A/n- today let's talk about the title. I had trouble with this. Actually, I don't remember when I decided to put scrying into the fic…maybe it was there all along…I dunno. But I got the idea from Christopher Paolini's Inheritance series, Eragon and Eldest, which I don't own either. I did though make up a lot of the details to scrying, which makes it my own type of magic; there wasn't much info in the books.
Chapter 15- Playing With Emotion
With the game over, things returned somewhat to normal. Fred's arm healed so Ed was relieved from any more Quidditch matches, although it went unsaid he still held the position of backup beater. Though it was fun while it lasted, Edward was glad to get back to the quiet evenings in the library. Taking a break had renewed his hope of finding a way home; he reasoned that if he could play a sport on a flying broomstick, opening the rift between dimensions would be just as easy.
Yet weeks passed with nothing to show for his efforts and his hope, which had once been inescapably clear to him, was steadily becoming harder to grasp. Hour after hour of searching row after row of books, volumes, and parchment were being wasted away. Edward spent every free second of his time in the library, but its material was confining.
"This is pointless," he sighed, slamming the book in front of him shut.
"I can hardly see how searching for a way home is pointless," came Hermione's collected response.
Both Ron and Harry nodded in agreement, but any encouragement the three hoped to lend, it fell on deaf ears.
"It's not the goal, it's this place! These damn books…tomorrow is Halloween; it's been two months and still—"
Frustrated, Ed broke off in mid-sentence and tapped the book, shaking his head in disbelief.
"I'm beginning to hate this place," he finished at last.
"Look," Harry began, taking another shot at lifting his friend's spirits, "As long as there are books, there's a chance. We know it's here, we just have to find it."
"Well, we don't know for su—" Ron started, before gaining two pairs of dangerous looks, "but finding out is loads better than never trying and passing up possible opportunities," he finished swiftly.
Ed chuckled and shook his head again, reopening his book with new vigor and knowing this was enough to reassure his friends.
"I thought we'd lost you there for a minute, mate," Harry said, clapping Ed on the back in good humor.
"I don't like failing," he replied with a smirk.
"You don't need to tell us that," Ron cut in.
"Seriously though, you need a break," Hermione pointed out, "You are going to the festivities tomorrow, aren't you?"
"I suppose," Ed shrugged.
That night Edward climbed the stairs to the dorm, his thoughts directed toward another disheartening topic that hadn't yet been resolved. In the two months that had passed, he hadn't been able to scry past his own memories and still didn't know what had happened to Roy. It was a mixture of curiosity and worry that caused him to keep trying, he supposed.
He had tried everything to make it work; he had focused on different emotions such as anger, fear, bravery, anxiety and sorrow, and had even revisited his own past to the last time he'd seen his former ranking officer to try and iron out small details he may have missed.
Yet nothing seemed to work and Ed was running out of ideas. Tonight he expected to ponder the scenario, hoping something might turn up.
He was still kicking up dirt, his head in his hands and his wand in his lap, when Ron came up the stairs with his now finished homework.
"How's it going, mate?" he asked for conversation's sake.
"Not too good," Ed sighed, sitting up straighter and fingering his wand.
"You miss your brother, don't you," Ron stated, shrugging, "I guess I know how it feels…somewhat."
"I do miss him," Ed agreed, "but it's not that, it's something else this time; another dead end."
Edward smiled tightly and gazed at the wand in his hands while Ron shifted uneasily. Finally, he spoke up.
"So, you gonna tell me about it, or what?" he asked.
This time, the smile on Ed's face was more genuine. Another moment passed in which all manner of rational thinking evaporated and he began.
"I've been taking scrying lessons with Dumbledore here and there to keep tabs on Al and my friends back home. One of them, Roy Mustang, somehow lost an eye, or something. Whatever happened, he's wearing an eye patch now and I can't figure it all out."
"An eye, huh?" Ron said, whistling softly, "I know someone who got their eye messed up. Must've hurt something awful."
"Pain…" Ed whispered, exhaling in disbelief, "Damn…I've been so stupid! Ron, you're a genius!"
"I am?" Ron blurted in surprise, "I mean, uh, thanks! And, uh, glad I could help."
However Edward was already in his own world, holding his wand in front of him and remembering the feeling of physical pain.
Almost instantly, an image appeared. Ron stood gaping at it while Ed soaked it up, yearning to know the past.
Roy Mustang cried out as he was thrown against a wall and pinned to it with a sword that the Fuehrer held.
"You really wanted my position badly, didn't you Mustang?" he snarled.
Roy didn't answer, but groaned in pain and furrowed his brow because of this. Ed didn't detect any emotion though, which he usually could when he scryed.
"I can appreciate the vanity and ambition, but you should have been more patient about it. Even if this had somehow worked, the Council would have found you out and they'd never let an assassinback into their fold."
"I didn't do this for politics; I couldn't forgive myself for being blind for so long! This was the only way I could atone for the friends I didn't save!" Roy ground out, the emotion now thick in his voice.
"Well then, by all means let me help you with that. Give my best regards to General Hughes," Bradley said maliciously.
He wedged the sword already in Roy's shoulder to the left, widening the gash. Blood soaked the Colonel's clothes already and Ed could see the strain on his face as Roy let out a bellow of pain. The Colonel clenched his teeth to bear it.
"What's going on?" came a soft voice from the door.
Ed could only see a silhouette of who it was and realized he didn't know him, which explained the reason he couldn't scry him. He turned his attention back to the image, in which the Fuehrer looked in the voice's direction and straightened.
"Hello son. Good news; I caught the rat," he smiled, talking gently to the invisible child.
"I'm sorry I disobeyed you father, but I just had to come back!" the child exclaimed, rushing over, "I forgot something and I wanted to make sure you were okay!"
The Fuehrer bent down and placed his hands on the child's shoulders and smiled what seemed to be genuinely.
"So what now? You said people are fools so how do you explain loving him?" Roy asked in a half whisper, his eyes dimmer than before; he was loosing a lot of blood. Sweat collected on his face, mixing with the crimson liquid.
However, the Fuehrer didn't seem to be listening to the Colonel; he was occupied by a sudden weakness and grunted because of it.
"Father, what's the matter? You look like you're hurt! What's wrong?" the child cried in worry.
"What have you done, you idiot!" the king growled, sweat on his face now.
"Huh? I just—I got it from your safe! You said your life depended on it and I didn't want it to get hurt in the fire!" the child explained hurriedly, looking to his father for praise as he withdrew a round package from the bag on his side.
The Fuehrer's hands moved suddenly to grasp the boy's neck, causing the child to choke in pain.
"Father—! Sto—!"
Roy gasped, then pulled the forgotten sword out of his shoulder. Blood sprayed from the wound and he almost collapsed, but caught himself with a grunt of pain.
The sullied hands that grasped the boy's neck clenched tighter and Ed could hear the sound of the neck breaking. In a growl of frustration, the King threw the boy aside where he landed near Roy's kneeling body. Mustang gained his feet swiftly and lunged to catch the boy as he fell, seeming to know it was too late.
"You are foolish! All of you. Even my own son," the Fuehrer spat in disgust.
Roy kept his eyes on his enemy as he set the dead child down carefully and withdrew his hand with the bundle the child had been talking about in it. The bandages encompassing it fell away to reveal a skull, presumably Bradley's since Ed could see it.
The rage on the King's face spread to fill it and he growled again, clenching his teeth and unable to hide the trails of sweat on it. Roy picked his heavy self up off the floor and spoke as he drew the transmutation circle for fire on his left hand, the hand holding the skull.
"I don't know how long you've lived, Fuehrer, or how many times you've cheated death, but not anymore."
He activated the circle and orange light protruded from it. Flames instantly engulfed the Homunculus, causing him to bellow in pain as Roy continued.
"It's the end of the line," he ground out, breathing deeply, "Now, how many times do I have to kill you for you to be dead?"
He was talking to no one; the Fuehrer was a mere puddle on the floor, a mixture of blood and the liquid form of the Philosopher's Stone. Roy took a few deep breaths, clearly exhausted, then sucked it up and applied his energy into the circle once more to finish off the Homunculus. He sighed as his flames ate away at the hideous puddle, dropping his arms to his sides and tossing the skull into the remaining fire, where it melted.
Now Roy turned his attention to the body of the Fuehrer's supposed son and looked at him in distress, his eyes seeming lost. He picked the boy up in defeat and carried him with faltering steps out of the building.
When he got to the front stairs he looked up in surprise at a robotic being advancing toward him. Ed had to look twice before recognizing Frank Archer, half of which was made of metal.
Archer held up a gun and pointed it at Mustang, taunting the Colonel with his power, who was too worn out to do anything other than freeze in his steps. A gunshot sounded, but not from the expected weapon; Riza Hawkeye was running in the Colonel's direction. She stopped to empty the rest of her clip into Archer's human half, causing him to collapse. In the confusion, a bullet from either gun lodged itself in Roy's eye and he fell with his enemy.
Hawkeye sighed and then continued to run toward the Flame Alchemist, slowing when she saw his now unconscious figure, slumped next to the boy's dead one.
"General!" she called in alarm, worry evident on her face as she knelt next to his bloody form, "General! Damnit Roy Mustang, talk to me!" she cried in hysterics as she leaned over and cried into him.
As the image faded, it left behind a residue of astonishment; Ed because it hadn't been what he'd expected, and Ron because, well, he'd never seen anything like it.
"God…" Edward breathed, "I thought Archer had died in Lior…I didn't even know automail was advanced enough to mimic the brain's functions…or that Mustang became a General…"
"So…that's your home," Ron asked rhetorically, "It's a lot more believable actually seeing it," he added.
"Yeah, I can say the same about your magic," Ed commented, laughing to himself, "The pyromaniac and the trigger happy Lieutenant; as if I never saw that coming."
"Well, I'm glad you figured it out," Ron said, waving goodnight and crawling into bed.
As Ed followed suite, fatigue caught up to him and he realized just how much energy he had used. 'Then again,' he thought with an accomplished smile as he drifted off, 'it was entirely worth it…"
A/n- one last thing: the scrying scene in this ch. is straight from fma, which I don't own either, however roy's last line isn't in the English, but the Japanese version. I liked the line so much I had to use it.