Chapter 9: No sacrifice, no achievement

--

"Alphonse! Get back here!"

Tears were stinging in his eyes. He didn't even care to listen to the voice calling out from behind him. All he could do was to keep running as fast as he could, causing the sand of the desert to scatter and his old alarm-red coat flailing wildly behind him.

The military base was a complete mess and the sound of the large, black flying machine loomed above, but he had more important things to worry about. The smaller flying machine was this close. There was no way he would just do nothing!

Then the fourth bomb hit on the east side of the military base, and he was abruptly thrown off his feet and headed straight down into the dry, red sand.

With a hitch of breath, Alphonse Elric crawled to his feet, looking behind him to see if Colonel Roy Mustang was all right. The bomb had hit quite close. But all he could see through eyes stinging with sand, was thick, black smoke welling up and laid like a carpet over the desert.

He took a deep gulp of air, his throat filling with ash and dust and he coughed. No matter what, he wouldn't turn back now. This was a field. This was war. He had just witnessed a good man get heartlessly crushed to death by the enemy. There was no way he would just accept it. Mustang might, but he just couldn't.

Al turned towards the flying machine again. All he had to do was to touch it and send a portion of his soul into it, and then he'd be able to see where they were heading. In other words, he could find out exactly where their hideout was. It was the only plan he had, but it could work. If he didn't do it, they would just disappear again without a trace. And then people had to continue living in fear of a new attack.

New attacks would come. More people would die. Alphonse couldn't stand the thought of it.

He started running again, but suddenly he noticed that he wasn't alone out in the desert. Al stopped abruptly and gasped with wide dark-gold eyes.

A tall man with dark hair and some sort of black uniform stood all of a sudden right in front of him with his arms crossed.

Al eyes him stiffly for a moment, and the man eyed him back. Neither of them moved an inch.

"This isn't a place for you, kiddo," the man suddenly spoke. Slowly he started advancing Al. "Are you alone?"

Al took some rigid steps back, not replying but still kept a sharp and wary eye on him. He had never seen a uniform like that before. Obviously he had come from the inside of the flying machine. He had to be from the terrorist organization. The enemy.

Al's bright eyes fell suddenly on the ground seeing a shadow sneaking up from behind him. With a short gasp, he ducked as he felt the air pressure of something swinging right towards his head, and jinked to the left to get away from the assaulter.

His heart raced fast as he got his opponents into view. There were two of them now. The one that had come from behind him was shorter and corpulent. He grinned. "This one surely has some fight in him, Schiller."

The first man smiled, while both watched Al carefully. "Indeed," the man named Schiller replied. "Why would a kid like you be playing out here?"

Al was sinking lower into a defence position in the sand, eyeing them both back but decided to play along their game. "I wanted to have a closer look at that machine," he said.

"Really?" the corpulent guy replied. "Well, I can understand that. Why don't you come with us so you can have a better look?"

They motioned to get closer and Al clapped, quickly activating the transmutations circles inside his palms. He touched the ground, feeling the alchemic energy flow through his body, creating blue sparkles around his gloved hands.

The two men looked surprised as the sand suddenly started growing. It lifted itself up in the air, forming a giant wave which headed straight towards them. They didn't even have time to run. Yelling, they were hit by the sand-wave and got buried underneath a carpet of sand.

Al started running again, directly towards the flying machine. He was almost there! But just as he thought he had escaped his two enemies, a hand stuck abruptly up from the loose sand and gripped around his ankle.

"Aah!" Al stumbled to the ground on his stomach, trying to fight off the corpulent man that had gotten a firm grip on him. But he was strong. Al was dragged back as the man threw sand in his eyes, making him blind and he was left struggling to wipe off his eyes as the man slipped up of the sand that had just buried him. Before Al could get up, he was pinned to the ground, the man grinning and holding his hands carefully apart from each other.

"Schiller," he said. "I think we found something."

Schiller made some effort to get up a few feet away. "I think so too, Ackman."

Al struggled to get free. "Let go of me!" He kicked his legs and twisted his body.

"Hurry up and sedate him."

Al felt fear gripped his heart and stomach made an uncomfortable twirl. Bronze eyes widened as he spotted the man who was called Schiller prepared a needle. "Stop!" he yelled. "Help! Mustang!"

"Shh, kiddo," Schiller said. "It won't hurt."

And without warning Al felt an uncomfortable stick of a needle into the side of his neck. He gasped out. "No!" He kept struggling until everything fogged in front of his eyes. "Colonel..." he whispered. The surroundings started spinning in his head and his eyes started drooping. He couldn't keep himself awake. His movements slowed down, and his body went limb like a ragdoll.

--

Al didn't know for how long he was unconscious. When he awoke he found himself in a quite unfamiliar situation. His head was tilting uncomfortably back, and he felt like he was hanging in the air while being in motion. He was lying on his back, but he didn't have solid ground underneath. Only after some seconds in the unaware state he could finally make out that someone was holding him firmly under his back and knees.

He was being carried. Struggling to get in control of his dazed mind, he heard a distant voice, barely recognizing the words.

"I think he'll awake soon. The sedative doesn't last much longer."

Alphonse's eyelids were slowly focusing as he realized that he was being carried through a softly illuminated corridor. "Where...?" he whispered.

His carrier stopped. "He's waking up."

Al's eyes widened, gaining back his senses as he were staring up at his captivator named Schiller. He made a quick attempt to get himself down and away from him. He had been acting faster than Schiller had expected him to, because he managed to get his own feet on the ground and tugged himself free of the grasp. Just as both of the men moved to capture him again, Al clapped.

But something was wrong. Nothing happened.

His eyes widened and breath hitched into s small gasp. His eyes fixed on his hands. His gloves were gone.

They grinned at him, and Al was efficiently stopped from escaping by being pushed into the nearest wall. Schiller twisted his small arms behind his back and handcuffed him.

"No!" Alphonse's heart leaped forty miles per second, struggling with all force. "Let go of me," he breathed. His throat was dry and he was unsuccessful in preventing the uncomfortable position.

"He's a little devil, isn't he?" the corpulent man called Ackman said.

"Indeed."

Al didn't catch the words. They sounded far away. He was feeling dizzy and had a strong attack lurching in his stomach; the floor before his big bronze eyes went in and out of focus. He gulped down a thick lump of nausea, feeling a disgusting taste in his mouth. It had to be the after-effects of the sedative.

Al scolded himself mentally, frustrated of his situation. How could he have been so stupid, getting captured like this?

"Be a good boy now," Schiller said tonelessly. "We have an important appointment to attend to." Before he could protest, Al was dragged away from the wall with his arms in a painful lock. Schiller took a good grip around his ponytail, yanking his head back as soon as he tried to pull himself free. A small bleat of pain escaped his throat, and he forced his own movements to calm down to normal.

This was not a good week. Al suddenly regretted having an argument with Winry before he left home. He was going to call her in Lior, but he had forgotten about it when the attacks came and the entire ruckus started.

"I found this on you," Ackman said, holding up his state alchemist watch.

Al twisted his head, forgetting that Schiller still held him by his hair. His breath hitched both of agony and worry as his eyes fixed on the watch.

"Looks valuable to you," Ackman commented.

"Give that back!" Al snapped, trying to run towards him, but was jolted back by the other man.

Ackman laughed. "Nah, I think I'll keep it."

"You won't need it down here, kiddo," Schiller said easily. "Time doesn't matter anymore."

Al was forced to move on down the corridor, his teeth gritting. "What do you want with me?" he asked breathlessly, scowling at Ackman while Schiller was holding his shoulders while they walked.

"You should be happy, kiddo," Schiller said.

Ackman continued. "Yeah. If you hadn't preformed your extraordinary magic, we would simply have killed you."

Al swallowed hard, but his eyes darkened. "Who are you people? Why do you attack everyone?"

"Save your breath and shut up," Ackman said.

"We're about to meet our superior, so you should behave yourself," Schiller said with a smile. "She's a strict woman."

Al unwillingly obliged and continued walking without a word. Instead he looked around the corridor. It was just a simple corridor. It didn't give any clues where he was or how he had gotten here. He had been in Lior, out in the desert, but without having it confirmed, he was sure he was at a completely different place now.

A short while later, they were entering a double door into a huge room without any windows. The only illumination was fire; candles and torches everywhere on the walls. The ceiling was high above their heads. Al gazed around the room, seeing more soldiers in black uniforms.

Where was this place? As he got a closer look at the walls, he noticed they were stone. Likely they were inside a mountain or underground.

He received some interested looks from the other people, but no one said anything. They were standing in a big circle, looking like they waited to start something more of a ceremony than just a formal meeting.

Al was shoved towards the circle of people, and they stopped as they filled in the empty holes of the circle.

"Keep being a good boy now, kiddo," Schiller said in a low voice, smiling severely. "Our mistress will be here soon."

Al's eyes gazed at the floor, and gasped as he recognized what he was looking at in the shimmering candlelight. The people hadn't taken their circular stance randomly. They were standing around a spherical drawing on the floor. It was a huge transmutation circle.

Did these people do alchemy too? If they did, why had they called it magic?

Suddenly he heard clanking sounds of footsteps. The sound of the steps told him that it was a woman, as her high heels were clattering against the stone floor. Al lifted his gaze towards the new approaching woman. She stopped in the last hole of the circle, the fiery light glistening in her light green eyes. Her hair was blonder than the sun, barely touching her shoulders in length. As contrast to the other people of the group, she was wearing a white uniform with a mantle flaunting nonchalantly behind her.

Her sharp eyes trailed to everyone on the group, stopping at Alphonse for some seconds, before they continued. Then she smiled.

"My dear friends," she said. "I thank you for each of your efforts during the last mission."

Al frowned, his face darkening from the statement. The image of Lieutenant Colonel Light lying there, blooded and pale, dead as stone, had burned into his mind. And now she was just standing there smiling, thanking everyone for dropping the bombs. He turned cold, clenching his fists behind his back. But he still had Schiller's hands on his shoulders, and the man had probably noticed that he had tensed up, because he was squeezing his shoulders warningly.

Al figured it would be best not to lose control now.

The tall woman lifted her hands towards the gathering. "I've always wanted to fulfil the destiny of who each of us are, and who we will become," she said in a deep, whispering voice. "Eventually we will know how to make the most out of the great opportunities life can give us, and how to avoid the negative influences that distracts us from achieving our true life's purpose..." She took a deep breath, closing her eyes. "...and which path to take in order to have the happiest, the most fulfilling life that is available to us."

The rest of the gathering muttered agreeing, all with their eyes closed. Al looked from one to another, wondering what this was. Some kind of religious thing?

"And you are well to know that this is why we are sent out on this important mission," she continued slowly. "To destroy those negative influences, and every other obstacle standing in our way, those that are preventing our goals to be achieved."

Al stood like frozen as her eyes opened and glued at him, a slight smile revealing on her thin lips.

"Boy, I'm surprised that you have been brought here. It must mean that you managed to impress my comrades."

Al's knees nearly weakened by the sudden direct confrontment. This woman loomed of authority and confidence.

"Our motor jet went down," Schiller said. "But we managed to fix the problem temporarily. Although, before we left, he showed up."

Ackman gazed at the smaller boy, smiling deviously. "He did a quite impressing type of magic."

"I see," the woman replied. "So you are an alchemist, boy?"

Al nodded firmly, trying not to show that he was scared. "I am."

She smiled, but it had far left to reach her eyes. "Let me introduce myself. I am Dietlinde Eckart, the leader of Thule Society."

Al mused at her. Thule Society? So that was what they called themselves. She seemed just like a natural leader-type. He wondered absent-mindedly how he was supposed to get himself out of this mess. There was no ways out of there, at least not as he could momentarily see. And he was alone against at least twenty people. They would probably not give him any useful answers, but he decided to take his chances to ask some questions.

"Where is this place?" he asked, his voice a little shaky.

"This place?" Eckart repeated. "Right now we're far underneath the surface of your world, so you can forget about escaping."

Al alarmingly noted the way she said 'your world'. Why did she say that? Who were these people?

"You are quite young to be an alchemist," she commented, moving on. "What is your name?"

His large, bronze orbs focused on her again. "My name is Alphonse Elric."

She stiffened, eyes widening. The recognizing of his name was obvious, and it made Alphonse very alarmed.

Dietlinde Eckart started laughing, factually cackling hysterically. "Elric, Alphonse?" It seemed close to the funniest thing she had ever heard. This was a completely different side of her than the one Al had first gotten the impression of. After a while she finally stopped, but she kept grinning wickedly and took a breath. "That's really hilarious."

Alphonse almost started backing away, unsure what to think, but he was still hold firmly, despite of being handcuffed. What did all of this mean? Why had she started laughing like that?

"Oh, that's right," Dietlinde Eckart said, more to herself than anyone else. "Hohenheim had another son. Alphonse? You must be the Heiderich-boy's parallel. And that little genius-brat's younger brother. Aren't you?"

Alphonse's eyes widened. He hadn't a clue about the half of what she was talking about, but he didn't care. She had mentioned his family. She knew his brother.

Alphonse found himself jerking forward, only to be held back by Schiller. "Where is he?!" Al blurted. "My brother. You know where he is, don't you?"

Dietlinde Eckart gave him an interested look. Then she said slowly. "Yes, I do know."

Al's heart pounded one million beats a second, nearly leaping right out of his chest. He stood there breathing, not knowing what to feel the most. Relieved or happy or scared. His brother was still alive, like he had always known. But what did it mean that these people knew who Edward was? They couldn't be his friends. The thought of what they might have done to his brother scared Al, but he pushed the thought away.

"Please," he said, trying to be calm. "Tell me where he is."

Eckart smiled knowingly. "Have you been out looking for your brother?"

Al nodded.

"I can tell you where he is," she said. "But first you must do something for me."

Al wasn't too fast of feeling relieved of her reply. Something didn't smell too good about it. "What would you need me for?" he asked warily.

"I need your alchemist skills," she simply replied.

"What for?" Alphonse asked again.

"It will take some time for the proper arrangements to be set, and then you'll know. But I want a yes or a no now."

Al hesitated.

Eckart smirked. "If you want to see your brother again, you won't have a choice."

Al swallowed. He had to take his chances. Or else everything would've been for nothing. His goal was to find his brother, and only that. And if he said no, then what? He would never find a real clue, and they would kill him...?

"Okay," Al said resolutely. "I'll do it."

"Good," she beamed. "We have a deal." She nodded at Schiller. "Keep him secured until everything is ready. It will possibly take some days."

"Yes, ma'am."

Alphonse gazed nervous about. Days? What was she talking about?

Then he was shoved away out of the room through a different door than they had come. He felt anxious about the deal, but somehow excited too. He knew he couldn't trust whatever this woman was telling him. But her reaction to his name had been real. His brother was truly alive. If she had met him, she had met him after he had disappeared over two years ago.

Al frowned. If she hadn't done anything terrible to him... Even if he didn't want to think that way, the thought still plagued him.

Why were these people here and not Edward? He was sure Edward would do everything he possibly could to get back home. That was something else that troubled him. Edward was a genius. An amazing alchemist. And he had spoken to many people around Amestris about him to find out about his own past. Everyone had talked enthusiastically about the great Fullmetal Alchemist. The alchemist who worked for the sake of the people, even if he was a dog of the military.

Al lowered his head. If Edward couldn't come back, he wondered if he could do anything. But he shook the thought off right away. Everyone had always just waited and waited for Edward to return by himself, or just assumed that he was dead. Since Edward was the great alchemist, everyone would always expect him to do everything on his own. No one had actually done anything to help him.

But he would. No matter what, he would do what he could to get Edward back.

Schiller was taking him down hundreds of stairs. It was almost as dark as plain black, but every now and then their path was lit up by a torch on the wall.

"Did Thule Society create this place?" Al asked in a low voice.

"Not quite," Schiller replied silently. "We found it quite accidentally. It's probably ancient. Seems like no one has been here for many years, but Chairman Eckart made some adjustments with her magic."

So Eckart could do alchemy... "I see." Al shivered. It was cold as ice down here.

At last they were down at the bottom, walking down another corridor of stone.

"Here it is, kiddo. I'm sorry about the facility."

Al didn't think he sounded very sorry, but he didn't say anything. He was looking at a cell, a cage made of cold stone-blocks. The bars in front were thick and made of strong iron. The cell didn't have any windows either. Which probably wasn't so strange, since they were apparently underground.

Schiller shoved Al gently inside, digging up a pair of keys from his pocket. "To tell you the truth, we had never intended to use these cells."

Al looked at him bitterly. "Rather finish the job than take any prisoners?"

"Yes." Schiller didn't even sound bothered, which troubled Al even more. He rather said it like it was the most natural thing in the world.

His handcuffs were removed. He wondered if they actually were so stupid that they would leave him in the cell unbound. In that case, he would be free in no time. All he would need was something to draw with.

But he should have known they weren't that careless. Schiller almost gently pushed his back against the inner wall of the cell.

Al suddenly saw to his horror what was going to happen next, and he tried to bolt for the door, past the man, but Schiller held him firmly around his chest and caught his wrist.
"No! Please!" Al breathed.

Schiller simply kicked his legs away underneath him, making him crash right onto the unforgiving, cold floor. Working quickly, Al got pulled up in sitting position and his arms locked in shackles above his head with enough distance from each other to prevent them from touching anything.

"Stop," he gasped. "You don't have to do this. I won't run away."

Schiller smiled as he tugged at the shackles to see if they would hold. "I'm afraid she wouldn't have agreed to that." He stood up and fired a new torch.

Al twisted and struggled, but all he could do was to sit there with his arms in the tiring position. The shackles didn't even have enough slack to allow him to stand up. He stared up at Schiller in terror. Was he going to leave him down here?

"This is not necessary," he protested. "I can't do alchemy without my gloves. Please."

Schiller looked at him with the torch in his hand. "I don't know much about that magic. But your hands can't touch each other, and you can't draw any magic circles. That should be necessary enough."

Al's eyes hardened and he kept struggling fiercely.

Schiller made no motion to notice and placed the torch in a small hook on the wall to Alphonse's left. "It'll keep you warm," he said. Then he turned to leave.

"Wait," Al said in a low voice, and Schiller turned. "Why would I do alchemy for you, when you lock me up like this?"

Schiller shrugged. "That depends."

Al breathed. "Depends on what?"

"How much you wish to see your brother again."

Al fell silent. Of course he wanted to see his brother again. That was why he was here. That was the reason he had joined the military in the first place. The reason for everything.

Schiller turned to leave again.

"Do you have him locked up as well?" Al asked, his voice shaky.

Schiller stopped by the bars and looked at him over his shoulder. "No. If you want to find him, you'll have to do as we say. Your brother isn't anywhere near here."

Frowning, Al wondering if he had been right. That he was at the place Thule had come from. "Where is he then?" he asked quietly.

Schiller was silent for a while. Then he replied: "In another world. The real world."

That said, the cell door slammed shut and Schiller walked back the same way they had come, leaving Alphonse in a strange combination of fright and wonder.

What had he meant about that? Did another world exist out there? Why had he called it the real world? Had he even been serious or not? Al didn't exactly know. Schiller was pretty hard to read.

He wanted to find out more about this, but there was nothing more he could do for now.

With a small groan, Al sat himself up properly with his knees to his chest. Struggling and pulling the shackles wasn't much help, but he didn't give up that easily. He stretched his fingertips, trying to make them touch each other. He would scratch off his skin until he bled if he could, in order to draw a circle. But his hands were long out of reach of each other.

He fought a long and tiring battle with the iron that bound him, but had to face his loss in the end.

Defeated and worn out, Al rested his forehead heavily on his knees. He tried to fall asleep. It was the only way to make the time go faster so he could at least be let out from this cell. But he couldn't sleep.

His stomach made a long, complaining sound, and he groaned. He suddenly realized how hungry and thirsty he was. His throat was dry as dust and still having the taste of sand on his tongue. His clothes were dirty from the blast he had been through in Lior, and he very strongly regretted his decision of running after the flying machine alone. It had been stupid and careless. But all he had been thinking about was to transmute something, anything that belonged to Thule Society and then find out their headquarters' location. Letting the military know where their hide out was would perhaps stop the attacks on the cities. All too many innocent people had already been killed. But even now that he had found out about their hideout, he still had no idea where this place was. And he had no way of contacting the military.

If he only had stayed with the Colonel from the start, they would probably have been fine now. He still felt worried. He hadn't spotted Roy Mustang after the last blow, which could mean that something terrible might have happened to him. But Alphonse didn't want to be worried for him. He decided to believe that the Colonel was the Colonel, the famous Flame Alchemist. He could take care of himself.

Roy was probably worried about him now. Al remembered earlier when he had called from Lior, and Roy Mustang had been upset and angry at him for not telling him where he had gone. Even though he went there the day before the attack. He hoped the others from Mustang's unit were okay as well.

On the other hand, if he hadn't come here he'd never known that this Thule Society, really had something to do with his brother. Now he at least had a real clue he could follow, and his source could only be inside Thule Society's headquarters.

He had to sacrifice something to achieve something. His freedom for information. Equal exchange, wasn't it?

He sighed. As long as he could find out more of Edward's whereabouts and possibly a way to find him, his situation had to count for something.

Alphonse didn't know how many hours he sat there, but at some point his head had drooped to the side and rested on his own shoulder and he had fallen into some sort of unconscious state without sleeping. Still, he was dreaming about strange things, some of them a combination of memories and dreams.

He was on an island with his brother, as a part of their training. They were starving and cold, and a crazy man with a mask was after their lives.

He was being held by his throat, legs dangling in thin air, feeling too exhausted and starved to fight back. Would his life end already?

Then Edward came towards him and the attacker. His face was blurred, but he was there and Al could spot blond hair, a shade lighter than his own. Edward raised a huge knife, holding it trembling in both hands. "Let go of Al," he said in a low voice.

"Nii-san," Al whispered.

He jumped aware as he heard echoing footsteps drawing closer and his eyes focused towards the bars.

Then Schiller stood there, watching him. "Good morning, kiddo."

This morning was anything but a good one. His stomach was curling, almost as famished as he had felt on the island. It was one of the few memories he still had with himself and his brother. He could remember some other vague things, and their mother, and their training with Sensei, and their attempt to resurrect their mother. But as each day passed, it was like he remembered less and less of what had used to be his life. In addition to that, the four most important years of his life was gone. Likely forever.

Al lifted his gaze towards Schiller and shifted in discomfort. His arms hurt by their raised position and his wrists were sore from the battle with the iron shackles. He didn't reply, just watched the man warily as he unlocked the cell and went inside. It was then Al noticed that he was carrying a tray with a bowl and a mug of water.

"Thought you might be hungry," the man said. He sat down in front of Al, offering him a glass of water.

Al gulped it down.

"Not too fast, kiddo," Schiller said, carefully tilting the glass for him. "Do you like chicken soup?"

Al nodded slowly when he was finished drinking.

Schiller raised a spoon with soup for him to eat. "Here you go."

Al opened his mouth slowly, feeling quite ridiculous of being fed. But he didn't really care as long as he could eat something.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked after a while.

Schiller offered him another spoon with chicken soup. "Eckart says that you need to contain some energy for your magic."

Al snorted. "If I do the transmutation she wants me to do, will she let me go?"

Schiller shrugged. "That might be."

"I don't know where I am. I wouldn't be able to give away your hiding place," Al tried.

"That doesn't matter," Schiller said. "There wouldn't be anyone there worth telling."

Al fell silent. What did he mean about that? It wasn't actually any safe chance that he would be able to talk them into letting him go after the deal was over. He might have to find a way to escape on his own. He wished he knew more about his brother. What would Edward have done?

He could hardly even remember him. He wished he could remember...

--

As every hour, as every day, as every night went by, Al's hope started to fade. Nothing new was happening. Usually Al was a quite patient person, but he had in fact never experienced something like this before. And the lonely, dreary days started to get on his nerves.

All he could do was to sit there in the cell. Cold. Dark. Stone.

He had barely slept, and his head started spinning just by moving an inch. Sometimes Schiller would sedate him to get him to sleep, and he would wake up only feeling sick.

The high point of the day was every time Schiller came with food for him or letting him use the bathroom in another cell close by and wash.

One week had passed, and the man that was his only company in the world had brought him fish and potatoes. Usually Schiller wasn't much talkative. Still Al always tried to get what he could out of him, generally without having much luck.

"You said," Al started slowly, "that my brother isn't in this world."

"Yes." Schiller gave him a bite of fish.

"What did you mean about that?" Al continued, chewing slowly.

A thin smile formed in Schiller's face. "None of us are from this world. This world contains of evil magic and monsters. That is why Eckart wants to destroy it."

Al's eyes widened. This wasn't like him, to tell that much. And the other world didn't have alchemy? "Then... he is at the place you came from now... where did you come from?"

"I won't tell you much, kiddo."

"How did you get here?" Al started struggling against the shackles again, suddenly yelling. If alchemy didn't work in the other world, how had they managed to enter this one? "Why doesn't my brother come back?! If you can, he can too!"

Schiller watched him carefully, not answering his desperate questions. "You shouldn't struggle or you'll just hurt yourself."

"Let me go," Al whispered. "You can't keep me here."

"We have to."

"Why is it taking so long? I don't want to be kept down here anymore." Al realized he was acting like a child, his eyes even watering. But he didn't care anymore. He dried his eyes on his knees, crumbling together and refused to eat anymore.

"Fine," Schiller said tonelessly and left him.

--

Next time Schiller showed up, he seemed more strict than usual. "Sit properly," he barked, as he put down the tray.

Al shifted uncomfortably, his arms arching. It did hardly feel like he had any arms anymore.

"Please, let my arms down," he said silently. "Just for a short while."

Schiller watched him warily.

"I promise I won't try anything," Al added. It was probably no help asking. He had only gotten his will once except from the times he needed the bathroom, but as soon as Schiller thought he had done something that related to alchemy, he had hit him so hard that he had passed out. In reality, Al had only tried to reach for his glass of water.

Instead of replying to his request, Schiller simply offered him a spoon of stew.

Al ate, not daring to complain. He did get quite hungry, even though his appetite wasn't much lately.

"What relations do you have to the military?" Schiller suddenly asked, and Al stiffened. "Chairman Eckart was wondering if you were working with them, since we found you by their base."

Al didn't reply. If they knew he was working for the military, it might make his situation worse. They might not think of him as just a kid anymore.

Schiller's eyes narrowed. "Speak, kiddo. Is the Colonel your commanding officer?"

Al frowned. How did he know? The question was clearly written in his eyes, because Schiller said: "You said 'Colonel'. Right before I sedated you out in the desert."

"I'll tell you if you... let my arms down," Al tried slowly.

"Sure. You tell me first, and I let you down for some minutes."

That was at least something. "I'm a state alchemist," Al said, choosing to trust the man's word. He had nothing to lose anyway. "Which means I work for the military."

"Ah," Schiller mused knowingly. "You're just a dog. Did they send you to spy on us?"

Al looked away. "At the time I went to observe the flying machine, I worked on my own. I didn't listen to the Colonel."

Schiller chuckled. Al had never heard him chuckle before. "I was wondering if they sent young kids out on missions like that."

"Every state alchemist has a silver watch," Al said, ignoring his comment. "Your friend stole mine. I want it back."

"I doubt that he will return it," Schiller replied. "I can't help you, kiddo."

Al lowered his head, his bronze bangs fell in front of his eyes.

Then Schiller silently took his keys and unlocked the shackles.

Al's arms dropped to his sides, and he leant to the wall, closing his eyes. "Thank you," he whispered.

"Here," Schiller said, offering the plate of stew. "Eat it."

Al slowly lifted his arm and accepted the offer with a trembling hand. Even if he had wanted to try to escape, he didn't know if his hands would have allowed him to perform any successful transmutation, even less drawing a circle. He was completely worn out.

Eating in silence, Al felt Schiller's wary eyes on him. He never let his guard down. Al knew, if he made a wrong movement again, he would receive a new blow to his head and probably pass out again.

"I became a state alchemist so I could find my brother," Al heard himself say.

Schiller looked puzzled.

Al continued: "The job would give me enough funding and contacts so I could work with it on my own, beside some missions."

"I see," Schiller said. "Finished?"

Al suddenly realized he had stopped eating. "I guess."

Schiller took the plate from him, offering the water. Al drank, enjoying the feel of the fresh cold water running down his throat.

His arms were starting to feel a little better. But he dreaded the time Schiller would leave him in the shackled state again. To buy himself some more time, he said. "Could you... tell me a little about your world?"

Schiller sat with his knees bent in front of him, watching him one the same eyelevel. "My world?"

Al nodded slowly.

"Why do you want to know?"

"I'm curious," Al said, as truth was.

"What are you curious about then?"

Al gave the question some thought, eyes bright. "Is it... like this one?"

Schiller shrugged. "It's the real world. This one is not the same. It's like a fake version of ours. But I guess, they are comparable."

With a frown, Al shifted uncomfortably. "No matter what your world is like... it doesn't make this world fake."

"We're fighting for a much greater cause," Schiller said. "This world is simply a training ground." He leaned closer, clasping a hold of Al's chin to keep his head locked towards him. A small wily smile revealed on his face. "The one thing that never changes, no matter which world you are in," he paused before continuing in a whisper, "is how mankind always hungers to kill."

Al jerked his head away from him, his eyes growing wide.

Then Schiller locked his arms to a hook behind Al's back, using the handcuffs, instead of the shackles over his head.

Alphonse stared puzzled after him as he left. He was grateful that he could have his arms down, but still he never seemed to understand that man.

--

Somehow Al managed to contain a tiny bit of courage to keep hoping, even if he felt he had to mount a high hill of dread every time he tried to earn some. And the prospect of hope was like the last small branch to hold before reaching the top. Even the tiniest hope was something to cling on to.

He would get out of there. He would get more clues about his brother.

Just wait.

Wait.

He closed his eyes, rocking his body back and forth. His hands were still locked behind his back. It wasn't comfortable, but it wasn't as bad as it had been. He had actually managed to get more than two hours sleep. He didn't know what time of the day or night it was. He had lost track of that days ago. Or maybe it was weeks. Al didn't know.

Sometimes he felt angry and abandoned. Why hadn't anyone come yet? Did they even look for him at all? Did Mustang even care or was he just assuming that he was dead?

Even though a dark voice inside him told him that all this was his own fault. And he was at a place that was impossible to be found by anyone.

Al tucked his knees under his cheek, shivering lightly. The torch beside him was the only comfort he had. Though, Schiller could be okay sometimes. At least he didn't act all careless like the others.

He was actually been given a tad of encouragement by the man, even though Schiller possibly didn't know it himself. He was a hard man to read, but he did what he could for him and that was at least something? No one could be evil all through, right?

Dietlinde Eckart had said it would take some days to prepare something. Al didn't know how many days that was ago. But it was more than a few. He wondered what kind of preparations could take that long to get for one transmutation.

A sacrifice?

Al shuddered.

Finally Schiller came to him once again, giving him breakfast. It was toasted bread and a cup of tea. It helped Al take his thoughts away from his dread for a short while, concentrating on becoming warm and full.

When he was done, Schiller moved closer to him. "Now that you have finished your meal, I'm ordered by Dietlinde Eckart to move you upstairs."

Al flinched. Was it true? He was getting out of here? It was almost too good to be true. Finally he could see something else than the bars and these dark stonewalls.

"But I'm afraid I have to play by the Chairman's rules," Schiller added.

"What do you mean?" Al asked warily.

Schiller smiled, finding a long piece of black cloth from his pocket. "Don't worry. I'll make sure you don't fall." He tied the cloth around Al's head, covering his eyes.

Al didn't like it.

"Stop!" He struggled, trying to twist his head away. "Please, get off!" He couldn't see a thing. Just black.

"Eckart requested it," Schiller said.

"I haven't tried anything before," Al said, trying to be calm. "Why do you think I will now?"

Schiller didn't reply, which annoyed Al. He kicked about, succeeding to hit Schiller in the leg. But it didn't seem to affect him. Almost effortlessly he unlocked and locked the handcuffs back around Al's wrists, and Al was dragged up on unsteady feet.

"Let go of me!" he protested and twisted.

"Sure, kiddo." First after that Schiller let go of him, and Al felt his knees tremble and refused to hold him up. He sank down on his knees again, breathing.

"You shouldn't waste your energy," Schiller's voice said from beside him. "I'm sorry, I only follow my orders."

Al tried to calm himself down by breathing deeply a couple of times. He had struggled to hold onto his rationality until this moment, and he would not lose it now when it actually mattered.

"Remember the deal."

"I remember," Al said in a low voice. "But why do I keep getting the impression that she'll kill me as soon as I've done what she wants me to?"

"As long as you're a good boy, she won't hurt you," Schiller's voice said. "Come on."

Al felt his hands close around his shoulders and tugged him to get back up on his feet again. He obliged slowly. In his state he was defenceless, so he couldn't do anything else than follow with Schiller out of the cell and towards the stairs.

With help from Schiller, he was led a bit awkwardly and blindfolded up the endless stairs. Shivering slightly, he still felt a little relieved. He was finally at least not left alone in the cold, dark cell anymore. And soon he would know more about his brother.