Epilogue: Metropolis


It was fascinating. A little uncanny. A wee bit terrifying, if one was being completely honest. But fascinating. A metallic head designed with the earmarkings of a human face, though it remained distinctly unhuman.

"May I touch it?" Tilly asked.

Fritz paused like he had to negotiate with himself over allowing a guest to touch his precious things. His gaze flickered over to Hermann standing at his shoulder, "I don't see the harm."

Tilly got the distinct impression that he would have said no if Hermann hadn't been there. She poked the metal head with her fingernail. Oh, it wasn't metal at all. It appeared to be metal, but this material was somewhat dull. She patted the tips of her fingers off it with childish fascination.

"It's worn like a helmet, I take it?" Hermann asked.

"Yes!" Fritz emphatically confirmed, "the entire Futura costume is put together much like a suit of armour, built around a mould we had made of Miss. Helm's body."

"It appears metal, but it's clearly not. What's it made out of?" Tilly needed to know.

"It's a plaster concoction of plastic and wood, then varnished with a mix of silver and bronze to give it the metallic look you see."

Hermann's head began to bob, quietly complimenting the artistic trickery.

"It's a pain in the ass to get her in and out of, even more cumbersome to manoeuver in, but the visual it creates is stunning," Fritz clenched his jaw and looked to the ceiling with a wistful sigh, "absolutely stunning."

If her lipstick hadn't been fresh, Tilly would have licked her lips before asking, "May I try it on?"

"No."

Ornery bastard. There were a million different ways of telling someone no and this man picked the rudest sounding one. Tilly was starting to get the impression he was trying to hide how much of a devil he was to work with.

"As I mentioned, it's custom fitted, so it isn't something that can be worn by just anyone," Fritz tried to bury his rudeness with a few easy sounding words.

"I see," straightening up from the table presenting the faux metal head, Tilly adjusted her purse strap over her shoulder, "did you find it hard to translate your wife's written work into a visual medium?"

Folding his arms proudly, Fritz resumed being much more cordial when the conversation went back to talking about things rather than touching them, "Not too terribly hard. Thea has always had a fabulous imagination, it's just a shame that there's no easier way of extracting one's visions from the mind. She worked with an artist who helped visualize her ideas for me."

Sauntering back to Hermann, Tilly attached herself to his arm, "Well, I'd like you to know that both my husband and I loved the written version immensely. We're looking forward to the theatrical interpretation."

"I am honoured to know that the scientific community hasn't absolutely lambasted me quite yet," Fritz laughed.

"I don't think you should be using me as a measuring stick for the scientific community," laughing along with him, Hermann liked to believe he was a bit more open minded than a number of his contemporaries, "but I do think science requires imagination or it would be stagnant. And there's something liberating about combining science and fiction to an unattainable standard that I find very entertaining."

Tilly looked out into the married stage of science and fiction being dressed to trick the mind and the eye into believing the story it had to tell. The crew of workers had left the set and conglomerated off to the side, in a dimmed space where the lights weren't pointed. They chatted away with a few young women who'd arrived through side doors, giving the men ample reason for a distraction. Gosh, the women were dressed so fine in their hat and coats, shoes and purses – they must be actresses. What an incredible, glamorous life to lead.

"You know," Fritz paused, like he was checking his words, "it was the imagination of one of your associates, I believe, who stoked a bit of the fire in my wife's mind years ago."

Hermann's brow rose in surprise, "Who?"

"I have no idea what the chap's name was, but we met him at a dinner in Munich a few years back," lighting up like the child in his mind had received a brand new toy, Fritz held up his right arm, "with all the research Thea and I have done to get this project going, we still can't fathom how he managed it, but that young man had a mechanical arm that moved at his will."

As the crowd dispersed and a clatter of women's high heeled shoes echoed throughout the stage, Tilly's fingernails dug into the twill of her husband's suit jacket, "Oh, Edward."

"Was that his name?" Fritz asked.

"Yes," Hermann confirmed, hanging his free thumb from his jacket pocket, "Edward Elric. He did have that arm for a time."

Fritz eyed his guest curiously, "For a time?"

Hermann grit his teeth at the memory, "Poor man was robbed of it. Thugs ripped it right off his body."

The ghastly feeling low in Tilly's stomach and the doldrums the topic brought here were distracted by a set of eyes belonging to one of the young women not so discreetly loitering by a lighting platform. They were being watched.

Shaking out his shoulders, Fritz cringed, "Poor bastard. The contraption was brilliant though, utterly brilliant."

"He was a brilliant scientist," Hermann nodded.

"Well, if you can get him out here, I'd love to see him again and pick his brain, because none of the other brains I've picked at can figure out how the hell he did it. No one can wrap their head around a mechanical arm let alone our vision of an entirely mechanical body," turning over his shoulder, Fritz threw his arm to the film set behind them, idle for the time being except for a few stagehands re-dressing it, "I'd like to know what he thinks of Futura!"

Tilly uncomfortably straightened her coat, unsettled by this woman making absolutely no attempt to conceal that she was staring at them.

Reaching across his chest, Hermann put his free hand down on one of his wife's hands digging into his sleeve, "Unfortunately, Edward passed on a few years back."

Fritz wheeled around, "Did he!? He was young, what happened?"

"A house fire," Hermann smoothed his thumb over the back of Tilly's hand, "fire razed the whole block. Terrible way for anyone to go."

Tilly glanced down to the comfort of her husband's touch and her ears picked up the clear sound of a single pair of heeled shoes moving out of her field of vision and circling around behind them.

Snapping his fingers in disappointment, Fritz shook his head, "That's a damn shame."

"Indeed it is," Hermann bowed his head.

Clapping his hands and brightening his disposition, Fritz made an attempt at dispelling the solemn mood, "Well, nothing can be done about the dead. There's still plenty more to get to around here!"

Tilly knew how shoes worked and the owner of the feet toiling behind them was deliberately clacking her heels as loudly as possible.

"Or perhaps I'll bring more to us," raising his hand above his head, Fritz started snapping his fingers, "Miss Helm!"

The noisy shoes scampered right up behind Hermann and Tilly and then danced around to the director's side, "Good morning, Fritz! Who are you showing off for today?"

"Showing off," the man sputtered and threw his arms towards the set, "child, I am showing this off."

"Which is exactly how you show off," with a playful, curling smile, the young lady looked at Tilly, "I am only ever 'Miss Helm' when I'm being shown off, too."

Wait a minute.

Tilly blinked and stared at the young woman who had been eyeing her moments ago. Short blonde locks billowed wildly out from under her hat, like her chosen style that morning was to release them from the curlers and let them roam free. She'd shown up without makeup, arriving as a blank canvas for someone to paint, which only made it more apparent that this 'woman' had a strikingly young face.

But that wasn't it. Tilly racked her brain – something about her baby face seemed familiar.

"This insolent, precocious thing is our Maria!" Fritz announced with a laugh as he commenced with introductions, "Brigitte Helm. Brigitte, I'd like you to meet Mr. and Mrs. Oberth, an esteemed name in the science community!"

Though she was dressed like she was attempting to be older, Brigitte's smile was as young as her looks. She offered a hand to Hermann, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Oberth. Would you believe me if I told you I'm familiar with your work?"

"Are you?" Hermann shook her hand.

"What in God's name do you know about the sciences, Brigitte?" Fritz sputtered accusingly.

Brigitte paused her greetings to stuff a verbal sock in the director's mouth, "I have both education and literacy skills, Fritz, and I can use them as I see fit. Mr. Oberth is a man of both mathematics and physics - he believes it's possible to travel into outer space! A few years back he wrote 'The Rocket into Planetary Space', which was published after his doctoral thesis on the subject was rejected by a crowd of crusty old men," Brigitte smiled sweetly at Hermann, "correct?"

Hermann cocked a very intrigued eyebrow, "Yes, ma'am. Quite correct."

Profoundly surprised by the extent of her knowledge, Tilly shook the hand Brigitte finally offered to her and tried to place how on earth she might find a woman like this familiar. There were no actresses in the family or among her acquaintances. Was she the date of someone they'd met at a conference?

Brigitte clasped her hands neatly at her stomach, "Well, I must say it's an honour to have you visit our studio," she glanced over her shoulder to the table with the metallic head, "I assume Fritz has already introduced you to my full metal doppelganger."

Hermann laughed, "Yes, it's quite a thing to see in person. I'd read the book of course, but seeing the creator's vision as it was meant to be, rather than what my mind conjured up, is absolutely fascinating."

Stepping back and reaching for the table, Brigitte plucked the head off the table.

Fritz flinched as Brigitte bobbled it around in her hands, "It's not a toy, dear."

"Of course not, it's a costume," Brigitte laughed and held it up next to her head with a smile, "a costume built to fit only me. See any resemblance?"

Tilly overlooked the entertaining sight of Fritz attempting to restrain himself for his guests, remaining absorbed with this woman she still couldn't place. The sensation was only getting worse! This young lady had been observing them, and she knew about her husband's accolades, so clearly there was some kind of familiarity… what was missing?

"Have you been enjoying your tour thus far?" Brigitte asked.

Hermann nodded, "Yes, it's our first time visiting a film studio."

"Is it!?" Brigitte gawked like the actress she was, "well, before Fritz whisks you off into the wonders of other worlds, would you like to see the dressing rooms of the stars?"

Fritz scoffed at the offer, "Sweetheart, that's not something that would interest a man of science like Hermann here."

"I would love to see them," Tilly eagerly snatched the offer out of the air, "wouldn't you?"

An energetic response was a little harder to draw out of Hermann, "I don't really have any interest in seeing them, but if you want to browse and enjoy the glamour a bit," he looked at Fritz, "I see no problem in that, do you?"

Waving his hands dismissively, Fritz buddied himself up next to Hermann, "You ladies go enjoy yourselves, play with the powder and wardrobe, get all dolled up and have fun. When you're done doing your womanly things, you're welcome to join us again," he emphatically pointed at Brigitte with an order, "and leave that here."

Tilly momentarily wished she had a newspaper to roll up and smack over the back of this man's head. That'd get her in hot water though and her husband was enjoying himself, even if he was acting stoic about it. More importantly, Tilly could now pick this young lady's brain in private. Brigitte put the head down as ordered and Tilly matched the noisy clack of her shoes, following her into a sporadically lit hallway.

No words were exchanged between the two women marching away, the only communication came from the echo of their shoes on the floor. Neither put their voice to use until a dimmed corner was turned and Brigitte finally piped up.

"He didn't get on your nerves much, did he?"

Tilly tried to restrain her smile from how on the nose the question was, "I got the distinct impression he was attempting to be on his best behaviour."

Brigitte hummed through her head nod and spoke with her company like she'd known her forever, "I think some days he's turned on more by men of science than his wife."

Biting her tongue to keep from laughing out loud, Tilly struggled to clear her throat, "Well, I hope he knows where to keep his hands. I don't want to turn Thea into a widow."

Brigitte made no attempt at stifling her laughter and she let it echo in the rafters.

Opening a door, Brigitte led Tilly into a brightly lit hall. Lined with racks of clothes, brilliant bulbs hung by strings overhead lit the doors decorated by artistic marquees proudly displaying an actor's name. A few men and women scurried about with clipboards and armloads of clothes, rushing through the chaotic glamour. It literally sparkled and Tilly was drawn to it like a child standing at the precipice of a toy land.

To her absolute disappointment, they didn't venture down the hall. The pair of women stopped at the first door on their left. Tilly read the actress' name decorating the door: Brigitte Helm. That's what Fritz had said, but seeing it in print was no help. Again Tilly was stumped – she didn't know any 'Helm's.

Popping the door open with her hip, Brigitte flipped on a switch and brought life to a tiny dressing room full of lights and absolutely clogged with stuff.

"Sorry about the mess," Brigitte dug her foot in under a pile of costumes on the floor and heaved it aside, "I think they want their storage room back."

A colossal mess or not, it was a fascinating sight. A coat rack stood by the door, the short right wall had a busy dressing table with a stool and a mirror like she'd seen in magazines, and decorated in bright lights. There was a cushioned chair shoved off to the left side, a modest little table next to it with books and magazines. And then there were the clothing racks and boxes shoved up against the back wall, buried in wardrobes that were either hung from hangers or just tossed haphazardly over the bar. Everything from rags to riches hung out at the back of Brigitte's dressing room, or was just left in heaps on the floor.

"This is incredible," Tilly wandered into the wilds of a theatrical wardrobe.

"It's a pig sty!" Brigitte sputtered, setting her purse down on her dressing table, "I'm going to have to start going around batting my eyelashes at people again," she threw her coat over the coat rack, unbuckled the straps of her shoes and kicked them off without care, lastly tossing her hat into the soft chair, "You can take your coat off, if you'd like."

Tilly was already eyeballs deep in the fantastical menagerie that was this 'pig sty'. Her hands swept over a soft, glistening fabric that was part of a dressy ensemble and turned over her shoulder to look at her host. Unbundled from her outing attire, Brigitte presented herself in an outfit that looked like she'd studied the women's fashion catalogues for Spring 1926. But then there was all that curly blonde hair framing a familiar baby face.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" the question raced out of Tilly's mouth, like she'd lost the reins to her voice.

"Yes, you do," Brigitte answered without pause.

Perhaps this was what Hermann felt like when a breakthrough had been reached – a relieving weight just lifts off one's shoulders.

"I'm dying to know, dear," Tilly honestly couldn't take this anymore, "where on earth do we know each other from?"

The smile Brigitte answered with made her look like she was the cat who'd captured the canary, "You and your husband were talking about Edward Elric earlier, if I heard right."

What on earth? Tilly felt a little pale.

"Grumpy bastard full of mad science," Brigitte put her hands on her hips.

What did Edward, of all people, have to do with this? The mention of his name was blindsiding and Tilly had to shake her head to get her marbles back in place, "Yes, of course."

With the content grin that came after the canary was swallowed, the mystery was unravelled, "We met at his house before. You freed me from school and took me shopping once several years ago," she offered her hand to shake for a proper greeting, "Brigitte Schittenhelm."

Practically feeling the clicks in her head when every wayward question snapped into alignment with another, the memory struck her, "It's you!"

Brigitte bounced her head foolishly, conveying 'yes, of course' without saying it.

"You're okay!" Tilly's hands fluttered around, uncertain what to do with herself, and she settled on grabbing Brigitte's shoulders, "where did you get off to!? I contacted your school when you didn't show up and they said they couldn't find you!"

Rolling her eyes back emphatically, Brigitte groaned, "Ah, yes, that. I needed to take a hasty trip back to Berlin to see my parents and the school got its wires crossed about my whereabouts. It was a nasty kerfuffle."

Her upper body sagging in relief, Tilly didn't know what on earth she was supposed to think. She felt a little guilty, if she were being perfectly honest – Brigitte, an upstart child she'd hardly known for a week or so had vanished and ended up vanishing from her mind as well. Other things became more important, but that didn't stop Tilly from wanting to kick herself for not following up with the school one more time.

"Well, I'm glad nothing happened to you and I hope nothing too serious went on at home, either."

Brigitte's smile curled, "Everything was fine, nothing serious in the end."

Tilly wished she could shrug the guilt off as easily as Brigitte was. She took a few deep breaths hoping her thoughts would settle down, "Helm, though? You can't be married yet."

"Oh Lord no!" Brigitte laughed, "'Brigitte Schittenhelm' was too long for the marquee and I was told to shorten it. 'Helm' is my stage name now, I suppose," she tossed her head playfully, "like a burlesque dancer."

Well, that was a quirk of the industry Tilly had never considered before.

"I actually made an attempt to see you long before now, Mrs. Oberth," Brigitte readdressed the mystery that connected them again, "but once I'd managed to get myself back to Munich I discovered you'd moved."

Sometimes people move for their careers, sometimes for marriage, sometimes for politics, and occasionally people move because they just don't want to be in a spot anymore. The move Tilly and her husband had made in the summer of 1922 was the latter.

"Oh yes, well, we needed to shake things up a bit," she wrung her hands together, "there was a cloud hanging over our lives and we decided on something more drastic to move on from that."

"A cloud named Edward?" Brigitte asked.

It was a very ugly cloud and Tilly didn't need to have the deductive mind of a scientist to know the equation was wrong, "Such a shame."

Glancing over her shoulder, Brigitte shuffled over to her single plush chair and tossed her hat from the seat. Rushing to Tilly, she collected the woman by her elbow and led her to it. The stool from her dressing table was dragged over as Tilly settled into the cushions. Sitting down on the stool in front of her long lost guest, Brigitte crossed her legs and grabbed her high knee with both hands.

"What if I told you he was alive somewhere?"

Tilly's thoughts derailed, abandoning her without a response.

"That some miserable, spiteful bastards burnt what remained of Edward's life to the ground to make sure nobody looked their way."

If emotions and memories had flesh form, Brigitte's words were the sword that pierced them. Why would anyone concoct a scenario like that? "That's a cruel thing to say, my dear."

"It's true!"

Spinning off her stool, Brigitte skittered over to her dressing table, snatched her purse up, and unceremoniously dumped the contents of it out on the floor. The tiny drawers on the front of her table were ripped open until she found the one she wanted and a petit pair of needle point scissors were mounted on her fingers. Brigitte sat back down in front of Tilly again with the scissors and empty purse in hand.

Watching Brigitte whisk herself around the room with so much carefree whimsy honestly made Tilly a little angry. They were talking about the unfortunate death of a young man and young woman who Brigitte was now around the age of, and she was behaving far too disrespectfully for the severity of the situation. First to claim the fabrication of Edward's death, and then to parade around like it was some kind of fanciful game wasn't sitting well with her at all. She questioned if the behaviour was a reflection of her age or simply… what on earth was she doing!?

Tilly stared at Brigitte snipping open the seam of the inside lining of her purse.

Digging her fingers into the little hole she'd cut, Brigitte pried it open wider with a few tugs and a couple more snips, and she extracted an absolutely ragged looking envelope.

"Sorry about the condition, I've had it on me for ages and needed to hide it somewhere my parents wouldn't know to look."

The envelope was handed to Tilly. Taking it in two hands, holding it by both beaten up edges, she stared at that old Munich address written on the sealed flap.

"It's from Edward."

Tilly's eyes traced the handwriting, unable to recall what Edward's looked like.

"He wrote it after he escaped."

Thoughts wouldn't come to her.

"Men associated with the death of Professor Hohenheim came after them. They got away by the skin of their teeth and are off hiding somewhere now."

What was she listening to? Tilly couldn't process the words entering her ears to fill the void her thoughts had left behind.

"He passed me on his journey and asked that I deliver this to you in person."

There had always been doubt. If Professor Hohenheim hadn't been murdered like he was, then maybe the fire that destroyed everything else wouldn't have felt questionable. And if the fire hadn't left only the bones of his son not even a month after his passing, then she wouldn't have felt so uneasy. And if the police hadn't shrugged it off as an accident and refused every plea of investigation, then she wouldn't have felt so unsafe.

"I went…" there had never been a moment where Tilly hadn't grieved that event, but she had never entertained any delusion of Edward's miraculous survival, "I went to their funeral. They have gravestones," Tilly couldn't rationalize the letter in her hands, "I've put flowers on them."

The energy in Brigitte's words tempered, "I know, I have too. I was supposed to get this letter to you a long time ago, I was just unable to reach you. I guess I had to wait for fate to bring you to me."

Tilly dearly wished her thoughts would tell her what to do, but her mind was of no use. She wanted to dig her fingernails into this envelope's seams, rip it open, and examine every pen stroke. She also wanted to crumple the offensive thing up in her hands and throw it out because it felt so cruel. Was she supposed to laugh? Cry? Her feelings confounded her.

Tilly turned the envelope over in her hands and looked at the old stains and fingerprints it had gathered over time. "You saw Edward after the fire?"

"I did, and Winry briefly – a boisterous woman with aggressively long blonde hair."

Listening to Brigitte identify someone she'd never been in Munich to meet made Tilly's body feel numb. There weren't even pictures of Winry left behind.

"I'm sure Edward explains the situation in the letter much better than I can."

The dirty, ragged envelope was placed neatly on Tilly's thighs. Her elbows landed on her knees and face fell into her hands. She didn't know what to think. Edward was alive? Four years had passed since they'd last spoken. The four of them had gone out to purchase a pretty green dress and coat Winry would wear for a fancy event that Edward wasn't keen on attending. They did go, but Tilly never found out if they'd enjoyed it. What Brigitte was proposing went beyond what she had ever been prepared to believe. If someone had come to her with new evidence to say that, yes, Edward Elric had indeed been murdered – that was something she would accept. But that he had escaped an attack, gone on the run, and was off somewhere now living a quiet, secretive life was the sort of fanciful tales books told, because reality wasn't that kind. The house was burned out of spite? Whose remains did investigators find?

Tilly dipped her chin into her chest, resting her forehead in her hands, and she stared at the envelope. Reading this letter now would put her in a state. She needed to calm down. Actually, she needed to run out of the room with the letter in one hand and this girl in the other and turn both of them over to Hermann for study.

Pursing her lips and slowly exhaling, Tilly straightened her posture, "Where did you meet him?"

"Here in Berlin, purely by chance," her purse already set aside, Brigitte neatly crossing one leg back over the other and hooked her hands around her high knee again, "he was getting his business in order and didn't tell me where he was headed exactly, but mentioned he was looking forward to going home."

Tilly tried to swallow a sharp laugh and ended up sputtering through it. Was this finally a hole in this unbelievable story? "Edward doesn't care for his 'home'."

"He had a particular home in mind," Brigitte had an answer to dispel the doubt, "I believe it was Winry's."

Oh Lord, Tilly never did find out where in the world that girl even came from. It was like she'd appeared out of thin air, arriving unannounced like that and robbed of her possessions. "Did they need help when you saw them?" she asked, "they must have been floundering around on their own trying to leave in secrecy."

Of all the questions Tilly had asked so far, that was the first one that caused Brigitte to pause. It was the only answer she didn't have ready on the tip of her tongue. Tilly aggressively studied this girl thinking over her words.

"Well, there was a boy who helped them."

"A boy?" Tilly's brow rose.

"Named Alphonse. Ten years Edward's junior, but sharp as a tack," ringing her hands around her kneecap, Brigitte put her eyes in the corner of the room and clicked her tongue with a smile, "probably a damn handsome bugger by now too, made up of all the good manners Edward lacked."

If Tilly had worn glasses, they would have slipped down her nose.

Brigitte started to giggle, "Just like my sister and I, total opposites. I didn't get too many details, but he was brilliant and they both were very happy to have him along."

That was a very bizarre element to add to such a dramatic story. Tilly wasn't entirely sure what to make of it. Smoothing her hands over the envelope, her focus landed back in her lap, entranced by the ragged letter all over again, "I don't know if this is something I can read right now."

"Oh no, of course not, read it at your leisure!" Brigitte assured her, waving her hands, "it's certainly not something you have to read right here, right now, in my presence. I'm just the messenger."

Tilly wasn't sure she'd ever have the stomach for a letter from beyond the grave. Hermann should be the one to read it first anyways… he could give her a summary before she read it. Or they could read it together. Who knows.

"Maybe we could head out for some coffee or tea, would you be interested?" Brigitte suggested, "clear our heads with a bit of fresh air and have an early lunch."

Taking her eyes off the envelope, Tilly gazed around the room. The chaotic sparkle and glamour that had captured her eye had evaporated. Her downtrodden mood had banished the magic, "Yes, I think that's a fine idea."

Tilly climbed out of the chair and Brigitte swept over to her coat rack, plucking a shawl off a rung and gathering her shoes with her toes. Unable to detach her thoughts from the envelope Tilly turned it over a few more times, rotating the mucked up revelation around in her hands. What were they doing now? What a strange thought to allow herself to entertain – instead of mourning the human potential lost to death as she'd always done, Tilly found herself contemplating the human potential lost to secrecy.

Following Brigitte out into the hall, disinterested in the spectacle around her, Tilly's thoughts attempted to recompose a man's life. If Edward were hiding then he couldn't draw attention to himself for his brilliance, what would he do instead? He didn't seem to have any interests or hobbies beyond the science that brought them together. And what would Winry do? She seemed brilliant in her own right – she built Edward an entire leg on her own, a phenomenal feat, but the name she could make for herself was forced into secrecy as well. The whole proposal seemed quite sad. Of course she wished for their good health, successful careers, and stable family life, but…

"Do you suppose they're happy?" Tilly wondered.

Brigitte raised her brow.

"Edward and Winry," Tilly's thumbs rubbed the edges of the envelope secured in both her hands, "it would be a shame if they were forced into a life they didn't want and were unable to find happiness in it."

Beneath the hallway lights a charmed, beautiful smile rounded Brigitte's cheeks, glowing brighter than all the glamour around her, "Yes. I am confident they are perfectly happy right now."

Reaching for the purse hanging from her shoulder, Tilly opened the clasp and tucked the letter inside. Securing it with a snap, she put on her best face for the young lady oozing confidence with every hopeful word. As they walked through the hall sparkling with all its decorative charm, Tilly wished with all her heart that Brigitte's beliefs were a reflection of the reality that now had them.

"I certainly hope they are."


- FIN -


Author's Note:

In chapter 4, Herman and Tilly haul Ed out of the house and to a social dinner where he meets Fritz Lang and his wife, Thea von Harbeau, who the Oberths are socially acquainted with. Fritz tells Ed about the Homunculus film that leads to Ed meeting Brigitte. Brigitte goes on to work with Fritz later on Metropolis, and because Fritz knows the Oberths, she's reunited with Herman and Tilly. I set this reunion up for myself 18 years ago with a few vague open ends and a "I'll figure it out how it'll go when I get there… and if I never get there, no one'll know!" LOL. Now you know and writing it was a treat!