Mirage

Chapter Six – Following After

Alphonse, 10; Edward, 17

London 1916

Ed was devouring a new pile of books, meticulously filling his notebook with chemical equations. Chemistry, he realized, was fundamentally tied to mathematics, something he had never really studied in detail since he had never actually gone to school. But he would get it eventually, he was sure.

Entirely engrossed in what he was doing, it was several minutes before he became aware of his father standing behind him, watching him work. He jumped.

"What are you doing in my room?" he demanded, staring up at the man.

"I was just visiting with Madeline," he began.

"Oh really?" Ed said snidely. "Charming her with stories from your childhood I assume?"

Hohenheim decided not to pursue that accusation, and instead delivered the message he was asked to relay. "Rachel wants to know if you would like to play with her today."

Ed turned back to his notebook. "I'm busy," he informed the man.

"You're going to strain your eyes if you keep staring at those books every hour of the day. Take a break," his father pressed.

"My eyes are fine," he muttered.

Trying a different angle, the man continued, "Its not good for you to stay inside all day," he told his son.

"I went to the library yesterday," Ed said in a monotone.

"Rachel said you owe her a game of jacks."

Still not looking up, he responded, "I do?" He thought for a moment. "oh yeah, I definitely do," he admitted.

"She says she hasn't seen you in weeks."

Ed nodded. "She hasn't," he agreed. "I've been busy."

His father looked at him pointedly. "Shall I tell her that?"

Ed sighed, closing his notebook and carefully marking his place in the various textbooks he had spread out and stood up. "No," he said finally. "I guess I can take a little break."

A few minutes later he was knocking on the door across the hall, which swung open to reveal a little girl with large blue eyes and a drooping pink ribbon in her hair. "Hi Ed!" she squealed, looking him up and down. "Wow, you can walk!"

He cracked a smile at her, allowing himself to relax a little. Maybe he had been spending too much time with his books. "Yeah, kind of, anyway," he said, catching her around the waist and picking her up one-handed, before they both toppled into the couch. "Oof, you're getting big."

She scrambled off of him and onto the floor. "Cause I drink my milk!" she explained.

Ed groaned. He could feel it coming.

"Maybe if you would drink your milk, you could get big too!" she suggested helpfully.

"Hey, I'm bigger than you are," he said in self defense.

"But you're a grown up! And for a grown up, you're-"

"Don't say it," Ed warned her, trying to keep a dark expression, although the little girl was already amusing him.

"You're really small!" she shrieked, giggling as she watched him clutch his forehead.

"ARGH!" he cried. "Who are you calling super ultra miniature bean-sized?" he demanded, trying to look angrier than he really was.

"You!" she said between giggles.

"Rachel!" her mother called from the other room. "Be nice to your guest!"

Rachel folded herself up neatly in the corner of the couch, and turned her shining blue eyes on Ed. "So," she said hopefully, "if you can walk, that means you can take me to the park, right?"

"I guess," he admitted reluctantly.

"Mommy is too busy to take me and I'm not old enough to go by myself," she explained.

Mrs. Wallace appeared in the doorway. "And your father thinks it would be good for you to get some fresh air," she said pleasantly.

Ed scowled. "So he's been talking about me then?" he snapped angrily. "I got some fresh air yesterday. If he had been home, he would have known that." He tried to force a smile through the glare he knew was plastered across his face, and succeeded with an odd grimace. "Okay, lets go to the park. I suddenly feel the need to get far away from here."

"Okay!" the little girl declared, bouncing to her feet. "Get up, Ed, lets go!"

"Be home before dark, " her mother warned.

Rachel skipped along side him as they walked towards the park. "I'm so glad you're coming with me," she chattered happily. "Now I'll have someone to play with."

Ed glanced at her. "What about the other kids?" he inquired.

She frowned. "They don't like me," she said shortly. "They only play with each other." After a moment she regained her cheerful tone. "Did you play in the park a lot when you were a kid?"

He rubbed the back of his head. "Ah, I lived out in the country when I was a kid. There were no parks because it was all open space and farmland." He looked around at the dreary city. Even when the sun was shining, like it was today, everything looked grey. "But yeah, I played outside a lot. I didn't even know cities this huge existed."

"I used to live in a big house," she chirped, "with a really big yard, like a park."

Ed nodded, his eyes far away. "Yeah we had a big yard too. Our house was small, but that's okay, it was enough for us." It had been him, Al, and Mama against the world, since his father left. That was how Ed saw it, anyway. They could make it on their own. If Hohenheim didn't need them, then they very well didn't need him.

But they had needed him. Mama needed him, but he didn't come, and she died. Of a broken heart, Ed thought angrily. Mom died of a broken heart. And Hohenheim had left his sons alone to follow in his footsteps.

"Are you mad?"

Her voice startled him. "Huh?"

"You look angry."

He was angry. See where my mind goes when its not buried in chemical equations, he thought fiercely. "I am angry," he admitted.

"Ed," she said insistently, tugging at his hand, "The park is this way, come on."

"Sorry," he said roughly, turning the corner with her. His leg was starting to bother him, but he tried to ignore it. If he could walk all the way to the library yesterday, he could certainly get to the park without trouble.

"Don't be angry," the little girl instructed seriously. "Mommy says its bad for you."

"I'm sure it is," he said grimly. He wished suddenly to finish the walk in silence, but Rachel continued to talk, her voice piercing his thoughts.

"Mommy says you're too angry, and it makes your daddy sad."

Edward stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, unsure how to respond. "When did she say that?"

"I always hear them talking about you," she said innocently.

He narrowed his eyes. "Rachel, do me a favor. Next time you hear my father talking about me, kindly remind him that I wish he wouldn't."

She looked off to the side. "But," she protested, "then they would know I was listening!"

Ed smirked. "Then throw something at him, and pretend like it fell from the ceiling," he said jokingly.

She giggled. "That doesn't work!" she shrieked. "I bet you never got away with anything!" She skipped ahead of him. "Come on, Ed, the park's over here!"

Central 1915

Alphonse felt like he had never seen such a huge city before. He knew that he had been there during what he was starting to call his "lost years," and that he had woken up there after the transmutation, but he remembered nothing from either occasion.

"Alphonse!" Izumi said sharply, grabbing his hand and pulling him across the street. "Wait until you're out of the street to stare up at the buildings!" she snapped, exasperated.

"Sorry, Sensei," he said meekly, hurrying to catch up with her brisk pace. "What do you think is on the test?" he asked eagerly. "Do you think that the written part is going to include drawing arrays, or do you think that part will be separate? Do you think-"

"I don't know," she interrupted. "I never took the test. I have no interest in joining the military." She turned her narrow eyes on him, glancing down at the young boy as they walked quickly through the crowded city. "You realize that they wont let you take the test," she said, not for the first time. "You're only ten years old."

"Fourteen," Al corrected cheerfully. "And I have the birth certificate to prove it."

She shook her head. "That's still four years away from eighteen. The military may be desperate but they aren't recruiting children- yet. The only way they'll let you take the test is if you tell them who you are. And once you do-"

"I know, I know," Al said. "The worms, the can, I know. There will be questions."

"Questions you can't answer. They're going to think you're lying. It's not just my dislike for the military that doesn't want you to do this, Al."

"But they know me!" Al protested. "I was with brother the whole time he worked for them. That has to count for something!"

Izumi shook her head again. "The military is a big institution. Not everyone knew you. Not everyone knew Ed. In fact, from what I understand, everyone who knew Ed has been suspended indefinitely from duty. That's what those men who came to Rizembool seemed to be saying. Otherwise, when you and Ed never returned to Central, don't you think they would have come looking for you themselves?"

Al was silent as they walked side by side through the market place. He was thinking hard about all the alchemy he had studied in preparation for the test, and did not hear the faraway voice calling to them. Izumi stopped, and a few paces later, Alphonse stopped also. He looked up to see a blonde haired, brown eyed woman staring at him. "Alphonse?" she asked, disbelief clear.

His mind panicked briefly. How many times would this happen to him? This woman recognized him, and he had no idea who she was. He looked up towards Izumi, who nodded in greeting. "This is Alphonse," she affirmed.

The blonde woman crouched down to eye level. "You…" she breathed. "What happened?"

"Ah," he began hesitantly. "It's a long story…"

"Where's Edward?" she asked next. How many times would he hear that question, he wondered.

"I'm looking for him," was the response he settled on.

The woman looked from him to Izumi and back. "So he really is missing," she sighed. "Not just hiding until things die down."

Izumi nodded. "Only Alphonse returned," she said, and the woman gasped, a hand coming up to cover her pretty mouth.

"I can't do this!" Alphonse exploded, looking at his feet. "I'm sorry, miss, but, who are you?" The shocked expression on her face matched his own. He couldn't believe what he said. He had never been so rude in addressing anyone, ever. "Sorry," he whispered, his cheeks beginning to flush.

"It's Hawkeye," the woman said gently, still crouched at eye level with him.

He searched her appearance for some kind of clue, but there was none. She wore a nice white blouse, a green scarf, a black skirt, and had pretty, flowing blonde hair. She was holding a bag of groceries. "I'm sorry," Alphonse said again. "I don't remember you."

She stood, addressing Izumi this time. Her tone was not accusatory, merely concerned, and surprised. "Mrs. Curtis," she began. "What's going on?"

"Alphonse would like to become a State Alchemist," she said cryptically. "Perhaps you better than I can explain to him why this is not the best time to join the military, and it is not the best move for him to simply waltz in and reveal his identity. Especially since he can't remember anything."

The woman blinked, processing the information. Finally she spoke. "I'm on indefinite leave," she said to Alphonse. "So is everyone you and your brother worked with. And we're preparing for war. You may not find the military a friendly place. They're desperate to keep this country from falling apart. I can't say they wouldn't hesitate to use you as a weapon, Alphonse." She looked from Al to Izumi and back to Al again. She didn't want to ask the boy what he did and didn't remember, she didn't want to ask about what had happened to Edward. She didn't want to ask how he had been restored. She simply accepted that he was there. "Seeing you alive, Al, has been the only good thing that's happened in this city since the Furher's assassination," she began. "You don't remember me… do you remember the Brigadier General Mustang?"

Alphonse shook his head, but answered, "Brother's commanding officer. He picked on him for being short. He's the one who told him to become a State Alchemist. And he let us search for the Philosopher's Stone between missions."

Like he's reciting a story he's been told, she realized. He really doesn't remember. But he is alive. At least there is that. "He was injured," she said slowly. "He's still recovering. If you would visit him- I'm going there now, actually- if he could just see that something good has come of all this-"

But Al was shaking his head. He didn't really understand what she was saying, but one thing was certain. He and Edward had evidently meant something to this woman, and to the Brigadier General. And they meant nothing to him. "I can't," he said softly. "It's too cruel."

"Cruel?" the woman echoed, and Al nodded.

"I don't remember you." He had been trying to prepare himself for this sort of thing, but it did not compare to what he felt when it actually happened. This was someone who knew him, knew him well and cared about him, and she was no one to him. Her existence in his life had been wiped clear away with the rest of his memories. It wouldn't brighten an injured man's day to learn that of the two brothers he cared about and protected, one was gone and the other didn't even know him. Of this he was certain.

"But you're alive," she said firmly.

And alone, Al thought sadly.

Enter Gluttony

The town of Yunberg was simply not there anymore. Or rather, the buildings were there, but the people were all gone. They had been eaten. One by one, he consumed them, and they became a part of his permanent stomach. "Lust, oh Lust," he called, but Lust was not coming back. Then he moved on to the slightly larger town of Burrwell. Gone too, into his stomach. Even though there was a rebellion in the North, and a riot in Central, eventually the government sent someone to investigate the disappearances. He ate them too. Nothing would ever be enough, he thought. He would always be hungry.

Into his stomach went the town of Brisbool, and then the small city of Effton. The western part of the country was just holding their breath, waiting for the plague, or the bandits, or the alchemists, or whatever was causing the disappearances, to get to them next. "Lust?" Out in the country there was a big house, and he ate the mother and father, and the little girl, and the old man, but somewhere in the house, he thought there was still flesh. Just a very small amount, maybe even a baby, but babies were tasty too. "Lust?"

When he found that bit of flesh, it was not a baby at all, it was something rotting and disgusting, not something he could eat. It was something he could feed. Gluttony had never fed anything before, he had never felt the urge to. But he had never come across a thing like this. A thing like him. Or, like what he had been, before She fed him the red stones.

And so he coughed up a bit of the Philosopher's Stone that still resided in his belly, and shoved it into the rotting, putrid, stinking mouth of the thing, and stood dumbly watching as it gnashed away at it, red juice dribbling down its sickening chin. "Lust? Oh, Lust?" he called, looking for someone to take control, to tell him what to do, to tell him what he was doing.

The thing was changing. The rotting flesh was smoothing out, becoming sound and whole. The hair grew in thick and shiny, and the shriveled eyes plumped out, beginning to see the world. Slowly, the creature crept out of the closet where it had been kept.

The thing was a young girl, with a pretty bow in her black hair, and a pretty dress to match. Her eyes were wide and violet, and she looked at him, the first creature she had ever seen. "What am I?" she asked then.

The fat homunculus threw back his head and cried, "Lust!"

Central

"Do you still want to do this?" Izumi asked as they watched Lieutenant Hawkeye walk away.

Alphonse nodded firmly. "I have to try," he insisted. "I have to do whatever it takes." They were silent as they walked the rest of the way to the military building.

Silent, that is, until panic broke out on the streets. Izumi and Alphonse pressed themselves against a wall as people rushed past them in alarm. She reached out and grabbed someone from the crowd and demanded, "What is going on?"

"Monsters," the person hissed, before breaking out of her grasp and following the rest of the crowd.

"Riots again," Izumi said through clenched teeth. "I knew this wasn't safe." She looked down at Alphonse, who was watching the crowd trample each other with widened eyes. Suddenly military personnel appeared through the crowd, rushing towards the very thing the crowd was fleeing, and Al shivered uncontrollably as an inhuman scream shook the air.

"What was that?" he whispered, frightened.

Before she could respond, some kind of creature dropped off the rooftops above them, and Izumi jerked Alphonse into an ally where they ducked behind some boxes. "I don't know," she whispered back. "Stay close to me." They watched in disbelief as a second creature tore through the streets, coming from the direction the crowd had run from, and Al flinched as gunshots rang out. One of the creatures dropped to the ground.

"Shoot to kill," came a booming voice. Al peered between the boxes at the blond man in the military uniform. "Surrender yourselves now," he said, was he addressing the animals? "or take your last breath." The voice sounded menacing, and wait, what kind of animal was it, exactly, that cowered in front of the man? It was bleeding, Alphonse could see, but it was alive.

"Chimeras," Izumi whispered. The second animal, the one who had not been injured, suddenly jumped into their ally, right over the boxes they were crouched behind.

"After it!" came the command.

The thing made ready to jump through the window of the building to their right, and Izumi whirled around, clapping her hands and pressing them to the bricks, and in the bright crackle of the reaction the window closed over and the creature slammed into the wall, then crashed to the ground. Unphased, it snarled at her and got to its feet, but Izumi had already clapped again, sending the ground beneath them rolling up, dumping the creature back out on the street in front of the blue coated men that had been pursuing it.

"What was that?"

"What happened?" came the shouts.

"Quick, shoot it, whatever happened!" someone ordered, and another shot rang out. The creature collapsed in a heap, the blood spreading beneath it, only five feet away from the other one.

Alphonse watched in horror as the creature that had first been injured, the one he thought had been killed, opened its animal mouth, revealing animal teeth, and said, in a nearly human voice, "Let them kill us." A chimera that could speak human words?

"Who are you?" someone was demanding of Izumi.

She stood with her arms folded. "What is going on here?" she demanded back.

"That is none of your concern!" the man barked back. "This is military business, do not interfere."

"I didn't interfere, I'm not the one who created these abominations!"

Now that they were still, Alphonse could see the mad gleam in their malformed eyes, the grotesque shapes of their mismatched bodies. He could pick out certain parts that might have been feline, parts that might have been avian… he swallowed hard. Could they be part human?

"They're dying," his voice croaked out, before he could stop himself.

The blond man turned his steel eyes on him. "Someone get that child out of here," he snapped.

"I want to die," came the ragged voice of the creature.

"They're bleeding to death," he said, struggling against the strong arms that were restraining him.

"Son," said the soldier, "they were never meant to be alive to begin with."

"But," he protested, "it spoke. Isn't it… human?"

"It was," the man said grimly. "Turn away, this is nothing a child should see."

But Alphonse could see. He was beginning to understand. His brain was feeding him information he didn't even know he had.

Some mad alchemist had fused these creatures together, and had done it poorly, and painfully. No wonder they wanted to die. Who would do a thing like that? he wondered angrily, even as his mind was spinning, tossing around ways it could have happened, alchemic formulas, arrays…

"Kill me," the creature said again, and Alphonse turned back to it.

"See?" said the soldier. "It doesn't want to live."

"Not like this," the thing coughed out. The other one had already stopped moving.

Izumi was reading Al's eyes, could see his mind working behind his horrified expression. "Alphonse," she warned. "Leave it alone. Let the military take care of their own mess." She reached over to grab him away from the soldier, but he slipped away, quick as lightening, and crouched down beside the creature, ignoring the guns that were aimed at it.

"What are you?" he whispered.

"Not human," the thing rasped as a massive shudder went through its tortured body.

"But you were," he pressed.

The creature closed its eyes, breathing heavily.

"Get him away from it," the blond man ordered.

"Alphonse!" Izumi said sharply, but she backed away at the sudden light that flared up. It was the light of a transmutation, but there had been no circle... what was he doing? She hadn't even seen him clap his hands…

The light was blinding, causing her to squint her eyes shut, and she felt a massive wind on her face and heard the thundering crack! of whatever it was Alphonse had done.

When the light had cleared, she blinked the spots from her eyes, rushing over to the boy. He stood, shocked, blinking, several feet away from the bodies.

Bodies?

It was a mountain lion. An eagle, she thought, or some kind of bird. And a man.

The soldier who had grabbed him let out a long, low whistle. "Son, what did you do?"

The blond man, who seemed to be in charge, snapped, "Get that man to a hospital." His blue clad subordinates scrambled to follow his orders. He approached Al and Izumi slowly. "Now, who exactly are the two of you?" he said, narrowing his cold eyes.

"I am Alphonse Elric," the boy said clearly. "And I want to be a State Alchemist. Sir."

London

"You are not going to Spain," his father said firmly. "You are not going to France, you are not going to Portugal. You are staying here."

"I wasn't asking you," Edward said coldly. "I was telling you. I am going to Barcelona, there is something I want to look into there."

"If you want to go to Barcelona, I'll take you there, later. There is a war on right now, and it is too dangerous to travel."

"I don't want to go to Barcelona with you!" he exploded. "How could you even think that?"

"How can you even think about traveling?" the man responded. "You listen to the radio, you know what's going on with the war! It's dangerous!"

"I'll take my chances," Edward snapped. "You said you would do whatever you could to help me, so buy me the damn tickets!"

Hohenheim pulled his glasses off and pressed his palms into his eyes. Oh, how to quell this one? "Edward, you can hardly walk. You cant just off and-"

"I can walk just fine!" his son exploded. "I am fine today, I was fine yesterday, I was fine last week! Stop your stupid worrying!" He stomped out of the room. He was still getting used to the wooden leg, it was true. He couldn't run very well, and stairs were still a challenge. But he had no trouble at all perfecting an angry stomp. He slammed his bedroom door shut and flopped down on his bed, scowling.

Soon his father was cracking open his door and peering inside. "Edward, I worry about you because you're my son," he began.

Ed was silent, sitting on the bed, trying to suppress his anger at the man who had given him everything he could in this world. You're part of this world now, the old man was so fond of saying. Because he could never make up for the things he had done in the world he belonged in.

"What about Al?" he said darkly, addressing the floor. "He's your son too, don't you care whether he's alive or not?"

Hohenheim sighed, leaning against the doorframe. "Of course I do," he said quietly. "But I, unlike you, can accept the fact that we may never know what happened to Alphonse."

"How can you accept that?" his son yelled, his voice echoing off the walls of the small room. He stood up. "I know how you can. The same way you thought it was acceptable to leave us and never come back!"

"But I did come back," the father protested.

"Yeah, six years to late!" Ed snapped. "She was dead by then, and Al was- Al was just a soul bound to some armor. But that's not even the worst thing you've done! I always thought it was, and I hated you for that, but now I know there's more!"

"Oh?" Hohenheim asked quietly.

"The first son you had, the first one you abandoned- Al and I were going to restore our bodies, we were finally going to right our wrongs, put everything back the way it should be-"

"Haven't you learned," his father said in the same quiet, even voice, "that there is no right and wrong?"

"You only say that because everything you do is evil!" Ed screamed. "I've been manipulated ever since I started studying alchemy, so that I could create the Philosopher's Stone for you and that bitch. And when we finally got it, I couldn't even use it because your homunculus of a son stabbed me in the chest!" He shuddered at the memory.

"Edward, keep your voice down, the neighbors can hear."

"I don't care if they can hear me across the street! You think you can just twist the world into whatever shape you want! You don't want to die from the plague, like everyone else was, so you find a way to cheat death. Who cares if that way takes millions of lives? Not a bastard like you!" He stomped across the room. "I'm disgusted with myself for even being related to you! You make me sick!"

"Edward…" his father warned, his golden eyes slowly becoming stormy.

He continued. "You're probably not even human anymore, you're just a decaying bastard of a body and a decaying bastard of a soul! Every evil, wrong thing an alchemist can do, you've done, and you don't even care! Because if you cared," he shouted, his eyes flashing, "you would have been there to make sure I didn't do them too!"

Hohenheim clasped his hands together with a loud smack, a useless gesture here, but one that made his son jump none the less. "Edward!" his strong voice rumbled through the house. "That is enough!"

"No! That is not enough! Nothing will ever be enough! You said yourself there is no Equivalent Trade! You said yourself there is no right and wrong! I hate you, I hate everything about you, and I hate being your son!" Edward shoved past his father, who was still standing in his doorway, and stormed out of the house.

Hohenheim stared painfully from the window at his son's angry, disjointed gait as he made his way down the sidewalk. He would come back eventually, he knew, and it was best not to go after him. It was best to just accept his son's hatred for him as the consequence for his past actions. It was best to let Edward work through it on his own. He would realize, eventually, that it didn't have to take forgiveness to more forward.

He had no right to live a normal life, to marry, to have a family. He had done that once already, and life doesn't give second chances. Once things are set into action, they cannot be reversed. From the moment he believed that he could truly cheat death, that there was no cycle of life and death and rebirth that the world revolved around, that was the moment he should have known no part of his life could be normal.

He never meant to create a homunculus; he didn't even know what a homunculus was until he was faced with the creature that had the body of his son but not the soul. He promised his lover he would bring their son back, but in the end, it was his lover that brought him back. It was Hohenheim himself who created the Philosopher's Stone, but it was Dante who first used it to keep his soul in this world.

He had no right to think he could escape the mad life the embarked on, he and Dante, into the world of the forbidden, the alchemy of sinners. Civilizations rose and fell around them as together they broke every law in the universe. Years past, centuries past, they were not always together but they did not need to be. In lives as long as theirs, what did a few decades matter?

But it was less than even a year after meeting Trisha that they were married. Hohenheim had never married Dante, together they scorned the custom, as they scorned equally everything that humans created. For the two immortal beings were certainly no longer human. But there was humanity in the love he shared with Trisha, it was unlike anything he had experienced in his wild expanse of a life. His love for alchemy, his love for power, his love for self: these things became nothing in her wondrous presence.

He had no right to wed this woman, to live with her as husband and wife, as humans did, to have children with her. She would never know the truth about him. He was a powerful, mysterious man, and perhaps she knew his soul as intimately as anyone ever would, but she would never know the truth of his life. When his body began to decay she accepted it only because she did not know the truth behind the truth he told her.

When he left his wife and his young sons, he told her he would return to her someday. He did not know he was looking his last on the only woman he had ever loved, on the house they made a home together in. He did not know that when he made good on his promise, Trisha would be gone, the house nothing but ruins, and his sons on a wild journey of their own that mirrored his own despicable path.

He left because he had no right to a family. And now here he was, in this strange, dead world, living a life he had no right to, with a son who may have had his eyes but who's face was Trisha's, challenging fate as fiercely as he ever had.

"Don't you know by now," Dante's harsh voice hissed through his memories; he could almost feel her breath on his skin, as if somewhere the moment still existed, "that there is no right and wrong? Those rules are for mere humans."

"I love you," Trisha's sweet voice drifted across the worlds. "Isn't that enough?"

Central

"Alphonse Elric," the man repeated. "Brother of Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist. Who, by the way, has not reported for duty in over four months and is wanted for questioning." His eyes traveled to Izumi. "And you are?"

"Izumi Curtis. Housewife," she said tightly.

"And I am General Darrel Isen, the Mercury Alchemist. How convenient for us to run into each other," he said smoothly. "Do you care to explain what you just did?"

"I- I'm not sure, sir," Al said honestly, glancing up at Izumi.

"What does it look like he did?" she snapped. "He separated the chimera."

"Which is impossible," the general retorted.

"Nothing is impossible," Al said swiftly. "There are only things that haven't been done yet." He felt his heart clench as he remembered, too late, who had last said that to him, and why.

General Isen eyed him with chilling interest. "The government," he said slowly, each word falling like a cube of ice, "is going to want to know where your brother is." He paused. "I, however, am more interested in you, Mr. Elric." He gestured to the military issue car that had arrived for him. "Please accompany me to headquarters." He nodded once to Izumi. "You as well."

"Can I take the State Alchemist Exam?" came the hopeful voice.

"No," the man said firmly. "You are too young. Your brother caused the military too many problems, and too many expenses, for such an exception to ever be made again. Things are different now that the military has given control to parliament. They would never approve such a thing. However, given your obvious genius, there is no reason why you couldn't be of use to the government in some other form. I have been looking for someone like you to take over certain work that has been left in my jurisdiction. It would be easy to transfer it from military to government territory."

Alphonse shook his head. "No," he said, earning a stare from both Izumi and the General.

"Excuse me?"

He shook his head again. "No. I want a State Alchemist Certification. I know I could pass the test."

The man gazed at him piercingly. "Of course you could, but I cannot authorize you to take the exam. It is no longer in my control. You can work for the government, doing alchemical research. You cannot be official military personnel. When you turn eighteen, then you can start your military career."

Alphonse stomped his foot in what he realized was a childish gesture. "But I want access to the State Alchemist Library, and to all the research on-" he stopped. "On all the things I'm interested in," he finished.

"Alphonse," the man said firmly, opening the car door for him. "Favors beget favors." Al wasn't sure, but he thought he saw the man wink as he climbed into the car. He thought of his icy stare. No, probably not, he decided. "The first favor I can offer you," the man continued, "and this one is for free, is the knowledge that you are not required to answer the military's questions. You are not military, so regardless of your relationship with your brother and his peers, you should not have had access to any top secret information. And all questions regarding his whereabouts are considered top secret. But I must warn you: if you are hiding your brother, which I don't believe you are, and if criminal charges are brought against him, which I don't believe will happen, only then will you be involved."

"Why don't you believe I'm hiding my brother?" Alphonse asked curiously.

"If the Fullmetal Alchemist was hiding, wouldn't you be hiding with him?"

London

It could have been any city in Amestris, he thought dully. From what he had seen, it wasn't that different from the places he and Al had been. Except that he was there alone.

He was sitting on the steps of the city's public library, not the London University library he had been to so many times before. It was far, and he had never been there before, although he had an idea of where it was from studying a map. He didn't particularly want to go inside, in fact, he didn't even mean to end up there at all. It was just that he had nowhere else to go in this city. Like all cities, it had no open spaces, nowhere to go and just think. People were everywhere.

Alphonse might be telling him he shouldn't speak to father like that. They might even argue with each other about him like they had at home. They might sit, side by side, in silence, but eventually they would get up and start moving forward again.

Together. But Edward was alone. He looked up, thinking for a moment that he heard his brother's voice. His eyes scanned the street in front of him, then he sighed. It was his imagination.

No, it was Al's voice, only he couldn't seem to understand his words. He twisted around on the stairs. There was no mistaking it. He was several years older than when he had seen his body last, but the boy was Al. He was deep in conversation with the man next to him, and clutching a thin briefcase tightly against his chest. Their conversation was in a foreign language Edward did not recognize. As the two figures passed him on the stairs, Al locked eyes with him for the briefest of moments, but continued on, as if nothing had happened.

"Al?" Edward called after them, but they were swiftly moving away. It wasn't Al. Those eyes were blue.

Central

Alphonse looked down at the folded piece of paper nervously, confirming that the blue ink directions did in fact lead to this building. It was the address of one Brigadier General Roy Mustang. At headquarters, General Isen had mentioned that the man might appreciate a visit from Al, much as Lieutenant Hawkeye had. Alphonse frowned thinking of the blond haired, steel eyed man who had offered him a government position. In one way, he was relieved that he hadn't been asked any questions he couldn't answer. There had been a few, to be sure, but none that made his memory loss glaringly obvious. But it left him vaguely disturbed that the man didn't seem to want to know more about him. It was almost as if the man thought Al would run off if asked to many questions, and he didn't want to risk that. Al was feeling, like he would often, as if he was swimming in the dark.

He rang the bell. Here's to darkness, he thought.

To his surprise it was Hawkeye, the woman he had met earlier, who answered the door. "Alphonse!" she said, clearly startled by his presence but quickly smoothing her expression and motioning for him to come inside. "I didn't expect you to come here, after our conversation earlier," she said, by way of explanation.

He looked up at her. "I didn't really expect you to be here either, ah, Lieutenant," he said shyly, wondering why this caused her to blush.

"He's sleeping right now. Come in, sit down," she said, gesturing to the plain table and chairs next to the kitchen, looking away until her face returned to its normal coloring. "Alphonse, it really feels like a miracle to see you like this," she began.

He took a seat across from her, folding his hands in his lap. "You only knew me as armor?" he asked hesitantly.

She nodded, still marveling at his restored body.

"And you knew brother."

She nodded again.

"I'm sorry I don't remember you," Al blurted out finally, after an awkward silence. "I didn't really want to come here, I didn't know what I could possibly talk to the Brigadier General about. I don't even know him. I thought I could just show up, show him I'm alive, and then…' he trailed off, unsure of what he wanted to say.

"Don't apologize," Hawkeye said firmly. She stood up. "Can I get you something to drink? I made a pitcher of iced tea this morning," she offered.

"Thank you," Alphonse said politely.

"Riza?" called a man's voice. "Is someone here?"

She set the pitcher on the counter and strode briskly to the bedroom.

"It's Alphonse Elric, sir," he heard her say.

"You don't have to call me sir, you know," said the voice through the thin walls. "We're only at home."

"Shall I tell him to come in here, si- ah, Roy?"

The rest of the exchange was in muffled tones that Al couldn't make out. After several minutes Hawkeye returned, nodding towards the door. "He's awake," she told him. "Go ahead and see him." When she saw him hesitate, she walked over and held the door open for him.

He slowly entered the room, telling himself he had no reason to be nervous.

Roy Mustang regarded him for several minutes in silence, fixing his single black eye on the boy who stood awkwardly at the edge of the room. "I always imagined," he said, his words seeming to echo in the quiet of the room, "that you would look more like Edward." He hoped the relief that he felt was not audible. He had been seized by an unreasonable fear that Al in the flesh would be like a ghost of the boy he had seen just minutes before they had each gone to meet their respective fates. Whatever those fates may yet turn out to be.

"Ah, everyone says I look like my mother, sir," Al said hesitantly. "Ed looks like dad."

The man nodded slowly.

Soon the uncomfortable silence became oppressive. "I want to be a State Alchemist," Alphonse blurted out awkwardly, and something flickered across the man's expression, but in an instant it was gone.

Roy nodded again. "You would be a great asset to the military," he said quietly, "if that is where you wish to be."

"Ed did it for me," Al said firmly, and the man smiled faintly. There was that Elric determination in him after all. "But," he added, "No one will let me take the exam. I've been at the military headquarters all afternoon."

Roy raised his eyebrows at the boy. "But you've already taken the written exam. You already were given permission from General Hakuro. Remind them of that," he directed.

"I did? I was?" Al asked, surprised. He didn't know that. No one had told him. But it was just one of many things he didn't know. "I guess you know about my memory," he said apologetically.

Roy's mouth twitched in something close to a smirk. "You scored a perfect mark. Even your brother couldn't do that. Perhaps you should remind them of that as well."

"Really? I did?" he repeated, his grey eyes holding a bit more light. He had scored better than Ed?

Roy nodded solemnly. "You and your brother did a lot of amazing things," he offered.

Alphonse cringed. He suddenly didn't want this to turn into story hour. He suddenly didn't want to hear about his and Ed's amazing stunts they pulled in the military, the good things they did, the fights they were in, their alchemy and how Ed could do it without a circle, and all the things they did while searching for the Philosopher's Stone. Such conversations always ended with Al collapsing in tears, missing Ed and aching unbearably inside. He couldn't let himself fall to pieces like that, not in front of a stranger.

Roy didn't know what had made Al's expression fall like that, but the tension in the air, that had been in the air ever since Al set foot in his house, was enough. "I want you to know," he said gently, "if you decide to join the military, and if the military decides that I am their ally rather than their enemy, that I am your ally as well. If there's anything you need, you can always come to me." He closed his eye; it was another one of those flash headaches, he realized grimly. "That is, you can come to me, when I'm doing a bit better than I am now."

Al grew concerned. "I'm sorry to have bothered you, sir," he said softly, uncertainly.

The man waved him away. "You didn't bother me," he assured the boy. "Riza was right to ask you to come. It is good to see that Edward succeeded." That we both succeeded halfway. And didn't two halves make a whole?

That must have been what the brothers believed all those years.

London

Rachel was sitting on the front steps of the apartment when Ed returned after several hours. He had walked back in a daze, not thinking, not noticing his surroundings, not even realizing he was home until he heard his name called from behind him. He was already opening the front door, having walked past the girl without even seeing her.

"Ed mommy told me to come in for tea, you could come too," she offered innocently, and he gratefully accepted, thankful for the reason to delay further his return to his father's apartment.

"Thanks," he said distantly. Once inside, he let himself fall back onto the couch and accepted the still empty cup she offered him.

"I'm having juice in my teacup," she informed him, taking a seat next to him.

Mrs. Wallace appeared in the living room. "Hello Edward," she said, trying to conceal her surprise.

"Ah, hello," he began. "Rachel invited me for tea," he explained.

The woman nodded, the black curls that framed her face bobbing with the movement. "Of course you're welcome any time," she said smoothly.

He studied the inside of his empty cup. "I don't actually feel like having any tea," he admitted. "I just don't want to go back in there."

"Is everything okay at your house, Edward?" she asked with polite concern. "I heard some yelling earlier."

Edward's hand returned to his forehead as he sank further into his neighbor's couch.

"Yeah, its fine, I just needed to cool my head, and the apartment's so small," he said apologetically.

"Does your father know you're here?"

"I don't know where else he thinks I could go," he said bitterly. He felt little hands at the back of his head. "Rachel, what are you doing?"

"Playing with your hair," came the matter of fact response. The little girl had climbed onto the back of the couch to sit behind him and was running her fingers through his ponytail.

"Well, please stop it," he said flatly.

"Why, its pretty," she protested, and suddenly he felt his hair spill out over his shoulders.

"Gah!" Edward cried, grabbing at his hair. "Why did you do that?"

"I don't know," she said, innocent enough.

"Are you happy now?" he asked darkly. He put the hair tie in one of her small hands. "Now you can put it back up."

She sat behind him swishing her hands through his hair for a few moments, but that was all.

"I mean it, Rachel. Put it back the way it was, I don't want it in my face all day." He turned around to face her, and saw that she didn't seem to fully grasp his instructions.

She handed the elastic back to him. "You do it," she said.

Edward pressed his lips together, his cheeks beginning to flush. "I can't," he said after a moment. "That's why I told you to leave it alone. Now please, put it back the way it was," he said with difficulty.

"Edward, may I?" Mrs. Wallace interjected.

He nodded once, shortly. "Yeah. Please," he added. She came over to sit by him, taking the tie from her daughter, who scrambled off the back of the couch and into the chair where her mother had been sitting. He stared at the wall while she ran her fingers quickly through his hair, securing it efficiently back into its regular ponytail and letting it drop onto his neck.

"There," she said, resting a hand on his shoulder for just a moment. Her mother's heart went out to him.

"Thank you," he said tightly.

"Rachel, why don't you go play in your room," she requested, suddenly serious.

"Yes mommy," the little girl replied, running off down the hall.

Mrs. Wallace stood up from the couch, moving to sit in the chair that faced Edward. "Would you like to talk about what happened earlier?" she asked gently.

"No," he answered sullenly. "I'm sure my dad's told you every horrible, obnoxious thing I've done since I've been here, so whatever I say I'll sound like a horrible, obnoxious son."

"He also told me that he abandoned you and your mother when you were very young, and that he's doing everything he can to make it up to you," she said softly.

Edward's eyes were like embers burning into her. "Did he tell you that she died waiting for him to come home?" he asked bitterly. "There's nothing he can do for me now that will ever make up for everything he should have done before." Did he tell you that he destroyed entire nations to extend his pathetic life? Did he tell you that he created a homunculus out of his own son, and abandoned him as well? Did he tell you about how my brother and I could both be safe and whole and living happily at home if only he had been there for us when we needed him? "Did he tell you," he said quietly, "how he collects families? Did he tell you who he lived with before I came here? He found another Edward, and was taking care of him, like a son, as if he could just replace me, just like that!" Ed knew he wasn't being fair, but he continued anyway. "Who knows how many other families he's had through the years, finding people in need, telling them he'd always be there, and then leaving?"

"Oh, Edward, your father cant be that old," she protested.

"Don't you see?" he pressed. "He's doing it to you too. How much do you and Rachel care about him, how much do you depend on him? He's not going to stick around, Mrs. Wallace, I'm sorry, but he's completely incapable of finishing anything he starts!"

"You're talking about Edward Heiderich," she said slowly. "I remember him, he was killed when the Zeppelin crashed. That was several years ago, now. Edward, he was only your father's student, he wasn't another son. He wasn't a replacement for you."

"Yes he was," Edward said darkly, scuffing his shoe into her carpet. "We probably all were. You ask him how old he is," he said cryptically. "If he gives you an answer you can believe, then he's lying." He stood up unsteadily, grabbing the arm of the couch for support. "I'm sorry, you didn't need to hear any of this. And I'm sorry you could hear my yelling from across the hall. Next time we get in a fight, I'll try to be quieter," he said, although he couldn't imagine trying to be quiet when he was as enraged as he had been earlier. What had the fight been about again? Ah yes, Barcelona. "He only worries because he cares," he muttered. "Maybe I am obnoxious."

"You don't have to go home if you don't want to," Mrs. Wallace said kindly. "You're always welcome here, you know that."

Edward shook his head. "No, I'll just be in your way. But thank you."

She stood in front of him, gazing at him thoughtfully. "You look taller, you know, Edward."

He looked down at himself and shrugged. He knew he hadn't grown. "Its because I'm standing on two feet now," he said awkwardly, "Not leaning over a crutch."

"Of course it is," she said kindly. "And its wonderful to see you this way."

"Yeah," he agreed. "It feels pretty good too. Look, tell Rachel that I'm really sorry I yelled at her, and I promise I wont freak out like that again. And I'm sorry to bother you with all of this."

"You aren't a bother," she assured him. She watched his uneven gait as he made his way to her front door. "Your father is trying very hard," she tried one last time.

His hand was already on the doorknob, but he turned in response. "So am I," he assured her.

Rush Valley

Winry wiped the traces of machine oil from her hands by dragging them down the thighs of her jump suit, and hoisted herself up on the high windowsill of the workshop she was apprenticing in. When Alphonse had promised he would right, she knew he meant it at the time, but she hadn't truly expected any letters. Sighing happily, she carefully pulled the envelope open and began to read.

"Dear Winry,

I hope everything is going well for you in Rush Valley. I know you are completely obsessed with automail so I can't imagine anywhere you would be happier." She smiled. Alphonse always teased her so politely. She could just see his sweet smile. "I wish I could write you to say that I have become the youngest State Alchemist in history, next to brother, but I can't. I tried everything I could think of, but they won't let me take the test. They said having a child in the military is too much of a risk." She breathed a sigh of relief. "I wish it was different, but maybe it is better this way. In Central there is a lot of talk about there being a war in the North. Now they are saying that it wasn't a rebellion at all but an attack on our borders. I don't know what to believe any more. Everything is so overturned that maybe it is better that I don't get involved with the military. I'm sure you and Auntie are very happy to hear this." That's for sure, she agreed. "Sensei certainly was. But I don't really know where to go from here. Part of me just wants to come home-" at this her face brightened "-but I can't give up so soon. Brother is somewhere, I just have to find him. I know you understand.

Love, Alphonse"

She folded the letter slowly, pressing it to her chest for a moment. Then she heard Dominique calling her from the font of the shop, and hopped off the windowsill and hurried to see what he needed.

To be continued…

Next week: Chapter Seven- To Seem, To Be