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:
Sorry this took so long, but this took a little more polishing than usual, because this is the chapter I've been dying to write since this story took off. There are some chapters that are just closer to my heart, and this one definitely holds a special place. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Oh, and many thanks to all those lovely people who wrote to tell me how much they enjoyed the darker take on Alphonse. Yay, fellow dark-Al fans! As for how that idea came about, it was the one line in the anime where Al tells Ed, "Still, if someone took you away from me, brother, I think I might do the same thing. Isn't that Equivalent Exchange?" and also where Al says, "You mentioned you had an older brother, didn't you? Then you should understand why I can't just stand by and watch my brother get killed…." If that isn't an ominous warning, I don't know what is! And come on…for those of you with siblings that you're close to, doesn't that just resonate deep inside with you?
Please do let me know what you think; a lot of work went into this instalment! And FYI, I'm going to be travelling this weekend with no access to my computer (eep!) so the next update may be a little delayed. But probably inside of a week, I hope! Unless I don't get enough reviews and go into a sulky spiral….
For an explanation of the Chapter Title, please see the end of the story.
Chapter 21: Phoenix Rising
"Alphonse. My baby."
A soft voice intruded on the war of wills being waged between Fire and Earth. A kind voice, a gentle voice, loving and knowing and familiar, and Al froze, then slowly turned around, praying that he was wrong, praying that he was imagining things – and yet praying that he wasn't at all. His eyes fell on a slender figure with long brown hair, and he sank to his knees slowly, shaking his head. "Mama?" he asked in a small voice that suggested he was rapidly becoming accustomed to an intransigent world that insisted on playing musical chairs with his family members.
The form of Trisha Elric smiled. "Who else? Come here, Al, let me look at you. Oh, how I've missed you!" Her eyes were warm and welcoming, her arms open wide, and Al continued to shake his head bewilderedly as his mind rejected what his heart pleaded desperately to accept. No! Mama is dead! Dead! That's how this all started, that's how Brother lost his arm, that's how you wound up in that suit of armour for four years, remember? But it looked like her, and sounded like her, and….
A curl of fire flicked directly at the woman and she flinched backwards. "Al! Stop him, sweetheart, he's hurting me!"
Al's mouth opened and closed helplessly, but no words would come as he turned wild eyes towards Roy, who stood there, a flame flickering through his fingers, his other hand extended backwards protectively to shield Al. "That's not your mother, Alphonse. It's the Homunculus." His dark eyes narrowed menacingly. "Give it up Envy, your tricks won't work this time."
"Envy? What is he talking about, Alphonse?" the woman implored, reaching out towards Al, the eyes so like his own wide and dark with fear. "I'm your mother! Your brother did it, sweetheart, he brought me back! Equivalent exchange, remember? He gave up his life so we could be together again. Like it was before, remember? We'll go back to Risembool and our little house and everything will be just the way it was, won't that be lovely?"
Off to the side, Hawkeye chambered a round and brought her sidearm up to bear, but faltered as her CO's head snapped around. He met her gaze and shook his head once, urgently, and she slowly lowered her weapon as she followed his train of thought. Al was teetering on the brink already; the shock of seeing something that looked like his mother being killed before his eyes would probably not be the best thing for him at the moment. This was a war for his sanity that was being waged, and the frustrating thing was, there was absolutely nothing she could do to help.
Roy returned his attention to the kneeling young man. Al had wrapped his arms around himself and was starting to rock himself back and forth mechanically, his head bowed and his eyes in shadow. The General frowned as he recognized the first signs of shock setting in, and he glared at the Sin as it smirked triumphantly. "If you don't want to die painfully, Homunculus, I suggest you desist from this charade. It won't do you any good."
"A child's love for his mother is stronger than anything else, Flame Alchemist," was the sweetly poisonous reply. "Isn't it, Al? Just think, darling, make this horrid man go away, and we can be together again. Maybe we'll even be able to bring back your brother, and then the three of us can go back to the way things were after your father left, remember? We were happy, weren't we?" The figure of Trisha Elric smiled again, a cajoling, encouraging smile that almost – but didn't – reach her eyes as she held out her hands, palms up. "Come to mother."
"No."
The woman jerked back in surprise. "Alphonse…."
Al slowly raised his head, his grey eyes stormy and unfocused. "Our house isn't there anymore. Brother burned it down."
"Oh, that boy!" sighed the woman. "That's all right, Alphonse, you're as good an alchemist as he was, we'll have it rebuilt in no time, just the way it was. Don't worry so much, darling."
"No."
"Did I not teach you that it's rude to keep saying that, Alphonse?" came the gentle rebuke, although there was a definite edge to it. "Now listen to mother…."
"No! Brother burned it down to remind us that we can never go backwards, only forwards," Al forced out between numb lips, voice rising with every strangled word. "He burned it down to remind us that there is no reliving the past, that there is only the present and the future to live for. You can't come back. We tried that…and we paid for it. Oh, we paid for it," and his eyes were glassy as he relived that terrible night eight years past. He looked up, choking back tears of pain and rage as his voice spiralled up into a shriek of overwhelming guilt and loss. "We can't go back to the way things were. We can't! Brother would never have tried that again. He never would have – and you're not mama!"
War is an ugly thing even when it is necessary. Men die in wars, not always for good causes. And the thing about war is, it tends to push men to their extremes; under the brutalities of war, men transcend the boundaries of civilization that normally bind them within the norms of what their societies consider appropriate behaviour. War drives some men to madness, turns others into monsters and unmasks streaks of cowardice long kept hidden. But it can also harden and reveal the true measure of a man, as a furnace can temper steel. And so it happens sometimes that in the flames of war, a boy becomes a man. A man becomes a hero.
And sometimes...a hero becomes a legend. Especially when he rises from the dead.
The barest of twitches. And then a shiver. And then, with a violent convulsion, like a man coming up for air after being held underwater, Edward Elric threw back his head and gulped in a desperate lungful of air, coughing and spluttering. His skull throbbed miserably, his throat felt as parched and dry as an oven, the left side of his chest burned as though someone had just stuck him with a red-hot poker, and his back was hurting as though he'd just fallen on it from a great height. Was the ground always this hard? He tried opening an eye, but when a piercing pain spiked through his head from front to back, he promptly nixed that idea and settled for curling up and clutching at his head while he forced his breathing to slow and settle into a steady rhythm. That's right, you can do it…in…out…in…out…in…out…. The aching seemed to subside slightly, and he was able to roll over and sit up slowly, although he left his head between his knees. Breathe. In…out…wait a minute, why does the air smell like ozone? It was the same scent he used to savour during lightning storms as a child…the same smell that hung about every Gate as its energies bled off into the surrounding atmosphere and ionized the oxygen…the same clean sharp tang that Roy smelled of because his favoured form of alchemy involved manipulating the oxygen in his surroundings. Especially when he exercised said favoured form of alchemy.
Oh. Oh. Very bad. Must get up. And ignoring the protests from his much-abused body, Ed pushed himself painfully to his feet, blinking furiously as he tried to clear his vision of the bright splashes that were punctuating the nauseating dizziness he was feeling. His body felt…odd. Like a suit of new clothes that fit perfectly and yet feel different from the old ones. He flexed his wrists experimentally, feeling the familiar-unfamiliar smooth leather of his gauntlets, worn and shaped perfectly to his forearms, wiggled the fingers of his right hand. It felt good to be able to feel the air against the back of his hand again, to have his arm be a part of him instead of a cold deadweight he lugged around and barely tolerated. But he only allowed himself a brief moment of pleasure before pulling his mind back to the situation at hand, to wit: he was currently encircled by a ring of leaping flames with no apparent means of egress; his brother was teetering on the brink of a nervous breakdown as a Homunculus wearing the shape of his mother baited him; and his…his…bastard Colonel, he inserted mentally, for lack of a better appellation, was hesitating again. Half of him was vaguely relieved, since the thought of having to restrain both an uncontrolled Al and an enraged Flame Alchemist was quite exhausting, but the other half was darkly muttering something about hesitation being what got you killed.
He had the feeling that this strange duality of thought was going to persist for sometime. Oh well, he shrugged to himself – and suddenly thought that that too, was strange, this new fatalistic calm he seemed capable of assuming under pressure. A lot could happen in four years, it seemed. Not that it was going to stop him reaming out Alphonse and Mustang when he got to them. Ed glared balefully at the wall of flame before him and ticked off his options. Alchemy? A possibility, but as much as he hated to admit it, Mustang's alchemy could be particularly persistent, and he wasn't exactly in the best shape at the moment, which meant that conserving his energy for the coming fight might not be a bad idea. Teleportation? See previous thought. He really wasn't particularly keen on the third option though…and then his decision was abruptly made for him as Al's voice wailed, "Brother!" and every nerve in his body snapped to a jarring alertness. Right.Third option it was then. Gathering his coat about him with one hand as he shielded his face with the other arm, Edward Elric gritted his teeth…and charged straight into the fire.
"If you really believe that, Alphonse, then you should kill me." Gentle grey eyes misty with tears fixed the young alchemist with a martyred look. "At least give me that. Don't let this murderer lay a hand on me! You know what he did to Winry's parents, I don't want to die that way."
Roy realized to his alarm that his arm was shaking as he fought the instinctive guilt and forced down the bile that rose in his throat at the mention of the Rockbells. "Don't listen to Envy, Alphonse. He's just trying to manipulate you – you know your mother would never put you in a position like this!"
Al clapped his hands to his head, shaking it frantically as he tried to block out the conflicting demands of his head, his heart, his duty and his desires. It was all too hard, too much, how had Brother coped with the dichotomy? Brother…and he suddenly realized that the only thing he wanted, more than his mother, more than anything, was his Brother. His rock, his shield, the small fiery figure that made him feel safe and happy and at peace, even when mama had died and he had lost his body, he had always had his brother…and he wailed in a desperate cry from the heart, "Brother!" Surely his brother would hear him, surely he would come back for him, he always did, didn't he?
"He's not here, Alphonse," the figure of Trisha Elric said with mock sadness. "He's been taken by the Gate of Truth, remember? All we have is each other now. You and me, sweetheart. Come to mother."
"Oh please," came an irritated snort. "Give me some credit here. As if that pathetic Gate could actually keep me from Al."
Al looked up disbelievingly. "Brother?"
Roy wondered fleetingly if his heart was up to coping with the many shocks that had been thrown its way over the last few days.
Hawkeye totalled up her winnings and decided they would be enough to buy a new dress for when Havoc got around to taking her to dinner.
And the kind features of Trisha Elric twisted into a malicious grimace even as they morphed back into the feral face of Envy. "Why can't you just stay dead, chibi-san?"
Edward Elric stood before them all, golden eyes gleaming as his hair flew free in a aureate halo behind him, the end of his braid having been singed off by his impetuous plunge through the wall of fire. Small flames licked at the edge of his coat, blazing into life as he rapidly shucked coat and jacket and tossed them aside, the muscles of his arms tensing visibly as he snarled, "Who are you calling a midget so small he doesn't have to worry about being burned because he would fit into the space between two sparks?" The high colour in his cheeks from the heat of the fire and the physical exertion gave him the look of an earthbound avenging angel as he stomped forward, features fixed in a familiar scowl.
"Brother!" Al crowed in relief as he lurched forward and threw his arms around Ed. "It is you!"
Ed stumbled, startled, but returned the hug firmly, almost giddy at the feel of Al in the flesh. He had done it, he had brought his brother back! Just being able to feel Al's body radiating warmth and breath made all the madness and uncertainty of the past four years worthwhile. "Yeah, Al. It's me. I'm back, and I won't leave you again, I promise, all right?" He reached up – still shorter, damn it! – and ruffled his brother's darker blonde hair affectionately. "Winry would kill me if I did, I think."
"How touching of you to want to protect your brother, chibi-san," hissed the dark-haired Sin. "But as your older brother of sorts, I feel completely justified in disciplining my little brothers – and you've both been very, very uncooperative!" With that, he lunged towards them, dodging a blast of flame, his hands stretching and reforming into sharp scythes, reaching out for the two brothers – and closed on empty air as Ed reacted instinctively.
Al squeaked and blinked in surprise as he suddenly found himself standing next to Mustang, who started in equal surprise as Ed released his brother and shoved him brusquely towards the General. "You. Make yourself useful and watch him. Leave the fighting to me." With that the Gatekeeper-Alchemist disappeared, reappearing behind the stunned Homunculus, who began to turn, only to find himself being spun around by an irate blonde who growled into his face, popped a blade out of his gauntlet and shoved it right through the Sin's gut.
Envy stared blankly at the thin blade that impaled him through his bare midriff, the blue steel crackling with alchemic energy like pale fire. He could see runes engraved into the cold metal, which felt almost as icy as the look in the golden eyes that stared at him with thinly concealed contempt. "My name," said the owner of those eyes coldly, "is Edward Elric. Some know me as Auric, the Gatekeeper. Others call me the Fullmetal Alchemist. But it is most definitely not 'chibi-san', you miserable excuse for a stunted half-brother."
"Aw, you wound me, chibi-san. Is this about me killing you the last time?" Envy deadpanned, even as his eyes flicked wildly from side to side, seeking an escape. Yet somehow he knew with an oddly fatalistic certainty foreign to him that there was going to be no last-minute out this time, no sudden reversal of fortune. And judging from the look in the chibi-san's eyes, he knew that Envy knew. The blonde smiled, a wolfish smile that showed all his teeth but didn't reach his eyes.
"No, this is about you calling me short, you underdeveloped piece of badly dressed trash. But this," Ed said with eerie calm, "this is for the last time. Dying fucking hurt, asshole. And payback's a bitch." And with that, he slammed the flat of his palm into the Homunculus's chest, wrapping his mind around the energy he could feel radiating from the Philosopher's Stone embedded within and drawing it to him and through him even as the Sin writhed and shrieked, pinioned in this parody of a lover's embrace. Their faces were so close that Ed swore he could feel the dying breaths of the Homunculus fanning across his lips as he drew them back in a snarl, and then the weight on his arm was abruptly gone, the Homunculus disintegrated into a mess of quivering organic ooze that dripped off his blade. He deliberately stepped on the dull reddish-brown stone that fell at his feet and ground it into dust, glaring balefully at the miserable remains that lay scattered about.
"Go join our father in hell, or whatever plane lies beyond. If it accepts your kind, that is." And Ed turned away, breathing heavily as he carefully released the excess energies drawn off into the atmosphere and the earth. He glanced down at the bloody dagger still protruding from his gauntlet, made a moue of disgust, and briefly touched his left hand to the flat of the blade in an absent gesture. A crackle of blue alchemic energy and the steel was wiped clean but for the arrays clearly traced upon its gleaming surface. Catching Hawkeye's stunned gaze, the blonde man shrugged with a mix of sheepishness and wry amusement as he sheathed the blade and readjusted the gauntlet on his arm. "What can I say, Lieuten…sorry, Captain, always be prepared. Good motto for most things in life."
"Indeed," came a low drawl as soft and dark as velvet. "Do you apply that philosophy to your…personal life as well? Because if so, there's something I'd like to see you about in private…." Hawkeye coughed discreetly as Ed rolled his eyes and turned to face his sometime nemesis.
Roy cocked his head to one side and allowed himself to enjoy the view of the slender figure relaxed in an insouciant slouch that managed to convey exasperation and resignation at the same time, hands shoved deep into pockets, brows bracketed by long bangs of gold fluttering gently in the breeze arched in a sardonic expression. "I seem to recall telling you earlier to get your mind out of the gutter, and that's three you owe me, bastard. You're starting to get careless, old man – I told you not to assume I'm always going to be around when you need saving!"
"Oh? So you feel that a mere near-death experience negates our contract?" Roy asked archly. "How…disappointing. I had hoped for better from a representative of the Gatekeepers Guild…and from you. Fullmetal."
A growl that would have made a lesser man quail rumbled up from somewhere deep in Ed's throat. "I'm doing this for Al, asshole. Maybe if you were a more worthwhile client instead of a total bastard Colonel…." But his gaze softened ever so slightly as he took in the welcome sight of the man he had never thought to see again, battered, bruised, covered in dust and grime, exhaustion written in the hollows of his pale cheeks and the shadows under his eyes - and for all that, still an undeniably striking figure. How did he manage to wear all those cares with as much grace as he would princely robes of the very finest silk from Xing? As he did all his burdens, even those he carried for other people, as he had the fears and hopes of an angry child who had grown up to be a wiser man now capable of recognising the immense gift he had been given – and who was now ready and willing and able to choose to give something back.
One corner of Roy's mouth curled up, very, very slightly. "I seem to recall telling you once that you had taken too long to show up - I've been promoted to Major General, you know. And are you saying that I don't deserve you?" he asked mildly as he reached forward and brushed a lock of hair back from Ed's forehead in order to see those amazing golden eyes better. Eyes that glowed with an inner fire, that could be frightening in their intensity and yet were now soft and warm and filled with an emotion that Roy didn't want to name, didn't want to believe because it made you vulnerable, left you open to hurt and pain and sorrow, to the staggering realization that someone out there could look at you, warts and flaws and sins and all and love you for you, for all that you were, and for all that you would be. And yet he knew he no longer had a choice in the matter. He'd become a believer a long time ago.
Ed's eyes glinted with an unfathomable expression. "Damned straight." He let that hang in the air for a moment, then sighed and reached a hand up to cup Roy's cheek, smiling faintly as the taller man turned his face slightly to nuzzle into the palm of his very human right hand, luxuriating in the sensation of being able to feel Roy's breath whisper against his skin. And then Roy's hand gently wrapped around his own, drawing it away enough for him to press his lips to the sensitive skin of the inner wrist, and Ed's breath hitched as the tip of Roy's tongue flicked out to deliver a playful caress. "But then you always were a lucky bastard, Roy Mustang." And with that he reached up determinedly with his other hand and pulled Roy down to be kissed, straight on, without hesitation, or fear, or doubt.
Strangely enough, this sight seemed to arouse no great consternation amidst the captivated audience of soldiers drawn back by the sounds of the battle. Instead, they were fixated on an entirely different subject. "I can't believe the Fullmetal Alchemist rose from the dead," whispered one of the men fearfully behind Al. "Does…is it those watches they give State Alchemists?" He flinched as Hawkeye drew and cocked her sidearm meaningfully, not seeing the amused look in the Captain's eyes as she mentally put odds on the speed with which the news of the miraculous resurrection of Edward Elric was going to spread through the military grapevine. At this rate, Roy would be Fuhrer before they made it back to camp.
Al watched as Roy and Ed leaned on each other, resting in each other's embrace, foreheads touching, not moving, just finding a separate peace with each other in a place between for the first time in what seemed like forever. It just seemed…right somehow, that these two would find love amidst the madness of war. His eyes filled with tears, but he made no move to wipe them away as he cleared his throat, remembering what he had said many years ago.
"Rings and watches have nothing to do with it. My brother's…the Fullmetal Alchemist."
The Phoenix renews itself every 500 years by immolating itself on a pyre and rising from its own ashes. In alchemy, it symbolizes the rebirth of the spirit from out of the crucible of transformation. The alchemists in meditating on processes in their flasks threw themselves into a sea of strange experiences, and as they worked these within their meditations and sought to grasp the inner parallels and significance of each of the stages of the process they had embarked upon, in a sense they experienced an inner death and rebirth in attaining the Philosophers' Stone. This stone was actually experienced as the formation of a solid ground within the shifting sea of their inner world. Once this solid ground in the soul was found, the alchemists were able to take hold of their lives in a creative way, they could root their spirit on a solid foundation or ground of inner experience.
