. It is no wonder you are out here alone, with a son uninterested in knowing you. Maybe you are the true plague visited upon us, your cowardice infecting everything good in our valleys!"

After the boy was gone, he sat and stirred the fire.

"I'm a good man," he whispered, his damp eyes lost in the flame. "Aren't I?"

The flames died away, hot cinders flickering away to ash. Soon there was nothing left of the fire.

Note: I got the "city" name of Xing from the FMA manga, of which I have little knowledge other than what's summarized on wikipedia. Xing in the manga is actually an entire country, but I decided it would be the place of Dante's first attempt at the Philosopher's Stone (or her manipulating another to do it) in this storyline. This section was originally supposed to be dedicated to Hohenheim, but I decided to give Dante some alone time, so to speak. The events of this section are actually spread out over many years. Lots of faces and names to remember as well…

This was originally longer, but I trimmed it and split it into two parts. Dante gets her road laid out for the next few years, and we see Hohenheim quite a few years after leaving the village. The next chapter will be his interlude.