Disclaimer: I don't own any of them. Not making any money of this. Love the idea of Ed and Roy. Please leave me a review if you like the story.
Author's Note:
Wow. First up, let me say that the outpouring of support I got from reviewers on the last chapter more than made up for some of the anonymous reviews I was forced to delete on the chapter prior! Thank you so much for sticking around and continuing to encourage me. I know it's been a little longer than usual on the update, but it's been a rough week on all fronts, and this was a hard chapter to write. Sometimes though, you have to take the time to get all your pieces in place, and I'm very excited about the set up for the next chapter. So read, enjoy (hopefully!) and please do leave me a review! Much love –NF.
For an explanation of the Chapter Title, please see the end of the story.
Chapter 20: Ouroboros
You leave him out of this!
And what is he to you?
He's…important.
Why?
A jumble of images in the whirlpool of his mind, and he fights to find the ones he needs with a stubbornness that surprises even him, his consciousness focusing down to a knife's edge as he seeks an answer. There! A little boy with tousled sandy hair toddling along behind, his pudgy fist latched onto a receding shirttail, stubby legs stumbling forward determinedly as he tries to keep up. A little older now, laughing with legs dangling over the side of a bridge as he points at something in the distance. Lower lip quivering, blinking back tears by the side of a grave as he puts on a brave face but sidles closer for comfort and reassurance. Troubled grey eyes cast into shadow by the light of a glowing array that is both stunningly complex and horribly, horribly wrong somehow. And then an armoured knight reaching out to him, red eyes glowing from within the helm. The images blur again, breaking up like reflections in a pool as a wind blows across its surface, then still, and then that warm face is there again, framed in a green hood, laughing as an arm reaches towards him to pull him up. Swinging a long staff easily – a bo? somehow he knows that is its name – as the man runs towards a fracas. And those familiar grey eyes turning away from him and towards a bright light descending from the sky, and he knows that this is bad, that he needs to stop this but he cannot move, cannot even close his eyes against the sight…and his mind whispers a name, and hears a voice crying out for him….
He's my brother, you bastard. And I will not let you hurt him again! You will not touch him, do you hear me? Soundless fury, for how can there be voice without air? Yet somehow he knows the other hears him, hears the message he is delivering.
There is a fascinated, coiled stillness, much like that of a venomous snake waiting to strike at its prey. And then, an acknowledgement: Very good. You never cease to amaze us….
…Fullmetal. He doesn't know why he said that, but it seems right. It sits right on him, somehow. Someone used to say that to him. Someone else important.
He feels, rather than hears the other hiss soundlessly.
Ha! That's a key, isn't it? Fullmetal. It has to do with the answer.
It matters not. Even if we cannot keep you, there is always your brother.
I said leave Al out of this! He freezes. Al…Alphonse…that's his name, isn't it? And even before the other can answer, he knows it to be truth, for how could he not know his own brother? And with that come more scattered images surging forth from the sea foam of all knowledge like shells tossed up onto the beach of his mind. His mother. An all too brief period of contentment. Granny Pinako. Winry. The sharp pain of abandonment….
The voice returns more confidently: That is not your choice to make.
Like hell it isn't, I'm the head of the family. Ever since that bastard walked out on us, I've been the one in charge, and when it comes to my brother, what I say, goes. Got that, you smug asshole? I didn't ask to be here, but you brought me here so you'll just have to deal with me.
You came here of your own free will. Much like your father.
An instinctive revulsion: Don't you dare compare me with that jerk that walked out on us! He just left us, and I bet that's why mom got sick, he broke her heart…and suddenly his newly infinite mind understands the horror of what his father had done, understands why his mother had gotten so ill. A body cannot survive without energy, and the love of another is the most intoxicating, powerful form of energy there is in the world…. He has never been so glad to be bodiless, for he knows he would be retching otherwise. That bastard used her! Used her for his own purposes, made her sick, bled off her life's energies just to have enough power to open the Gate again? To come here? That was more important to him than his family?
He, at least, was willing to acknowledge his heart's desire for knowledge, to the point where he was willing to sacrifice those he loved in pursuit of the One Truth. Even your mother.
He was a self-serving bastard who never understood knowledge without responsibility is a recipe for disaster. He was an alchemist, he had a duty - "Alchemist, be thou…for…the people…."
Ah.
That's it. I'm an alchemist. I'm…the Fullmetal Alchemist! Aren't I?
Do you even know what that means?
I….
How can you say you know who you are if you do not comprehend all that you are? Who are you?
An incoherent silent shriek of frustration: You are going to be sorry when I get my hands on you!
You don't have hands.
Not the point!
And the hands of time are not on your side right now.
Fine. I'm an alchemist, I'm going to figure this out from first principles. And you are going to tell me the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth or so help me….
Which answer did you want? The truth, the whole truth, or nothing but the truth?
You're even more of a bastard than he is, and that's saying a lot!
Who?
I…don't know. A sudden flash of prideful, mocking dark eyes that twinkle deep down in their midnight blue depths if you look hard enough, eyes that can be hard and cold, and gentle and warm, and seductive and compelling by turns. The joy of sparring with a worthy opponent, verbally, mentally, physically…and then the exquisite sensation of heat and the friction of skin against skin, and he gasps soundlessly as a phantom pain glows to life in what would be his chest if he still had one and takes away breath he does not have to spare. He is important, he knows he is. Him. Bastard Colonel. Roy. I have to get back to him, wherever he is – I promised! And then a question occurs to him: Where am I?
Here.
He has the sudden urge to clench his non-existent fists and plant them into a wall. Calm. It's just like research. Must stay focused. Despite the facetiousness of the answer, he senses a definite wariness about it, as though the other is worried that he has stumbled onto a promising line of inquiry, and that in and of itself is information. The thought flits across his mind: I used to do research, didn't I? I was good at it…they said I was…am a real prodigy. A smirk ghosts across metaphysical lips as he pursues his inquiry: Who are you?
A hesitation. All is one.
That is not an answer! The entire truth, damn it, or do I have to beat it out of you?
This plane lacks the physical realization necessary for that.
Really? Want to test the truth of that statement? Please say yes.
The distinct impression of serious rapid reconsideration, and then: We are the one who joins this world to the next. The Alpha and Omega, the Aleph and Tau, the Beginning and the End, the Azoth. The Above and Below, the Ultimate Arcanum, the Eternal and Everlasting….
Okay, okay, I get the idea. You're another god-wannabe with delusions of grandeur. How do I always wind up attracting your kind? Just like that fraud in Lior…and suddenly a rush of memories overwhelms him as he sees the dazed look in the eyes of a girl, the lascivious leer of a self-proclaimed messiah, a monstrosity of a creature that should not have exist lunging for him, shaking him by the arm – and he wonders at that briefly, the feeling of having an arm, the physical weight of it – and then the rumbling voice of that arrogant fool, shot through with fear and shock "You are the Fullmetal Alchemist!" Edward Elric. The Fullmetal Alchemist.
And he…remembers.
"You have got to be fucking kidding me, I'm stuck in the fucking Gate of Truth again? What the hell do you want in exchange this time?"
"You have got to be fucking kidding me, he's stuck in the fucking Gate of Truth again? What the hell does it want in exchange this time?"
Hawkeye didn't think she'd ever heard Alphonse Elric cuss before. Swear, yes, oaths of loyalty, fealty, and all that, but this was definitely cussing. At least Al was no longer wholly intent on turning Envy into a colander, but on the other hand, he didn't look particularly pacified either, and the General's wary stance indicated that he was of much the same opinion. The thought suddenly crossed her mind that all this while, she had assumed that Edward was the volatile brother and Alphonse the stabilizing influence that anchored his brother and kept him from exploding; however, the actual particulars of the relationship might have been more of a two-way street than anyone had realized. While Alphonse manifested a more sanguine outlook on life than his choleric sibling, still waters ran deep, and now that the dam had burst on a tidal wave of anger and frustration, she had the sneaking suspicion that there was only one person in existence capable of turning the tide…well, maybe two, but as the other one and her wrenches were currently miles away in the relative safety of Risembool, it was really one, practically speaking. The not unimportant issue of that person currently being in limbo – or whatever you called it, she wasn't the State Alchemist here – as per the General's hypothesis not withstanding.
"I don't know," admitted Roy in frustration. "But the logic is irrefutable. Wrath was opening the Gate, in his mind, to obtain a soul with Ed as equivalent exchange. Wrath was taken, along with Ed's soul. But nothing's come back, which means…."
"The Gate is still open. And in that case, I know how to get Brother back," and Al was suddenly in motion, seizing the limp form of Envy by his dark, spiky locks and dragging him towards the prone figure of his brother. Roy raised an eyebrow and followed in his wake, carefully avoiding the small pebbles being thrown up by the apparently unconscious Homunculus's battered bouncing body as it skittered across the ground. For all that he loathed the creature, his ribs ached in sympathy.
"What do you intend to do, Alphonse?"
Al barely spared him a look, but the set of his jaw said quite clearly that he thought the General was being obtuse. "When the Gate took me when we tried to bring back Mama, Brother cut off his own arm in exchange for my soul and bound me to that suit of armour. This will be child's play by comparison. I'm going to give this piece of shit to the Gate, and that should tip the scales and force the Gate to release Brother's soul, which should naturally be drawn to its physical form. And if not, I'll bind him with a blood seal – better a few scars than being dead. I'll even give up an arm if I have to." He shook his head tiredly. "Trust Brother to have a soul so valuable it takes two Philosopher's Stones to bring it back…or maybe it's because the stones the Homunculi have are imperfect…yes, that's probably it," and the stark dichotomy between what he was proposing to do and the mildness of his abstracted, musing tones left Mustang speechless for a moment.
"Al – you can't just sacrifice Envy to the Gate. Soulless or not, he's still alive. You don't perform transmutation on living beings!"
"Oh, we can fix the being alive bit. Anyway, I'm not transmuting him, I'm exchanging him for Brother," Al explained in exaggeratedly patient tones, as if to a particularly slow child. "You want Ed back too…don't you?" and the grey eyes narrowed suspiciously as the broad shoulders hunched in paranoia. "Or were you getting tired of him already, Mustang? Wanting to move onto your next conquest? Was he just another notch on your belt, oh mighty General? Is there any more room on it? I'm surprised your pants stay up as well as they do."
Roy blessed Hawkeye's foresight in sending the scouts off to report on the progress of their mission and the rest of the men away to form a defensive perimeter…and keep them out of earshot. The speed with which the military grapevine sprouted made weeds look like slackers, and while he was confident in his ability to control the details of his own reputation, the damage control he would have had to do to prevent rumours spreading about the homicidal, paranoid and all-around-crazy Earth Moving Alchemist would have tested his powers of manipulation severely. Then again, it might simply have added to the catalogue of State-Alchemists-Gone-Wild. "If you're looking for sartorial advice, I favour braces myself. More tasteful, less constricting around the waist, and much faster to slip off should something…arise," he said flippantly, although he could hear the edge in his voice.
They had come up to the little depression in which Ed's body lay, and Al leapt lightly down, yanking Envy with him, his voice suddenly cut-glass bright again and insanely cheerful. "Whatever gets you off, General! I'm a little busy right now, so if you don't mind?"
"You're leaving me no choice, Al," and a wall of flames suddenly blazed up between Al and his brother's body, curving around on itself and encircling Ed's body in a ring of fire. Al dropped Envy in surprise and anger and turned to face Roy.
"Stop being so sanctimonious, Flame Alchemist. You're a killer countless times over. Even Brother's killed before. And this is a Homunculus – one more isn't going to make a difference." Al's eyes burned with a frightening righteousness, which was in and of itself disturbing, but what concerned Roy was the almost gleeful look in their charcoal depths.
"Ed only killed in self-defence, and he never enjoyed the prospect of it, Alphonse," and Roy could see that his warning shot had hit home as the young man standing before him flinched. "You're coming dangerously close to crossing that line. Every time you kill, it takes a little piece of your soul with it - believe me, I know. And when you start to enjoy it…you become Kimblee. Ed wouldn't want you to do this to yourself."
"Oh, so now you're the expert on what my brother thinks because you fucked him once?" snarled Al.
Roy's look became positively glacial, and his voice cracked out like the lash of a whip, that biting tone that he reserved for halting interminable staff meetings and putting pompous idiots in their place. "No, I'm the expert because I'm the only one thinking straight here. Grow up, Earth Moving Alchemist – this isn't about you and your claim to being the person closest to your brother – no one is disputing that!" His voice softened ever so slightly. "I would never stand in between the two of you, Al. I'm just asking you to stop and think for a moment – is this right? Even if you succeeded, could Ed live in peace knowing what you did to bring him back?"
Damn it! I'm going to kick my idiot brother's butt from here to Xing if he does anything stupid! And Roy's too, if he doesn't stop him. You! Put me back. Now.
It is not within our power.
Equivalent Exchange is all that you're about, you bastard. Don't try to weasel out of this. You've taken my arm, my leg, a Philosopher's Stone and even, for what it's worth, the spirit of that Homunculus. What more do you want from me? How long am I supposed to pay for that one mistake? Besides, I've answered your damn question – you said that was all I had to do to leave!
Your answer is incomplete. And the Gate needs you, Gatekeeper. Your brother has potential, yes, but you are…extraordinary.
What did you call me?
Remember all, Gatekeeper.
And with that one command, he does. Four years of a life he knows intimately and yet not at all pummels his consciousness, smashing apart the shell of his identity and he would groan if he had the vocal chords for it. His shattered mind tries to piece together the whole, to join two disparate pieces of a life and smooth over the cracks, and as things come into focus, the two halves growl as one: Go to hell, you bastard son-of-a-bitch.
Somehow the sonorous tones manage to sound simultaneously irritated and hesitant: In a sense, this is hell. And heaven too. This is what comes…after. Most simply move on to the next plane without any knowledge of their past or their future. But those with potential…those who have pushed the boundaries of their own physical limits, who have shown an awareness of the energies that hold the universe together…those we test as Gatekeepers. And those who can transcend even that are offered an opportunity to join with the Gate. To be the source of infinite knowledge, to sit in judgment and balance the scales. We must constantly seek out such lives in order to renew ourselves. You earned that right when you were able to see in the cycle of destruction the seeds of your own resurrection.
I am not becoming one of you creepy…watcher things. And what are you talking about…oh. That. When I forced the Gatestream back on itself…wow, it seems like eons ago. Far be it for me to demur at the compliment, but that was pure instinct. No real planning or stroke of inspiration. I was just pissed off. Sorry.
Precisely. Such potential must not go unfulfilled. This is not an honour bestowed lightly. You would give up the infinite knowledge that your father sought and never earned?
You can take your honour and stuff it up your…never mind, you're just going to say that on this plane, you don't have one. Although at this point, I'd happily tear you a new one. I already told you, I am not my father. And knowledge is useless if it isn't being used for good, to help people, to make things better. I'll stick to my day-job, whatever it may be, thank you very much. Now may I go?
We cannot guarantee that you will be given this chance again. You may lose your way when you return yourself to the physical plane. You would give all this up for ties to the material world?
I can't believe this, but I'm actually feeling sorry for you.
A distinct sense of confusion. What?
You…all of you pathetic little creatures…you've forgotten what it is to be truly alive. It's about not knowing what lies ahead but being brave enough to go forward anyway. It's about not knowing everything but striving to find out and enjoying the journey along the way. It's about making mistakes and falling down and picking yourself up and going on. It's about trusting another living being enough to be vulnerable. For all the pain that can cause, I'd choose that any day over sitting up here smugly in judgment, swapping atoms for atoms and body parts for souls.
The other sounds almost sorrowful: Such a waste.
He wishes uselessly for his material form in this place, so that he might roll his eyes testily: Whatever. Actually, it's a little insulting that you're under the impression I couldn't make it back here if I wanted to. But frankly, I'm kind of sick of this place, so could we get on with it? You've gotten your Equivalent Exchange, and I've wasted enough time here.
A ghostly, unheard sigh: Then…do you know who you are?
And he knows the answer now, knows it with every fibre of his being: I am whoever I choose to be – whole, complete, and unique. The thought is incredibly freeing, and he wants to laugh out loud.
He knows that if the other had a face, it would be smiling ruefully now. Indeed. Then perhaps we shall meet again, Gatekeeper.
That's Fullmetal Alchemist and Gatekeeper to you, asshole. Oh, and if you touch my brother, I will come back and hurt you. And with that parting shot, he relaxes and allows himself to…fall.
…let me fall
If I must fall
I won't heed your warnings
I won't hear them….
Let me fall
Let me fly
There's no reason
To miss this one chance
This perfect moment
Just let me…fall….
The Ouroboros is the great serpent devouring itself, representing the idea that "All Is One," that the universe undergoes periodic cycles of destruction and creation (or resurrection).
