Ed can't go back to sleep. He lays in the bed for hours, going over the arrays in his mind, tweaking them, adding and removing elements, trying to see how they work, how they play out, weighing the costs of this element versus that.
Their souls are crossing a literal time-space barrier to communicate. That means something. Ed is sure it's the key to everything, but he needs to talk to Al. As tempting as it is to look at this problem and assume that he alone can solve it, he has Al here, and probably even Mei. He may have a chance to pick Roy's mind. He doesn't have to do this alone.
It's the absolute ass-crack of dawn when he finally gives up trying to sleep. He sneaks out, managing not to wake either JJ or Morgan, which is pretty impressive because neither of them sleep all that deeply. Probably the sheer emotional and physical exhaustion of the last couple days taking their tolls, and, in Morgan's case, being up in the dead of the night because Ed woke up.
Although it's early, false dawn showing on the edges of the horizon when he goes to the roof, he's not all that surprised when Scar finds him there.
"I thought I heard you moving around," he says, handing Ed a cup of thick, reinforcing coffee, thankfully free of any milk or cream. It's not the same thing they call coffee in the other world, but it's close enough, and it picks an even bigger caffeine kick, which is the most important thing.
"You always up this early?" Ed asks as Scar drops down beside him, and—to his surprise—hangs his legs over the side of the building the way that Ed is.
"Usually," Scar concedes, taking a drink of his own mug.
Ed takes a deep inhale of the brew, the smell bringing back memories of being in East and Central and the brew that kept 90% of the military running. "Surprised you brought me dog gruel," he has to admit.
Scar takes another dignified sip of his own coffee, which is probably more of an Ishvalan brew, but Ed doesn't actually care. It's just something to keep the awkward silence away. "Even those things that we do not love can be nostalgic when one has long been away from home," Scar says after taking a moment to obviously savor his own brew.
"That they can," Ed agrees, blowing over the top of the cup for a moment before taking a swig of his own. Either someone told Scar that Ed likes to take coffee with a generous helping of sugar in it or he saw how Ed took it the other morning because it's that perfect bitter-sweetness of the best cup of morning coffee, the kind that Roy often complains is sacrilegious. "So, how have you been doing?" he asks after letting the brew dance on his tongue and relishing the half-forgotten taste of home.
Ruby eyes focus on him for a long moment before he speaks. It's almost odd. They hadn't been friends before Ed and Roy had gotten sucked through the Gate and spat out in another world, but they hadn't been enemies anymore. They'd been reluctant allies, people who understood one another, understood loss, and were united by that even as they were divided by where they placed the blame. Ed remembers a large man who carried his anger like a shroud around him.
In the wake of the Promised Day, in the time where they all quietly agreed to let Scar slip away and into the shadows, they had bumped into one another a couple times. It had been awkward and unsure, their reluctant truce still holding as their mutual enemy had been laid to rest.
Ed thinks he saw glimpses of the man before him then, but he's not sure he understood what he was looking at. He's always been a fair hand at dealing with people, with understanding how they ticked on some level. He's no Al, much less Roy, but he wasn't as stupid about people as he probably appeared to be. Three years of chasing monsters with people faces, of intensely studying what makes people do what they do, of predicting their behavior, of explaining the way the monsters work have given Ed a lot of new tools to look at Scar with.
So he looks, and he likes what he sees.
The Ishvalan people are people of the desert, and it seems that the ancient homeland has done Scar good. The sun has darkened his skin, but only a little. Despite over eight years away, the time is light on Scar's face, as if the erasure of so much stress and rage has erased so many years from his face that he still looks younger than Ed remembers. There is a peace in those ruby eyes that Ed doesn't think he would have imagined Scar could find. No signs of crow's feet tease at his eyes; Scar will never be someone who smiles easily or often, but there is kindness there now. Ed thought he'd seen glimpses of it, but he hasn't really had time to just sit and connect, so he wasn't sure.
While he looks, Scar watches him with equal intensity but none of the old anger, none of the righteous fury. Whatever he finds, he turns and looks back across the expanse of Xerxes's ruins as the false dawn gives way to real dawn, the sun just beginning to creep over the edge of the world. "I am far better than I have any right to expect," he says after a moment, and the tiniest motion pulls at his lips. It's too small to be called a smile, fleeing before Ed could rightfully call it anything, but there's a tenderness in his eyes that settles warmly in Ed's chest.
"Back to monkly duties? Or priestly ones?"
"My people have been gracious enough to give me a place among them, to give me a purpose among them. Given how many lives I have destroyed in my search for vengeance, perhaps it is Ishvala's will that I bring balance back into the world by uniting people, but bringing more people to be members of our people."
Ed tilts his head, curious. Scar said the words with weight and gravitas, and even knowing that he's turned over a wholly new leaf, it's hard to believe that all of the old hatred and resentment have been cleansed so thoroughly. He chuckles softly to himself. "After all we've been through and everything we've seen, I don't know how you still can believe in your god," he admits, turning his gaze back out to watch the sun's slow upward creep.
"It is precisely because of everything we have been through and everything that we have witnessed that my faith has been reaffirmed," Scar says, again with that weight, as if each word he speaks is meant to be heard and to be listened to, as if he is sharing knowledge greater than himself. "I am convinced that you and Alphonse are gifts to us from Ishvala."
Snapping his head around so quickly it cracks with the motion, Ed stares at him. "You… think I'm a gift from your god?" he asks. He has to ask because clearly he has not had enough coffee or enough sleep. Maybe the stress is giving him auditory hallucinations? It'd be a first for him, but it's not impossible.
"Of course you are," Scar says with sincerity.
"Al, I can believe," Ed says. "Not me."
"But you are the one who committed the taboo. You are the one who survived to put things right. You are the one who was granted the miracle of human transmutation. You are the one who stood before an imposter god and returned him to the void from which he came."
"Hey now—" Ed tries to interrupt, getting incredibly uncomfortable with this litany of "great things" he's done.
"You are the one who made me look at the butcher of my people and see him for the man he is, and the monster I might become. And you are the one who forgave one who did not deserve to be forgiven, who took my sinful arm from me and gave me new purpose," he continues over Ed's protests. "To ignore her hand in so many overt places in my life would be to invite her wrath."
Ed scratches at the back of his neck, well and truly discomfited. Even with nearly three years in the BAU and running into a—in his opinion—really disturbing number of religious people, and he has never figured out how to deal with them. Ed was an atheist before he stood before Truth and understood what it was, what it claimed to be. Having seen the thing that calls itself "God" and also put down Father, Ed just can't wrap his head around the idea of a benevolent higher power. He'd honestly deals better with the occasional whacko who believes in cruel, vengeful, capricious deities because at least that makes sense with his experience.
And they're always so earnest.
"If you find comfort in believing that, then… good for you," he says. He tries to make it sound like he means it, tries not to sound like he thinks an otherwise intelligent person is an idiot for believing in something both greater than themselves and also good.
Scar doesn't smile, but his eyes look like they are. "You do not need to believe in Ishvala to be her instrument, Edward Elric," he says, so Ed must not have succeeded in sounding like he meant it. While he's still wincing at the gentle admonition, Scar continues, "You are seeking a way to cross between worlds again, are you not?"
Rolling the question over in his head for a moment to make sure that Scar isn't trying to dig for information he shouldn't have, he settles on, "Yeah, but I think that should be obvious." He takes another sip of his coffee and enjoys the warmth of it rushing down his esophagus and into his stomach.
Nodding as if Ed has done more than confirm something that should be pretty obvious to anyone who knows anything about the situation, he stands, "May Ishvala continue to guide your path, and may her hand continue to grant you miracles, Edward Elric."
"Miracles?" Ed asks, honestly offended. "Alchemy is a science, Scar!" he snaps at Scar's back. "You know that! It's not some damn miracle. There's no such thing."
Scar pauses and glances over his shoulder, his ruby eyes the same unnerving color as soul alchemy. "Says the man who has defeated a would-be god, successfully completed human transmutation, and bound souls," he says, like that proves his point, and continues walking.
Ed really wants to yell at him for it—even if he can totally tell from the way that Scar talked that there's no prayer in hell of moving him on the subject—when he hears a baby's cry faintly sound through the courtyard. There's only one baby currently staying in the palace ruins, and if she's up, hopefully that means her parents are also up, which is exactly what Ed has been waiting for.
.o0o.o0o.o0o.
JJ drags herself out of bed. She knows she slept like a rock, and she's certainly slept in worse beds, but she still feels groggy as she wakes up. Derek doesn't look any better than she feels.
"Rough night?" she asks.
He runs his hands over his face as if doing so can magically wake him up better. "Ed woke up in the middle of the night," he says, voice sleep roughened. "We talked."
"Oh?" JJ asks, but it's more habit than intention. She does want to know what they talked about, but she needs caffeine before she can really process anything.
Derek gives a wide yawn. "Let's go find coffee first," he says.
They've been given spare clothing in the Ishvalan style to wear, and they both dress reluctantly. Although the fabric is comfortable enough and the clothing neutral enough to be inoffensive, it makes them both feel like outsiders, like interlopers. It also makes JJ nervous, as if by leaving her clothing behind, she's leaving behind her only connection with their world. She wonders if Ed and Mustang ever felt like that. She can't imagine being trapped in a world not her own for over eight years, even if she didn't have kids waiting for her.
It's her turn to rub her eyes as if it will suddenly wake her up better. "Coffee," she agrees, her wrap dress settled into place.
Derek nods as if to reconfirm, and they begin to make their way to the common area they've been eating the last couple of days. They don't make it far before they hear Ed's voice seeming to bounce down the halls. They hear his tone more than his words, exchange a look, then decide to follow it.
His voice leads them to Al and Mei's room, which really wasn't that far. Derek knocks on the door.
"Come in!" Mei calls.
"Don't just invite people in!" Ed snaps.
"If they were enemies, I doubt they'd knock," Al replies in an easy, laidback tone that makes JJ think of her brothers.
Ed makes a noise of frustration, but they've already let themselves in. "Morning," JJ says, not quite able to make herself say "good morning" when she's feeling this wrung out. Derek echos her salutation, his voice still sleep-thickened.
"Good morning!" Al says with far too much cheer this early. The sun was still creeping over the horizon, its rays only finally being able to make their way through the city streets. Mei looks equally as perky, and Ed has Eden in his hands, carrying her around as he paces, making her giggle as he swings her this way and that, though he's obviously distracted. "Would you like tea or coffee? We have both."
"Coffee," JJ and Derek say in unison, getting a smile out of Al and Mei both.
"I could take a refill too, Al," Ed says.
"Of course you can," Al says, but where most brothers would be snarky or sarcastic, Al just sounds indulgent. He motions JJ and Derek to stools, and they both gratefully settle onto one.
Rubbing his eyes again, Derek asks, "Did you go back to sleep at all last night?"
Ed pauses in his pacing and swinging Eden around with her at the top of an exaggerated rocking arc. She giggles, and he lowers his arms with care. "Not exactly," he admits.
"By which you mean, not at all," JJ guesses, taking the mug with a heartfelt, "Thank you," to Al as he hands it to her.
He waves her off, then tucks Eden back into the crook of his arm, tickling her tummy to get another adorable giggle. It makes JJ's arms ache for her own boys, even though they're both well past the stage when they fit in her arms. "I talked to Roy last night," Ed says. "And I needed to talk to Al about some of the shit we figured out."
"Like?" JJ asks, a thrum of hope tentatively raising its head in her chest.
"Like the fact that the Law of Equivalent Exchange apparently works very differently in your world," Al explains.
It's too early for JJ to be following this. "That's the karma thing, right?" she asks.
Ed rolls his eyes in the way he does when someone has said something he thinks is stupid even if he doesn't want to call them on it. "It's the basic law of alchemy. Think balancing a stoichiometry equation—"
"Ed, it is way too early for you to be talking like Spencer at us," Derek says, which is a relief.
She sees Ed's eyes roll again, but Al jumps in before he can be snarky. "Everything in a reaction must be equivalent. To do something, you have to pay an equivalent toll."
"It gets more complicated than that, but that's the base," Ed says. "Think every action has an equal and opposite reaction."
It is way too damn early for math, much less physics. It must show on her face because Ed sighs and begins pacing again.
"Look, twelve people were used as fuel in a transmutation on your side. The same transmutation that brought all three of us here. Now, we know that Tucker paid part of the toll—"
"We do?" Derek asks.
Pausing in his path, Ed gives Derek an of course, stupid look. "Well, I didn't lose anything, and as far as we can tell neither of you lost anything, but twelve people died . And there's always a cost to intruding on Truth's domain," he adds with a shiver.
"Since none of you paid whatever the price had to be to pass safely through the Gate, this Tucker must have paid the price of the exchange," Al explains.
"Which has what to do with anything?" JJ asks.
"Human lives are powerful. Like, really, really powerful. Our souls are unique and powerful. Roy told me that one of the things that array did—other than pulling us to this world—was resurrect someone."
Swallowing a big swig of coffee, Derek says, "Well, if twelve people died, that seems… like a lot, twelve people for one?"
But Ed is shaking his head. "No, it's the opposite. One life isn't equivalent to another. If your mother dies, you're not suddenly okay because your dad remarries and your stepmother replaces her. That's not how it works. People are unique and priceless. As powerful as a human soul is, it has no equivalence in alchemical terms. You can't trade a soul for a soul because your soul wouldn't replace mine or vice versa. We're our own unique people, so our weight is not just in who we are as individuals, but in the people who make up the larger context of who we are. You can't replace or trade for that. It will never be equivalent. That's why human transmutation is impossible—there's no equivalency for a unique human soul."
"But you said someone was resurrected?" JJ asks, trying to keep up and feeling very in over her head.
"According to the General," Al says.
Rubbing his forehead, Derek says, "But you said that there's no equivalence. Is there a point at which the number of lives is enough—"
"No," Ed says. "That's the thing. There is no equivalence. In theory, you could sacrifice millions and still not be able to raise one dead person, because those millions are still not equivalent to that one unique person. But in your world, twelve people were enough to not only send the three of us here, but to raise someone who's been dead and gone for a decade."
"Slow down," Derek says, taking another deep drink of his coffee. "How do you know that someone was really raised from the dead, and if there really is no equivalence for a human soul, how are you sure this person is really the right person?"
"It's a friend of the General's," Al explains. "If he thinks it's really Brigadier General Hughes, it's really him. I don't think General Mustang would make that mistake."
"So we have a real resurrection. Off the cost of twelve lives which also sent us through to a separate world. I've been working at the math all night, and I think I've finally got it, but the equivalency trade? It's completely out of proportion. Fifty million souls sacrificed wouldn't allow you to raise the dead in this world. Why would only twelve be enough to raise Colonel Hughes?"
"Brigadier General," Al corrects absently.
"Posthumous. If he's alive again, it doesn't count," Ed says.
It's JJ's turn to rub at her forehead. She looks at Derek. "Is this making sense to you? Because I gotta be honest, it's not making a lot of sense to me."
Sighing, Ed says, "The equivalency is off. I think that because alchemy isn't really endemic to your world, that cost of doing any alchemy is much higher than it is here. Here, I can clap my hands"—he does so, pressing them to his chest, and his jacket, and the red turns to a military blue—"and a little application of will and the materials are all I need." He claps again, changing his jacket back to its red. "It doesn't work that way in your world."
"Brother thinks that because alchemical energy isn't necessarily ambient in your world, that the cost to gather and use it is much, much higher. And for an array as complex and powerful as one related to human transmutation, the amount of alchemical power needed to complete the transmutation is much, much greater than here."
Derek sighs. "I thought I was following you, but I'm lost again. If the cost is so much higher, why would you be able to resurrect someone with twelve people from our world when you said millions wouldn't here."
"The Gate," Ed says. "Equivalent exchange. All human transmutations put you in Truth's realm. Once there, I think the immense alchemical cost of opening that doorway is so immense, the energy has to be used. For some reason, Truth decided to use it by resurrecting someone."
"Which means…" Derek prompts.
Ed stops his pacing to face them. "It means that if Roy can access the Gate on his side, there might be enough energy from the transmutation to pay to move people between worlds."
JJ stares. "You mean you might have a way back?"
"Don't look so surprised," Ed tells them with a fierce grin. "I told you I'd get you home. Did you really doubt me?"
She exchanges looks with Derek that are equal parts hope and dread at the news.