Welcome back to The Water Alchemist. I don't own any of the intellectual property of Fullmetal Alchemist.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Resolve The Past
Peeling— that's the best word I could think to describe it. It felt like I was being ripped apart layer by layer. As if someone were constructing a model of me out of paper mache but in reverse. Sticky wet paper flesh stripped from me, scattered to the wind. They floated through the darkness— and, for a moment, I thought I could never hope to be reassembled. Yet it felt as though each piece was still somehow connected, by thin strings of warmth that spanned the seemingly endless continuum of distance I traveled. Something like buzzing grew louder until it became distant voices. Voices that urged me to remain whole. Voices I didn't recognize but felt strangely familiar. Voices that vowed to protect me. I'm not sure what had spurred it, but the pieces began to float back to one another as light flooded through the cracks, and soon I could feel the tingle of my legs and the blood rushing through my chest, my hair swirling around my face. And then it was too bright, too white. I scrunched my nose – having face planted – and rose to my feet, staggering for a moment. I was in that liminal space I had crossed into once before. This time, like the last, I wasn't exactly sure what happened.
I realized something and looked around frantically, my heart in my throat. After a moment, I confirmed I was alone. I sighed, clutching the fabric of my coat at my racing heart. Ed hadn't been pulled in with me. Thank goodness. As I dropped my arm, I noticed the gaping hole in my coat, the bloody outline fused into the fibers of the fabric. I traced the skin a few layers deep, afraid of what I may find, but nothing was there. No hole. No scar. Just like when Father had healed me. My hand trembled there a moment. I had been sure I was going to die. I had died. It wasn't so scary, with Ed by my side— knowing that he would be alright was more than enough to comfort me. Yet, when the black encroached on my vision, I wasn't gone. The voices, I had heard them then too, calling for me. They were speaking softly, so softly I couldn't tell what they were saying, but it was warm, like a kind embrace. Whose voices had I heard? How had I come back? And how was it I was here?
"Welcome," a voice taunted, and I jolted, looking up to the grinning white being before me. I instinctually took a step back.
"What happened? Why am I here?" I asked, my breathing rushed. Truth tilted their head at me.
"I could ask you the very same," they said, and I frowned.
"You mean you don't know?"
"I never said that," they said cryptically. "I know all."
"I didn't perform human transmutation," I declared, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. "I shouldn't be here."
"Oh, but didn't you?" they asked, and I took another step back, shaking my head.
"No," I said unevenly. "I couldn't have."
The being suddenly pointed to me, specifically to my neck. I peeled back my coat slowly, exposing my collar. There, embedded in my flesh below my clavicle, was a fresh scar. But it wasn't a normal scar— it was an image I had only seen once before, briefly, but unmistakably the same. It was the same transmutation circle I had found in Kimblee's office, the one he had taken before I had a chance to understand it. The lines weren't nearly as blurred as they had been in Kimblee's version, from what I imagined to be years of wear. The lines were as crisp and clear cut as if carved with the precision of a compass. I traced the skin lightly, hissing through my teeth at the uneven and sore edges. The flesh aggravated into the shape of the circle, lines intersecting through the center, two interlocking squares surrounding the inner circle. Within that was what looked to be a solar eclipse, and there was strange lettering bordering the square, writing similar to what I had seen on the human transmutation circle I had studied in secret. Neither of the boys had shown me what the human transmutation circle looked like, but way back in Resembool, I had stumbled across the image of one in one of their old books. I hadn't been able to cast it from my mind ever since.
"You understand now?" Truth asked, and I shook my head.
"No, I don't— I don't even know what this is," I said, glaring at them.
"A very intriguing choice you made, saving that alchemist," they said, ignoring my disorientation. I furrowed my brow a moment.
"Well, you didn't want to let me change fate," I said, watching their expressionless face carefully to see if I could learn anything from their reaction. There was none. "But you let me change the recipient of fate. Was this your game all along?"
"I was impressed you figured out that much," they said, their arm cradling their chin. They sat casually, one knee up, the other leg tucked behind the first. "But not quite."
"So, what was it then?" I asked, my fists tightening at my sides. If it hadn't been to save Hughes, or to change fate, or to get impaled, what the hell was Truth's challenge?
"That, my child, was something you were supposed to figure out," they said with a sigh and motioned behind me. "But I'm afraid you've disappointed. I was expecting much more from you."
"What?" I breathed, turning at their gesture.
Behind me were two stone doors, and I blinked between them. They each possessed one-half of the symbol commonly put together, Yin and Yang. One door had the black semicircular shape, with white in its center, and the other it's exact opposite. There was writing beneath them both, but I couldn't make it out. There was a strange cross helix diverging through each half of the Yin and Yang. I believed that had the doors been put together seamlessly, they would converge. It was like looking at both sides of the same coin, but had there always been two? I hadn't remembered what the door looked like when it sent me to Amestris, but I was fairly certain there was only one.
"You've run up your stone," they said, and there was an immediate burning in my throat, and I choked on it.
I fell to my knees, grasping around my neck, tasting copper. I coughed and coughed until blood rushed from my larynx like lava. A small object passed through me and fell from my mouth, tinkling across the floor. I stared with flattened vision as the stone I had absorbed – covered in my own blood – rolled to Truth's feet, painting the floor in scarlet. It looked out of place in such a pure void. I managed to catch my breath and wiped my face. Truth bent with a wide grin scooping up the tainted stone.
"What do you mean 'run up?'" I asked hoarsely, afraid of their answer. I had a terrible feeling it had something to do with the doors standing ominously behind me.
"Exactly what you'd think," they stood tall as they crushed the stone in their grasp, my blood dripping from their ghostly fingertips. But as soon as they opened their palm, the stone was gone. So was the blood. All of it. I coughed again. "I'm afraid it's only good for one trip." I heard the creak of a door behind me, but I didn't dare look. I was too focused on getting answers out of Truth.
"You still haven't told me what the challenge was," I said hastily. The creaking only grew louder.
"I already told you what my challenge was," they said simply, and I let out a defeated laugh.
"You mean that riddle you told me?" I scoffed. "That's not much of an answer."
"Maybe so," they said, tilting their head innocently at me. "Or maybe you didn't listen carefully enough."
There was a sudden whooshing sound behind me, and my hair flew forward as arms entered my peripheral vision. I turned, immediately trapped in the black vacuum of their grasp. I thrashed against each hand that dug into my skin, threatening to pull me apart yet again, dragging me to a door.
"Truth!" I screamed out, trying to plant my feet against the slick surface of the void to no use.
"I had high hopes you'd succeed," they sighed out, and for some reason, I felt like the ominous being that called itself God seemed genuinely disappointed. I had no idea that was even remotely possible. Then it was black.
I propose a challenge. I wonder, can you right the wrongs of a past life not your own? The toll has been paid, but success ultimately falls on you. I am God, I am all, I am the world, and the decider of fate. Will you humbly accept a fate that you have no say in? Or will you be able to rewrite the past to save the future?
The riddle rattled around in my head as I spun through darkness, with no end in sight. I couldn't even tell if my eyes were open or shut with how pitch it was. The warmth never ceased in my chest as I felt a shift in the air as if someone flipped a switch and gravity was suddenly back. I fell fast and hard, landing at first on something soft before tumbling onto more solid ground. I sat up, groaning, clutching my head.
"Ow, ow, ow," I said, feeling a knot form atop my head.
I looked up from the hardwood I realized I had landed on, sitting in a crouch, taking in my surroundings. My breath caught in my chest as I took in the familiar yellow walls, the vanity cluttered with medals and trophies, the shuttered doors of my closet. My closet. My dresser, my bed, my crouched celing— I was in my room. I sat back, my brain malfunctioning. I had passed through the portal, but I didn't end up in Amestris. I was home.
There was a sudden clattering from beyond my bedroom door, and my heart was slamming in my chest as frantic footfalls came closer. My door slammed open, hitting the wall before swinging back on the figure in the hallway, a bat over her shoulder at the ready. She gazed down at me, huffing a few breaths before her shoulders loosened. We stared at one another; the only sounds the creaking of the door between us and her erratic breathing.
"Marina...?" she whispered out, her arms dropping. The tip of the bat tapped the floor. "Is it... is it really you?" My voice stuck in my throat.
"Mom?" I said eventually. The bat clattered to the floor as she stared at me, her mouth agape. She moved at first slowly, then picked up the pace as she neared me. She fell to her knees and wrapped her arms tightly around me.
"Oh my god, you look so different I nearly didn't recognize you," she said, her breath tickling my ear as she tugged at the strands of my hair. She took a deep breath, but I had forgotten what it meant to breathe. "You're back. You're really back."
"I—" I choked back a lump in my throat, but I couldn't say anything more than I already had.
I didn't know what to say, anyway. My mind was racing, rushing with all that had happened the last few months, my body frozen stiff as I wondered if I was dreaming. It felt like a dream. I couldn't tell if it was good or bad. She pulled away and to my surprise, tears were streaming down her cheeks in thick clumps. I stared at her in awe and disbelief as she smiled at me.
"You're back," she said with an uncertain laugh. Like if she didn't say it aloud to confirm it, I'd disappear again. I stared at her, still confused, still in shock. I felt a tear slip down my cheek.
"I'm back," I managed to say, my throat dry and grating.
She hugged me again, and this time, I managed to wrap my arms around her, clinging to her, our tears intermingling and plinking to the floorboards. Truth sent me home. I was supposed to want this. I was supposed to be happy— to be relieved that I had made it back in one piece, no less, my toll paid. But I felt empty like something was missing. I had failed whatever stupidly enigmatic task Truth had given to me, and it sealed my fate before I was willing to accept it. It dawned on me suddenly and harshly that I would never see the people I had grown so fond of ever again. They were missing. I hadn't prepared for it. Truth took something from me other than the stone— intangible, but mine all the same. The bonds I cherished most were gone before I could even blink. I exhaled harshly, bunching up the fabric of her shirt in my fists, leaning against her shoulder. And I cried.
I sat quietly in the kitchen, a blanket wrapped around my shoulders, a warm tea between my fingers. I couldn't look up at the walls or the familiarity of the entrance to the living room. It was a lot to take in. It took me a while just to get out of my bedroom, but she was understanding. More than I think she'd ever been. Once I had changed and managed to pull myself together, I went downstairs to find her in the kitchen, in the dead of night, brewing tea. I cut my eyes over to her at the kitchen sink, rinsing out the kettle, before looking back at the ripples in my cup. We hadn't said much, but I was sure she had questions. I had about a million. My heart pounded with them, but they were hard to voice. It was hard to say anything. How would I begin to explain what I had gone through? What the last few months of my life had looked like to her? What had she done in the interim?
"How is it?" she asked softly, pulling out the chair opposite of me.
"It's good," I said, only for an awkward silence to follow. She shifted a moment, and I glanced around the seemingly empty house. "Where's Jeremy?"
"Oh," she said, rubbing her neck. "We got a divorce."
"A divorce?" I asked, taken aback.
"Shortly after you had disappeared. Jeremey didn't… well, he uh…" she paused, scratching just above her eyebrow. She'd always done that when she was uncomfortable. "He barely bat an eye once the investigation was over, and they declared you as a missing person. He gave up."
"That seems in character," I mumbled under my breath, my knuckles white against my cup. I couldn't be surprised at Jeremy's reaction. It was what I had anticipated, after all. But it didn't mean the reality of it didn't sting. I looked up at her, at the guilt in her eyes. I at least hadn't anticipated her reaction. The way she had been acting, the kindness she had extended— I saw glimmers of the woman I once idolized.
"We divorced a month later," she said, clearing her throat.
"I see," I said, my lips forming a tight line.
"What…" she began but stopped, not seeming to know how to follow up such a loaded word. She wrung her hands a moment before swallowing hard. "What happened? Where have you been all this time?" I inhaled sharply through my nose, inhaling the steam from my tea. It was earthy and pleasant, reminding me briefly of Ed, and it made my heart ache.
"You probably wouldn't believe me," I said.
"Please," she said, her voice desperate. "Whatever it is, I need to know. These last two years have been so—"
"Two years?" I said suddenly, blinking at her. There was a long pause. "It's only been a few months... right?"
"A few months?" she said with a short laugh, and I raised a brow at her. She stared at me in that perceptive way of hers, the way she used to look at me to see if I was lying about whether I washed my hands before dinner as a kid. She could always catch me in a lie. She frowned deeply and sincerely. "Marina, it's been two years since you disappeared."
"What did you just say?" I asked, the air deflating from my lungs. She looked up at me, her face twisted in agony.
"You didn't know?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. My shoulders slumped as I sat back in my chair, my hands falling to my sides. I couldn't help but laugh— shrewd and cynical.
"No," I said, rubbing my temples.
"We searched for you a whole year. I had flyers and ads. I even tried to hijack the investigation," she said quietly. "They couldn't figure it out. There was no break-in, no struggle; you didn't take anything with you. You were just gone, without a trace. What happened to you?"
I glanced up at her sad eyes and took a breath. She wasn't going to believe me. There wasn't a shot in hell. She would probably commit me to a mental hospital the moment I opened my mouth and told her I had traversed worlds and apparently time and ended up somewhere where alchemy was akin to magic and I had gone on adventures beyond those that I had read in the storybooks. But I had nothing else to lose. Not when I had already lost so much.
"I'll tell you," I said, not daring to meet her eye. And so, I told her as best I could what had happened. How I had crossed the gates of Truth to an alternate world, and I had been there for what I believed to be the last few months. I bit my lips together, waiting for her to dash to the phone to send me away.
"Another world?" she whispered.
"That's right. I… I know you never talk about… him, but he made an enemy there, and they wanted him to pay. So, they took me, not understanding our relationship. They thought he'd come to rescue me or something stupid," I said, staring into my distorted reflection in my cup. "I know it sounds crazy, but I promise, that's the truth." She sat back in her chair, staring at the floor.
"I thought he was crazy," she whispered, and I glanced at her. She ran a hand over her face and began to laugh, but it wasn't humorous. "He warned me, and I—" She bit her lips together, and I sat forward in my seat. What was she going on about?
"Mom?" I asked. She visibly cringed.
"There's something I need to tell you, Marina," she said. I watched her expectantly, gripping the blanket around my shoulders tightly.
"Your father; I knew he wasn't from here," she began, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "And I knew you weren't, either."
"What are you talking about?" I asked, a bit unsettled by the look on her face. A sinking feeling dwelled in my stomach. "I wasn't even born when you met."
"Marina, I meant to tell you, I really did," she said, and my heart skipped a necessary beat.
"Tell me what?" I edged. She averted her gaze, and I grit my teeth. "What?"
"I'm not your birth mother," she said quietly, and for a moment, I was sure I had misheard her. I had to have. I slapped my hands to my cheeks, trying desperately to wake up from this dream. I had to have actually died, in the permanent way, and this was my personal hell. What better way to torment someone already confused and uncertain as to who she was than to tell her she wasn't even her mother's child? "Marina—"
"No," I said, scooting back in my chair as she reached for me. My whole life, my whole perception of my upbringing shaken. I didn't know the woman in front of me at all. "No, this isn't real." But the sting in my cheeks lingered, and my chest clenched painfully as my breathing shortened. I didn't even notice she had gotten up.
"Marina," she said, her demeanor shifting into one that was sturdy, grasping down on my shoulder.
"You had me," I said unevenly. She shook her head.
"I was never able to conceive children," she said, and I felt for a moment that I'd throw up. But it all was starting to make sense. There weren't any pictures of my mother pregnant with me, no sonograms either— I'd been told they were destroyed in a basement flood. It made sense why Jeremy and even she referred to me as my father's daughter. But if I wasn't from here, and I was Carters, that meant that I... My heart stopped. From Amestris. I was from Amestris. There was no way. No. She was the crazy one. How could I possibly be from Amestris? I looked up to her, to this imposter, and I tried to wretch myself from her grasp, but she held firm. "Marina, listen to me."
"Why?" I cried out, feeling tears well in my eyes. "Why, when all this time, I… all this time…" I curled in on myself, clutching my head. It was all too much to bear. I stiffened as her arms coaxed themselves around me. I was too tired, too confused to run away.
"I know," she said softly, and I hiccupped a sob. "I promise, I was going to tell you on your sixteenth birthday, but… I was going to tell you. I'm sorry I kept it from you." She held me closer, but I didn't react. I was too busy rethinking the whole of my life, my entire worldview shattered before me. I wasn't sure how to even begin to pick up the pieces if such a feat was even remotely possible.
"You knew," I whispered.
"I wasn't sure. I thought your father had gone mad," she said hastily. "I knew he had come from somewhere I'd never heard of, talked about this 'other side', but I only had the idea it might be an alternate reality after he left. But you've nearly confirmed it." I pushed away from her.
"You knew, and you kept it from me. Why?" I managed to ask, gazing at her through blurry vision at her crouched form.
"Would you have believed me?" she asked, taking my hands in hers. A tear slipped down my cheek, realizing I probably wouldn't have. But it didn't make me feel any better. "I was young. I didn't understand the responsibilities I was taking on, being your adoptive mother. I did what I thought was best."
"What was best?" I asked cynically.
"I didn't want you to feel abandoned."
"I already felt abandoned!" I wailed, and her eyes widened at me as I cried harder. "You were there, but you weren't there! You weren't there for me when I needed you! And now— and now…" I hung my head over my chest, letting out all the frustration I was feeling.
"I know," she whispered, rubbing my back, cradling me. She let me cry myself out until I was so tired, I could barely hold my head up anymore. "I know." I was too exhausted to answer or even nod. All I felt was numb.
A terrible draft ran through the abandoned building. Nightfall had come quickly and made their search more difficult, even with the Chimeras sense of smell. They had nearly swept the entire abandoned town with no luck. No matter how many times Ed walked back to the spot where it happened, she wasn't there. And no matter how far into the mines they looked for Kimblee, he too had disappeared. They'd already spent a week hiding out in the abandoned town, under the guise of searching, but Ed knew there would be nothing for them to find. His companions did, too, but indulged him anyway, giving him pitying looks at each meal. The newly stoked fire crackled between them, and Ed stared into it.
"No luck again today," the gorilla-like one stated with a groan. Just like every day. They'd search, find nothing, eat, sleep, and in a dream, Ed would relive that awful moment until he woke up in a cold sweat to do it all over again. The lion poked at the reheated soup on the makeshift stove, glancing at Ed.
"It's been a week," he said rationally. Ed knew what was coming, and he frowned. "I think we should make plans to leave this place."
"And go where?" his fellow Chimera asked. He shrugged.
"Anywhere is better than here. The Briggs search parties get larger each day. They're all looking for us."
"It wouldn't be good if they found us," the gorilla one agreed. "Not since Central took over."
"No, it wouldn't," the lion said, scooping out the soup with a ladle. He handed Ed the bowl. Ed looked up at him slightly. "Got any ideas, kid?"
"No," Ed said lowly, taking the bowl. "I don't." The two Chimera seemed to deflate at this answer. He held the bowl there in his lap for a while, allowing it to grow cold as the others ate their share in tepid silence.
"I know his girlfriend died and all, but we're gonna die if we don't move out," Ed just barely heard the mangey gorilla whisper to the lion, effectively pissing him off. He dropped his bowl to the ground noisily as he stood, drawing both their attention.
"I can hear you," Ed hissed, his eyes ablaze as he glared at them both. "She's not dead, alright?"
"Kid—"
"I'm going for a walk," Ed grumbled, shoving his trembling fists into his pockets, turning from the fire and into the hallway. He wandered angrily around the facility, eventually walking out into the night. It was surprisingly clear. There wasn't a cloud in the sky when he looked up at the brightness of the moon. Looking up at the vast sky, he wondered what kind of constellations Marina would point out to him.
She can't be gone, Ed thought irately to himself, his jaw tightening with each aggravated step. He wouldn't accept that. He couldn't; he didn't understand why it happened or how, though he had some thoughts running through his head. He wondered if it had anything to do with the stone or the strange circle that appeared on Marina's chest. When they were researching her father's work, they deduced it might be a way home for her. If it were, if it somehow connected her to her side of the gate, there was a chance she crossed to her own world. It was the only comforting thought, considering the alternatives. He thought of Al, stuck in the gate— of how he didn't come back until Ed pulled his soul out, and Ed wondered if he should have tried harder to get her back. He wondered if he had failed her, letting her go. A foolish part of him wanted to do anything he could to get her back, but her final words stopped him in his tracks.
Forget about me.
They rang out in his head like bells, a warning. A line in the sand she meant him not to cross. But it didn't stop the ache in his heart or make what his next move should be any clearer to him.
"Hey, there you are," the lion called, he and the gorilla running behind Ed. Ed clicked his teeth, turning from them, walking away even faster. He felt a heavy hand clamp down on his shoulder and shot the gorilla a warning glare.
"Let go," Ed said and shrugged from his grasp.
"Look, I know it's hard to accept, but—"
"She's not gone!" Ed yelled, his nostrils flaring, only the cold wind whispering around them. He was breathing erratically, his chest heavy. He shook his head. "She's still alive. I know it."
"That may be true, but she's not here anymore," the lion said softly, and Ed stiffened, averting his gaze. "It's time to move on."
"I know that. I just…" Ed trailed off, bringing a hand to his face, gritting his teeth. He hadn't admitted it out loud. He'd been too afraid to voice it. Because the truth was that even if she were alive, she was still gone, and Ed couldn't do anything to change that.
"Look, I know it's hard, but she wouldn't want you to drag your feet around here to get caught hoping for the impossible," the lion pointed out, scratching the back of his head. "She risked her life to save ya, and here you are, moping around, wasting her efforts. You barely eat, you barely sleep; you're letting yourself wither away. You think that'd make her happy?" Ed clenched his fists, her words and sweet smile invading his mind.
Edward, live.
"You're right," Ed admitted quietly, letting out a dull laugh. "She'd be pissed."
"Exactly," the lion reasoned. The gorilla stepped forward.
"I'm sorry. About what I said," he said sincerely. "We're just worried about ya."
"Thanks. I'll be alright," Ed sighed. His stomach growled rather loudly, and he tried to quiet it, his hand over his coat to muffle the sound.
"That's the spirit, kid," the gorilla laughed, clapping his back jovially. Ed felt his face flare in embarrassment. The lion pointed up at the building they camped out in.
"Let's get you some grub, huh?" he said, leading them in.
"Sounds good," he chuckled, realizing he should try to learn their names if they were going to be sticking together for a while longer. He thought of Al and hoped he'd gotten everyone out alright. At the very least, they hadn't found them in the town. In terms of moving forward, finding his brother took priority. He wasn't going to stand still anymore. She wouldn't have wanted that. "I think I know where we can go to regroup. If I know my brother, he ended up there too."
"You haven't touched your eggs," she said, her back to me.
"Not hungry," I said, pushing the plate away.
"You should really eat, Marina," she sighed over her shoulder, her focus on the dishes in the sink. I waited a moment before pulling the plate back. I took a bite, even though I couldn't taste it. Everything seemed dull. "I'm thinking sandwiches for lunch later." I nodded weakly.
"Right," I said.
The last two weeks had been difficult to process. Ever since the news that she wasn't my actual mother broke, I retreated into myself. It was the safest thing to do, something familiar to me. I had only started leaving my bed the last few days, instead sitting at my desk, and even then, I didn't dare leave my room's four walls unless it was for the bathroom or meals. She was always right downstairs, sitting in her usual spot, and I could barely face her at meals. She and I had kept our talking to a minimum, focused on the small stuff. When was lunch? Is the shower free? When will you be out?
While I had been gone, my mother's world hadn't changed much. She was still something of a workaholic, and she had her commitments to maintain. She had taken the day off after I returned to recover, but that was the extent of it. It wasn't like there wasn't anyone to alert that I had come back; no one else was waiting to greet me. Just her. We attempted once or twice to talk more about what happened, but it all still felt too raw, and it had to be dropped. I couldn't make it through a conversation without thinking about how insane everything was. I felt too jaded by the outcome of everything, unsure of why things ended up how they did.
"How are you feeling?" she asked, even though her face almost begged me to give her a moderate answer. I shrugged.
"Well, I just arrived home after spending a few months— years, in a completely different world that I was possibly born in and on top of that, found out my mom wasn't really my mom, so," I said dryly, taking another bite of egg. I watched her hands pause at the sink and immediately regretted my word choice. We dwelled in awkward and strained silence as she resumed, which wasn't something so uncommon in our home before, but I was beginning to realize something had shifted in my absence that my presence disturbed.
"I'm sure it's a lot," she said surprisingly softly.
I managed a look at her profile, noting the way her face contorted painfully, guiltily. As much as I wanted to deny it, to think she was the same callous woman I had left, it was getting more and more difficult not to notice that something had changed in her. She was softer, quieter, less demanding of me. She left me to sort out my feelings and showed me small kindnesses; a drink at my door, an extra bathrobe, letting me sleep in a little longer in the mornings.
I could tell she was hurting too. That she was having just as difficult a time as I was on nights I'd walk to the bathroom and hear her soft sobs on the other side of her bedroom door. After I had already dreamt up her reaction to my disappearance, seeing how she had actually reacted threw me for a loop. It hadn't before occurred to me that two years had passed for her. That her life had been just as disrupted as mine had been. A missing child, a divorce, my return; I could rationalize her pain. I just had no idea how to address it. There was still some lingering bitter part of me that wanted to believe it was an act, that her kindness wasn't built to last— because it hadn't been in the past. But that didn't mean she wasn't trying. I chewed considerably slower, closing my eyes.
"I'm sorry," I said after swallowing. "I shouldn't have taken my frustration out on you." She looked at me a moment, her eyes wide before her mouth quirked up just slightly before returning to its neutral state.
"That's alright," she said, resuming her washing. "I'm still having trouble wrapping my mind around all that's happened. I understand."
"I, uh, appreciate the eggs," I said nervously.
"Sure," she said, and I nodded briefly. I glanced at her again, feeling a little braver.
"I remember when I was little, you made eggs every morning before school," I said, the memory jumping to the front of my mind.
"You always begged me for extra cheddar and a dollop of ketchup for them," she hummed, looking over her shoulder. She let out a laugh, turning back to the sink. "I'm glad you grew out of that." I let out a little snort.
"Yeah, my palate is far more refined now than it was back then," I chuckled with a coy smile. I clinked my fork around my plate a moment. "I loved those mornings before you had gone to work."
"I did too," she admitted to my surprise. She always seemed so tired back then in my mind, taking care of me on her own. "I remember you always tried to convince me to stay home or take you with me. It was sweet."
"I always wanted to be around you," I admitted. "Especially after…"
"Your father left," she said, her voice a little strained. It seemed he was still a sore subject, but she'd never even tried to talk about him when I was younger.
"Yeah. I just wanted you to be there," I said quietly. "That was all." There was a quick clatter as she placed the clean utensils on the drying rack, turning the faucet before drying her hands, leaning her back to the sink.
"I really am sorry I didn't tell you sooner," she said, her voice weighty.
"I know," I said with a weak smile. "It's alright."
"It's really not. I was supposed to love and cherish you, to take care of you no matter what," she said, and I lifted my gaze. She put the towel down, gripping the edge of the sink, looking far off into the yard through the window just above the sink, biting her lips together. Her eyes were a bright brassy color that shimmered in the morning rays of sunshine. They looked even shinier as a tear threatened to streak down her face. "That was what I vowed when I adopted you, and I failed. I'm sorry it took me so long to realize. I didn't realize a lot of things until— until you had disappeared." There was a long silence that lingered in the air, warm and thin.
"I can't begin to tell you how long I waited to hear that," I said, my chest tight.
"Too long, I'm sure," she said, her voice barely a whisper.
"I can't say that I was always a saint. There's still plenty I have yet to realize," I said, looking up at her sincerely. "But you didn't fail, not completely. I always had faith that one day, we'd figure it out."
"Yeah?" she asked.
"Yeah," I nodded. "I always wanted to make it right, I just didn't know how."
"Me either," she said, wiping the corner of her eye, sniffling before composing herself. She looked at me kindly. "What do you say? Think we can figure it out now?" A smile tugged at my cheek.
"I think so," I said.
"Good. But, for now," she moved, opening the pantry. I turned in my chair, my arm resting over the back, noticing she'd rearranged it. She pulled out a box and set it on the table between us, lifting the plastic sheened lid. She motioned for me to take one. "You still like glazed?" She shot me a crooked grin. A peace offering.
"Of course," I said, grabbing a donut. "I'm your kid, after all." She laughed, wiping another tear away, and for the first time in a long time, she and I sat together in the glow of the morning, enjoying the company of the sunrise.
A few weeks had passed, and things were much better. I detailed my time in Amestris over dinner— even the sort of gritty parts, and she explained how she'd spent her time. She apparently had gone to counseling after the divorce to confront her shortcomings and came out better, and it showed. We even went together, and I got to have the time with her I had only imagined having if I had ever made it back. I was pretty sure that by the end of getting everything out in the open, I'd been severely dehydrated from all the crying. I had to admit, though, having her there, telling her the things I had held in all those years, feeling every terrible thing I had to feel holding me back, was cathartic as hell. It was tough at first, but we pushed through, and our relationship had only gotten stronger. We both got to make the amends we hadn't realized we each wanted. One day, after our last session, she brought me up to the attic. She said she wanted to show me something to celebrate each of our progress. She pulled down the ladder, and we climbed into the crawlspace, and I stood, looking around at the space bewildered.
"I didn't even know we had an attic," I murmured, noting the items that were clearly just storage. What was so interesting about Christmas decorations?
"By design," she said with a grunt, moving a pile of boxes. She huffed a breath before moving another, revealing a deeper space that she motioned for me to enter. I did so a bit reluctantly, afraid I'd see a spider or a bat or something, but it was so dark I couldn't see either if they were there. She eventually found the light switch, and there was a little desk in the corner, against a wall full of papers and pictures and drawings I realized were largely transmutation circles and scientific equations. I looked back to my mom in surprise. "Your father's study."
"His study?" I asked dumbly, running my hand across the wall.
"I wanted to give you some answers, but I only know so much. I figured if anyone could make sense of Carter's writings, it'd be you. I'd understand though if you need more time—"
"No, please," I waved her off, still staring at the wall in awe. "I want to know everything." I heard something slam behind me and whirled around, startled, reflexively crouching in defense. My mom looked at me over a large chest that had somehow ended up in the middle of the room.
"You weren't kidding about the fighting thing, huh?" she asked dryly, and I stood up, scratching the back of my head nervously. She wiped her brow, tapping the chest. "Your father's things." She opened the latch, and I traced my hands over the worn leather, the brass details.
"Woah," I said, coming around it, met with a slew of books, worn and waned.
"When I met your father, I admittedly didn't know much about him before I married him," she said, and my brows creased. She barely ever talked about Carter so candidly, let alone about how they met. Not even in our sessions. "He was always at the library. He came every day with you in tow."
"With me?" I asked. She nodded, taking up a book, dusting the cover with her hand.
"That's right. That's how we bonded," she said, a small smile on her face. "You were crying like crazy— Carter couldn't console you, no matter what he tried, and I stepped in. You settled down in seconds. He called it my superpower. We got to talking, and I somehow offered to help with you."
"No kidding," I muttered under my breath, digging through the chest.
It was filled with library books— mostly dealing with science or astrology or alchemy. They even still had the old barcodes on the spines, and I wondered if my mom gave them to him. But intermingled with the books were trinkets and keepsakes. Many of which I didn't understand the meaning of. She seemed to as she looked down on them fondly.
"This was the ticket to our first movie," she said, picking up a tattered piece of paper. It was impossible to read. "It was our first date. We were wildly in love—I didn't think twice when he asked me to marry him two months later."
"Two months?" I blanched, and she chuckled. "You made Jeremy wait almost ten years!" She shrugged, her face falling.
"It never felt like it did with your father," she said quietly.
"Must have been some movie," I joked, trying to lighten the mood. She elbowed me with a grin, and I laughed.
"Sure was. I think we watched it again after we got married. I remember it being a bit of a task getting the marriage license, though, considering he wasn't a citizen. We were able to get him a green card, but that was the first time I even realized I didn't know much about him."
"You mean you married a man that you didn't even know where he was from?" I asked skeptically. This woman she was describing was so far from the meticulous, pencil-pushing, note-taking woman I knew. She was wild and crazy and nothing I pictured her to be. A bit impulsive.
"I was young and in love. You do stupid things when you love someone that much," she said fondly, and I swallowed hard. Like throwing yourself off a railing to protect them? a voice wondered in the back of my mind. Shit. I was in no position to judge. I knew the feeling well enough. An image of Ed's horror-stricken face entered my mind, and I shuddered— my heart clenching. I could only imagine how he was faring. I hoped he was alright. I hoped they all were. "We were happy for a while, but I could tell something was off. He'd come up here for hours on end, working on something secretive. It was shortly after I was able to adopt you that he left."
"And he left me with you," I said, the realization freezing my blood.
"He did," she sighed. A moment passed between us, and she cleared her throat. "He said that he had to fix something. He never told me what or why, but he asked me to wait for him to return. And I did. I waited. Sometimes I think I'm still waiting."
"But the divorce," I pointed out.
"We never actually divorced," she said, and my eyes widened in shock.
"How did you marry Jeremy, then?" I asked in disbelief. I was there at the ceremony; a small beach wedding.
"We had a ceremony, but nothing on the books. I just changed my last name," she said casually as if this were all normal. "And then last year, we separated. But it was as good as a divorce to me." I slumped back, the book in my hand falling into the chest.
"That's all..."
"Crazy. I know. But I loved your father, and I trusted him. He left me with what savings he had built up as a scientific research assistant, and I waited. I wanted him to come back. But as the years passed, I started to realize that he wasn't coming back. Jeremy got it in my head that he had left because he didn't want to take care of you. And you were so much like him. It was hard."
"Harder, since you're not even my mom," I said quietly. She bowed her head silently, and I jolted, realizing what I said. "Sorry, I didn't mean—"
"No, no," she said, placing a hand on my shoulder. "It's alright." I nodded cautiously, gazing into the chest.
"Who was she? My rea— my mother."
"He never talked about her, unfortunately," she said, her grip on my shoulder tightening. "I had no idea what she was like or if I could ever hope to compare. I just knew that she had passed before we met." I sucked in a sharp breath, clenching my hands into tight fists.
"She's already gone, huh?" I said, my voice wavering. I sniffled, feeling strangely sad. Another person I'd never truly know.
"Oh, Marina," my mother said gently, wrapping her arms around me. "I'm so sorry."
"It's okay," I said, but my face betrayed me a moment before I could plaster on a smile. She released me, giving me a pitying look, and I distracted myself by digging through more of the chest, picking up a ring missing its stone. I looked at her questioningly. "What's this?"
"Oh, that was the ring your father proposed with," she said, taking it. She slipped it on her ring finger, admiring the sterling silver.
"What happened to the stone on it? Don't tell me dad was a cheapskate," I groaned. She laughed.
"No, not at all."
"So, what happened to it?"
"You did," she chuckled, and I looked at her confusedly. "There used to be a really beautiful red stone here. I didn't know what exactly it was. He said it was an exotic stone from where he came from. You accidentally swallowed it one day. We freaked out over it— thought you were going to choke."
The memory I had from my childhood re-entered my mind, and I could see us in the kitchen. My eyes widened suddenly. She said it had been a red stone, from where he was from. There was only one red stone in Amestris that I knew of that had a deep significance to any alchemist.
"No way," I breathed. Had I actually swallowed a Philosopher's Stone as a child?
"Come to think of it, there was a matching necklace, but I think he still has it," she mused, removing the piece, dropping it into my palm. I stared at it a long while. It was the same silver of the chain that had broken from my neck.
"No, he doesn't," I said, paling in realization. A benefactor, huh, Truth? I thought crossly. "I had it."
Kimblee walked through the deepest parts of the mine shaft, occasionally licking his wound. He held the lantern out as he stumbled upon a door with a giant 'X' in red across it. He grinned to himself as he opened the door, trailing down staircase after staircase, going deeper and deeper into the mine when he finally reached what he guessed to be the outline of the transmutation circle Sloth had been digging across the country. He wondered if his prey had decided to use it for their escape, but he was quickly drawn from that thought as a presence loomed behind him, casting a dark shadow over him. He turned quickly with a start, meeting the many red eyes of a black void behind him.
"You must be the Crimson Alchemist. It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Pride," the void spoke, and Kimblee realized he was in the company of a contemporary.
"Can I help you with something, Pride?" Kimblee asked, shaking the initial shock.
"Any new developments with Scar?" the shadows asked.
"I'm actually pursuing him now. I was so close," Kimblee grumbled. "But that girl ruined it."
"And where is she?"
"I lost her, unfortunately," Kimblee prickled at the blunder. That damn bloodline was nothing but trouble. Pride hummed a noise that seemed dissatisfied.
"Well, not all is lost," Pride sneered. Kimblee perked up.
"Oh? Please, enlighten me," he said, and Pride grinned a shadowy grin, a black hand digging into Kimblee's front pocket, removing the parchment from Kimblee's grasp. Kimblee tried in vain to snatch it back, a scowl on his face.
"Please, don't be concerned," Pride said amusedly, holding the paper out of reach, unfolding it. "Carter wasn't exactly forthright with you, Kimblee." Kimblee's frowned deepened.
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying he kept a key element from you," Pride said, producing a book from the shadows.
The cover pictured a crude drawing of a child, gazing up at a deep night sky, scattered with stars. It was a children's book on constallations, strangely titled, Divine Universe: Volume 12. Kimblee rose a brow as Pride flipped through the pages, opening to a page near the conclusion of the book. Kimblee's eyes widened a moment at the image in the book. It was a transmutation circle.
"In a children's book?" he huffed a laugh.
"Clever, to keep it out of certain hands," Pride admitted. "But Father saw through his little scheme. I'm certain you weren't aware of his deception. What you believed to be a complete circle was simply a part of the whole." Pride moved to overlap the two circles, and Kimblee's heart dropped, realizing they fit together like a puzzle.
"That bastard," Kimblee growled, to which Pride laughed. No wonder his transmutation had failed.
"He played you for a fool," he snickered, and Kimblee gnashed his teeth. "No need to be so upset. Father has it all figured out. Our plans can continue uninhibited."
"They can?" Kimblee asked.
"Worry about that later. As for now, go ahead and carve the crest of blood at Briggs."
"With all due respect, Pride, the soldiers at Briggs are much stronger and more resourceful than you realize. It's not exactly a simple task," Kimblee mused.
"Then use their strength to your favor," Pride suggested, and Kimblee stiffened with a wave of excitement, remembering his allegiance with Drachma. Even without the girl, a crest of blood could be carved with a bit of careful planning. "Sloth is nearing completion of the tunnel, so there's little time left. It's a bit of a setback that you lost track of our host candidate. But finding a suitable host should be manageable in the time remaining."
"So, it's an urgent matter?" Kimblee realized, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Well, if you insist that I carved the Crest of blood at Briggs, I'd be happy to oblige you."
Ever since my mom showed me the attic, I spent most of my time up there looking through Carter's stuff. I wanted more answers than my mom could give me, and to my surprise, she encouraged me to learn all I could, especially after learning I had accidentally swallowed an extremely dangerous stone as a child. In exchange, I handled things around the house. She and I discussed it and decided that since the school year was almost up, I'd enroll the next year, so I had a bit of free time. The only problem was that decision meant that I would be staying. It'd been five months since I'd crossed over. And for the last two of those months, I had searched every document, every transmutation circle, every corner of Carter's study for a way back.
I never told my mom, especially since we were doing so well. But it hurt to think that I had been in the place that felt most like home, and I hadn't even realized the truth. It hurt to think I would never see Ed again. It hurt to think I would never see any of the people I had come to care about. I couldn't get them out of my mind. I knew I told Ed to forget about me, but a selfish part of me wished he didn't because I couldn't. I couldn't forget about the love I had for him and how I didn't even get to tell him.
I couldn't even reach them how I used to; I didn't know why or how, but the world I had returned to no longer had their story in it. I checked back forums, piracy sites, official websites, even for the now non-existent author, Hiromu Arakawa— the story of the Fullmetal Alchemist was wiped from existence. I had stayed in my room for a week after figuring that out, completely dismayed at the realization that it was probably my fault their story had been erased. It was all so confusing, what I was feeling. But being upset about it didn't give me answers. It didn't give me a way back to them.
I flopped to my back, staring up at the wooden beams in the ceiling, watching the dust swirl around above me in the dim light. Through all of Carter's mess, I couldn't figure out what he could have meant when he told my mom he had to fix something or why he'd been gone for so long. He apparently was nowhere to be found on this side either. So just where the hell was he? And what did he have to fix? Did he fix it?
Whatever it was, there wasn't a trace of information left on it, and I groaned, flipping over to my side. I look down at the gritty wood, realizing that one plank was raised just a hair above the rest of the planks. I sat up on my elbow, looking at the floor curiously. My eyes widened as I realized at the bottom of the strip of wood was a small carving, so small if I hadn't known what it was instantly, I could have mistaken it for a speck of dust. Polaris. I tore at the wood with my fingers, straining to pull it up. The side I tried didn't work, so I tried the other side with much more luck, the plank rising from the floorboards. I investigated the hole it left to find a small leather notebook, and my face lit up. No wonder I hadn't found anything of note. Hadn't I known my father better by now?
I picked the notebook up carefully, undoing the leather string that bound it together. I flipped a page over, and something fluttered out, landing in my lap. The image was grainy that I picked up, a black and white silhouette of a woman, her back to the camera, holding a bundle in front of her, looking over her shoulder with a bright smile. It was worn; her features muddled by time and strain. It was hard to make out, but I noticed something written on the back.
Ma-i-l-a, the incredibly faded lettering read. It was pretty, melodic; it conjured an image of a woman who flowed to the rhythm of her own beat. She was mesmerizingly beautiful. It could have been the photo, but I realized her skin was darker, as were her eyes. They looked a deep, rich color, and I imagined they were likely brown. I set the photo aside, and I looked through the first few pages of the book I'd found confusedly. The writing was in a completely different language. I rushed downstairs and brought my laptop up, trying to cross-examine the writing to figure out what language it was, but nothing existed in our world. I realized a moment that my father had fought in the Ishvalen war. He lived with Elias and his sister, and his son so it was probably— I stopped dead cold. I hadn't even realized the connection as I snatched the photo back up.
I stared far too long, sat eerily still as the cogs and gears in my brain clicked into place. Her eyes weren't brown; they were red. Elias had never told me his sister's name, but I imagined that was just who she was. My heart skipped a moment. She held a bundle, one that seemed like a child. This woman— was she my mother? I shook my head. No, she couldn't possibly be. My features were nothing akin to an Ishvalen's defining traits. I wasn't Ishvalen, but she clearly was. Hadn't Elias mentioned my father to be unfaithful? And he certainly hadn't mentioned me, which meant that she was likely his sister, but not my mother, and the bundle my half brother. I smiled a bit disappointedly, my hopes dashed, but I'd learned something valuable, nonetheless. I was sure Elias would like to have a picture of her again. If only he were here, I thought annoyedly. I'd make him translate this.
I flipped through a few more pages met with the same Ishvalen text until I turned to a page with a transmutation circle I'd never seen before. It looked wonky, unfinished almost. My hand paused over the intricacies of the interlocking shapes and designs, trying to figure out what exactly it was. There was writing I could understand beneath the new circle that I read carefully after a bit of decoding.
I'm going to fix the mistake I made with this design. If I don't, the world I've created here will be just as lost as theirs. They have a key, and I fear Kimblee still has the other.
Well, I know Kimblee, I thought to myself, feeling unnerved at what I had just read. But who is this mysterious 'they'? And then I realized— the Homunculi. He was talking about the key, and the only people I had ever heard talk about a key were the Homunculi. So, did that mean they both already had a key? What were they?
Disaster will befall both worlds if they are combined and activated on the Promised Day.
My heart was in my throat as I re-read the last line. The Promised Day, I remembered. That was when Father was set to execute his plans. I knew everything eventually worked itself out in the end, but I couldn't remember what exactly he'd planned or if my father's involvement changed anything. I couldn't even refresh my memory without the source material. What would happen if they activated it? What kind of disaster? I decoded further.
I am setting out to seal the opening. I may be able to before that time. If I fail, I pray someone succeeds me.
At the end of the sentence was the symbol of Polaris again. That's it? I groaned inwardly. My father, ever the enigmatic. He couldn't think to put a little more detail in these things? I flipped through a few pages more of his writing, noting that there were many different versions of the transmutation circle with the cryptic writing beneath it. They all looked strangely unfinished. I flipped to the very back of the book and noticed a transmutation circle that differed from all the rest. It seemed so familiar, but I couldn't place from where. The outer ring looked the most familiar, and I realized suddenly I knew where from. I ran to the desk, having claimed the space as my own, and slammed the journal down, comparing the lines. They aligned with the lines and some symbols of the transmutation circle I retraced from memory that had appeared on my stomach. The lines were nearly identical, but it was clear the circle I had drawn was missing quite a few elements from the intricate circle before me. I had a thought. I flipped through the pages of my writing and pulled out the transmutation circle I attempted to recreate from right before I was sent to Truth. I overlaid the two together and was shocked to find the circle in the book and the two together matched almost identically. I flipped a page over, noticing plans for alchemic jewelry. Sure enough, a necklace and a ring splayed across the pages, with imprints of the two separate circles carved into the faces of each stone. Lines had briefly appeared over the stone of my necklace, I recalled. I clapped my hand to my mouth, staring between them for a while. Were they the keys?
After traveling for hundreds of miles, they had made it to the abandoned house they had used on the outskirts of Central once before, only to find that it was still as they left it; abandoned. Al hadn't been there, but shortly after their arrival, to Ed's surprise, Ling showed up. He was hungry as ever, and while he was still lucid, told Ed about the day of reckoning. He felt himself slipping, and Ed banged on his head a few times, hoping that would be enough to keep him around, but shortly after, Greed took his body back. He sauntered off, explaining that he had had a falling out with the other Homunculi, and Ed ran after him with Darius and Heinkel in his tracks.
"Hey, Ling! Wait up!"
"How many times do I have to tell you?" Greedling groaned, turning to Ed. "I'm Greed, not Ling."
"It's too difficult to keep track of!" Ed moaned. "I'll just call you Greedling from now on."
"No, you will not!" Greedling yelled irately.
"Listen to me, Greedling," Ed said, crossing his arms, his tone serious. "I'll follow you."
"Huh?" Greedling huffed, his eyes wide.
"I thought about it and decided to join your team after all," Ed said with a shrug. He jerked his thumb to the two men behind him. "And since these guys seem to follow me everywhere, you've got two Chimera's on your team as well." Ed regretted his word choice just a moment later as Heinkel and Darius gave him quite the beat down.
"Who do you think you are? You don't get to make that call!" Darius yelled, kicking him.
"Whoever said you were our boss, pipsqueak? You little runt!" Heinkel griped, and a vein in Ed's forehead throbbed. Ed groaned as they finished, looking up at Greedling.
"I realized something. I've been a follower ever since I became a dog of the military. I lost my pride a while back," Ed said, rising to his knees before picking himself up. "So, I'm already used to rolling over on command, and besides, there's too much at stake. I can't let any information you've got slip through the cracks. I really can't let my ego get in the way." Greedling grinned, letting out a hearty laugh.
"Alright, kid," Greedling smirked. "But working for me means you have to live in the shadows. I don't wanna hear any regrets."
"Give me a break! I've already got a million regrets. What's one more?" Ed laughed sardonically.
"A million and one," his companions chorused behind him. He suppressed a groan.
"Good, then it's settled," Greedling said, moving past Ed to address his comrades. "So, then you guys are working for me, too."
"Doesn't seem like we have much choice," Heinkel shrugged.
"I don't care who I follow as long as they're feeding me," Darius agreed.
Ed shuffled his hands into his pockets, a smile spreading over his face. He felt something there a moment and pulled out the somewhat crumpled photo. Somehow, before Marina was swallowed up, the photo she had of her and her family when she was young had fallen from her, and Ed realized it was lying in the snow before they had left the spot. His thumb trailed over the picture a moment, wishing that he had something a little more updated, but was grateful for what he had, nonetheless. He hoped she was okay. He had to believe she was.
"Hey, Ed," Heinkel called. Ed looked up from the photo. "Ready?" He took one last glance at the picture before tucking it into his coat pocket.
"Yeah, let's get moving."
After a few days of more decoding and research, I had realized that not only were they the keys, but combined, they became a link to our world. The keys must have been activated within me, and the reaction was likely what sent me home. And it dawned on me that there was a chance it could send me back.
"I could go back," I said aloud, sitting at my desk, and I heard a clattering behind me. I turned to my mom, who had dropped a water bottle from the tray she held. She was bringing up my lunch. My heart rate spiked.
"What did you say?" she asked softly.
I had realized something else in my discovery. It didn't seem that a Philosopher's Stone was necessary for the keys to work, but it did allow for the toll to be paid for crossing. The key was actually the transmutation circles, combined into one. I knew Kimblee had one circle for sure, and if what my father said was to be believed, the Homunculi already had the other and the ability to make a Philosopher's Stone whenever they chose. If that kind of power were to be wielded by the Homunculi, there was no telling what they could do. And if no one was aware, the countermeasure Marcoh had been hoping to create might not be enough to stop them. I did my best to translate the ancient Ishvalen to learn more, but I couldn't figure it out. I bit my lips together, clenching my fists as I stood.
"Mom, I think…I think dad was trying to prevent a disaster," I said shakily. "And this was his plan to maybe – I don't know – reverse it." Her eyes widened as she placed the tray down, not bothering with the water.
"A disaster?" she asked. I nodded fervently, showing her the decoding. She traced her hand over the paper a moment. "You really are his. I'd have never been able to understand this."
"He wasn't on that side. No one had seen or heard of him for years," I said, staring back at the notebook. "And he's not here, that we know of. What if something happened to him? What if... he didn't fix it?" The thought had been floating around my mind for a while. To disappear into thin air wasn't normal, especially when setting out on a dangerous quest. It was entirely possible he'd failed in his task.
"What… what does it mean?" she asked anxiously. "If he failed, then what would that mean?"
"I think it means that both worlds would be…" I trailed off, unable to voice it. I swallowed hard. "Destroyed." She stared at his writing a moment, tracing his signature.
"Your father was adamant about leaving. I don't think he would have left if it weren't serious," she said after a long pause, and I nodded. Whatever Father and the Homunculi were planning could only be worsened by my father's research. Enough for Carter to leave us behind with the possibility of no return. I couldn't believe he'd leave a message like that if he didn't have any doubts about returning.
"I don't think so, either. And I don't know; it might all be in my head, but… I feel like he left these little clues for me, these messages he'd know I'd understand," I said softly.
"What do you mean?" she asked, raising a brow at me. I gripped the edge of the desk.
"I have this memory, back when I was a kid when he first showed me the stars," I said. I looked to the upturned plank I had set against the wall, to the coded message calling for someone to finish what he had started if he couldn't. "The first one he'd taught me to identify was Polaris and said any time I needed an answer or to find my way, Polaris would be there to guide me." She sucked in a breath.
"Have you found a way to go back?"
"I— I don't know," I replied honestly. "I think so."
"Then you should go," she said, and I flinched.
"What? But what about you?" I asked frantically. "I already left you once."
"It would affect both this world and that one, wouldn't it? This disaster?" she asked, looking at me from the corner of her eye, and I deflated. She looked back to the wall of his musings, clasping her hands behind her back. "So, we'd just be waiting up until the world ended. Don't you want to do something?"
"Of course! But I don't know how to fix it; all I have is his theories, and I think they're unfinished," I said shakily, pulling at my hair. "I mean, I couldn't even solve a stupid riddle! What if something goes wrong, and—"
"Marina," she said, turning and grasping my shoulders. "You won't be alone. Your friends, they're fighting too, right?"
"They are," I said, my heart sinking. They were fighting and had no idea what they were up against. She looked at me fondly.
"I've been thinking about it for a while now, about you going back. I had a feeling that was your goal up here," she said, gesturing to my notes.
"You knew?" I asked softly, guilt pooling in my stomach.
"You were never a good liar. Your father wasn't either. But I wouldn't fault you if you decided to go back. It's clear to me that you had something special there. It'd be a shame if you lost it for good," she said, placing a hand over my shoulder reassuringly. "Besides, I can tell you love that Edward kid, even though you never said so. Don't you want to see him again?" She wiggled her brow at me, in that knowing mom way of hers. I felt my cheeks burn, and I averted my gaze.
"I do, but…" I mumbled, my heart thumping in my ears. I loved Ed, I did, but there was a chance he'd moved on, just as I asked him to. I still didn't understand the difference in time between our worlds, how a few months there had been two years here. There was a chance they had already forgotten who I was entirely. I might have even been erased from their reality as they'd been erased from mine. There was no guarantee of anything at all, and yet—
"It's home, right?" she said, and I froze. My mouth hung open as her words settled within me. And I knew. I knew it was. Even if I had gone on never knowing my true origins, Amestris and its people would always be my home. But this was my home too now. They were both a part of me, and they were both being threatened. I clenched my fists, my shoulders shaking. I couldn't let what my father had done destroy them. I wouldn't let his past mistakes define my future. Our future. She chuckled slightly at my expression as she pulled me into a warm embrace. "Losing you made me realize that I wasn't living life the way I wanted to. It made me realize you probably hadn't been, either. The last thing I want is for you to make the same mistakes I made. So, go." I hugged her back tightly, blinking away tears.
"Thank you," I said, pulling from her, and she nodded, ruffling my hair. I stood before the circle in the book, giving her one last glance. She waved me on reassuringly. I took a deep breath. "Alright, here I go."
I pressed my hands to the book. I held my breath, waiting for that spark of electricity, slamming my eyes shut, praying it would work. But there was nothing. I opened my eyes and noticed my mother stood beside me, her arm on my shoulder.
"I'm so sorry," she said, disheartened, and I looked at my trembling hands.
"No," I said firmly, looking around. Alchemy didn't exist on our side the way it did theirs, but that hadn't stopped my father. It didn't stop Elias. It sure as hell wasn't going to stop me. I turned to my mom swiftly. "Do you remember anything about my disappearance? Any sounds or strange phenomenon, maybe?"
"No, I don't think so," she said, calmly like she was talking to a mad scientist— which in her defense, she kind of was. I looked back to the circle a moment, realizing something. I had believed it was a solar eclipse in the center when it had been etched into my skin, but seeing my father's rendition, the moon was clearly blocking the sun.
"A lunar eclipse?" I mumbled to myself. She tapped her chin a moment.
"I think I remember seeing a lunar eclipse the night you disappeared," she said thoughtfully. My eyes widened, and I ran to my laptop, checking the date. She was right— there was a lunar eclipse.
"Do you know the exact date dad left?" I asked.
"October 17th, 2005," she said, crouching over my shoulder, her eyes trained on the screen, and I was both a little impressed and sketched out that she knew that off the top of her head. I clicked it into my computer, and sure enough— a lunar eclipse.
"There's still a chance," I said, typing furiously. "The next lunar eclipse is July 16th."
I looked up at her, and she grinned. And so, we enjoyed the last few days we'd be together as much as we could. She took off the whole month to my surprise, and we even spent a few days at the gym, back in the water. We bided our time and prepared for the day of parting, and a month later, on July 16th, I stood in our attic with her behind me. I looked back at her sadly.
"It's okay," she said as if reading my mind. "I believe in you." I sucked in a breath, and I ran to her, hugging her tightly.
"Thank you, mom. For everything."
"Of course, Marina," she said, hugging me closely. "I'm so proud of you." My chest swelled with warmth as I nestled deeper into her shoulder, nodding.
"I'm going to miss you," I said, holding back a sob.
"I'll miss you too."
"I might really not be able to come back," I said, clenching my fist. Elias had lost his ability to, and Carter never returned. It was something of a small miracle I had managed it.
"Hey, we talked about this," she said, caressing my hair. I looked up to her, my gaze intense.
"I know, just— if I find Carter, I'll tell him you're waiting here for him."
"Right," she said, donning a sad smile. "Good luck. I love you."
"I love you too," I said, wiping my face.
I released her, stepping up to the circle. In the time I waited, I drew it out on the floor. Ed had done something similar when returning from Gluttony's stomach. I could only hope the same principle applied here. I tugged the straps of my bag tightly to me, patting the side where I had tucked the notebook into my bag securely. I needed it to figure out what exactly my father was trying to tell me; what it was he had to fix. What still needed fixing. I wondered briefly if it was linked to Truth's challenge. There was one way to find out. I pressed my hands to the floor.
This week I offer you mother/daughter bonding and about a million different references to previous chapters coming to fruition. Next week? Who knows. Also, glad to see I was correct; y'all hate me thoroughly. Good, good, all to plan. Hopefully, you won't hate me so much going forward, but we shall see. Writing this chapter was nuts, bouncing between what each character knows versus what I, as the author, knows; I almost let some things slip. I managed to keep it together, but it definitely took me some extra time to really stamp down. Sorry for my tardiness, but I'll always push quality over time. And wowie was I stoked to reveal this twist. So, who the heck is Marina's real mom? Where is Carter? Is Marina gonna make it back before the world ends, if at all? Well, at least she got some therapy. Also, in mapping things out, I'm estimating another maybe five to seven chapters left in the story! I have a feeling the next few chapters will be similarly long unless you guys would prefer to have shorter chapters to drag the story out a little longer but even then, it wouldn't be by much. It's wild to think this journey is coming to a close soon. But also, I'm excited to lay all my cards on the table. I hope you enjoyed it, and I'll see you in a week! Have a great week!