He was wearing Ed's red coat.
It stretched far too tightly across the shoulders, the sleeves were too short, and it only came down, now, to his knees. But as Al passed under the first street lamp, near the corner of the block he and Roy lived on, the garment flashed brightly in the light before darkening again as he stepped into the shadows on the other side.
At first he followed the residential sidewalks, encountering street lamps just often enough that Roy was forced to hang back some distance. This journey through the night quickly took on a repetitive pattern: slow down as the boy walked into the light, then hurry to catch up after he'd gone through. Pause before entering the light himself, checking that Al was facing away from him. Hurry through the brightness, hoping the kid hadn't chosen that moment to glance over his shoulder. Find him again in the darkness ahead, and slow down as he walked under another street lamp.
If Roy was caught out and Al started running, deliberately slipping into the shadows, he'd probably get away. And who knew when – or if – he'd ever be seen again?
The hushed night enveloped them, the houses on either side of the street looming against the star-spattered sky. The sweet, cool dampness of growing things floated around them, the trees along the sidewalk rustling slightly as the air stirred, hedges and flower beds giving off a faint perfume. Barely a sound intruded into the silent chase between man and boy, except an occasional motor as some lone vehicle blocks away moved through an intersection.
Roy jerked to a halt and pressed into the shadows against the trunk of a large elm tree. Al had stopped beneath a street lamp up ahead, stooping briefly, then straightening with – naturally – a cat in his arms. The young man stroked its black fur for a moment, scritching the white bib under its chin. It bonked its head a couple of times against him in return. He leaned his head down and pressed his cheek to its side, the light above him bringing a warm glow to his golden brown hair.
When he set the cat back on the ground, it waited, tail high and happy, until he had run his hand twice down its back. Then it scampered away, intent on its own business. Alphonse watched it disappear into the darkness and then, the red coat fluttering, he resumed his walk along the streets.
Roy closed his eyes and swallowed around the sudden tightness in his throat. But immediately his eyes flew open again as he hurried after the disappearing boy.
He still wasn't sure where Al was going. Gracia lived in the other direction, as did Fletcher and Russell, and they'd already passed the two intersections that would have led them to the school. Roy had wondered at first if Al was hoping to break into Yuen's school rooms and retrieve everything in his cupboard, but clearly that wasn't his plan.
Nor, Roy realized in a sudden wave of relief, was he heading for the train station. There was still time, then. All was not yet lost.
Gradually they left the residential streets behind. Passing north of the Central Headquarters complex, they hurried along the river past several blocks of uniform, multi-storied government buildings. Roy had to hang back even farther now, as the street lamps seemed to crowd thick and heavy here, but at least he had a clear view of his target, even a couple of blocks away. When Al abruptly turned left, onto a narrow bridge that led from a small park and across the river, Roy might finally have lost him. Except that the bridge ended in only one place, a vast, almost lightless region on the other side of the river.
Of course. The red coat. Roy should have guessed.
The military cemetery spread in darkness beyond the high wrought iron gates. They'd been shut for the night but that was, of course, no obstacle for Alphonse Elric. With the sound of a soft clap, and a flash of blue-white light, several of the metal bars bent to one side, leaving a space wide enough for a man to step through. The young man had already slipped between the bars by the time Roy sprinted up to the gates.
A few paved walkways meandered through the cemetery, with street lamps set at an occasional bend in the way, but for the most part it was nothing but a wide, gently rolling expanse lit only by the twinkling stars, dotted in places with stately trees. The myriad silent tombstones stretched in orderly rows on every side.
Roy knew the way without even seeing where Al was going, and he followed more slowly now, his heart thudding heavily in his throat. He and Gracia had often come this way together, and he'd walked here alone more times than he could count, when he needed some peace to clear his head. He and Gracia had agreed, recently, that by the end of the summer they would plant a sapling behind the tombstone. In the coming years, Maes would rest in a pleasant, shady place. There might even be flowers; they hadn't finalized all the details quite yet.
But of course, this wasn't about Maes Hughes, and it wasn't this grave that had drawn Al here tonight.
The tall sculpture had been set just beyond Maes's resting place, encircled by a series of two-foot high pillars of stone about five feet apart, with a single chain looping from pillar to pillar. A broad granite column rose up seven feet from its platform set in the grass, and upon the column stood the marble statue of Edward Elric that had been commissioned to honour the People's Alchemist.
He was not buried here, resting instead beside his mother in the small village cemetery back in Risemboul. But both the military and the new government of Amestris had also wanted to commemorate him as one of their own, despite Al's reluctance. The surviving brother had known how uncomfortable Ed would have been, to be claimed in such a way, but there was no denying that he had done great service to this city and his country. So the plans would have gone ahead, with or without Al's cooperation.
The first choice for the location of the statue had been the parade square in front of Central Headquarters, but even Roy had shuddered at that. Finally, when he suggested that they place it instead near the grave of Maes Hughes, the young man's good friend and occasional mentor, all parties had agreed that this was an appropriate choice, and even Alphonse had been mollified.
So the statue had been carved and lifted into place: Edward Elric at one and a half times normal size (he'd have appreciated that), with his arms folded across his chest, head tilted slightly to one side, braid hanging down his back and the red coat with the inscribed flamel symbol flaring about his legs. One sleeve riding up, revealing about an inch of his automail arm. And on his face a jaunty expression, as though he were about to break into his typical mischievous grin.
Roy could barely see more than the outline of the statue now, as he settled himself on Maes's tombstone, legs stretched out in front of him, hands stuck into his jacket pockets. Al was a vague blur against the light grey granite column, and Roy didn't think the boy had realized, even yet, that he'd been followed.
Another soft clap as Al bent, followed by a quick flare of light. Roy watched a second rough stone column break through the grass and grow from the ground in front of the statue, lifting the young man with it until his face was level with the head on the sculpture. And as Al placed his hands on either side of that face, Roy pulled out one of the gloves that he always had ready in the pockets of every jacket or coat he owned.
Might as well give the kid the light he needed. Roy recognized, now, exactly what he was up to.
Tugging on the glove, he squinted up into the darkness and chose his spots: to either side of Al, he decided, slightly above the youngster's head. Couldn't have any light coming from behind, to cast a shadow on the statue where he'd be working.
Roy activated the array on the glove, and snapped his fingers. Two globes of soft light burst into being with a faint crackle, bringing the face of the statue to life and burnishing Al's hair with a golden radiance.
He heard the young man's sharp gasp and saw his shoulders stiffen, and for a moment expected him to whirl around and glare down. But instead, Al visibly willed himself to relax and continue the job he'd come here to do. If there were going to be recriminations or accusations, those would come afterward.
Roy watched him work, almost absently keeping the oxygen flowing into the slightly hissing globes. Alphonse clapped his hands together and then applied his fingers, with delicate care, to the marble face of his brother.
There had always been something just a little bit…off…about the face. Roy had pondered it every time he'd looked at the statue, but had never quite been able to put his finger on what the problem was. Something about the nose? The eyes too close together…or, for that matter, too far apart? The problem was so subtle that he'd never managed to pin it down. He'd thought maybe that it was just his memory that was faulty, since nobody else had ever said anything.
But obviously Alphonse had seen it too. And he, who had known Ed's face so well, knew exactly where the flaw lay. His strongest alchemical talent might lie in other areas – his soul alchemy, to be precise – but he'd worked in stone often enough at his brother's side that he knew what to do.
Apparently it was indeed the nose that wasn't quite right.
The boy moved his fingers over the marble, slowly, carefully, as though caressing his brother's cheeks, the blue-white sheen of his alchemy augmenting the illumination cast by Roy's glowing lights. At his elbows the red sleeves of the coat fluttered, marking the movements of his hands. The changes on the statue were subtle and barely noticeable. Yet as he touched the nose, tracing a finger lightly down one side and then the other, it changed the whole face. The smile seemed to deepen, the glint in the eyes to sharpen.
All around man, boy, and statue, outside the circle of light they inhabited, the night lay dark and undisturbed, cocooning them in a blanket of silence. Even the periodic sounds of late-travelling vehicles that had punctuated their quiet chase through the city did not reach this place, across the river. The hiss of the burning globes was the merest breath of sound, so constant it was hardly noticeable after a couple of minutes.
Someone had placed flowers on a nearby grave earlier in the day; Roy could smell them. Roses, perhaps. He breathed the cool night air, absorbing the peace. He stuck his ungloved hand back into a pocket and watched the small motions of Al's fingers. Close, he thought. The kid was getting very close. Now Al smoothed the end of the nose as though tickling it. Almost there…
And then it was done. Roy recognized it just as Al did, and nodded as his young friend dropped his hands and stepped back, head tilted to one side. The face was perfect now. An exact likeness. It could have been Ed, come back to life. Ed strong and vital, as he had been on that last morning…
Al regarded his handiwork in silence before he stirred again, lifting a hesitant hand. He laid it gently along one of the cheeks, his thumb moving slowly on the cold white skin, the caress this time unmistakable. So pale…colourless…lifeless…
He pulled his hand back, raising the other, holding them apart as though about to clap. Hesitating…
Roy held his breath. No, Al, he thought, heart racing.
Soul alchemy…the ability to place a piece of soul into an inanimate object…to make the object move…
No! Roy thought again.
It would be counterfeit – it wouldn't be real – it would hurt too much –
Al's shoulders slumped and he bowed his head. When he did clap his hands together, he merely went to one knee, placing his palms flat on the surface of the stone pedestal upon which he stood. Slowly it shrank beneath him, receding into the ground and dispersing back into the elements from which he'd created it. He allowed the grass to close over it, and stood motionless on the ground, solemnly gazing up at the statue for another moment.
Then he stepped over the looped chain and walked slowly to Maes Hughes's grave, settling himself without a word on a corner of the tombstone, beside Roy.
Roy raised his gloved hand, prepared to snuff out the glow above their heads, but lowered the hand instead to his knee. The two of them shared a long silence, looking up at Edward Elric's face. Ed's bright, strong – young – face.
You love him, Yuen had said. You will know.
And suddenly Roy knew.
He took a deep breath. "It's hard, isn't it," he murmured, "to realize that he's always going to stay the same?"
He received no answer, but he hadn't expected to. A quick sideways glance revealed only Al's uplifted face, jaw tight, brows drawn together.
"I mean," Roy continued softly, "he's going to be eighteen forever. While you turn eighteen…twenty-eight…thirty-eight… We're all going to keep going and leave him behind, while Ed never has the chance to grow into the great man he was going to become."
Still no answer. Except that Al hugged his arms across his chest, his wide grey eyes never moving from his brother's face, high above.
Roy licked his lips. "It's coming…and soon. The day you become the same age he was. And then the worst moment of all – when you are older than him."
"Please," Al breathed, almost without sound, lips beginning to tremble.
"And when that happens," Roy went on, knowing he might never get another chance to say these things, "when you have that birthday, everything changes. Because he's no longer older than you. He'll no longer be wiser and more experienced. He won't be your big bro – "
"Don't!" Al cried. He bowed his head over the arms pulled tightly across his chest, each hand convulsively clutching a clump of red fabric at his elbows. "Please. Oh please – don't say it."
Roy fell silent for a moment. At his side, the sound of the boy's breathing grew more ragged. A single tear fell onto one of Al's hands, and Roy looked away, blinking back his answering tears.
"I'm so sorry, Alphonse," he said, finally. "More than you can begin to imagine. It hurts so much, to think of them – stopped – never progressing beyond that last moment, never growing old with us. This isn't the way it was supposed to be. It's never the way it was supposed to be." He swiped his ungloved hand across both his eyes. "But Al. Do you really want to stay seventeen forever? Stay the little brother forever? Is that truly what you want? Do you actually believe you can do that?"
Al said nothing, averting his face, eyes closed.
Roy sighed. "And even if that's what you're trying to do – do you really think that's what Ed would have wanted? What he fought for, all those years, when he tried to get your body back?"
A brief stiffening of the shoulders. At last, "You're fighting dirty," Al muttered.
"I know," Roy agreed gently. "I'm sorry."
"Why…" It was the merest plaintive whisper. "Why did you follow me?"
"Why do you think, Alphonse? Ed would have understood why. He and I have that in common."
The young man swallowed. "I don't know what to do," he whispered.
They fell into silence once more, the peace of the cool night spread all around them. Again Roy considered snuffing out the light, but another glance at Al's face – uplifted, brimming eyes fixed on the statue – dissuaded him.
After a moment, the young man wiped one of the red sleeves across his eyes. "Do you think…do you think he'd be mad at me now? Because of…you know?"
Dammit – the kid sounded so young. Roy's throat tightened, but he made his lips curve upward and forced a light tone into his voice. "Maybe not mad, exactly. But can't you just hear him? 'I worked all these years to get your body back, and you do something to make sure you stay short your whole life?'"
Al pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes and emitted a half-laugh, half-sob. "Oh yeah," he hiccupped. "He'd say that, all right." Another laugh. "He'd be furious with me. And I…I guess he'd be right, wouldn't he?" A glum sigh. "I'm so stupid. I'm really, really stupid."
"No, kiddo, you're not stupid. Just a bit mixed up, that's all."
"Now you're being diplomatic." Al straightened and, for the first time, looked his companion in the eyes. He barely even had to lift his head to do it. "I guess you sort of know how I feel about things, don't you?"
"What do you mean?"
"You lost your big brother too."
Roy's breath caught, the tombstone under his legs pressing cold against his skin. He swallowed and smiled wryly. "I…guess you're right. I hadn't thought of it that way, but you're right."
"Still…" Al looked down at his hands, now clenched side by side in his lap. "You didn't…alter yourself because of it. Not like I have."
Roy took a breath. "Well…there were some things – deadly things, actually – that I was tempted to do when I lost him. You don't have a monopoly on that sort of thing, Alphonse." The boy's eyes flew back to his face, and Roy managed an awkward shrug. "For what it's worth, it helped that I had you and Ed as an example of why it's taboo."
Again Al lowered his gaze. "Roy…I…I'm sorry. For everything. Especially tonight." He took a deep breath. "I…I guess I really do still need a big brother. To keep me from being such a complete idiot."
Roy managed a laugh. "Ed? Keep you from being an idiot? Are we talking about the same person?" His smile faded and he added quietly, "I know I'll never be able to fill his shoes. But I'll always be here, and I'll always do whatever I can when you need me."
Al nodded, gulping, eyes still downcast. Slowly he leaned over and rested his head on Roy's shoulder, releasing his breath in a long sigh. Roy closed his eyes, tilting his own head to lay his cheek against the boy's hair. Slowly, deprived of their consistent supply of oxygen, the glowing lights to either side of the statue above them sputtered, hissing, and at last went out.
He wasn't sure how long they sat together on the edge of the tombstone. He even wondered if Alphonse had finally fallen asleep. But after a while, the youngster stirred and Roy lifted his head. "You ready to go home?" he wondered.
Al nodded, stretching and yawning. "If I let myself fall asleep, I might never make it all the way back. I don't know if I will anyway."
"Then I'll get us a cab."
"At this hour? The streets were pretty empty, coming here."
Roy flashed a smile. "I'm the Flame Alchemist, kid, remember? I can do anything."
"Now you really do sound like Ed." Al stepped – almost hopped – from the tombstone, standing up and bending backwards as he stretched his arms above his head. For a moment he lifted his face for a final look at the statue of his brother, a dark shape silhouetted against the starry background. Then he sighed and turned away. "Let's go," he said. "I think I'm done."
The boy strode off without a backward glance along the path toward the gate, his red coat swirling about his knees as he vanished into the shadows. Roy followed at a more leisurely pace, tugging off his glove and stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets. Gradually his steps slowed until they stopped altogether. Half turning, he looked back toward the statue on the pillar, eyes finally coming to rest on the tombstone almost at its feet.
"The things I made you put up with," he murmured with a wry smile. "Big brother."