Chapter 13- Flesh and Bone

Raeluvs

"There, add a little bit more paint to that section." She instructed, pushing her glasses up on the bridge of her nose, her jade eyes narrowing into slits. Edward nodded and moved to the far left corner of the room, sharpening a point of paint with a thin, matted brush. Sciezka buried her nose into her book, scanning over the figures just one more time. There could be no cause for foul-ups.

"That oughta do it, Ed." She said shortly, her voice hiding an underlying thread of concern. Edward heard it, but tried to hold it in disregard; he was busy trying to dissuade his own hovering feeling of doubt that lingered constantly in the back of his head.

'You failed once, you can fail again. At least you can't kill him twice, right?' Twisted thoughts mocked him, his heart pounding angrily and fearfully, a rapid, erratic tenor.

"Okay." He managed, closing golden eyes and taking a deep breath. "Okay."

"I have a plan." She said, her voice determined. She stretched her arms above her head, standing. Edward sat stark straight in his chair, his attention rapt, face eager.

"What!" he demanded. "What can we do?"

"The Omega can be used only by the alchemist that created it," Sciezka began, indicating him with a thin finger. He nodded.

"Yeah, that's what Mustang and all of Hughes's files said." Edward offered, concurring.

"And it can only be used to create one thing, as opposed to the Philosopher's stone." She continued, glancing at him to make sure this was correct. Again he returned with a nod.

"Yes, and?"

"Alphonse's body was broken beyond medical repair." She went on, "I couldn't have done anything to help even if I had the proper equipment; for some reason that body just couldn't handle the pressure of the transmutation and perhaps didn't accept the soul." She suggested, trying to find reason for the disfigurement of the child. She shook her head.

"At any rate, we need to house Alphonse's soul, which would include his memories," she noted Edward's obvious sigh of relief and permitted herself a thin smile. "We would need to recreate, reclaim, however you want to put it; we need to get Alphonse's soul back and bind it to a different host." Edward's silence was no comfort.

"What is it?" she asked, noticing the despondent look that was dripping upon his features, seeping in slowly like sap, supple and sinuous from the rough bark of a tree. Edward's eyes were glued to the body of his little brother, a hand resting lightly on the unmoving shoulder of the boy.

"A long time ago," he said softly. "I promised him that one day I would pay for the sin that I created. The day that I transmuted our mother… I promised him that I would get his body back when I lost it. That we would reclaim our old bodies, our limbs." He lifted his automail arm with a shrug of his shoulder, letting the metal clink against the side of the chair in which he sat, the plates of his shoulder catching the gleam of the flickering lights that adorned the ceiling.

"No matter what I do, somehow, I've let him down." He said softly, the slightest thread of wistfulness running through the pattern of his tone. "I just wanted to make everything okay for Al at last… and when I thought I'd done what I promised, just once…"

"I think that Alphonse would be satisfied to know that you risked everything just to get him back one more time." Sciezka said lightly as possible. "You gave up an arm once. And I think, if I can get what we need, then you can do it again without sacrificing a limb." There was silence. The room was cold, the air dank and chilling.

"Do you want to take that risk?"

'But what, Fullmetal? Saving Al too much for you? Or are you afraid you'll die too… just like all the others…?'

Edward broke his gaze from Alphonse's faded eyes and shot her a look of utmost determination, the Colonel's words screaming through his mind. He nodded once, a reckless smile twitching at the corners of his lips.

"Yeah. Let's do it."

"Well?" She asked, looking down at the ground. Edward kneeled at the base of his creation, his face slick with sweat, bangs matted to his forehead. He had tossed his gloves onto the abandoned cot which now lay vacant, barricading the door.

"Looks like it's time."

Under the pale glow of the flickering lights, an array shone on the hardwood floors, black paint as dark as ground up charcoal weaved its way gracefully across the panels, flowing into an intricate design as the river runs through rapids. Circles depicting air, earth, water, fire and creation were etched perfectly to a faultless scale, words written in an ancient tongue scribbled between arches.

It sickened him to see how much it resembled a human transmutation circle. That same circle that he and Alphonse had drawn in the same black paint on their basement floor years ago, each circle and symbol a condemnation of their fate. He rested a light hand upon the edge of the circle, as though feeling for the edge of a crevasse that wasn't there.

In the middle of this array was a great circle, large and winding that dwindled inward in snaking text. Alphonse's body lay in the center, arms extended directly to their sides, legs stretched out. His eyelids had slid closed, blocking the glazed expression that still seemed to question through the tranquility of death. His face was pallid and cold to the touch; Sciezka had started toward moving him from the cot and at first recoiled, the softness of his childlike face pale as ice, chilled as snow. About his body laid large, powerful pieces of metal, spiked and smooth, carved, mottled and tarnished with age.

The cot upon which Alphonse had lay was propped up against the door, a leg latched up beneath the doorknob, locking from the inside and sticking the knob closed. No interruptions could be permitted; if even one thing went astray from the format of this plan, Edward knew that it could spell disaster.

Resting directly above the still heart of Alphonse, sat the glimmering white orb that's name alone spelled Death: the Omega. The size of a clenched fist, its pearl-like appearance looked as fragile as a single drop of rain, its surface cool and soft to the touch. If laden with thousands of pounds or struck with the greatest of axes, the surface that appeared as tranquil as an unmoving pond would not ripple; it would maintain its exterior as though never touched.

And indestructible stone, lest it was used, was death. Death was indestructible. It could appear gentle and swift, and no matter how long it was evaded, or hidden from, eventually it would come to those who breathe, whether it was searched for or not. Death could not be destroyed despite this, and this Omega was created in the shape of a stone.

Sciezka's face was tight, but determination shone in her eyes. She nodded once; he returned it. Clapping his hands between his eyes, he slowly brought them down, slamming them against the hollowed wooden floorboards.

Within an instant the ground began to shake. The cot that barred the door rattled irritably, clanging against the wall and doorframe. The ground trembled violently as though an earthquake, the array glowing. The paint ate into the floor with white hot intensity, sizzling and bubbling; it gleamed a radiant crimson color that drizzled through the floorboards. The paint seeped forward, slow as molasses and thick as blood, creeping toward Alphonse.

The twisted symbols of the transmutation circle beamed brightly, reflecting themselves upon the prone figure of Alphonse. The stone seemed to ripple, like a rock being tossed into the placid creek that was its surface. The white appearance that so resembled the most flawless of pearls was stained red, like snow on a battlefield after a bloody war. The stone glowed, light emitting from it like strobe, shrouding the entire room under a cloak of crimson.

Edward felt as though the moment was happening from outside of him, watching it take place from a different person's point of view, as though to evaluate it and correct it. The scene seemed so surreal, like it wasn't actually happening, as if a trial run, to test and make sure that everything went according to plan.

And if it didn't?

The thought screamed painfully through his mind, so excruciatingly that his hands, shaking frantically rose from the activated array and clamped onto his head, fingers threading through golden hair.

'ALPHONSE!'

Edward through his head back and screamed as crimson fell like spattered rain drops upon his face, drowning the moment in his eyes; the sound was startlingly clear amidst the rush of what was going on all around him. The air filled with the screech of raw pain, regret, guilt, anger, fear, and finally resignation. It was the ache in this brutal scream that made it… human.

'What if I failed? What if I brought him back disfigured, or a monster? As someone completely different? In pain beyond what he could ever stand!" Edward's thought burned white hot through his mind, eyes wavering within their strained sockets. 'What if I bring him back just to have to kill him again? Or what if I didn't succeed to bring him back at all…!"

'That pain… would be everything!'

The crimson light faded from the room; the earth stilled beneath their feet and the parts of the floor that had been painted upon lay charred and weak, the array burned into the wooden surface.

Edward's eyes blurred in and out of focus; he felt his mind blank completely, foggily hearing the faraway sound of his name as his head hit the ground, darkness spiraling over fading eyes of gold.

A/N: The final chapter approaches, my dear reviewers… has Edward done it? After sacrificing all that he has for one sole purpose alone, has he accomplished it? Or will he have to learn how to live without his support at his side, to begin anew with the fresh prospect of new life? So many questions lie unanswered, but at last our story draws to a close. Please stay tuned for the final chapter of Dream a Dream, chapter fourteen: Dream a Dream.