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Chapter Two: Imbalance

Al's voice echoed painfully through Roy's ears. Each plaintive cry felt like a jagged piece of glass to his soul, tearing at his already bleeding heart.

"I want my brother! Why won't he answer me? He always comes to me when I call! Why won't he answer me?"

Al's helpless sobs were half muffled into Lieutenant Ross' chest, his fists balled in her shirt as if she was the only thing tethering him to reality. She'd begun rocking him back and forth in her arms, comforting him as best she could in his storm of grief.

"I'm sorry, Al, but he can't…" she whispered, struggling to keep her own voice steady as tears pooled in her eyes. "I'm so sorry, but he's gone…"

Roy shut his eyes and looked away, unable to bear the sight. He wasn't going to cry, he kept telling himself. Not here. Not now. Not in front of everyone else. He was their commander. He had to be the strong one everyone else could look to in times of tragedy and grief.

This was the rule he'd always lived by: to be strong and do everything in his power to prove his tenacity and resolve to reach his highest goal - to become Furer. He could not cry; because that was a sign of weakness and would be looked down upon by others.

But still, he found it hard to fight back the sting of tears.

Looking around - if only for a distraction from his own treacherous emotions - Roy saw that Ross was not the only one moved by the younger Elric brother's cries or the sight of Ed's lifeless body still cradled in his arms.

Hughes silently knelt beside him on the ground, his head bowed to his chest with one hand slipped up under his glasses, pinching the inside corners of his eyes. The Intelligence officer's shoulders were slumped, his face twisted with grief. It really wasn't any surprise Ed's death had had such a strong effect on him, Mustang silently mused. Hughes had always treated the Elric brothers as if they were his own - inviting them to his house whenever they were in Central, looking out for them whenever they went on one of their dangerous missions, and basically just trying to make them feel like they were a part of his family.

Hawkeye knelt beside Roy on his other side. The female sharpshooter was strangely quiet, her dark red eyes turned down. Behind her, Breda, Falman, Havoc, and Brosh all stood together, each solemnly surveying the scene with suspiciously damp eyes.

Major Armstrong, however, seemed to have no such reservations about showing his emotions and let streams of silent tears spill down his cheeks. Even his halo of tiny pink sparkles were dull and lusterless.

It struck Roy as odd that such a group of veteran, battle-toughened soldiers could be so moved by another's death. After all, all of them had seen death and tragedy before. It was part of their profession. But who would have ever thought the foul-mouthed prodigy had captured such a large piece of their hearts?

Maybe it was because Ed had died so young. Or maybe it was because he'd given his life to save another person without any regard for his own safety, however foolish it might have been. Or maybe it was because even unto his last dying breath the only thing Edward Elric had been able to think about was his little brother.

It just wasn't fair…

Roy clutched the lifeless body in his arms a little closer, as if trying to convince himself the blonde teen was actually gone. It just didn't seem possible…

"Why won't he answer me?" Al's angry wails cut through Mustang's thoughts like a knife. "He always comes to me when I call! Why won't he answer me!"

Maria Ross could do nothing but hug the boy closer and whisper meaningless words of comfort in his ear.

Al's face was red and wet with tears. Sobbing uncontrollably, his cries tapered off into unintelligent, murmured babble as grief stole him of strength and the will to do anything else but grieve. His whole body sagged in Ross' arms, shaking with grief and shock from his own return. The lieutenant gently rocked him back and forth, hugging his sobbing form to her.

The distant warble of ambulance and military vehicles echoed across the empty battlefield that had once been Central Headquarters' front parade grounds.

Armstrong slowly stepped forward. "We need to get Alphonse to a secure location. If anyone else finds out what happened here, he could be taken to a military laboratory for human transmutation research and he does not deserve that, nor is he in any condition to be seen by other people right now…"

Roy slowly looked up at the towering blonde man. "My office," he said in a strangely tight voice. "Take him to my office. There's a couch there he can use to rest. Don't let anyone see you. If anyone asks, tell them I've given you orders to keep silent. No one but those under my direct command are allowed to enter. Is that understood?"

Armstrong nodded once, then reached down for the bundled form in Lieutenant Ross' arms. "Here, I'll carry him."

"I have him," Ross shook her head, then stood. She cradled Al's sobbing form to her, his body curled in a tiny ball against her chest.

Together Ross and the major turned and hurried back in the direction of the gutted Headquarters.

Roy stared after them for several minutes. Al's voice still echoed hauntingly in his ears. Why won't he answer me? He always comes back to me when I call.

It was true. Ed had always answered his brother's calls. But now he never would again. And it was all because of him…

The sound of an emergency medical vehicle screeching to a halt several yards in front of them brought Roy back to the present. Half a dozen uniformed medical officers jumped out of the truck and fanned out across the battlefield, checking bodies for survivors.

"Colonel, are you alright? Are you injured?" one of them called, hurrying towards him.

"No. I'm uninjured. But-" He glanced back down at Ed. Why won't he answer me? He always answers me when I call…

The medical officer reached out and pressed two fingers to the underside of Ed's jaw. "I'm sorry, Sir. He's dead."

Roy nodded. It was just a confirmation of what he already knew.

It was with great hesitation, Roy found, that he released Ed's body over into the medical officer's care who carefully laid him out on the ground just beyond the pool of blood surrounding Roy -- Fullmetal's blood! Roy realized with a jolt. Another medical officer appeared and spread a large canvas bag out beside the boy.

Together, the two of them hoisted Ed's limp body up off the ground and into the bag. Roy shakingly stood and turned away as they began to zip the bag up - its long track of teeth making a horrible tearing-like sound as the zipper run up the length of Ed's body, sealing him inside. He couldn't bare to watch. He didn't want to see the boy's face be swallowed by a lightless tomb of impartial black cloth.

Carefully, the two medical officers grabbed either end of the bag and carried it towards a waiting truck that had pulled up several yards away. A row of other body bags lay lined up beside the truck, one as indistinguishable from the next. The two officers gently lowered the canvas bag at the end of the row, and walked away, going to get the next one for the growing line.

Roy felt nausea well up inside him at the sight. It wasn't right. If anyone was suppose to be in that body bag right now, it should have been him! Ed had been his responsibility to protect. Not the other way around. From the first moment Ed had walked into his office four years ago - his eyes all full of fire and challenge - he'd known he'd do anything to protect the boy. He didn't know why he felt so protective of the boy, but he'd made it one of his top priorities over the years to keep tabs on the temperamental prodigy.

"Colonel? Are you alright?" came a voice behind him. Hawkeye.

Mustang didn't answer, unable to form a reply. Was he alright? He'd just had one of his men - a child!- die right there in his arms. No. He most certainly was not alright…

Roy slowly raised his hands and stared at them. His gloves were stained red, soaked with the blood of a fifteen year old boy. He could no longer see the alchemy arrays on the backs of his hands through all the blood. It was like they'd never even been there. He could almost feel Ed's blood soaking through his gloves onto his hands, staining his skin with something he could never hope to wash off.

"Colonel?" Riza's worried voice came again.

Not saying a word, Roy bowed his head to let a fringe of dark black hair obscure his face - then walked away.

Al looked almost peaceful laying there on the colonel's couch under a dark blue military blanket. Roy found himself transfixed by the resurrected boy as he watched the gentle rise and fall of the boy's chest underneath the blanket. He leaned back in the chair he'd pulled up next to the couch to watch Al sleep.

The boy's breathing was slow and rhythmic, the result of several milligrams of strong sedatives. Roy had been very careful in finding a trained military nurse to examine Al that could be trusted to keep her silence. Amidst all the chaos and confusion the rebel attack had caused, he'd been lucky to find one at all. He'd only now been able to escape the emergency security meetings and intelligence reports to make it back to his office. Outside, dusk had long since fallen and the moon come out, bathing Central in its ghostly white light.

Lieutenant Ross had refused to leave the boy's side the entire time Roy had been away. It was only when the exhausted colonel returned from his meetings, still carrying the weight of battle heavily on his shoulders, that she'd allowed him to order her home to rest. He'd watch the boy now himself, he'd said. His other soldiers had also seemed reluctant to leave and stayed to somberly keep vigil outside his office.

Mustang studied Al's pale face, noting the haggard, grief-stricken look that still shadowed the corners of his face even in his sleep. According to the nurse, Al was physically as healthy as an eleven year old boy could be. Ed had returned him perfectly. But mentally…

Mentally the boy was a shattered wreck. He was suffering from both grief from his brother's death and shock from the unexpected return of his body. It was too much for him to deal with at once. Roy couldn't even begin to imagine what is was like for the last surviving Elric to be finally resurrected to his original body, but at the sacrifice of his older brother.

As if hearing the colonel's thoughts, Al gave a tiny moan and shifted in his sleep. A quiet sob hitched his rhythmic breathing. "Brother…" he murmured plaintively in his sleep, before falling quiet again, a single tear slipping down his cheek.

Slowly - almost hesitantly - Roy reached out and brushed the salty tear track from the young boy's face. Leaning back in his chair, Roy watched the salty liquid disappear into the flammable material of his glove. He'd changed his gloves earlier that afternoon after the rebel attack. But despite a clean pair of gloves and a fresh change of clothes, he swore he could still feel Ed's blood staining his hands.

It had been his responsibility to protect the boys. And he'd failed. Miserably. Ed had died saving him from an assassin's bullet. It should have been him that died. Not Ed. Because of his own ineptitude he'd allowed one of his subordinates to get killed. He owed Ed a blood debt now. And the only thing he could think of to repay such a debt was to look after Ed's younger brother. It was the least he could do in Fullmetal's memory. After all, it was his fault Al no longer had an older brother to look after him…

But the question that remained and continued to haunt the colonel's mind was: did he really believe he could protect the last remaining Elric brother? He'd already failed and lost one. Could he protect the other?

He just didn't know…

If this was Heaven, Hell, or whatever lay beyond, Edward Elric was rather disappointed. For all he could see, Death was nothing but an empty void of darkness. There was no up, down, right, or left - just an endless sea of darkness that stretched out for all eternity around him. He felt like he was floating, but as if he was standing upright at the same time. He also felt strangely weightless, as if he no longer had a body weighting him down. All together, it was a rather odd, disjointed feeling.

Despite these strange paradoxes though, Ed was bored. He didn't know what exactly he'd expected to happen after death, but he'd kind of expected something a little bit more interesting.

Sighing - or at least what felt like sighing in his odd, disembodied state - he gazed around the empty darkness.

No giant all-seeing eye. No chattering black creatures. Not even that huge creepy Gate. How boring… he huffed.

That is because you do not belong here, alchemist, a voice suddenly echoed through the darkness. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once, as if it'd originated from the very darkness he floated in.

Who are you? Ed demanded, looking around wildly. What is this place?

This is the Middle-ground, neither inside the Gate or out. It is a place in between. A place you are not meant to be.

What? Why didn't I go through the Gate? I thought that's where all people go when they die.

You cannot go through the Gate. You do not belong there. Nor do you belong here.

Then where do I belong? Ed demanded, starting to get annoyed with these mysterious riddles. I died getting my brother's body back and saving that bastard colonel's life. Why can't I go through the Gate?

Because you gave more than what was required for Equivalent Exchange. You have created an imbalance in the Law of Equivalent Exchange by sacrificing too much.

Too much? Ed echoed. How did I give too much?

You would have died regardless of if you had sacrificed your life or not for your brother's body. But it was still a sacrifice. You gave up your own remaining life force to activate the Exchange. But in doing so you over-exceeded the necessary price.

How did I do that? Ed shouted into the darkness. My life for my brother's body. It was an equal exchange.

It was not. You forget the four years of suffering and hardship you endured in your quest to return your brother to his original form. The time and energy you devoted to that was also factored into the Exchange.

Ed floated in the weightless void of darkness for several minutes of unbroken silence. You mean I didn't really need to exchange my life? he asked. I could have just brought Al back with the four years we spent looking for the Philosopher's Stone?

No. A life for a life. That is Equivalent Exchange. But your life coupled with four years of searching tipped the scales of Equivalent Exchange. It was too much. Your sacrifice has created an imbalance in the Laws of Equivalency. If the Exchange is not balanced soon, the subject of the Exchange will suffer a backlash. It will be destroyed in the universe's attempt to compensate for the imbalance.

Despite his incorporeal form, Ed felt something cold shoot through him like a spike of ice. You mean Al will die? he cried, horrified.

Yes. Your brother was the subject of the Exchange. Thus, he is subject to the Imbalance's attempt to correct itself. Even though he was perfectly returned to his original form, his life is slowly being drained by the forces that bind him to the Law of Equivalent Exchange. Even now, he has already begun to Waste.

That's not fair! If he dies then he will have gained nothing, and everything I sacrificed to bring him back will have been for nothing! Ed shouted into the darkness. That goes against the Law of Equivalent Exchange!

He was returned to his original form, but the Exchange does not extend to the length of his life. Your Exchange was only to return him to his original body, not for the guarantee of his continued existence. Thus, that must be sacrificed to make up for the Exchange's Imbalance.

You can't do that! Ed screamed. There has to be something I can do! You can't take my brother! I won't let you! Tell me what I have to do! Tell me what to give!

You have already given too much, the Voice said.

Don't give me that bullshit! Tell me what I have to do to save Al! That's what all this is about in the first place: exchange! Tell me what I have to do to stop this Imbalance from killing Al!

There was a long, suffering pause which seemed to stretch on forever. For a moment Ed feared the Voice wasn't going to answer him or had somehow left. But then the Voice finally spoke.

You must fix the Imbalance.

Ed suddenly had the urge to kill whatever was talking to him, regardless of him or the mysterious Presence not having a corporeal body. And just how do I do that? he growled, struggling to keep his cool.

You must go back from whence you came and right the Imbalance. But you must hurry. The Wasting has already begun, and time is different here than what it is on either side of the Gate.

Edward paused. Either Side of the Gate? That almost implied there was another side besides his own…

How do I do that? he instead asked, choosing to concentrate on the problem at hand. He could wonder about the Voice's mysterious hint later when his brother wasn't in danger of being killed by a backlash of Equivalent Exchange. I'm technically dead. It's not like I can just go back to my body.

It is true that a life is needed in exchange for a life. That was how you were able to return your brother to his original form. You would not have been able to do so without sacrificing another life. But because of the imbalance in the amount you gave for the Exchange, you are subject for a Return-Exchange.

You mean I can somehow come back to life? Ed asked, hoped flooding his incorporeal form.

It is not that easy, the Voice replied. It is true you can use the Return-Exchange due to you to return to your world, but you must first pass over into the Gate of Truth and exit through its doors. That is the only way to get back.

Edward did not hesitate in his response. I'll do it. Anything to save Al. Just tell me what I have to do.

There was another pause from the omnipresent Voice.

Once you have crossed over into the Gate of Truth, you must find the Gate that leads to your world and seek passage through it from the Gatekeeper.

Gatekeeper? Ed said.

The one that watches the Gate of Truth and regulates all Exchanges that pass through it.

Ed suddenly had the mental image of a giant lidless eye staring down at him from a height beyond two towering doors of black stone. Had that been the Gatekeeper? If so, then it would not be the first time he'd met it.

I'll go. I don't care who or what the Gatekeeper is. Just take me back to my brother.

Very well, the Voice replied.

Before Ed even knew what was happening, he felt his incorporeal body begin to grow light, like he was fading out of existence into another world. The darkness began to recede, as though brightening with the first pale hint of dawn. And then-

He was inside the Gate of Truth.

To Be Continued…

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