Interlude
He leaned forward to tap the cabbie on the shoulder. "If you wait around for me, I'll pay you double fare."
The man agreed almost immediately, which didn't surprise Edward in the least. He was already paying a sizeable amount of money to get taken to some godforsaken patch of woods outside of town, and the cabbie would have to get himself and his horse back to town anyway. Getting paid for it would be a big bonus.
And Edward didn't really give a fuck about the money anyway. Somebody would end up getting it once they were gone, though he would have to make sure to get Alfons to make some sort of arrangement to keep it from reverting to Mustang's double. The man might not be the conniving bastard his Amestrian counterpart was, but he didn't need more money.
The deal concluded to his satisfaction, Edward leaned back in the leather-bound seat, idly watching the scenery go by. Sitting wasn't nearly as strenuous as walking around, because it took the weight off his (fucking lousy, broken-down) fake foot, and allowed him to take the sling off his neck.
Being at rest, however, reminded him just how much he ached, these days. Dull pain lanced up from his left-right-whatever thigh, and the muscles in his back, shoulders, and neck felt more like lead cords than anything else, tightly coiled and motion constricting.
He shifted slightly, found no comfort, and raised his fingers to dig into his neck, trying to ease some of the tension there. All he got for his trouble was sore fingers.
Fuck.
What wouldn't he give for one of Alfons' absolutely fantastic back-rubs. Just the thought of those hands working out the kinks in his shoulders nearly made him groan aloud (and it was lucky he didn't make any noise, because that would have been embarrassing as hell). But he wouldn't be getting any back-rubs any time soon, because that would involve going and whining to Alfons, and Alfons had enough work as it was without Edward being even more of a drag.
Actually, he wished Alfons hadn't gone to work on the array when he did, because now he kept nagging at Edward incessantly – get some painkillers, you look awful, you should take more breaks. Edward snorted to himself. The only thing that would probably help him at this point was general anaesthesia.
Painkillers would be ultimately useless, and in all honesty, he had sort of gotten used to the pain already. He could barely remember what it felt like not to ache all over, all the time. Pain was nothing, it could be dealt with or just ignored, whatever worked.
It was just so much easier to pretend he was fine when Alfons actually believed him, and resting more often was simply not an option.
His head lolled back, making the scenery vanish and the dull, gray-blue sky swim into view. The sun was out today, casting what would have been a brilliant glow over the snow back home, but here was just a pathetic struggle for cheerfulness.
The temptation to look at the sun – dimmer than the one in his world, yet brighter than anything else here – was almost overwhelming, and he closed his eyes to prevent himself from doing something so stupid. Dull it might be, but this sun could blind him just as easily as his own.
Reddish-orange light filled the space behind his eyes, and he found his thoughts turning to Al, so close, so fucking close he felt like he could reach out and touch him.
If only it worked, if nothing else went wrong, because there were so many awful things that could happen....
And when he got right down to it, that was the reason he was sitting in somebody's cart, on his way to a hole outside of town to try and talk to a deity he didn't believe in.
It was a pretty dumb idea, all told, because even if all his troubles were caused by somebody out to get him, why should they care about some half-hearted... he felt uncomfortable even thinking the word "prayer".
None of this was about him, though, he reminded himself. It was for Al, because he couldn't live his life with the uncertainty of not knowing whether that transmutation had succeeded.
Most of all, though, it was for Alfons.
Even sitting in the buggy, outwardly relaxed, the thought of Alfons made his breathing quicken and his heart race. He would never have believed he was even capable of experiencing the kind of happiness Alfons inspired in him. Frankly, he still didn't think he deserved it, and that was why he was here.
All his life it seemed that other people went around paying for his sins, and he couldn't add Alfons to that list. For the first time practically since he remembered himself an "after" featured in his thoughts: after they finished the array, after they went through, after he saw Al again... after all that, he would live.
Things would be different once they got to Amestris, he promised himself for the thousandth – millionth – time. He would treat Alfons right, the way he deserved to be treated. Anything Alfons wanted he would get, Edward swore to himself. If Alfons wanted a fucking rose garden on Venus, he would manage it, or-
He couldn't even think the words.
Hoping was foolish, wanting was useless, but the life he – they – could have together hung before his eyes like a golden promise, like Paradise. What did it matter if he did or didn't believe in a god? He had nothing to lose but self-respect, and that was a small sacrifice if it meant a chance of safety for Alfons.
And Alfons believed, right? Alfons wasn't some deluded moron, and he had practically come out and said that Edward had better get some praying done.
Anything. He would do anything. Going out to some forest and talking to himself for a while was hardly the same type of sacrifice as becoming a dog of the military. If there was even the slightest chance that this could make a difference in the outcome, then it was worth it.
Even if he felt like a moron right now.
Well, at least he was a methodical moron. Nobody could say he hadn't done his research: a morning spent in the library, digging through different prayer-books and figuring out the gist of things had yielded results. He found some guidelines that didn't seem too hokey, and actually had a sort of internal logic. There, sitting on the floor among the stacks, he had realized that he was actually going through with it, felt really weird for a while, then steeled his resolve. He had nothing to lose and everything to gain, and he had to cover all his bases.
Sometimes he saw in Alfons' eyes that maybe the man knew even though Edward had never told him that he just couldn't go through this again. Being shunted back to square one would-
A deep shudder ran through him, and he pushed the thought away. What they didn't tell you was that chasing dreams got real old after a while, and that it was too fucking tiring a way to spend your life. Long ago someone had told him that the best dreams never became a reality.
Bullshit.
A dream with no end, no conclusion, was pointless and tragic and hurt enough to tear out your heart. He was sick of chasing rainbows. That fucking pot of gold had been winking at him far too long, and he was going to get it this time. The one obstacle was the inescapable fact that he was one of those people that just didn't get their happy endings. Didn't deserve them. But maybe... he hadn't tried this yet... maybe....
"Sir?"
Edward started and opened his eyes, having almost forgotten the man. Now that he looked around he realized they had stopped on a fairly remote patch of road, Boston a grayish smudge off to the left.
"Thanks," he grunted, and set about picking himself up and navigating back down to the ground. Shit, he moved like an old man, slow and careful and aching. Once he had moved like a cat, swift and sure on his feet. He snorted under his breath.
"I won't be long," he said, waited for the man to nod, and set off into the underbrush.
Several minutes of careful plodding through knee-deep snow that constantly threatened to ruin the precarious balance on his prosthetic brought him to a clearing with a convenient log off to one side. Almost as if it had been put there especially-
Right, he scoffed to himself.
Still, no reason not to make use of it. He went over to the log and brushed the snow off a section of it, slow going because he could only use one hand. When a patch had been cleared he sank down on it and forced himself to relax breath by painful misty breath, until his body's quivering had died down and the pain awakened by his walk could be pushed aside.
Inhale. Exhale. When he opened his eyes again he felt at peace (sort of), and looked around the clearing again. Nobody would see him, and there was no point in putting it off any longer.
Right. From this moment until he left the clearing, he was Edward Elric, believer extraordinaire.
For Alfons, he told himself firmly, for Al, for me, and opened his mouth.
"So. Um. Creator of the Universe and all that…if you really-" Shit, he wasn't supposed to express doubt in the same sentence as asking a favor. That was just…stupid. Damn it, if he had come this far to pray, he was going to fucking do it properly!
"Sorry," he said tentatively, thankful his voice didn't echo. If that cabbie was hanging around... shit, that would be embarrassing. "I'm…uh, starting over, okay?"
You were supposed to start with praise (butter him up, Ed thought privately, but hey, it made sense). He swallowed. "I think You made a really nice world," he said cautiously, trying to speak with capitals the way Alfons seemed to be able to. "It's… pretty. And people are…well, they're nice most of the time. I mean, they can be nice, only sometimes they're not. Not that I'm saying it's Your fault because obviously-" Fuck, he felt like a moron.
"The sun is real nice," Edward tried a different tack. "All…warm and shit." Shit. Given Alfons' general feelings about profanity, he didn't think it was a nice thing to do while talking to a god. "Sorry about that. And I really like water. That was a good idea."
This, however, was most definitely not a good idea. Hel- Fuc- Darn, what had he been thinking? He should have copied a prayer out of one of those books. Stilted and formulaic they might be, but at least they probably flowed better than making it up as he went along, and he wouldn't be stuck with all sorts of questions like when was the praise business over with and he could move on. To be fair, though, he hadn't really said all that much yet, and so wracked his brains over something to add.
"Plants!" he announced in triumph. "Plants are really nice too. That photosynthesis business was really inspired. I should try to figure out how to power alchemy by regular solar energy, not just draining a nova, that would be so-" catching himself, he flushed a bit, and dragged his thoughts back on track.
"Yeah, uh, tangent. So. You made lots of animals. Very, um, creative animals." Edward could feel his face heating up. God, if there was- no, he had decided he would believe for now- if He was even listening, must think him an utter moron. Well, at least he wasn't boring. Being good entertainment had to count for something.
"I'm not used to this," he said tentatively, suddenly wondering if he wasn't rambling too much. "Sorry I'm taking so long about it."
He swallowed again and forced himself to calm, looking around the slumbering forest. Think of Alfons.
Screw the praise. If he were God, he would have gotten the point already. Now he was supposed to make his request.
"So, um, the reason I'm bothering You is because I wanted to ask… I mean, You're supposed to be able to do anything, right? So it shouldn't be that big of a deal to make this array work out, right? I mean, what do you care –" Damn, he was getting argumentative. This was not the way to go about asking for favors from deities.
"That sorta came out wrong," Edward said sheepishly. "I meant to say, please make it work? If You know– I mean, You do know everything, so You know this would make me real happy, right?" There. See what good a believer he was? Why, he could practically convince himself! "And it would make Alfons happy too," he added encouragingly. "He's a great guy, much better than me. Honest." A pause.
"They say – Alfons says – You're supposed to be a-a nice God, y'know? I could use just a bit of nice in my life…"
Now where the fuck did that stupid lump in his throat come from? Damn, he knew this whole praying business was a bad idea; all it did was make him feel sorry for himself.
But he never left a job half done. You were supposed to finish off a prayer with giving thanks, so God would damn well get his thanks. He schooled his expression and sternly admonished his voice to lose the pathetic, pleading tone.
"I think it's rather cocky to go around thanking You for something if You haven't decided what You're going to do yet-" Wait, disquieting as the thought was, maybe God had already decided? He shouldn't assume anything. Alfons always got annoyed when Edward assumed things, so it stood to reason that God might, also.
"Uh, feel free to ignore that comment if it bothered you. So, um. Thanks for everything."
Too inadequate. What good turns had he had, lately? Oddly enough, a frightening amount. Maybe if things hadn't been going so well for him lately he would be less worried now.
"Thanks for making me meet Alfons," he elaborated, and felt a familiar, loopy sort of smile on his lips. "And making the gold mine and Boston thing work out. And if this whole fucking –sorry 'bout that– uh, thanks in advance if it all ends up okay."
Edward stood up uncertainly, looking around the still-quiet clearing. Was that it? Somehow it felt wrong to him, leaving it like that. He could never believe in getting something for free, even if life was so much more complicated than Equivalent Exchange. He looked up at the sky and spoke again.
"Uh, I know I'm not supposed to make bargains, but You're supposed to understand me. So you know that it'll make me feel better." That was okay, right?
"Um. If this all works out, I promise I…I'll…" Edward bit his lip. "I promise…" Sweat broke out on his skin, clammy in the cold. Maybe this was why you weren't supposed to bargain. What thing of value could he possibly offer a god? Something told him that He wouldn't find spare limbs especially useful. But once he said he would promise something, it seemed like bad form to renege….
"I promise I won't go around saying that You don't exist," he finally said. "... As often." He paused, turned to go, then looked back at the last moment.
"And," he blurted, "if somebody has to suffer for this, let it be me." Just not Alfons. Anything but hurting Alfons.
Edward stood a moment in the dull light, his words finally spent, wondering if something was supposed to happen now. He found himself strangely disappointed when nothing did.
With a sigh, he turned to trudge back to the buggy, back to real life where everything was dependent on his sweat and blood at the work of his own two hands. This jaunt might have been rather silly and embarrassing, but that was such a small sacrifice, negligible in the scheme of things. If it actually worked....
It would have been worth it.
Sorry for leading you guys on... but I felt this was very important (and I hope, reading it, you also see why), and I promise this is the end of the "procrastination". Next chapter is the real deal XD
