Each individual chapter will have a different rating, different pairings, different spoilers, and a different setting and timeline. Multiple people were involved in writing this fic, I do not claim to have written anything other than my own characters. I do however claim to have come up with the plot, story idea, and organizing it all. The others who write characters in this fic are well aware that I am posting it, and contribute willingly. This fic is an ongoing project with an unknown number of parts, with alternate storyline as of the fifth laboratory incident. Enjoy!
Munich, Mourning, and Delgardie's Miracle
Rating: PG
Pairings: None.
Disclaimer: I don't own FMA.
Spoilers: If you don't know about Munich, it's spoilerific! And Ed and Al's dad as well as their alchemy teacher.
Setting: Munich, Germany/Central City/Ishbar.
Timeline: About five months after negotiations started in Ishbar.
Ed awoke in an unfamiliar room, it looked rather washed out and gray despite the warm glow of the lamp in the corner. Sitting up, he was overwhelmed with dizziness as his vision blacked out for a moment and his hands flew to his head. "Nngh…"
He looked around, confused, had he fallen asleep somewhere and some matronly innkeeper felt sorry for him and given him a room for the night? Edward tried to get his bearings straight again in the haze of sleep when a plump, rosy-cheeked woman entered his room with a bowl of something that steamed and, despite its appearances, smelled rather good.
His sleep-muddled brain had to do a double take when she offered him the meal in some garbled fashion, until he realized that she was speaking German, and that he knew what German was.
Yeah, that was right, he'd been dreaming he was home again, hadn't he…been hoping that when he woke up this other world in washed out browns and grays would be the dream world and Roy would be there to laugh at him and tease him about eating too much before bed giving him weird dreams.
The blond thanked her as best he could, still not knowing that much of the language yet, and sipped the broth until his senses were roused enough that he could think more clearly. His travels had landed him in a place called Munich, Germany.
Once awake, Ed wasted no time in getting dressed and gathering his things, slipping out of the inn with a kind smile to the innkeeper on his way and uttering once more a semblance of thanks. He was in such a hurry to get to the library that he didn't even have time to blink when, upon turning a corner, he collided with a taller, more squarely built form. Rubbing his hindquarters from where he'd fallen on the hard cobblestones, the irate blond was just about to look up at the offending object that had blocked his path and utter what curses he knew in German, when a hand reached down to help him up and an all too familiar voice thrummed from the taller figure's chest.
"Edward?" A glance upwards after swatting away the hand confirmed it, as he was now looking into the face of his father.
Of all people, Edward had to run into Hohenheim. Just his luck. Gathering his things, he brushed the man off and started back towards the library. It wasn't as if he loathed Hohenheim as much as he used to, he knew better than that now, but it didn't mean he wanted to see him.
He grumbled to himself as he heard heavy footfalls catching up with him, gritting his teeth when he felt a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.
"I have a place not far from here, you're welcome to stay…"
Ed growled. "I'll think about it, I'm busy now. I've got to get to the library so if you don't mind would you just leave me alone?"
He blinked when a small scrap of paper was stuffed into his gloved hand and the presence behind him left without another word. Carefully unfolding the parchment, Edward sighed, shaking his head and running his fingers through his bangs. It was an address, the crazy old coot.
Picking up his pace again, the pony-tailed blond stuffed the paper into his coat pocket. "Fine then old man, I guess it beats the train station benches or the library chairs…"
--
Hawkeye stepped into the outer office, looking over the other officers working diligently, albeit distractedly, at their desks. Hazelnut eyes narrowed slightly on the newest inhabitant of the pool, a dark-skinned, white haired woman with an eyepatch and only one arm. Something about that woman stank, and Riza Hawkeye couldn't so much as catch one thing out of place. It bothered her.
She shook her head and reminded herself what she was here to do, stepping briskly across the room to rap twice on the solid wooden doors to Mustang's office.
Upon hearing the mumbled reply, she let herself in, one hand holding the letter while the other instantly flew upwards into a salute to her commanding officer. "Sir, reports on the situation in Ishbar have arrived." When he nodded vaguely, she began to outline the reports.
Roy zoned out about halfway through, and was shocked to find himself in the middle of a busy street, feeling as though his feet were leading themselves. What in the hell was going on here, it felt too real…
"Sir? Colonel Mustang, sir?" The click of a gun's safety snapped Roy back to reality, he could've sworn he'd just been in the middle of a cobbled street with oddly dressed people walking around him speaking some funny language he didn't know. And he'd felt...shorter for some reason... "Oh...uh...you were saying, Lieutenant?" Riza simply looked at him and shook her head. "A letter from Ishbar has arrived for you, sir, please try to avoid daydreaming during office hours."
With that, she saluted again and turned on her heels sharply, leaving Roy's puzzled mind to boggle over what just happened. He glanced down at the brown, wrinkled envelope on his desk that had the name 'Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc' scrawled in the top left corner, the return address marked as 'Ishbar'.
The Colonel let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, surprised at himself for being worried that every letter he got might be the last. It was just negotiations, no harm in that at all, right? Who was he kidding… After Havoc's first letter he'd nearly burnt Hughes to a crisp when the man said he didn't know anything about it.
Pulling the piece of wrinkled parchment from his desk drawer, Roy re-read the first to see if maybe he could piece something together as to what was going on out there.
Colonel Mustang:
Well, we're on the road to Ishbar, as you may very well guess, so please excuse the absolutely terrible handwriting. Seriously, I'm trying to do this as neatly as possible, but the roads haven't been repaired since the first time we built them, so things are a little rough.
All the oldsters in the company say hello and hope you're doing well. Mars is currently trying to steal my pencil and yell at you about the money you owe him (?), so consider yourself fussed at, I think.
We were re-outfitted at Central, and I have one of those new rifles. It's a good enough weapon – I think Lt. Hawkeye has access to one in the range. We also got some decent sidearms and I have a nice new knife. I'm not sure why we're armed to the teeth, and it's worrying all the veterans. The recruits seem to think of it as a game, like we're going out hunting rabbits.
I only wish.
Best regards,
Lt. Jean Havoc (and all the veterans in the 2nd Company)
(P.S. How's Ed doing? And tell Farman to pay me back, dammit.)
Re-outfitted and armed to the teeth…the higher-ups definitely knew something, and that meant that Hughes would be able to find out what it was. He'd put the man on it a month or so ago, and he'd gotten a team of investigators to keep an eye on the situation. Still, Roy wasn't exactly having peace of mind, not by a long shot.
He placed the first parchment aside and tore open the second letter.
Colonel Mustang:
It's just as hot, just as dry, and just as goddamn dusty as ever here in Ishbar. The Embassy is set up, with immunity for a two hundred yard radius around the camp, I swear I'm up against the same stupid dune I was last time and eating the exact same grit with my K rations.
You'd think they'd actually feed us better.
Believe it or not, we actually have some good news. Old Major Stanson's back in command here, thank god! You remember him, right? He's pretty unforgettable. Old, stooped, with a face like a peeved flamingo. All the recruits are laughing at him behind his back, but the vets are happy as hell. At least things will be done right now.
But I'm a little worried. If Stanson's commanding us, then that means Command expects us to engage in heavy combat, right? Have you heard anything about this back home, or is it kept under wraps?
Goddamn Central bean-counters. No, I'm not very happy about any of this. I have a really bad feeling about it all, and a lot of the veterans are probably thinking the same thing.
Ah, listen to me whine. It's probably just an old soldier's instincts getting out of whack. Severely out of whack.
Best regards,
Lt. Jean HavocRoy carefully folded the document again, replacing it in its envelope and pulling a clean sheet of paper from the container on the corner of his desk, dipping his pen into the ink well and scritching away.
Second Lieutenant Havoc:
I'm having Hughes look into the situation still, but so far nothing has come up. Sorry I didn't respond to your first letter, it's been busy what with integrating your temporary replacement on the staff and the evaluations coming up.
Edward hasn't returned yet, he and Alphonse are taking an extended leave at the moment, and Farman said he had no idea what you were talking about. Hawkeye cleared it up, though, and the money's waiting for you when you get back, it's better to keep out of transit.
Major Stanson you said? If that's not enough to ring any seasoned soldier's alarm bells I don't know what is… We have an investigation team down there now, but they're not finding anything you haven't told me.
Be careful, Lieutenant, and be sure to report anything suspicious, if it's real trouble I doubt a team of fresh recruits and even a few vets would be enough.
Oh, hell. I'm probably worrying myself too much, you can take care of yourself. Give my regards to the men as well, hope to see you back home soon.
Respectfully,
Col. Roy Mustang--
Location: Ishbar Outstation 1, referred to by the natives as Geriko. Location of a small rebellion recently, it is currently under constant scrutiny by the military. Soldiers and alchemists are usually scorned by its inhabitants.
A sandy-haired blond in a light blue hooded coat over a black jacket and pants set stumbled slightly, catching himself before he fell. He hadn't eaten in a day or so, and his canteen had run dry hours ago. The desert was starting to get to him when he finally spotted an outpost.
He licked his lips, trying to get rid of the dryness in his mouth, though it was rather ineffective. Vision a bit blurry from hunger and fatigue, he finally picked out the inn from the various buildings and headed towards it.
"No, you are NOT drinking any more alcohol!" one Miss Lisa Delgardie roared. "It's hardly even three 'o'clock, and you're drinking like a damned fish! What will your wife say?!"
The man in question quailed under her bright yellow gaze. "I'm... sorry?"
She sighed, shaking her head wryly. "Go home and sleep it off. Ishbara knows that the people here need it..."
As if the mention of their god's name was a cue, every single man got up and left, bowing respectfully to the Harpy from Heaven.
Rubbing his eyes, the young boy blinked to clear his vision, watching as several dark-skinned men left the building he was headed towards, all ambling off in whatever directions.
He walked past them as they left, nearing the door, though not before stumbling again and nearly losing his footing completely this time.
Lisa looked over curiously at the thud. She got up smoothly when she saw the boy. "Oh, poor thing. Are you hurt? I hope the buzzards didn't take a crack at you." She helped him up, holding a cool hand to his forehead. "H'mm... you have a slight fever, but nothing I can't fix..."
He swallowed the dry lump in his throat and steadied himself. "Thank you very much for your concern...um...I'll be fine, really..."
"Hmph. Men. Always trying to pretend that they can take care of themselves." She gently guided the sick boy into her kitchen and sat him down at the table. "How long has it been since you've had some water to drink?"
"Um...I'm not sure, several hours...are you sure it's no trouble? I can pay..." The young boy fumbled for his wallet.
She put her hand on his wrist, stopping him. "I don't need payment," she said, smiling. "I'm a doctor. I help anyone and everyone, no matter their condition or means. I don't take payment for healing."
The boy noticed the flamel tattoo on the back of the woman's hand, gray-brown eyes widening. "Um...I couldn't help but notice that you have a tattoo just like my old alchemy teacher's... My name is Alphonse Elric," he fished out the silver watch, holding it up, "Miracle Alchemist."
"I'm surprised Izumi let you take the exams," Lisa said, yellow fox-eyes crinkling a bit. "When she found out that my uncle was a National Alchemist, she nearly killed me before she extracted my promise not to."
She turned away, filling a tiny glass with water. "Of course, it's not like I can even pass the physical exams unless I had an angel in the military." She set the glass down in front of Alphonse. "Sip it slowly. If you drink it too fast, you'll make yourself ill."
"You knew my teacher?" Alphonse took the water and nodded, noting the woman's eyes and ears, peculiar... "...she doesn't know yet...I'm not going to tell her. I needed the money and access to the libraries so I could..." he trailed off. "You're a chimera, aren't you?" the boy took a sip of the water, slowly as per instructions.
"Knew her? I trained with her. I was a few years her superior, but we ended up apprenticing to Dante at roughly the same time." She grinned. "And you'd better tell her at some point that you're a State Alchemist. If she finds out on her own, you'll be worse than dead."
She raked her hair back, her slightly pointed ears flashing briefly.
Al set down the water on the table. "If I tell her, I won't be able to save my brother." He took her silence as an affirmative to the chimera question, and assumed she'd rather not talk about it. Flipping open his pocket watch, he traced his fingers over the carved phrase.
DON'T FORGET. 10.OCT.3
It used to be Ed's watch...he snapped the front closed again and slid the timepiece back in his pocket.
Lisa's hand seized his. "Are you trying to do what I think you are?" she snapped, eyes sparking. "Don't. It's not worth it."
"I was once a suit of armor, and my brother risked his life to return me to this body." Al took his hand back. "He was later killed by an ex-State Alchemist, or so they believe."
Determined and loyal eyes looked up at the woman before him. "Two people lost their lover, and I lost my brother. I have to do this for him, I don't care if it costs me my life, I will return him to his former body. He saved my soul from the gate, so I know it can be done."
"It's not like it used to be," she said, cupping his cheek in her hand. "Him saving you like that completely screwed up the energy flows from beyond the Gate.
"I'm sorry for your loss, and I'm sorry for those two people. But alchemy isn't functioning like it used to. Ties have been made and ties have been broken. The web has been fundamentally changed."
"I'm not going to change my mind...I'm going to bring him back." If anything, Alphonse was stubborn. How else could he deal with his brother?
Lisa's eyes saddened. "Don't do it to him. Please. You have no idea of what you're going to do to both him and you." She brushed his hair back, her hand as gentle as his mother's. "If you love your brother, if you care for his two lovers, if you value the bond between him and you, you won't do this. It just won't work. He'll be a monster, and you'll be worse than dead. If I lost my compassion just transmuting chimerae... you'd lose something even more fundamental.
"Alchemy isn't what it used to be. It's always been a dangerous science. Now, it's downright suicidal in some cases. Can't you reconsider?"
She would help him if he asked. But it would break what little heart she had left to see the innocent boy lose everything.
"I made a promise. I'll take as long as necessary to be absolutely sure everything goes right. If he could create my body and I can be standing here today, I can do the same for him."
It was obvious that Alphonse wasn't going to back down. "I've got nothing without him, you have to understand, he was my only family left...and I loved him... I know it's wrong, but it's what he wants too... I can hear him in my heart and in my dreams..."
She sighed, almost giving in. "You really have no glimmer of an idea of what you're planning on doing, do you?" she asked. "You really have no clue about what's going on?"
At Al's somewhat shamefaced silence, she got up. "Follow me, Alphonse. If I'm going to help you, I'm going to have to teach you first."
The blond boy stood after a moment of silent consideration. "Pardon me...but...I don't believe I got your name, ma'am..."
She waved a hand over her shoulder. "Just call me Lisa, kiddo. Scrap the formalities, too. We have too much to do that politeness would just get in the way. Come along." She opened a door in the far wall. "Watch your step, though, the stairs are steep."
"Lisa?" Alphonse followed her carefully. "As in Lisa Delgardie? The one Teacher made me organize documents for while Ed was on leave?"
"M'm? Oh, probably. You did a remarkably bad job at the organization, though. The Faustus documents should not have been cross-referenced to Milton's Paradise Lost. Milton wasn't an alchemist: he was a theolurgical writer with closer ties to Dante Alighieri than Doctor Faustus." A muffled yelp hardly startled her. "Watch your step. The array's carved deep and there's no light until we get into the workshop."
Al blushed slightly. "Sorry about that...there were still aftereffects of the transmutation then...they went away after my brother..." he trailed off.
" 'After-effects' my tail. You were probably just pleasantly distracted by your brother." She opened another at the end of the cavern hall. "Welcome to my study."
Inside was a small, spare desk, a filing cabinet, and a rather large floor harp. A bookshelf buckled perilously under the weight of several hefty volumes and the desk was covered in a swath of research. "I hope you can find a place to sit in this pit. I haven't cleaned for years."
The blush grew a couple of shades. "Erm...I'm used to crowded study environments..."
It was true though! He'd forgotten a lot of things and then those four years all just came flooding back when Ed disappeared... Alright... So Izumi had given him a specific listing order...
Okay fine, so he was distracted...
Please review, constructive criticism and questions appreciated, flames will be deflected back at you by Roy. n.n;
