Chapter 3: Restless insanity
--
That night Alfons had trouble sleeping again. He twisted and turned around; his blankets went curling around him like snakes trying to suffocate him. Lying restlessly on his back, he simply stared up into the dark ceiling while his eyes refused to be kept shut.
When he had returned from his walk to get some distance from Edward, the said blond had been curled up already fallen asleep, holding his father's old book in his hands. It seemed like he had been reading it for ages now. The same book. In Munich Edward had told him that his father had coded the book with small dots, marking a special order of letters. Alfons didn't know what exactly the codes said. Edward had never revealed any details about it to him.
Alfons had felt slightly disappointed that Edward had been sleeping. He hadn't had the chance to talk to him about their little issue tonight. Which was something they just had to do. He couldn't bear with it like this. What bothered him the most was that he didn't even exactly know what was going on.
Even though they had only been here for two days, the difference from before scared Alfons. Edward was avoiding him. Especially when they were alone. Something had changed after they arrived at Central. Even if Alfons didn't want to believe that it was true, Edward had started to grow more distant from him.
Edward was barely looking him in the eyes anymore, or slept in the same bed with him. He had insisted it was too small for two people, which was to be fair true. But he had had an almost similar sized bed in Munich, and that hadn't stopped them from sleeping together. And Edward didn't talk to him the way he used to. He used to be understanding, caring and sharing all his pensive thoughts, being philosophical or discussing something about rockets or his world or whatnot. Now he was constantly distant, short and spent most of his time reading his book instead of showing him any particular interest.
Whenever Alfons ad tried to talk to him and figure out what was wrong, Edward had denied it, being too stubborn to actually listen. And as long as Edward didn't acknowledge that something was wrong between them, it was hard for Alfons to admit it out loud as well.
He couldn't believe how childish they were acting. They were supposed to be grown up, being able to handle things in a mature way. If Edward had just stopped being so rude and self-centred all the time...
Alfons huffed quietly, rolling over to his side, facing the wall.
Not talking with Edward was definitely one of the worst things that could happen to him. After coming to a new world he obviously didn't know anybody. He had no one he could turn to. Back in Munich he at least had had his co-workers, the rockets, the people he knew in town and Gracia, when he didn't have Edward. Their roles were flipped now.
Here in this world he only had Edward, like he had been the only one Edward would've turned to in the other world.
If all this was really because of what he had done right before they came to this world, he couldn't think of anything that would be worth coming here for in the first place.
Alfons despised himself for thinking such way. Especially since Edward's little brother was missing, and he knew that probably had Edward deeply worried. Even scared. The word scared and Edward barely belonged in the same sentence, but he had all right to be scared if Thule Society had abducted his brother.
Alfons thought that Edward would at least be open to him and accept his offered support. If he now kept rejecting him forever, then what was Alfons supposed to do? He was sure he wouldn't be able to continue living in this world without Edward in his life.
Listening to the other's deep rhythmic breathing; he decided that no matter what, he had to make Edward listen to him tomorrow. He didn't care what bothered him. All he wanted was to kiss him and say that everything would work out somehow and that Edward would just accept it.
With that, he closed his eyes and finally fell into an uneasy slumber.
--
Waking up far earlier than he had needed to, Alfons was not able to sleep much longer. Even though he was still drowsy, his eyes refused to rest anymore and he guessed he had to be grateful for the two short hours of sleep he had been allowed. He turned over and watched Edward across the room. The older blond lay on his back with his eyes tightly shut, and his head twisted sharply from side to side.
Alfons frowned. Bad dreams again?
He went silently out of bed and stepped slowly over to the older teen. For some seconds he just stood there perplexed, watching Edward's struggling face, brows knitting and teeth gritting.
Should he wake him? It was probably better than letting him be stuck in an awful nightmare.
But they weren't talking together… And it wasn't the best time to try talking with Edward at 6 am in the morning.
Edward gave out a small: "No…" His head arched back. "Al…"
Alfons sighed deep and curved down, carefully laying his palm on Edward's forehead. He was warm and damp. Fever…
"Shh," he whispered. "I'll make it up to you, I promise." He gave out a soft sigh and looked down where his hand carefully knitted around Edward's. "All I do is complain, even though I know you're worrying about him," he said in a low tone. "I'll help you find your brother, no matter what."
Edward calmed slightly down, breathing deep and fast, but still sleeping.
Alfons went to the bathroom and fetched a cloth. By the sink he wetted it with cold water and twisted dripping water out of it. Then he went back to Edward's bed, laying the damp cloth on his forehead.
"You didn't even tell me you felt sick," he murmured. Then he went back to the bathroom, showered, got dressed and disappeared out the door before Edward woke up, only to turn around in the doorway and go back again to turn the cloth on his forehead first.
--
At precisely 10 am he arrived at Colonel Roy Mustang's office, after hanging around in the park outside HQ, eating his breakfast from the cafeteria. It hadn't been anything better to do while killing off the time he couldn't use to sleep out anyway. And not that he had been able to eat much. He was so nervous about tomorrow's hearing that he was afraid it would come back the wrong way if he ate.
He knocked cautiously and waited tensely for a sign to allow entering.
"Come in," a voice said.
He slowly entered the room. Colonel Roy Mustang sat in the exactly same position as the day before, staring concertedly down at his paperwork with a pen in hand and his one eye carefully focused. It nearly looked like he hadn't left his spot since yesterday.
Alfons wondered what had happened to this man, considering the eye patch. He had no doubt that the Colonel had faced a great deal of sorrow in his life.
When Alfons silently closed the door, Roy Mustang looked up and nodded at him. "Good morning, Alfons."
Alfons stepped up, politely bowing. "Good morning, sir."
"Please, sit down," Mustang gestured at a chair in front of his desk.
Alfons sat down quite stiffly, wondering what the Colonel had put up for him. He was unsure what to expect. Needless to say, all this was entirely new to him.
"I'm afraid I have some bad news," Mustang started, rubbing his temple with his left hand.
This didn't seem to start so good, Alfons thought. He remained silent, waiting for the Colonel to continue.
"The Fuhrer President called me ten minutes ago. I'm afraid your interview has been moved," Mustang sighed.
"Moved?" Alfons repeated alarmed. "Till when?"
"At noon today. We don't have much time."
Alfons leaned abruptly back in his chair, eyes wide. "Two hours..." His heart skipped some beatings while his stomach twisted fiercely. He had two hours to prepare himself a new life story? He had two hours to prepare himself for not be jailed or whatever would happen if he didn't do the interview convincingly? For a second he was afraid that he really would empty his stomach over the carpet. "But I—"
"No buts," Mustang barked. "We'll use the time we have. I pulled an all-nighter for you, so I'm not going to let you get busted."
Still feeling a little dizzy, Alfons stared at him in a mix of apprehension and wonder. So the Colonel really hadn't left the office that night? Mustang had done that for his sake? Well, obviously Alfons had to pay the dept by working later. But still. Alfons felt slightly lighter by the thought that the Colonel did give a rat's ass about him.
Mustang picked up a card and handed it to him. "This is your ID."
Alfons studied the card with his name, ID-number and photograph. He had taken the photo the first day. He looked tired and lost. Literally speaking. With a gaze up at Mustang again, he said: "But I can't just show them this and then everything will be okay, right?"
"I'm afraid not."
Alfons wearily rubbed his forehead. "How am I supposed to do this?" It was almost like a spontaneous exam at the University, only a hundred times worse. He didn't even want to think about what would happen if they busted him. It could be even worse than jail.
The Colonel crossed his arms and leant back in his chair. "Are you a good liar, Alfons?" he asked, a smirk forming on his lips.
"No," Alfons replied weakly.
"Then you will be in one hour and 55 minutes."
Alfons swallowed. "How many people will be there?"
"Part from the Fuhrer President, only myself and the Council. 14 people all together. 15 including yourself."
"14 people..." Alfons repeated, head spinning. That many?
Mustang rose from his chair, holding a file in his hand. "From now on, you forget about the Gate and your world as long as you talk with anyone else than myself and Edward. In fact, the cleverest way is probably to not talk about it at all. This—" he gestured with the file in his hand, "—is your new life story."
Alfons nodded slowly.
"I recommend you to read it very carefully. You have 30 minutes. After that, I'll ask you questions you most likely will get at the interview, and we need to clear up the details of your name, look and how you were found in the desert. Is that understood?"
"Yes... sir." Feeling utterly neurotic, he accepted the file Mustang offered him and scanned through the pages. The first page was a fake birth attest. Followed by that was a long biography-like text about nearly everything that had touched his "life".
It felt like the text were swimming together and zigzagging into a blur. Alfons blinked hard a couple of times. If he had only gotten some more sleep.
But he was glad to see that everything wasn't just plain text. There were photos too – of what was supposed to have been his house at a place he had never heard of, and photos of two people who were supposed to resemble his parents. Alfons looked questioningly up at Mustang at the sight of the two people. "Did they agree to this?"
"They're dead," he replied shortly. "And they were your adoptive parents. Read your file. Come back in half an hour."
Alfons nodded and hurried out of the office. He slumped down on the same chair as yesterday with a deep sigh.
This was going to hell. He didn't know if he could go through with this. Not at all.
He opened the file on page one and started reading with a troubled feeling lurking dangerously in the pit of his stomach.
Knowing that he didn't have a choice but just to learn all this somehow made everything a small tad easier. Alfons decided to go for a taking-one-step-at-a-time-strategy. Just remember this and everything will be fine. Everything.
Soon he had learned that he had been adopted right after he was born by two farmers in a city called Anothoya, the closest neighbour village of Rizembool were Edward used to live. He had met Edward when they were kids.
His father had been an inventor, but had to leave his lifework for the Ishbal War, where he honourably lost his life. There were no images from the war, merely a small description of what had happened.
But even just from that, vague images of people with dark skin and red eyes showed up in Alfons' mind. Where were these images coming from? He usually didn't visual everything he read, especially facts, since turning facts into fiction was quite ridiculous, he thought. Facts are facts. He frowned and shook his head, continuing his reading.
His adoptive father's invention was a very simple type of flying machine, but as a born prodigy, Alfons had an understanding for how they worked. His adoptive mother had died shortly after his father, in a reported train accident. Mustang has added photos and newspaper articles from the accident that happened years ago. Alfons had to get by alone for a while, but after he heard about the flying machine-attacks he got interested in these because of his and his father's old research, and came to Central to attend the military.
His dream was to use aircraft for the people.
How noble, Alfons thought with a sigh. Although, it was pretty much like his dream used to be in Munich. He had wanted to build rockets for his country to prove that Germany yet hadn't lost its glory. Mustang had actually made this fiction story quite realistic.
So, since the story altogether was OK, it could be bought. But it was hundreds of small details that were hard to remember, like the colour of his old bedroom, the details around the accident where his mother died, his address, how his garden looked like, what his father's favourite dinner was, name of the animals at the farm, and so on. But Alfons knew every small detail could be important. He didn't know what kind of questions he would get. And if there was something he didn't know, then they definitely would become suspicious.
Thirty minutes later he was back inside the office, his eyes still carefully scanning the pages for the third time.
"What do you think?" Mustang asked, leaning back in his chair.
"It's ok, but how will this explain that I was in the rocket with Edward?" Alfons asked timidly. "A military officer found us... I can't remember his name, but..."
"Kiehle..." Mustang muttered. "I'm aware of that. It's one of the things that don't fit in properly. He would blab about you any day if he knew the truth, just to hurt my reputation."
Alfons frowned. "Since I wasn't supposed to be in the rocket, then I need to have a reason for have been in the desert at the time."
Mustang nodded. "We still have some work to do concerning that. It will sound like an unlikely coincidence, but it can't be helped. Obviously you were travelling towards Lior then. What were you going to do there?" he shot out, almost harshly.
"I— I…" Alfons felt like a huge cloud invaded his head and covered his mind from the brain. Was it like this the questions would be asked? He couldn't answer. How was he supposed to know something like that? And that tone didn't make it better.
There was a heavy silence.
"Never hesitate!" Mustang suddenly shot in. "If you hesitate or if you look unsure, you'll be seen right through immediately."
Alfons looked down, rubbing his forehead in his hand. "I know! I'm sorry. I just—"
"No excuses," Mustang continued. "You are only to answer the questions you receive."
"Yes sir…"
"It was an attack in Lior one week ago," the Colonel said more silently. "You were curious about it and hoped to find out more about the flying machines by visiting a place that had recently seen them."
Alfons nodded. He hadn't thought of that. It was during that attack Edward's little brother apparently had gone missing.
"So, about your looks. They'll notice your resemblance to Alphonse Elric, especially since you have the same first name."
Right there and then Alfons really wished he had been the parallel person of someone else.
Roy Mustang scratched his cheek, in deep thoughts. "You could be their cousin. It would be easier to explain if they think you're related to the Elric's of course. But they have ways to look that up. Although, maybe we might have to take the chance that they don't."
Alfons swallowed, literally feeling the colour disappearing from his face again. "But… If they do…?"
"As far as I know, they only have information about Hohenheim, their father. They have no file on their mother, Trisha Elric. Her sister could be your mother."
"But I'm adopted," Alfons said bluntly.
Mustang smirked. "Glad you are following. Changes must always be made for everything to fit, Alfons. So, your mother is your biological mother and your father is your stepfather."
"Why can't both of them be my biological parents?" Alfons asked. He didn't mean to be ungrateful; it just seemed to be more complicated than it had to.
"The fact that you don't know both of your real parents makes it more difficult for them to dig into your roots," Mustang said. "Regardless, the more nonspecific the details about your life are, the more questions you'll have about your life and have them focus on that. Our best chance is for them to forget their suspicions that you have something to do with Thule and how you showed up."
Alfons stared unsurely at him. "You talk like they're already suspecting me for being a part of Thule."
Mustang was quiet for a second, which alarmed Alfons. "Do they?"
"They're suspecting anyone they can," Mustang said. "Times are desperate, so they'll do anything to find someone to blame – innocent or not." Alfons swallowed as Mustang continued. "And the thing about you is that you have knowledge of the craft that threatens us."
"So they suspect me," Alfons said, almost positive he would invert his stomach over the floor soon.
"Not officially," Mustang offered. "But they don't know you, and you were there when the rocket crashed. They suspect Edward as well." Mustang gave out a long sigh. "To be honest with you, hadn't it been for my plan to use you two building flying machines for the military, the higher-ups would've preferred to have you both locked behind bars until the hearing was set."
Alfons frowned, beating the nausea down with a thick swallow. "So that's how it is."
"That's the Amestris state military to you," Mustang said dryly. "Luckily for us, they think the profit of using you weights more than arresting you."
Alfons shoulders sank. He really didn't want to do this hearing now. Even less than before. Everything seemed so big, and the whole situation so unfamiliar.
"At any rate, like I said," the Colonel said, rising from his chair and put his palms resolutely on the desk, and Alfons felt obligated to meet his eye when he said: "I won't let you screw this up. Although, the most weight lies with you now. I can't shoot in during your hearing, claiming to know your own life story better than yourself."
Alfons nodded. "Yes, I understand that."
"Good. Now, it's half an hour left. Let's take some more questions before we go."
--
Alfons had never felt this nervous in his entire life as he went after the Colonel towards the Council room, deep into the Central HQ-building.
Mustang stopped by a door. "This is a waiting room. We'll wait here till we're called inside."
Alfons just nodded.
"Scared?" the Colonel asked.
"Not at all," Alfons replied, wondering if it sounded convincing.
"Not bad," Mustang said. He opened the door and strode in first, immediately frozen to the ground. Alfons nearly walked right into him, but stopped just in time.
"What are you doing here, sir?" Mustang asked coldly and Alfons frowned by this. It was odd behaviour from Mustang. Even if he hadn't known the Colonel for that long, he was under the impression that he wouldn't be tipped off so easily.
He glanced past the Colonel and felt his heart skipped some beatings. Something about the man in the room was strangely familiar.
"I'm disappointed, Mustang," the man purred. "You should show some more respect to your fellow officers, especially the ones that out-ranks you."
By the sound of his voice, Alfons remembered. It was the military commander who had first met him and Edward in the desert outside Lior, right after they had crashed. If that wasn't enough, he looked like his Professor at the University. Great, more parallel people.
"Aren't you supposed to lead the unit in Lior, Brigadier General?" Mustang asked, calming slightly down.
"The Fuhrer President sent me a personal invitation," Kiehle replied nonchalantly. "He requested my attendance at this hearing since it was in fact me who first found the boys outside Lior."
Alfons shifted uncomfortably, feeling invisible by the way the man talked.
It was then the man's eyes fell upon him, making him swallow stiffly while the Brigadier General watched him curiously. "So this is the young, talented mechanic." He smiled at Alfons and strode towards him.
"I'm a scientist," Alfons corrected politely.
"Oh, indeed. A young scientist." Kiehle beamed and stopped by Mustang, offering his hand to Alfons. "Brigadier General Carl R. Kiehle."
Alfons took the offered hand, smiling politely back. "Alfons Heiderich. Nice to meet you, sir." Maybe the Brigadier General had failed to remember that the last time they met he had tried everything in his power to arrest him. But Alfons kept his facade. The only thing that could save him was to make them like him.
The Brigadier General smiled wider. "What a good young man." He glanced at Mustang. "Doesn't he remind you of someone, Colonel?"
"You might be right," Mustang replied.
The Brigadier smirked, pretending not to notice the sarcasm. His eyes lingered upon Alfons again, which gave Alfons an extremely uncomfortable feeling.
Roy Mustang laid a hand on his shoulder, guiding him past the other man. "Excuse us, Brigadier," he said civilly.
He showed him the way to some chairs, and Alfons sat stiffly down. They couldn't talk out loud, but he just knew something was bad news about this Brigadier General. He was as friendly as a snake, lurking in the grass.
Mustang gave him a look that Alfons understood as a warning. A warning to act extremely cautious around Carl R. Kiehle. He had figured that out himself already. But another thing as well. These two men were everything but gracious towards each other.
It was like they were fighting a silent mind game-battle.
He remembered what Mustang had said to him earlier. If Kiehle knew who he really was, he'd report to the Fuhrer President immediately, just to hurt Mustang's reputation. Alfons wondered how much Roy Mustang was risking by doing all this. Maybe his rank, or entire job?
A door went up and a tall and strong built man entered the room – along with one man on either side of him a couple of steps behind.
Mustang rose and nodded to Alfons.
Alfons looked at the grey-haired man. This was the Fuhrer.
"Good to see you, Colonel," the Fuhrer President said, smiling.
Mustang bowed deep, and Alfons followed the action.
"Fuhrer Hakuro," Mustang said. "This is Alfons Heiderich."
Alfons straightened himself up and the Fuhrer watched him closely.
"Young Mr. Heiderich," the Fuhrer said, offering his hand and Alfons took it. "Follow this way."
Alfons tried his best to keep his calm as they went into the Council room. Losing the grip now would be a bad idea. He was really in it now. No turning back.
A table formed as a horseshoe was lined up. The Council members sat along it. Four chairs missed a person. One in the upper middle, probably the Fuhrer's chair, and two at each end of the row. Probably for Mustang and Kiehle.
In the middle of the circle, a single chair stood, and Alfons swallowed. Of course he'd be placed somewhere everyone could watch him closely. From every direction.
Everyone in the room rose when Fuhrer Hakuro came inside, and Mustang remained beside him while everyone found their chair.
Mustang gave Alfons' shoulder an encouraging squeeze. Feeling a little secured by that, Alfons went determined into the circle and remained standing by the chair. He stood right in front of Fuhrer Hakuro with the table between them, since it was the Fuhrer himself who would question him. He didn't really have to pay the others any attention, which made him feel a little better. But they were still watching him closely, and only that made his nerves and stomach twist in knots.
"Let the hearing begin," the Fuhrer announced, and everyone was allowed to sit down.
Alfons didn't feel at all comfortable, but hoped it didn't show. He wondered if this was a normal interview that everyone had to go through, or if it was something they had arranged for him in a milder form of Edward's hearing. To find out if he was guilty or innocent...
If they came to the conclusion that he was guilty, he had no idea what would happen to him. Mustang hadn't mentioned anything of that. But that didn't mean that it couldn't possibly happen. In the worst case scenario Alfons could think of, he'd make a fatal mistake by saying something wrong, and he'd be on his stomach with his arms handcuffed behind his back faster than anyone could say Hamburg.
All this flew through his mind for about two seconds, and then he forced himself to forget about it and concentrate of what he had to do.
"Forgive me, Mr. Heiderich for having to move your interview at such short notice," Fuhrer Hakuro began. "I hope you're okay with that."
"Of course, sir," Alfons said, somehow surprised for being talked nicely to. He had distracted himself too much by thinking of the worst case scenario, so he had naturally not expected the Fuhrer to act friendly towards him.
Now, he forced his mind to concentrate on the present. The first thing he would be doing wrong would be thinking of all the things that could go wrong. So get out of it! he strictly told himself.
"That's good to hear." Fuhrer Hakuro smiled. "Now, you're here because you wish to attend to the military. So I have to ask you some questions."
"Yes, sir."
"If you can't answer, just say so. But everything you say will be noted by the Council, is that understood?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good." Fuhrer Hakuro cleared his throat. "So, Alfons, maybe you can start telling us a little about yourself and where you are from."
Alfons nodded. "I was born and raised in Anothoya. My mother met my stepfather when I was two. They were both farmers."
"What about your biological father?"
"I never knew him," Alfons said, hoping he sounded convincing. "My mother never spoke to me about him, other than that he was a drunkard."
"I see," the Fuhrer said. "So, tell me why you want to attend the military."
Alfons took a deep breath. "I want to do something to protect this country. My work is quite unusual, but I think I might be able to help you defend the cities against the enemies with the flying machines."
Why not get right down to it, he thought. The more determined he sounded the better, he supposed. He couldn't help thinking of Edward. That was what Edward would've done. And one of the details Mustang had made sure to remind him to use was the words "flying machines" instead of "airplanes", since the latter didn't exist.
"Please, tell us about your work," the Fuhrer said, very interested.
"Ever since my stepfather died in the Ishbal war, I've been studying flying machines on my own," Alfons said. "My father's dream was always to build a machine that would give man the power to fly into the sky. I wish to make his dream come true. When I heard that these machines actually existed, my curiosity led me towards Central and Lior to find out more about them."
It was weird talking like airplanes hadn't existed until recently.
"Why Lior?" the Fuhrer asked.
"The flying machines had last been spotted there, only one week ago," Alfons said simply, silently grateful that Mustang had prepared him for that question.
"It was in Lior that you were found by Brigadier General Kiehle here, wasn't it?"
"Yes," Alfons replied, feeling a little stressed. He was doing ok for now, but he had to calm down or else he might make a mistake. "I was on my way towards the city."
"Something happened on your way then?"
Before Alfons could think of how to attack the question, his mind suddenly blurred into a colourful disorder and all he could see were images of people fighting and sharp glimpses of red light.
He didn't even have time to figure out what was happening. Soldiers were shooting after civilians and terrified voices were screaming inside his head.
He winced, losing his focus entirely and couldn't even move. He sat utterly frozen to the chair, staring wide-eyed straight forward.
The images changed as fast as they came. He could see images of alchemy circles, images of art, images of science, images of technology. And each one only lasted for a tiny millisecond.
"Mr. Heiderich?" the Fuhrer advanced questioningly.
Alfons shook his head a little, blinking away the sudden random images. What the hell was that? He took a sharp breath. Focus. He was at a hearing with Fuhrer and the Council. He wasn't losing his mind, was he?
"Yes, sir... I'm sorry," Alfons managed, his brain fogged and feeling the sweat running down his neck. Shit. He hadn't even heard the last question. What to do now? He felt his nerves grappling a hold around his stomach again. Resisting the urge to vomit, Alfons said: "Could you repeat the last question, please?"
"Of course. What happened on your way to Lior?" The Fuhrer asked again, fortunately without seeming suspicious or fairly annoyed for having to repeat himself.
Alfons took another deep intake of air, feeling relieved for having a second chance to answer, but then again the beginning of his sentence came out a little rushed. "A flying machine showed up from a hole in the ground and crashed in the desert quite near me, and I was knocked out." He took a pause, trying to calm himself down again.
"According to my sources, you were found together with another man your age," the Fuhrer said.
"That is correct, sir," Alfons confirmed, finding back the control over himself. He couldn't screw this up now, not for any price. He just hoped he hadn't acted suspicious. "Edward Elric had been inside the flying machine, and he found me. Since I was hurt, he helped me walk towards the city when Brigadier General Kiehle found us."
"I see," the Fuhrer said, watching him closely. "So I understand correct that you were not inside the flying machine when it crashed?"
"No, sir." Alfons smiled timidly. "That would've been like a dream."
"All right," the Fuhrer said, eyes closely on him. "Was that the first time you met Edward Elric?"
"No, sir," Alfons replied again. The really hard part was starting. He had to make the Fuhrer believe in more weird coincidences. "He is my cousin, actually," he threw out as it was the most common thing in the world. "Although I don't know him very well. We used to play when we were kids sometimes, but nothing more."
"What a strange, but happy twist of fate," Fuhrer Hakuro supplied with a small smile.
"Yes, sir," Alfons said, feeling his neck started to sweat again. He stopped himself from continuing. It would only be as he was excusing himself, which wouldn't look cool. He wouldn't want to say any more than necessary. Then he might say too much. Or did he say too less by not continuing after that?
"Can you tell us, Alfons, exactly how you are related to Edward Elric?" the Fuhrer asked.
Alfons nodded, forcing another small smile on his face. "My mother was Trisha Elric's sister," he said. "We often came to visit Rizembool, but it's been many years now."
"Both women must have liked the name Alphonse," the Fuhrer commented.
Alfons smiled politely, trying not to look startled. "I suppose so." Was he being tested?
"Or maybe it's just a coincidence?" the Fuhrer suggested.
"I don't really know," Alfons said, seeming dwelling. "I've never thought about it much." It was the best he could make up, but would it be enough? It didn't sound that bad, did it? Why would someone go around asking why two people had the same name? Many people had the same name... They couldn't arrest him because his name was Alfons, could they?
"Well, Mr. Heiderich," the Fuhrer said, seeming to finally change the subject. "I like the idea of building flying machines of our own. But how exactly are you planning to do that?"
Alfons nodded again, secretly relieved for the change of topic. His mind had almost slipped from focus yet again. "It was Edward's idea actually. While being hospitalized in Lior, we talked about it. And he said that we'd be able to use alchemy for building it."
Fuhrer Hakuro was slightly taken aback. "Transmute such a powerful machine?"
Alfons smiled.
This was working. He had amused the Fuhrer.
Or Edward had...
"Yes, sir," he replied. "But in parted transmutations, not only one. We'll be combining my knowledge with his talents. I'm not an alchemist myself." He added carefully: "And Edward doesn't know much about flying machines."
Alfons wondered slightly if he had made a mistake by the last addition. He wasn't here to cover up for Edward; since it might be suspicious to defend him too much, even if Alfons hoped they might suspect Edward a little less after he had said it.
"I understand," Hakuro said slowly. "This is very interesting, Mr. Heiderich. I will grant you permission to go through with this assignment together with Edward Elric, under Colonel Roy Mustang's command."
Yes! He had done it.
"Thank you, sir," he said.
The Fuhrer leant back and scratched his nose, still watching him closely. "But one thing do concern me," he continued.
Alfons stopped his inner cheering, watching the Fuhrer with a questioningly look.
"Edward Elric has yet to attend his hearing," Hakuro said. "And if he doesn't have an explainable story for his actions, he will unfortunately be put off the project. Forgive me, Alfons, for making this concern you. But I will make sure you'll be able to continue your job if Edward Elric doesn't approve." The Fuhrer smiled at him, and Alfons forced a smile in return.
His thoughts darkened. They still suspected Edward. But of course they would still want to use him for their own purposes.
The Fuhrer rose, and everyone followed.
Alfons stood up from his chair, dragged back to the present of the situation.
"Step up to me, Alfons Heiderich," the Fuhrer said.
Alfons took obediently some steps forward towards the Fuhrer and stopped by the edge of the table.
Fuhrer Hakuro shoved a paper and a pen towards him. The contract.
"This is only a temporary contract for 6 months," the Fuhrer assured. "It says you're excused from attending battle, even if you're a part of a unit, because of your other purposes of working for us."
Alfons smiled politely. "I understand."
He signed fast, before he had time to think about everything in his head and get cold feet. It didn't really sound that bad, after all.
The Fuhrer took his hand, shaking it warmly. "I wish you good luck on your assignment, Alfons Heiderich."
"Thank you, sir."
--
Mustang followed him out, down the hall, back towards his office. He didn't speak a word, and Alfons felt almost nervous again. Probably too early to feel relief.
Mustang opened the door to his office and motioned to Alfons to get inside. Alfons walked fast past him and stopped in the middle of the room, hearing the door close behind him.
Roy sighed, finally opening his mouth. "You did well, Alfons."
Alfons turned around, lightening up. Even though he couldn't forget what Hakuro had said about Edward. "What about Edward?"
"Don't worry about that," Mustang said. "I'll do with him as I did with you, clear his head on the story, and he'll do just fine."
Alfons nodded. "I understand. Thank you, sir."
Mustang smiled, shaking his hand. "Welcome to my unit, Alfons. I can assure you that your salary will be noticeably higher than it has been before."
That wasn't so bad either.
"I'll give you a couple of hours now, but tell Edward I want to see you both here at 3 pm," Mustang continued. "We need to discuss the circumstances about our little project."
"Yes, sir."
"You are dismissed."
Alfons bowed and went out of the office, feeling very relieved to have it over with. Everything would work out now, right?
--
He returned to the to the dorm room shortly after, only to find it empty. To be sure, he looked over the room for any traces of Edward, but he didn't find any notes or clues of where he had gone.
Alfons slumped down on his bed, frowning. Where would Edward go just like that? Why hadn't he left a note? Was it because they had had an argument? Did Edward really care to leave a note at all anyway?
Alfons sighed deep. He had yet to talk to Edward about everything. Or else it would definitely be hard to work together. And if Edward weren't back within two hours, they would be late for Mustang's meeting.
He stood up, deciding to go out and look for him. Edward couldn't be that far away, right? Alfons didn't actually have any ideas where to look, but he would be too restless to sit still any longer.
He left the dorms, using the same path as he had done the day before when Edward sourly had told him to leave him alone. The halls led him out of the HQ-building, towards the small park.
If he found him, what would he say? Edward was probably still in his abhorrent mood.
Alfons still didn't know exactly what was wrong. Edward refused to tell him anything. Why? How could he make Edward tell him? Did he have a right to know anyway? It could be none of his business. But still, Edward should be able to part from things and include him in his life as they used to, right? They had succeeded coming here together after all. Even if it hadn't been planned...
They had lived together for a very long time, they knew a great deal about each other, and they had a relationship! So what could possibly bother Edward that didn't have anything to do with Alfons? Maybe it was a selfish thing to think, he thought grimly, but it was also quite realistic.
Besides, he had a good reason why he started thinking this way. That it was him Edward had a problem with... He sighed as this particular depressing thought felt heavier and heavier on his shoulders, more than anything else.
He and Edward hadn't kissed since they were hospitalized three days ago. Not as they used to.
It made him even more depressed, and was probably the main thing that bothered him. And he found himself trying to figure out some sort of explainable excuses for Edward for not kissing him.
Was it that Edward was afraid to let this world know about their relationship? They had kept it secret in Munich without much trouble. No one had found out except a military man from Thule Society. But he hadn't lived long enough to tell the tale any further, as far as he knew. Still Alfons had to admit to himself that he wouldn't mind much if they could tell some people, if they wouldn't have been punished for it. Their relationship was a sin after all. If people had found out about them back in Munich, they wouldn't just have received despised looks from all the people they knew. They would've been arrested and punished with dreadful means. Alfons felt sick, thinking about it. How horrible the rules against sexual relationship between men really were. It wasn't fair. For them, love was something to be hidden from the world. He wondered if Edward ever thought about it that way.
He had heard stories about methods of punishment for homosexual relationships. Not only imprisonment for a long time, but also electrical shocks on private parts of the body, whipping and even execution. Hanging. Shooting. You name it.
The rules might be the same here.
Alfons shuddered, holding around himself even though it wasn't really cold outside. Nevertheless, if Edward were afraid for their secret, he would talk to him about it, wouldn't he? It concerned him as much as it concerned Edward.
Yes, Alfons decided. Edward would have told him if it was something like that he was thinking. They had almost been busted some times, even kissed in public without thinking. Luckily no one had seen them. They had just laughed about it afterwards, not feeling worried.
Alfons smiled of the memory. So what bothered Edward had to be something else. Edward would at least had taken his chances when they were alone as he used to, but now he didn't even look at him as soon as they were alone.
Maybe Edward wanted to be with someone else. Alfons knew that Edward had been together with someone, another man, before he got trapped in the other world. He wondered who the other man was. He realized he didn't know as much about Edward as Edward might know about him. About his past and life. Alfons had never had any problems with telling Edward about himself, and Edward had always politely listened. And it was true that Edward had opened himself more some months before when Alfons really started to believe that another world existed. But how much did he really know about Edward's private life from before? Close to nothing.
But if Edward really had wanted to be with someone else, why had he bothered bringing him to this world? Alfons' thoughts darkened. Because he had thought Alfons was going to die...
He shook his head. No. These accusations were too serious and too evil to be directed at Edward. Edward would never hurt him like that. He was a good person. Whatever bothered him that he let out on Alfons, Edward had to have a damned good reason for it.
Walking in deep thoughts and starting to get mad at himself, Alfons suddenly came to look up front and he froze abruptly to the ground.
On a bench bathed in pale sunlight, sat no other than a blond young man with his head draped back and his elbows resting on the top of the bench by his shoulders. Edward's eyes were closed in the laid back position.
Alfons calmed down from the slight shock of suddenly running into him. This was what he wanted. To find him. Now that he had succeeded in doing that, only the hard part was left. Talk to him. And Alfons felt an urge to apologize.
He wondered if the blond was asleep, but he didn't think so. He knew how Edward looked like when he was sleeping, and now his expressive face only looked lost in deep thoughts.
He stepped closer, slowly, but made sure his steps made some sound so Edward would hear it. He didn't want to startle him by suddenly be right next to him.
Edward's eyes knitted into a scowl before he opened his eyes. He aimed a glance towards him to see who was disturbing him. Recognising him, Edward's golden eyes lingered at him for a long time without saying a word.
Alfons stopped a pair of metres in front of him, not saying anything either. He wondered if Edward would take the initiative to talk.
"What are you doing here?" Edward finally asked, sounding a bit stiff.
"Taking a walk," Alfons replied. "What about you?"
"Thinking."
Alfons nodded slowly. "I see. Do you mind if I sit?"
Edward shrugged. "No, I was just leaving," he muttered. He rose and stuffed his hands in his pockets.
Alfons frowned and shot forward, grabbing Edward's prosthetic arm before he could walk away. Did Edward just flinch? Alfons had hoped that this conversation would have had a better start.
"What are you doing?" Edward tried to retrieve his arm, but he didn't let go.
"No," he said. "What are you doing, Edward? We're falling apart. Understand me correctly." He caught his own voice getting louder without being able to stop the word flow. "You can do whatever the hell you want, but not without an explanation."
What am I saying? Alfons didn't really know. He felt totally lost.
Edward looked at him, brows knitting together. Then he simply turned his head away from him.
Alfons grabbed both of his shoulders, forcing the smaller blond to look at him. At least he knew one thing: He refused to accept this kind of behaviour. He was angry and hurt. Edward had no idea what he was doing to him. He wanted some explanations. "Just talk to me already!" Alfons exhaled. "Why are you avoiding me?"
If he really had a good reason, he'd better spit it out!
Edward stood stiff in his grip, his eyes down on the ground, still scowling. There was a long silence. It felt unbearable. The fear of the worst came back. Was Edward really thinking that he didn't want to be with him anymore?
"Alfons..." Edward said in a low voice. "Calm yourself down for a change. You're overreacting."
"What?" Alfons hissed.
"I have a lot of things on my mind right now, and it's not getting better when you're worried all the time," Edward continued, finally lifting his gaze and met his eyes. "You should concentrate on your background story for your interview."
Alfons stared bewildered at him. At least he wasn't still denying that something was wrong. But instead of talking with him about it Edward tried to act rational?
"They moved the hearing," Alfons said quietly. "It was today."
Edward's eyes widened. "They what?" He muttered some curses. "Bastards..."
Alfons failed to hide a small smile. Just by having that small reaction from Edward was enough to make him in a better mood. It was almost scary how much effect a person could have on him.
"So," Edward said slowly. "How did it go?"
"Good, I think," Alfons answered. "I'm hired."
Edward nodded. "I knew you would be."
Alfons wasn't sure if Edward meant he had known because he had done a good job or just because the military wanted him for their plans. But he ignored it.
"Edward," he said, lowering his voice and his fingers clutching more tightly around the other's shoulders. "Are we still the same as before?"
Edward scowled at him. "What do you mean?"
Alfons hesitated. "Are we still... together?"
Edward sighed and rubbed his temple with his flesh hand. "Of course we are."
"That didn't sound too much convincing," Alfons rebuked. "And if you still trust me, why can't you be open with me anymore?"
Edward abruptly twisted out of his grasp and dodged past him. Alfons turned around, staring hurt after the smaller blond.
Edward stopped and stuffed his hands down his pockets again, only half turning towards him. "It's my problem. You wouldn't understand..." Then he started walking away. Again.
Alfons stared after him, standing like nailed to the ground. Why was Edward always turning away from him lately? What wouldn't Alfons understand?
"You don't even give me a chance to understand anything!" he called irately after him.
Edward slowed down for a second, but he continued walking without turning around.
Alfons sighed deep and slumped down on the bench. He had at least gotten Edward to talk to him, but he didn't feel much better.
Everyone had something on their mind once in a while. It didn't have to make Edward like a complete stranger to him.
A clanking noise made him look up and his heart leaped up in his throat. Edward was on the ground, his knees and elbows had suffered from the fall.
Before Alfons knew it he was sprinting towards him and knelt down by his side. Edward groaned and clutched his left leg where the skin ended and the prosthetics started. He looked like he was in unbearable pain, small pearls of sweat revealed on his forehead.
"Are you okay?!" Alfons blurted. "What's wrong?"
Edward managed to sit up on his palms and knees, breathing hard. "It's nothing. I'm fine."
"Damn it, Edward," Alfons argued. "You're not fine! Did your metal leg fail?"
"I guess," Edward admitted.
"You must see a doctor," Alfons insisted. "They know better of metal limbs in this world, right? And we don't have your father's spare parts anymore." He held Edward's arm to help him up, but Edward pushed him away.
"I said I'm fine," Edward snarled.
"Then try walking on that leg by yourself," Alfons barked.
Edward shifted and stood up, but abruptly avoided to put any weight on his metal leg. He grimaced by the pain.
"Come on," Alfons sighed, hoisting Edward's flesh arm over his shoulder. "Let's get you back to the dorms."
Edward obliged without a word.
Alfons calmed himself down as they went, supporting Edward while he limped beside him. The prosthetics had always been Edward's greatest weakness, and with Edward's pride, he was naturally too stubborn to face that he was vulnerable when they failed him. Was he suddenly too proud to accept help from even him?
They went in total silence back to the dorms. Alfons wondered if Edward would finally open up to him when they were safely inside and alone in their room. Or would he just turn away from him again? Alfons was almost scared to go inside the door and find out.
Once they were inside, Edward let himself go from him and continued on beforehand by himself towards the bed, jumping on one foot and supporting himself to the wall.
Alfons closed the door, the lock clicked in place automatically as the door was shut. He leant his back towards the door, sighing deep.
How deeply he wished right now, that they could go back in time to live their life as they did in Munich. Edward and he would have the closeness he loved, shared their lives, and he wouldn't have worried so much and Edward would've thought that his brother was safe. And then he wouldn't have prevented Edward from closing the Gate, and he would at least have died happy.
Alfons felt sick. What a selfish bastard you are, he told himself. He looked down, ashamed of himself.
Wasn't Edward feeling anything similar? How could he just pretend not to care about their relationship anymore?
He left an uncomfortable lump in his chest, growing bigger, threatening to reach his throat and suffocate him.
A single tear ran down his cheek, and he took a deep breath. Was he crying? Since when did he become such a baby?
"What are you doing, Alfons?"
Alfons jumped back into the door, hitting his head towards the hard wood.
Edward stood by the end of the small hall on one leg, looking bewildered at him. His golden eyes studied his ocean blue. Obviously Edward was finally seeing that he felt like shit. He was about to congratulate him, but stopped himself just in time. He couldn't come up with any proper answer.
Edward sighed and turned for his bed. Alfons could hear him lie down and curl up.
How he wanted to lie beside him now.
He went slowly forward until he stood between their beds, in the middle of the room. "Did something happen?" he asked, almost in a whisper. "Something happened to you."
Edward turned to lie on his back. "What are you talking about?" he muttered.
"What happened to your spirit? Why are you so distant? You've acted strange since we arrived at Central," Alfons opposed.
"I said I haven't!" Edward argued. "Quit complaining about everything! Maybe I shouldn't have bro—!" Edward abruptly cut himself off, closing his mouth.
Alfons frowned. "Shouldn't have what?"
No reply.
"You shouldn't have brought me along? Is that what you were saying?" Alfons asked harshly.
No reply to that either.
The lump in his throat grew bigger each second as his worst fears were being confirmed. He was falling into shock. Edward really didn't want him here? Did he regret bringing him to this world?
"I didn't ask to come either!" Alfons yelled. He turned abruptly and sprung fast towards the door. He needed air...
"Alfons, wait!" Edward called, suddenly all in panic. "I didn't mean it—!" He struggled to get up from the bed and up on the ground, but Alfons didn't bother turning around. He turned the lock to open the door and swung it hard up. Then he marched quickly out.
He heard a heavy crash against the floor before the door slammed shut. He turned around, looking at the door and stopped completely.
His heart beat hard against his chest and his fists were clenching so tightly it hurt. He hadn't even noticed that he had been doing it. He was angry and the inner pain was just unbearable. How could Edward do something like this to him? He hadn't asked him to bring him along. When Edward asked him if he would come he had said no...
It wasn't his fault that he was here now. But was he only being a burden after all?
Alfons turned to leave, but stopped. Despite of his thoughts, he couldn't help wondering slightly why Edward didn't bother coming out after him. And what had that sound been just now?
He sniffled and dried his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. He felt pathetic. Then he stepped slowly back towards the door. Nothing would be solved by running away. Not until they talked properly to each other.
Looking at the door for some seconds, Alfons suddenly remembered that he had left his keys inside. The only way to open the door was to have a key, unless you unlocked it from the inside.
He laid his ear towards the door for some seconds, before he stepped back. "Edward?" he called silently.
Everything was quiet now. He knocked. "Let me back in, Edward."
Still no answer.
"Do you hear me?" he called a little louder. "Edward, open up already!"
What was Edward doing in there? Didn't he want to make things all right between them? Or did he really rather prefer him to go back through the Gate? Or was something wrong?
He knocked harder on the door. "Hey! Are you okay?"
When he still didn't get any reply, he started to get scared. "I'm coming in!" he called determined. Then he slammed his shoulder towards the door.
"Ouch..." he muttered and clutched his pained shoulder.
The door barely moved by the contact. But despite of the nagging pain, he repeated the action several times. He put all his strength and weight towards the door, hoping to make it loose from its hinges. His shoulder felt sore and socked after the rough treatment. With a yell he kicked towards the door as hard as he could, and the door went out of its position and fell sideways into the hall.
Alfons breathed hard, walking fast into the hall with an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He froze to the spot by the sight of his beloved friend.
Edward lay on the stomach on the floor, arms and legs in deviant positions around him. His eyes were closed and a tiny red spot lied on the floor by his forehead.
"Edward!" Alfons gasped, hurriedly kneeling down beside him. His gut twisted around by the sight of the blood. How had this happened?
"Can you hear me?" he whispered, fighting fear and nausea.
Was this his fault? Everything seemed like Edward had lost his balance when he came after him and hit his head in the fall. Maybe he had forgotten that his prosthetic leg had failed him.
"Edward..." Alfons carefully lifted Edward and turned him around on his back, resting his upper half in his arms. With the sleeve of his shirt, he gently laid pressure on the bleeding wound on his lover's forehead. He wanted to hit himself. This was his fault. "I'm sorry," he cried. "I'm sorry!" He clutched him to his chest. "It's my fault... I'm just afraid. I don't want to lose you." The arm of his shirt was getting slightly moist with blood. He curved his neck down to kiss the blond head. "You're the only one I have in the entire world."
Carefully he took a better hold around the older – but smaller – blond and lifted him up, bridal style. This reminded him sickly of the time he had drugged him and carried him to the rocket.
But it was different now. Now he intended to be with Edward as long as he wanted him. He would never run, no matter what happened.
Whatever Edward faced in his mind, Alfons wanted to endure it through and be supportive. It didn't matter to him what issue it would be. Edward didn't deserve someone who just stood by complaining and worrying.
Edward needed someone he could count on.
Alfons laid him gently down on the bed and rushed to the bathroom to find some medical supplies. He found some cleaning oil and bandages in one of the closets, and hurried back to the bedside. Lightly he daubed the wound on Edward's forehead with a cotton ball, cleaning off the blood.
Edward's face stirred, and a soft groan escaped his lips. "That hurts..." He moseyed up at Alfons.
"Are you all right?" Alfons asked softly.
"Yeah, think so... My head is killing me though..." he murmured. "What the hell happened?" Then his eyes widened, as he suddenly remembered.
"I'm sorry, Edward," Alfons said. "Just..." he stopped, not sure how to continue.
Edward didn't look at him or ask to finish the sentence, and Alfons shook his head, trying to shake off the angst. "You should take your failed prosthetic into account next time you're going after me," he advised. Then he added: "I came back though... Even though I had to run the bloody door down to get to you."
Edward looked flabbergasted up at him while he continued to clean off his wound. "You broke the door?"
Alfons motioned for him to lift his head a little, supporting the back of his head with his hand. "I had left my keys. Sit still, will you?" He started adding the bandage around his forehead while Edward obediently submitted to the treatment, only occasionally doing a grimace of the pain.
"Done," Alfons said a short while after.
"Thanks," Edward said silently.
"You'll be fine now." Alfons stood up. "Just get some rest. We need to be at the Colonel's office at 3 pm."
Edward flinched. "For what?"
"We're starting the project, of course," Alfons said slowly. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," Edward replied, staring up at the ceiling.
Alfons turned for his own bed. He could need an hour's sleep himself. Just get some small distance to everything on his mind. Or maybe going out and leave Edward alone was a better idea?
"Alfons," Edward said.
He turned and looked at him.
"You're not the one to be sorry," Edward started. "You're right. I haven't been... all the same, I suppose. And for that... I am truly sorry."
Alfons held a hand up to stop him. "I know, you have a lot on your mind." He smiled a thin smile, looking down towards the floor. "Maybe I'm overreacting sometimes, as you said. But before you shared everything with me. Things about your world." He looked towards the ponytailed blond again. "I'm in it now, Edward," he added sensibly. "Why don't you still share it with me?"
Edward didn't look at him anymore. As usual. "I figured you had enough on your mind yourself," he replied.
"That doesn't mean I wouldn't appreciate you being open towards me," Alfons countered.
Edward was about to reply but closed his mouth.
There was a small silence.
"So..." Alfons started again, feeling a frightening grip around his heart for what reply his next question would bring. "Do you really regret bringing me to this world?" He looked away, afraid to keep his eyes at Edward and for what expression he might have.
"Alfons," Edward said, searching for his eye contact. "Of course I don't. I don't know what..."
Slowly Alfons dared look at him again. Did he really mean that?
Edward leant forward, his large eyes pleading for him to understand. "I don't know what I would do without you," he whispered. Then he did something much unexpected. He sat up slightly and moved closer to the wall, making room. After that he motioned for Alfons to come closer.
Feeling his eyes watering again, Alfons' heart lifted. Edward really wanted to be close to him again. Lay beside him. Share the bed.
He laid down slowly where there was room for him, facing Edward on his side.
Edward snuggled into his neck and draped an arm over his waist. "I'm sorry, Alfons," he whispered.
Alfons locked an arm around the other teen and held him near, his eyes fluttering closed.
Thank God... he thought silently. Hopefully Edward wasn't going to shut him out anymore.