Chapter 10- Ticking Life Away
Raeluvs
A/N: Note that the following chapter contains some spoilers. The exact episode is unknown, but it is near the end of the series. If you're a spoiler whore as I am, then no big deal. If you're just reading my story 'cause you like it, and haven't seen the whole series, then... deal with it? Sorry! I just want to let everyone know. Please note that the second flash back scene does not happen in the anime, this is merely my rendition that regards the fic. That, however, is where the small spoiler is contained wink wink. Please enjoy, I'll shut up now…
"Al… AL!" Riza shouted, dropping Roy's hand and leaping to her feet; Roy was startled by her jolt. She looked hopelessly about the room, for some shred of optimism to save the feeble child. "Alphonse, stay with us." She said softly, her eyes overflowing with impatient tears.
"LIEUTENANT ROSS!" She shrieked down the hall. "Lieutenant! We need HELP!"
Roy had stood as well, wondering frantically how he could be of assistance. Alphonse was dying. He was dying, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He heard hollow footsteps, lightly prancing down the hallway, growing louder as they reached the doorframe. Help had arrived, and to his surprise, Sciezka ran into the room, the mousy librarian secretary that worked down the hall.
"Sciezka?" he asked, confused. Her head snapped instinctively in his direction; for a split second, her face mirrored that of Maes Hughes. The shine from the dimly lit room cast a glare across her thickly rimmed glasses, her mouth set in a firm, determined line. Roy blinked the image from his eyes and refocused upon the girl before him.
"Yes, sir." Her voice was hard, much unlike her habitual wavering demeanor. She saluted hurriedly; he nodded her at ease. "I'm here to help Alphonse."
"But…" though it was true they needed all the help they could get, a librarian?
"I know many medical texts, sir, and I know a lot of useful means to help Al. And… I made a promise that I intend to keep, sir." She said in a rush, though her voice remained solid. "Please let me be of assistance." Roy nodded, beckoning her over with a hasty hand. Sciezka strode over quickly, kneeling beside the boy.
"His breathing hasn't stopped entirely," she said softly, pinning her head against his chest. "But it's slowing continually. We have to give him air."
"How?" Roy asked almost stupidly; he was no expert in the medical profession. Sciezka didn't bat an eye.
"Mouth to mouth resuscitation, for now." She recited instantaneously, her eyes glazing over with the access of her photographic memory. Roy looked taken aback. "There aren't any other surefire ways without a medical professional on board."
"Mouth to…" At Roy's surprised look, she rolled her eyes. In a matter of life and death, he was feeling awkward?
"I'll do it, sir." She snapped, visibly perturbed. "Please get Lieutenant Hawkeye and try and find a doctor. There's nothing you can do here." Roy nodded and headed for the door, the sharpness and reliability in her tone empowering.
'For Fullmetal's sake, keep him breathing.' Roy thought anxiously, as he threw the door to a clasp behind him, eyes probing the halls for Riza.
"Come on, Al, stay with me." Sciezka whispered, blinking tears out of her eyes, her face frozen in a rigid, determined position. "Hang in there for me. We've already lost one person this year, let's not make it two." Her heart burned as she thought of the late Brigadier General Hughes, but this was no time to be evocative.
"Lost…" Alphonse gasped, face chalky. She nodded, a thin smile plastered to her face.
"Yeah, lost. We don't wanna lose you too, Al." She said softly. "Hold out for me and Ed. Ed's on his way right now."
"Ed…?" Alphonse sputtered, glassy eyes turning toward her. She nodded, smiling.
"Ed's coming for you, Al. He's on his way." she said soothingly, running her hand over the child's forehead, thin fingers brushing by, gentle as a mother's touch. Alphonse tried to sustain his gaze to her, waveringly meeting cobalt to emerald eye. "All you need to do is breathe."
"How do you plan on forging the Omega without using the people behind you?" Glyph spat, voice sharp as daggers. Edward laughed, knowing that he was irking the man even more with each breath he took.
"Because I just figured out that the laws are false." He replied, voice lowering slightly with regret. The laws of alchemy were the only thing that he had ever known to be true, unchanging and solid as a foundation of stone. In days past, he really believed that equivalent exchange was the world's one and only truth. It was difficult to accept that it was a lie.
"The laws are nowhere near false." Glyph snarled, eyes flashing from within the pits of his skull. "The only way to get the required materials in forging the Omega are found in fifty human bodies."
"Oh really." Edward replied nonchalantly, his tone indifferent. "So killing fifty people is equal trade for one stone, that can be used by one person, and that can do one thing, hm?" When put in that context, it truly negated equivalent exchange.
"That just isn't fair." Edward finished coolly.
"Life isn't fair, kid." Glyph sneered, a sly smile twisting across lopsided lips, cracked and white. A dry laugh escaped from his parched throat. "Didn't your mommy ever tell you that?" Edward nodded, hiding his bristle at the mention of his mother.
"Yeah, but she didn't hang around to let it follow through." Edward returned, voice cold. Glyph scoffed, face showing the barest remnants of surprise.
"That's just too bad now, isn't it, Fullmetal?" Glyph said mockingly, his tone low and criticizing. "But sadly, I don't care. And you're not forging the Omega while I'm still here to stop you."
"I told you already," Edward's voice rang loud. "Killing isn't my thing." Glyph threw his head back and laughed, long and maniacally, his twisted cackle reverberating throughout the dim cavern.
"In this world," Glyph chortled, his voice falling back into its regular rhythm, "It's kill, or be killed, child. Surely you've learned that lesson by now, mother or no." Edward nodded once again, his features blank, eyes smooth as glass, gold flickering in the light of the stone.
"Survival of the fittest?" he asked, voice solid, interest carved into youthful features. Glyph nodded, eyes flashing, a grin easing over jagged features, his gnarled hands twitching.
"Yeah, kid. Survival of the fittest." Edward laughed, long and low, bringing a casual hand to his forehead. Glyph's face flashed anger, confusion, and an underlying thread of doubt.
"Survival of the fittest." Edward repeated again, as though he liked the sound of the words rolling off his tongue. "But here's the flaw in that. We're not animals. We're people. We're human beings."
"That's just another classification as an animal." The man returned, hatred evident upon his features. Edward studied this reaction, a quiet reply, but enmity was clear in his tone.
"Yeah?"
"Yes. Is it possible to call the military human?" he voiced a question that had obviously burned within his hollow cavern of a soul for years, his tone quivering with rage. Edward's eyes flashed interest. "After all they put people through, sending them to war to kill their own brethren for something no one can remember a reason for? They fight, not knowing why, not caring who they kill, just to accomplish that one cause. And yet, they know not this oh-so valiant reason they murder for. Humans that walk around saying how ghastly killing is, but give them a reason and they do it without regret.
"Some do it for money, others for country, pride, fame, honor, love, it doesn't matter. Only something as insipid, idiotic, rash, and irrational as the human being could conjure up this horrid hellhole that we call being alive. That was why I made automail back in Rush Valley, to help those soldiers keep fighting for whatever their pathetic reason may be, living blindly on the hope that my customers would make a difference with their automail, stop the fighting, or realize how precious life is that they gained a second chance. That maybe the nightmares that haunted their dreams could scare them out of the bloody battle. But no," his voice split sharply in its fury, ire staining the man's gravelly tenor.
Edward listened with rapt attention, taking in the disappointed, angry words being thrown at him. In ways he was right. Very right.
"No, of course these soldiers were eager to get back into battle, to 'lick the bastards' who'd put him in my automail shop in the first place. They were so blinded by that eagerness of revenge, with such alacrity to kill, that they couldn't see life." Glyph growled, his eyes gleaming in the dim light of the cavern. "No… all the dogs of the military are the same. They're all animals, and the smell of blood keeps them biting."
"Dr. Tim Marcoh… he was a deserter…"
"I saw a lot of terrible things…"
"I killed a lot of people…"
"If your enemy has a weakness, it becomes his strength. Remember that…"
"…I still think he was the wisest of us all…"
Roy's words burned like wildfire through Edward's mind. For a moment, he almost had agreed with Glyph, that much of the military consisted of drooling, snapping dogs, eager for the scent of a new kill, led by lethal masters without souls. But Roy's voice pounded as loudly as the blood in his ears; the war had scarred him. Edward knew that despite his boisterous, carefree and pompous mien that he lived only to repent for the misdeeds he had committed during the Eastern Rebellion. He could see the pain behind his superior's eyes, black as onyx, gleaming as an ever silent reminder of what he had done.
"For a second…" Edward's voice came soft, "for a split second, I almost agreed with you." Glyph's gaze locked to his, curiosity obvious upon his face.
"Almost?" he spat, voice caustic. He received a curt nod in reply.
"There are people who live in agony for what they did every day. Breathing can be a constant reminder of the breath they took away." Edward said softly, his voice firm, reflective. "To some… it doesn't matter if their eyes are closed to live that nightmare." Glyph's face was hard beneath his serrated features.
"Then they should die too." Hateful words slipped through cracked lips, his eyes narrowing to odious slits.
"Then why did you kill fifty innocent people?" Edward asked, his voice implicative. "What reason did you kill them for? What all-too veritable cause were you supporting? Tell me, Glyph: What was your excuse?"
"My excuse…" Glyph laughed. "I may as well ask you what your excuse is too, since I have no intention to tell you my own. What do you want the stone so badly for?" Edward looked slightly thrown off guard.
"Why do I want it…?" he repeated. He mulled over his answer in his head; he had nothing to lose. "Why…"
"Okay, Al. I'm gonna do this for real this time."
The room was set up. The array was drawn on the floor, the symbol of creation etched into a circle, the same one in Alphonse's armor; though he didn't need it, Edward found it a comfort. Around that was the array for the Philosopher's stone, perfectly drawn. Alphonse sat in the middle of the array, his suit of armor leering at Edward.
"Okay, Al. You're the Philosopher's stone, so all we have to do, is sacrifice this body for your old one." Edward explained, stretching out his hands. "We can bypass equivalent exchange, bro, so we don't have to worry about exact trade, and your soul stays in tact perfectly. We're gonna get your body back for real this time."
"Brother, be careful." Alphonse's ever cautious voice said anxiously. He tried unsuccessfully to mask his doubt and worry, but he had faith in his brother. Edward smiled.
"All our hard work, four years of hard work, has finally paid off, pal. We won some, we lost some, but I'm not going to let you down again, brother." Edward assured him, putting his hands to the array. "I prom--"
Red light glowed ominously about the room; a hole ripped through the ceiling, pieces flying about the room. A violet glow glimmered throughout the air, blinding Edward for a moment.
'Oh… no…' Edward's mind went blank. This couldn't be happening. Not again. 'No…'
A gleam of golden light blitzed through the purple haze, and what had come to be known as the Gate appeared before them. The armor glowed and rattled, the arrays etching themselves upon it. Edward watched it crumble to the ground in pieces, the blood seal pulsating with blood red light.
"Bro…ther!" Alphonse's terrified shriek echoed in his mind. His thoughts were vacant; his body took over his brain.
"AL!" he felt himself screaming, as though he was detached, watching himself act from outside himself. Why was he just standing there? Why did he do nothing? His eyes grew heavy, and blackness overtook him.
"When I came to, Al was gone." He finished. "Someone had taken him away, cleaned the room and had me put up in the hospital. I was sent away, to a hospital outside Central for special medical treatment for shock, since I still hadn't come around. After getting better from the half-comatose state I seemed to be in, I made my way back to Central to check up on him with information Mustang had, and he said the only way to get him to remember me, was to do this. I messed up his life again, for the second time. I promised that I wouldn't and yet I still managed to screw it all up. Every time I try to fix things, I break more. I tried to get his body back and I did, but I lost his memory. I'm going to do things tight this time." Edward's face was defiant, hard as stone and set with resolve.
"And for Alphonse," he breathed, voice steely. "I will stop at nothing to help him."
"I see." Glyph replied, his tone was surprised, but merciless. "If you will stop at nothing to protect and save Alphonse… you have to stop me." Edward's face flushed angrily.
"I'm not going to kill you!" he shouted, annoyed and strangely fearful. Glyph drew a hasty array in the ground. Edward stiffened instinctively, clapping his hands together. Electric waves sprung from the ground, lunging toward him like neon snakes, fangs bared. He lunged, slamming his hands to the earth, a barricade forming underneath him; he leaped upon it firmly, glaring headedly.
"Wanna play hardball, then?" He chuckled. "Fine!" Edward crashed his hands against one another firmly; he felt the automail in his arm quiver at the force of his own rage. He pushed his hands to the ground, separating the thin moisture from the air and cordoning it into ice. It leaped from the ground, encasing Glyph, who was beyond thrown off guard.
"You… lose." Edward managed, breathing ragged. He turned, making a slow egress of the cave, preparing his strength to form the Omega in the not-so-viable way he had planned.
Crack.
Edward stopped cold in his tracks, the precision of his ears detecting the slightest disturbance from behind. Slowly, he revolved his head, eyes glancing at the sheathed form of Glyph. Cracks had darkened the smooth exterior of the ice, a golden light eradicating from the base of the structure. Edward sputtered upon seeing an array at the foot of the ice mound that was slowly shattering the casing like glass.
"Now that I'm cooled off," Glyph's voice came thin, rasping. "Shall we continue, Fullmetal?" Edward clapped his hands together, but not fast enough.
"Too slow." Glyph's hands were at the ground already at another array, a dagger appearing in his hand. He whipped it expertly; Edward lunged to get out of the way, the blade grazing his cheek. He felt the cold bite of the steel against his skin, and felt warm blood slide down his face.
"That was a cheap shot!" he barked, transmuting his bladestaff with a twist of the wrist.
"There are no cheap shots in war, runt." He breathed in emphatic reply. Edward twitched visibly, his face growing dark with rage.
"Who are you calling… a RUNT!" Edward screamed, and tore at the man with all the speed he could gather. Glyph began to retaliate, transmutating a spear from the earth below. He held it before him, combating the blow of the bladestaff, metal clashing fiercely against metal. Sparks flew between the blades, the two nearly eye to quivering eye.
"I'm not letting you win." Glyph whispered, his hold strengthening.
"I'm not letting my brother down again!" Edward screamed, throwing the spear off of his staff. He prepared to lunge as the spear flew in the air, and came crashing down, straight through the chest of Omegas Glyph.
Edward stepped away in horror, watching the blood seep from the chest of the alchemist before him, the ground stained crimson.
"Don't worry… kid…" the man's voice sputtered from his face pressed to the floor. "You didn't kill me… my own mistake… I was wrong…"
"How's that?" Edward asked shakily, the bladestaff disappearing.
"I… I lived with the same vengeance I hated in others… I, too, was an animal…" he gasped, voice thinning. "But… now I am a human being…" His voice faded to a whisper, his eyes glazing over tranquilly.
"…I can finally… awake from my nightmare…" His breathing slowed, and halted. Edward stared down at the being before him, wonderingly, as though he was merely an apparition. He had to get back to Alphonse; he had to form the Omega now, and get back to Central as soon as he could. He lingered for a moment more, smiled thinly, and turned away.
"Pleasant dreams."
A/N: Hi-hi! Here we are again! See, I'm on vacation, and my mother has been bothering me to write this chapter for… as long as we've been here. I know it may seem silly to have my mother as my biggest fan, but oh well. I appreciate all my reviews from everyone, thank you all so much. Thank you for reading my story, despite the evil and long authors notes that could be chapters within themselves. I've been living on Dr Pepper, strawberry daiquiris (virgins, of course) and some random bits of food now and again, so I had no reason not to write. Stay tuned for chapter eleven, as our story dwindles to its last few chapters. I think there will be thirteen chapters, not sure. Anyway, up next, is Chapter 11- A Forger's Heart: Time's up. See ya!
Raeluvs