Chapter 28: High Exposure
"Thomas Peterson has finally decided to say something."
Edward's eyes glinted excitedly. He had almost forgotten about that bastard already. He'd been quiet in his jail cell since the attempted kidnapping on Alfons. "What did he say?"
Roy mused. "Apparently, the only thing he said was that he wanted to talk to you."
Even if it seemed like the false Sergeant had known a lot more about him than Edward had initially anticipated, or was comfortable with, he'd blown the man's cover when Peterson had caught him on the train under the colours of the military.
Edward figured it probably wasn't surprising that this guy still held some grudge towards him and wanted to release some of his relatable anger in front of him. But regardless, it didn't quite make sense. Thomas Peterson had been obdurately quiet during his captivity in the State Military prison for days, and now he suddenly requested to talk to him?
"Why me, anyway?" Edward asked. "There are probably plenty of people he can rant to in my place."
"I don't know," Mustang admitted. "Lieutenant Colonel Fernier from the Department of Investigations just informed me very briefly."
Edward didn't have to mull it over for long. "Alright, let's go see what he wants with me." No matter, he thought it sounded very interesting and didn't see any point in restraining his curiosity. The young alchemist was already on his way out the door, but turned and regarded his commanding officer again.
"However, if he says something I don't like, I'll probably punch his face in," Edward added pointedly.
Mustang sighed and rubbed his forehead as he rose from his desk. "It would be more suitable regarding the circumstances if you could keep your cool, Fullmetal. I don't need you to lose your head at times like these."
Actually, he disliked this. It was uncertain if Thomas Peterson had anything useful to say at all, and why would he rather speak to Edward about it if it was something significant? This sounded strange. As if Peterson's real intention was to test Edward's inquisitiveness and use it to plant thoughts into his head. On the other hand, Mustang knew this chance was too valuable to waste. If they could get a useful word out of Peterson, they might have an upper hand against Thule Society. Therefore, Mustang let that thought be for now.
Getting to the prison was a walk worth driving. Only a shame they couldn't drive automobiles inside the halls of HQ. They were heading to a different section connected to the backside of the main building. In the farthest hall, down below ground level, the Department of Investigations had another separate section for important prisoners to be occasionally questioned for further information. There were rarely many prisoners in this particular section, but the few who were there were usually valuable in use of more severe and difficult cases like serial murders, acts of terror and massacres. The attacks at Central had been close to a massacre.
Edward had been held here as well, in another section for the State Alchemists. But that was fortunately over with now.
The hall towards their final destination was dim where Edward and Colonel Mustang went side by side. Edward let his eyes wander up at the Colonel as they walked, noting his stern face and a strange tension in the features that weren't covered by the black eye patch. Mustang was rarely this obvious. He probably doubted that he would keep his cool around Thomas Peterson because Peterson was obviously not going to start talking the way the military was hoping. But Edward didn't care about that in particular. After all, this man deserved to be punched. In the last encounter with his little brother and Alfons, Peterson had wanted to kill Al and then he had almost dragged Alfons back to that place. Edward felt his anger boiling just by the thought of it. But for Mustang's sake, he'd keep his cool. If he made a mistake, Mustang would get the most of it later.
"Colonel Mustang and Major Elric," an officer greeted them with a salute as they arrived in the right hall. The rank insignia on his shoulder showed that he was a Lieutenant Colonel, one rank over Edward and one rank under Mustang. They both saluted back.
"Lieutenant Colonel Fernier," Mustang said. "Has Peterson said anything else since he requested to speak with my subordinate?"
"Actually, he's been speaking quite disrespectfully. Nothing of value in other words."
"I see." Mustang turned to Edward. "I will listen to your conversation. Try making him talk about Thule Society."
"I'll try," Edward said. "But I suspect that he's only interested in me because he hates me." He grinned a little. "Which is perfect, because I really despise him too." He couldn't help feeling a little excited.
"Remember what I said," Mustang warned.
"Yeah, Colonel, I know."
"Well then," Lieutenant Colonel Fernier said, addressing Edward. "He's waiting for you in one of the interrogation rooms. He is restrained, so you shouldn't be in any physical danger."
Mustang chuckled at that. "Edward wouldn't be endangered by simply one man nonetheless."
Edward smirked, actually feeling happy that Mustang had such faith in him. After all, they had known each other for many years and had shared each other's life in more than one way...
Lieutenant Colonel Fernier showed the way to the right room. "Knock twice when you're done and we'll let you out."
Edward nodded and the Lieutenant Colonel unlocked the door. The blond alchemist stepped in calmly, and waited to hear the door click behind him as he was locked inside before he lifted his gaze into the room. The room was dim and small. A tall single lamp stood on the floor, directed at the imprisoned man's face. Thomas Peterson sat by a table with his hands handcuffed in his lap. He looked up as Edward came in; staring a little curiously at the boy he had requested to meet.
"Hello, Edward Elric," he greeted. The same way as he had greeted him on the train, and Edward's eyes narrowed.
"I'm surprised that they sent you in here this quickly. This military really must be desperate." He chuckled.
Edward stepped closer to the table, studying the man carefully. He was dressed in the usual grey prisoner's suit along with his rectangular shaped glasses.
"Considering how you've helped Thule Society in killing thousands of people in this world, I'm surprised that they haven't beaten you to a pulp yet."
Thomas Peterson looked rather unharmed. Maybe he had been hit by frustrated interrogators where it wasn't visible, but Edward knew that the military had no other choice than to keep this man in a stable state for him to be capable of talking. Otherwise he would've been executed long ago.
"Like they did with you, you mean," Peterson smiled slickly, referring to the time Edward was finally captured by the military. "But I see you've forgiven them now. That was fast. Even though I thought you were a person who wouldn't forget easily, especially matters regarding the power-hungry big guys. Or perhaps you're just enduring it for now."
Edward considered this to be a reasonable occasion to punch him with his automail, but thought better of it. Instead he sighed. "If you're trying to put me up against those 'power-hungry big guys', you can just give it up now."
"Nah, I don't really think you'd be that stupid twice."
Edward snarled. "What do you want?" If he was here just to get pissed off, Peterson was doing a hell of a good job.
Peterson leant back in his chair, looking a little too relaxed for Edward's liking and shrugged. "I wanted to congratulate you for figuring me out, despite that I almost succeeded in my last mission. Unfortunately my own commanding officer stopped me from taking my sweet fellow German back with me." He sighed. "The Brigadier General is practically obsessed with him. He always asked me about him when I was out spying on you." He chuckled.
"Don't talk like you're still a part of the military, you bastard," Edward managed spitefully.
"Oh, sorry, did I?" Peterson spat.
"What is Thule planning to do with the Gate?" Edward wanted to know. "If she thinks she can make the Gate her own pet, she's terribly mistaken."
Peterson stared at him for a couple of seconds, before he smirked. "I wouldn't tell you even if I knew."
"Do you know anything at all, or is she just using all of you as pawns to get her way and then ditch you when she doesn't need you anymore?" Edward asked, a trace of mockery in his voice. Angering the guy was probably the most effective way to make him spill his guts.
Peterson looked indeed annoyed at those words. "Tell me one thing... Your brother and Heiderich are parallels, right?"
Edward was slightly surprised by the remark, but didn't let the man have the pleasure of noticing it. But what did he ask about that for? "What gives?"
"I want to give you a small warning, kid."
Edward ignored the fact that he had been called a kid, and just listened.
"You know it as well as me, don't you? Only one parallel person is allowed in one world," Peterson elaborated easily.
Edward's eyes widened slightly. So they knew about it too. His father must have informed them already when he was working with Thule Society in the past.
"It was one of the first things we did when we came to this world. We tracked down our parallels, albeit we couldn't get them all because the names weren't always the same. But we found mine, and I killed him." Peterson grinned. "That way, the Gate won't pick me when it comes to it, right?"
Edward tensed up. So that's how he had done it... Somehow he had found his own parallel and confronted him personally. His parallel would have had a legal ID with a picture that looked just like him, and he could easily sign up and blend in at the military. Edward felt frustrated that he hadn't thought of that before. It was obvious.
"You should keep a good eye on those two," Peterson continued. "At least Heiderich. He doesn't belong here any more than I do, and you wouldn't kill your own little brother for him, I suppose?"
With his fists tightening into balls, Edward snarled out the reply. "You disgust me, you murderer."
With a polished smile, Peterson went on. "Well, maybe it's something like this the military would like to hear me say, eh?" He raised his head up to the ceiling and called: "Hey, whoever are listening, why don't you arrest Alfons Heiderich too? He's the same as me!" He chortled out a wicked laugh, at least until Edward couldn't take it anymore and stormed across the table, and his metal fist connected hard with Peterson's face. The chair Peterson was sitting on tilted backwards, and they both crashed to the floor.
Edward pinned him underneath him and fisted his collar, glaring dangerously down at the man. Peterson tried to pry Edward's hands off with his handcuffed hands, but it was useless.
"He's nothing like you," Edward spoke spitefully. "I won't let any of you touch him ever again. And about yourself, you seem to be considered so worthless that your allies haven't even lifted one finger to help you out of here. That should speak for itself." It looked like he had actually hit a sore spot with those words, because Peterson went silent and just looked at him with spiteful eyes. His glasses hung from his right ear, having partly fallen off from the fall.
A moment after the door was unlocked and hurried steps came into the small room. "Edward!" Mustang's voice was laced with a combination of worry and disturbance.
Edward felt his hands locking around his arms to pull him back. He let go of Peterson and let Mustang drag him to his feet without much of a fight. Lieutenant Colonel Fernier stood beside him, eyeing the prisoner before he ordered two of his men to take him back to his prison cell.
As the two soldiers pulled the man up, Edward felt the man's malicious eyes still glued on him.
"You know it will happen," he said mockingly. "Remember this Elric, somehow I'll be there the day that boy gets taken from you. I can't wait to see the look in your eyes as it happens." He laughed, and the sound echoed in Edward's ears as he got pulled away in a hurry, out of the door and down the hall.
The three of them remained in the interrogation room, and he felt somehow like he had lost entirely. He had let Peterson get to him and made him lose control. On top of that... Peterson had revealed that Alfons was from the other world in front of another officer. Before now Mustang and his unit had been the only ones who had known. Edward felt slightly anxious as he finally lifted his gaze. Though, he hid it behind a façade of hard steel.
Lieutenant Colonel Fernier let his eyes wander from Edward to Mustang and back at Edward again. "Is what he said true?" he asked. Most of the superior officers in the military knew very well who Alfons Heiderich was.
"It's true," Mustang confirmed. Edward shot him an angry look. He hadn't even tried to cover for Alfons this time? What would happen to Alfons if the rest of the military found out?
Lieutenant Colonel Fernier watched Mustang closely. "He is working under Brigadier General Kiehle now, isn't he? Does he know as well?"
"No, that would have been highly inconvenient," Mustang replied. "I was the only one who knew, except for a few of my men and Thule Society."
"He has nothing to do with them," Edward shot in, addressing the Lieutenant Colonel. "Even if he is from the other world, he's not a part of Thule."
Fernier sighed and crossed his arms. "I'll keep it a secret. That boy is useful to the military, so there will be no point exposing him and have him imprisoned." A small smile touched his lips as he met the Colonel's eyes.
Edward sighed in relief.
"Thank you," Mustang said. He knew of Fernier's good sense of reason. That's why he was Hughes' successor, after all.
"I'll let you know if something else happens," Fernier informed.
"I appreciate your help," Mustang said, shaking hands with the other man.
Fernier smiled. "Maes Hughes would've done no less. I believe in his sense of judgement."
Edward stared at the Lieutenant Colonel in awe, genuinely believing that they could trust this man. It felt good. As corrupted as the military was, it was good to know that beneath it all there still existed honesty—those on Mustang's side that were willing to back him up.
"Just a pity all the good ones are the first ones to leave. Soon it's only us two left in our old group," Fernier added as he followed them out towards the hall.
"I'm afraid so," Mustang replied with a low sigh. "First Anderson, Hughes, and then Light."
"Light was a man I thought would always stay alive, no matter what war he was in," Fernier chuckled softly.
"Indeed."
"Who was Light?" Edward asked.
"Lieutenant Colonel Anthony Light," Mustang elaborated. "He died in the Lior-attack, where your brother went missing."
Edward fisted his palms by the thought of what Peterson had just said. They had only done it to dispose of their parallel persons. He wondered if Light had been one of them.
"Do you have a picture of him?" Edward asked. He had seen most of the Thule Society mens' faces, so if he recognized Light it would mean he had died for the sake of the Balance...
Fernier nodded slowly. "There are some old military academy photos hanging further down this hall." He gesticulated forward with his hand. "We were all in the same class."
They stepped to the end of the corridor and Fernier stopped by a picture dated May 1904.
"This is taken a few days before we all were sent to Ishbal. There's Mustang, as handsome as ever," Fernier pointed at a young raven-haired man at Edward's age. "And Maes over there, always smiling."
Edward quirked an eyebrow and stared at the Colonel. "I didn't even know there even existed any photos of you." He had never seen a picture of him before, not even in the old days.
Mustang snorted.
"This is James Anderson," Fernier pointed at another man. "He died in the Ishbal war."
Edward's eyes widened as he recognized the man's name. He could be mistaken because of the common name, but he recognized the man on the picture too. He had used to own the house he now lived in. He kept his mouth shut about that. Ironically, right next to the man stood Carl R. Kiehle, and he did hardly look any younger in the photo despite that it had been taken thirteen years ago. He had the same hard, stern and steel-eyed grimace he was always wearing.
"Next to me, there's Anthony Light," Fernier said and pointed some rows below Edward's eyes.
Edward followed his finger towards the small face, and didn't have to stare for long before he recognized him as well. He turned away from the picture quickly, his bangs causing a dark shade over his eyes, and Roy thought the young alchemist seemed to be trying to hold back a rather disturbed look. "He's one of Thule's parallels," he guessed.
"It doesn't matter," Edward said coldly. "Both of them are dead."
"I see," Mustang said, deciding not to ask. It didn't look like Edward wished to go on about it any further. He turned to his old friend. "Thank you. Contact me if anything happens."
"Yes, sir." Fernier saluted with a smile on his face, and Mustang saluted back.
As he and the young blond went back, the Colonel placed a hand on Edward's shoulder. "I need to have a word with you. In my office, please."
Edward had an idea of what. Mustang didn't even speak a single word before they were back alone in his office. Still, it made sense. It was too much of a risk to get overheard in the halls of HQ.
As soon as they were inside, he went directly to business. "Peterson, as crazy as he may sound," Mustang started, "said that only one parallel person could live in each world at the same time." He stared Edward down. "Did you know about this?"
Edward's lips hardened, but didn't avert his eyes. "Yes."
"Since when?"
"Since..." Edward started, hesitating. "Since I came here basically. But I wasn't entirely sure until the night I reread my father's coding." At this his eyes shot down to the carpet. "The night I came to your house."
Mustang felt a struck of guilt blend into the surge of anger. Edward had actually had something like this on his conscience at that time, and he had almost taken advantage of him in that fragile state because he had barely been able to control his own feelings.
"You didn't know," Edward said, like he knew what Mustang was thinking. "And I was very upset, I could barely even think!"
Mustang's eye solidified. "Why didn't you tell me about this from the start? Did you actually ignore the importance of such a fact?"
"Is it a fact?" Edward countered. "It's simply my father's theory, nothing more."
"Have any of your father's theories ever been wrong before?" Mustang shot back.
Edward didn't have a suitable reply for that. Lately he had noticed more signs that his father was right, after all. But that didn't mean it couldn't be changed. "The thought first came to me after I learned that Al was missing," he said honestly, trying to seem a little calmer. "I'd expected him to be safe here, waiting for me... But when he wasn't, I thought he might be dead because Alfons made it back with me."
Mustang was silent at that.
"But it all turned out fine, didn't it?" Edward continued. "Despite it all, they're both still alive, and they both live in this world." He met Roy's eye. "Still, that so-called theory is the main reason why I'll be destroying that Gate soon. I think that's the final resolve to everything. If the Gate isn't open in any of the worlds, it can't touch him."
It can't erase him.
Mustang nodded, accepting that logic. No matter how absurd it was. "Alphonse and Alfons, they don't know about this, do they?"
"No. And they never will," Edward said confidently. "I'll make sure they're both safe, no matter what."
It was late in the afternoon, and people had started going home from the office for the day. Al and Alfons arrived at Central HQ in secret, knowing that it would raise uncomfortable questions if they were seen together here at this hour. Especially because they had both been absent from work that day.
"She'll be here working later than the other officers," Al said. "She's always like that."
They were heading towards the Department of Investigations, intending to get help from someone they knew they could trust. Alfons had first not been such fan of Al's idea. They had to share information with Scheiska even if it wasn't certain that she could help them. But Al had assured him that this was the most obvious option they had if they were to be able to find out anything about the Brigadier General's past. Alfons knew that it was a dangerous subject for them to stick their noses into, he couldn't even imagine what the Brigadier General would do to him if he found out, but he was desperate. In his current situation he would either go mad or be forced to give up on everyone he loved, if not betray them. Obviously that wasn't even an option at all. Alfons would rather die than disappoint the people he cared about. But he hadn't considered the possibility that suicide would be the only way for him to get out of this mess, and he wasn't really planning to be considering it either.
The Brigadier General deserved some kind of retribution, one way or another. He had taken advantage of Mustang, of Edward, and now of him, not to mention that he threatened everyone that would get in his way. There was no way Alfons would forgive him.
He suddenly noticed how Al's eyes were observing him while they walked down the hall. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly.
Alfons nodded. "Yeah, just a little shaken." Even if it hadn't been said out loud, it was obvious what would've happened to him if Al hadn't showed up back home during the unexpected visit of Carl R. Kiehle.
Al just nodded as a reply. Then he spotted the right door to Scheiska's office. "There it is."
"If she's not there..." Alfons started.
"Then we'll call her and ask her to come," Al said simply. He knocked on the door and waited patiently for reply.
"Y-Yes?"
She was there! As he had thought. Al opened before replying and stuck his head inside to see if she was alone. Fortunately she was. "Hi Scheiska," he greeted as he stepped inside, followed by Alfons.
"Al! Alfons!" Scheiska rose from her desk in surprise. She had paperwork before her, and put the pencil down as she stood up. "I didn't expect to see you two."
Al closed the door carefully and Alfons took the word. "I'm sorry, but we need your help."
"Oh?"
Al stepped forward as she went around her desk, looking a little anxious. "Is something wrong?"
"We have a small problem with a certain high-ranked officer in the military," Al stated.
Scheiska stared earnestly from one to another through her big, round glasses. "It isn't Brigadier General Kiehle, is it?"
Alfons sighed. "You guessed correctly."
"Basically," Al said, "we need access to all the classified military records."
"Why?" Scheiska asked, looking very troubled.
"He's blackmailing me," Alfons admitted. "And I'm being forced to do work I'm not very comfortable with under his command, unless I can find something on him."
Scheiska looked anxious by hearing that. "Alfons... Does Edward know about this?"
"No," Alfons confessed. "And I don't want him to be involved in it either." He gave the little brother a look. "It's only a coincidence that Al knows."
Al answered the look, not appearing regretful that he had run right into the disturbing scene with him and the Brigadier General, which somehow had some sort of soothing effect on Alfons.
"I understand," Scheiska said slowly, rubbing her temple. "And I really want to help you, of course." She lowered her voice. "I know that the military is corrupted, but it's hard to do something about it when the ones corrupting it are at the top."
"Exactly," Al said. "But we have to start somewhere. No one else is going to do it."
Scheiska nodded slowly. "I'll totally get fired if someone finds out about this... It should be safe letting you in when I'm sure my commanding officer won't return for the day. He's a good man, but if he finds out he can't simply ignore it."
"I understand that, and I'll get fired too," Al said, beaming softly. "But it'll be worth it if we can get our hands on something of value. Kiehle is probably not the only guilty one among the superior officers. If we can expose that man, the higher-ups would be more cautions and wary around each other, maybe even start exposing each other. And if that happens, Mustang might become Fuhrer faster."
Alfons gave his smaller doppelganger a look of awe. He was good at thinking reasonably far ahead, just like his brother. "Al's right," he said, turning back to Scheiska. "So, when will you be sure that he's gone for the day?"
Scheiska nodded fast. "I'll call his secretary right away." She stepped around the desk and hurriedly dialled a number. "Miss Faraday?" she said into the mouth piece. "Is Lieutenant Colonel Fernier still in?" She paused for some seconds, listening to the woman's voice in the other end. "Okay, thank you." She put the phone down. "She said he had already gone home. He had spent the most of the day interrogating Thomas Peterson."
Al and Alfons exchanged an acquainted look. "That guy..." Al mumbled. "Any news regarding that?"
"Not that I know," Scheiska replied. "Or actually, he requested a meeting with Edward."
Alfons frowned. "Edward?"
"I don't know anything more," Scheiska said apologetically.
"We'll ask him about that later," Al said. "Let's go."
Scheiska nodded. "Follow me."
They went out in the hall, hoping they would be lucky and not meet anyone. The sight of them could be seen as suspicious. Neither Al nor Alfons belonged in the Department of Investigations, and shouldn't have any business here either. Fortunately they reached the small library of records without any trouble. Scheiska unlocked the door and the three of them slipped in without being seen. She locked the door behind them inside the dark room and found the light switch. The light was dim and didn't help all that too much, but it would have to do. The room looked quite similar to a small library. Through the whole space many shelves were lined up next to each other, filled with documents with black and beige covers.
Scheiska looked constantly nervous and it was almost annoying. Alfons already had his own nerves to keep in check.
"I'm sorry for the trouble," he said, addressing the girl. "But have you read any of these records?"
"Yes, most of it," she replied.
Al lightened up. "You remember everything you've read, don't you? Do you know which file we should start with?"
"Kiehle should have a personal file on him, like me, right?" Alfons asked hopefully.
"Yeah, he does," Scheiska confirmed. "I also remember finding his name in the records about the Ishbal war."
"That's an obvious place to start looking," Al said excitedly. "Where is it?"
"Over here," Scheiska said. She showed them a whole shelve of thick covers filled with documents and records about the time of the war. Alfons and Al gawped.
"This will take some time," Al noted.
"I'm certain that it's this one," Scheiska stepped to the shelf, taking out one of the thick covers. "It has some reports and newspaper articles in it about him."
"Alright," Alfons said, turning to Al. "Start looking into these, okay?"
Al nodded. "Will do."
Alfons turned to Scheiska again. "Do you have any sort of economic records documented here?"
Scheiska looked thoughtful. "Yes, all of the military's use of funding is registered here in its own section."
"Can I have a look?"
"Y-Yes," Scheiska hesitated. "Oh, please God, don't let them notice," she mumbled.
"They will know we snooped when he's figured out," Alfons admitted. "But I won't mention your name, even if they torture me."
Scheiska looked disturbed. "But you're certain that he's been swindling?"
"Yeah," Alfons said. "Edward has already used this theory against him, because Kiehle openly gave me a house, and it's not known where he got the rights of it from. The only thing we know is that it used to belong to a soldier who died in the Ishbal war."
"Hmm, you might be onto something there," Scheiska mused. She showed him another shelf, placed in the section for economic traffic. "Here's the latest records," she said, taking out one of the covers and handing it to him. "Both of you, please make sure to put everything back when you're done," she said, turning to Al as well.
"Don't worry," Al called from the other end of the room.
Alfons opened the cover, scanning the lists of bank account withdrawals and dates. "As I thought," Alfons mumbled. "I wanted to check one certain date, and it seems that there has been a huge withdrawal on that day."
"What date?"
"The date before Edward's first hearing," Alfons replied.
Scheiska stared at him. "What about it?"
"I think Kiehle had more to do with the result of that first trial than he's letting on. The whole hearing seemed suspicious to me. Don't you agree that it was terribly superficial and one-sidedly going against Edward?"
"Yes, you're right about that," Scheiska agreed anxiously. "So, what you mean is... that Kiehle corrupted the Council?"
"I'm not sure, but I suspect it. Look at this." He showed her the register of the financial withdrawals.
Scheiska adjusted her glasses and agreed earnestly. "Really an unusual large amount of money..."
Alfons nodded. It was suspicious enough to try and dig into. He only needed to find out if that certain withdrawal could be related to Brigadier General Kiehle.
"We shouldn't use too much time here," Scheiska said, still seeming annoyingly nervous. "The guards on duty come in here to inspect the halls a couple of times each day."
Alfons nodded again. "I'm sorry to ask this much, but could you please show me Kiehle's personal file?"
Scheiska took a deep breath. "Of course. The personal files of the military staff are this way."
After some time of hurried flipping and searching through folders on the shelf, he found the file he was looking for. As he picked out Brigadier General Kiehle's personal folder, his heart was racing by seeing the piston mark which was marked clearly classified on the front. "Thank you, Scheiska," he said. He went over to Al and joined him on the floor by the Ishbal war-shelf. "Found anything?"
"Not yet," Al said. "There's a lot of information. I'm scanning through it, hoping to come across his name."
Alfons nodded. "Good." He opened Kiehle's file, getting an absurd feeling that Kiehle himself would storm right into the room as he did so. First there was a picture of him, and behind it some news articles and reports of his missions during his time in the military. There was a list of subordinates working under him, where Alfons also found his own name and picture. "This is a little scary," he muttered.
"Let me have a look at the funding records," Scheiska offered, seating down beside him. "It might be quicker if I help."
Agreeing with her, Alfons handed her the cover with the bank records. "Does it say anything about who's responsible for each withdrawal there?"
"Yes, but not with words," Scheiska said. "It's coded with numbers."
Alfons heart sank. "I see." Would it even be possible to decode it?
"The date you picked out," Scheiska said, "has a different code than the others."
Alfons' heart beat faster. "If we could just find out if it belongs to Kiehle."
"It only says 18-8-5-15," Scheiska said. "If this certain number is related to him, there should be something in his personal file that has something to do with these numbers."
"I see! Like a birth date or ID-number," Alfons suggested eagerly. He started scanning through Kiehle's folder again. He was born in October 6th 1886. Alfons frowned. "There isn't any obvious relation between the year he was born and 1885 in the beginning of the number. Is the date wrong?"
"It's possible, but I don't think so." Scheiska leaned forward, pointing at the number on the funding records. "The first numbers don't look like a year to me in the first place, because the first number is eighteen, then the next is eight and the next after that is five. They've been separated for some reason."
Al looked up from the cover he was reading from with a scowl, having overheard every word. "The numbers could be related to letters. Each number could in other words be a code for one letter."
"So, if you count to each number of the letters in the alphabet, maybe it'll give us a lead," Alfons surmised. "Brilliant Al."
"Then, what does it say?" Scheiska asked.
Alfons made some quick counting in his head. Letter number 18 was R, 8 would be H, and 5 E...
"Rheo..." Alfons whispered. That was it.
"Rheo?" Scheiska echoed.
"It's his middle name," Alfons explained, his voice shaking with excitement. This was exactly what he had been looking for! "He rarely uses it, but it's written down right here." He pointed on the personal document files. "Carl Rheo Kiehle."
Scheiska's breath hitched. "Then you were right. He made that withdrawal on the date before Edward's hearing."
"To make it all go his way," Alfons concluded darkly. He had really played right into his hands from the start. Kiehle obviously wanted to keep him close to him for a long time before he executed the plan. Both in order to get a promotion with his knowledge of aircraft, and at the same time satisfy his twisted and perverted desires.
Still, this proof was very thin. He hadn't any proof of what the Brigadier General really had used the money for. It would get difficult to get the Council-members to admit that their votes had been bought.
"Exactly... how is he blackmailing you, Alfons?" Scheiska asked wisely.
"He knows that I'm from the other world," Alfons admitted. "I'm sorry, I don't feel comfortable talking much about it."
Scheiska nodded slowly. "I understand. There would be a lot of trouble if the military found out…"
"That's a mild understatement," Alfons sighed.
"Guys, I've found something here," Al suddenly said, gaining the attention of the other two and Alfons sat closer to him to read with him.
"There's a date. September 12th, 1904 during the Ishbal war," Al read. "At that time the war had started three years earlier, and it lasted for seven years in all."
Alfons searched back into Kiehle's file, trying to find a similar date in it. "In the middle of the war," he mumbled. "It should be around here somewhere."
"There was an incident," Al said, his eyes dancing fast from left to right. "It seems like Mustang and Kiehle were in the same unit, both were Majors at that time, and they were trapped in a hostage situation."
Alfons had come over an article and a report of the incident, but something about it seemed fishy. "What happened?"
"There was a mission to stop a small terrorist group of Ishbalans," Al said. "Furthermore..." He continued reading, absorbing each word like a swamp and passed on the story to the other two. His mind started to picture what had happened as he went through all the reports and articles he could find about the incident.
Major Roy Mustang hated the rain. He had been on an exploring mission to look for a well known organized terrorist group of Ishbalans who worked in the same area. They had occasionally disturbed their camp and disappeared up into the mountains. For hours he had been travelling together with his team, several kilometres away from the main battlefield of the deserted lands. They had been heading up in the mountains, where they had spotted a campfire further ahead. But something had gone terribly wrong.
It was dark and the rain was hammering mercilessly down from the pitch black sky. His gloves were soaked long ago, efficiently restraining him from using alchemy. He had lost sight of both Fernier and Hughes and could only hope that they were both unharmed after the great explosion that had occurred a short while ago. Right now he found himself in the middle of an ambush, and the only thing he could cling on to was his own gun. With both of his hands, to be sure.
His black hair was sticking to his forehead, but he paid no mind to it. He was rather worrying about the horde of furious-looking men with dark skin and red eyes, surrounding him from the front. Even if they looked mad with fury, they seemed equally frightened of their uniforms as Roy was of their eyes.
At a short distance behind him lay the edge of the mountain, and he had been forced to back up towards it as he had been attacked. The wound on his arm where an Ishbalan man had grazed him with an axe barely hurt anymore, despite the blood staining his blue uniform. Barely any of the Ishbalan people actually had guns, and he was grateful for that, or else he likely would've been dead already. However, there would be no easy way out of this one. Simply jumping off the cliff was of course out of the question. Considering the situation, he was actually quite relieved to not be alone at this point, despite the fact that it was Major Kiehle who stood by his side and not any of his trusted comrades.
"All of this is your fault, Mustang," Kiehle snarled. He was standing stiffly, but ready, aiming his gun from one enemy to the other. "If you weren't just an amateur you would've noticed their presence long before it was too late."
"Which you didn't either," Mustang countered in a low voice. It was ridiculous arguing about it, of course. Their situation wouldn't change. He could count at least ten enemies, and they were only two.
"Perhaps you don't remember, but I was treating Anderson's wound after that explosion," Kiehle pointed out.
Sergeant Major James Anderson was the third present Amestrian person in the group, but he wasn't in the same pinch as Mustang and Kiehle. He was possibly in a much worse state. His leg and arm were badly wounded, so he could barely walk on his own. He was held firmly captive by two Ishbalans while a third was pointing a knife at his throat. The Ishbalans were shouting at them on their own language at that point, which also seemed rather pointless since neither Kiehle nor Mustang understood a word of what they were saying.
Mustang considered the weight of their alternatives. They could shoot, being in the upper hand since they in fact had the guns. But the Ishbalans had their comrade, and shooting left them risking to kill their own man. Mustang considered Anderson his friend, compared to what Kiehle was to him.
But something wasn't quite right with this situation, as wrong as it was in the first place. These Ishbalans didn't seem to be the ones they were looking for. Mustang couldn't be sure, but he felt more and more certain the more he looked at them. They didn't look like terrorists, rather as normal citizens. In the distant background, a group of three women stood, one of them clutching the hand of a small boy. A terrorist group wouldn't bring women and children out on the field, would they? Neither did they have any explosives, like Mustang and the rest of the team had experienced on the earlier encounter with their enemy.
No, these people weren't their target. Mustang wanted to avoid unnecessary killing if he could. But even if these people weren't the ones responsible for the explosive attacks, it didn't make them completely harmless. They still held their comrade captive and they were threatening his life as well as Carl and Roy's.
Mustang had no idea what to do. Would it be possible to negotiate with them? Maybe he could...
"Hand him over!" Kiehle shouted back at them. "Stupid fuckers!"
But the Ishbalans didn't seem to want to listen. They were closing in on them, forcing them to back up closer to the edge. Mustang dared to look quickly down over his shoulder. A fall down there would undoubtedly kill them. He couldn't even see the bottom in the dark. He had his eyes away for just one second, and then Kiehle made a move beside him.
Mustang turned back and shouted. "RHEO, NO!"
Kiehle pulled the trigger on his gun, several gunshots looming in the dark again and again. Kiehle was a skilled shooter, but the bullets that killed both of the men holding Anderson, were piercing through Anderson's body first.
The remaining few Ishbalans who weren't hit enough to be dead or suited to fight, saw escaping as the only reasonable alternative, and they quickly made a run for it. Along with the sound of crying women's voices, they fled and disappeared in between the dark trees of the forest covering the downhill of the mountain. Mustang quickly moved away from the edge, and noticed he was the only remaining man alive at the scene except from Kiehle. Anderson's body lay motionless in between the bodies of several dead Ishbalans.
It was then Kiehle reloaded his gun and pointed it up again. This time Mustang could even at distance feel the barrel of the gun aiming at his back. He turned around slowly, meeting Kiehle's hard stare.
"Rheo..." he managed. That was what he had used to call him...
"What, Mustang?" Kiehle said, almost mockingly. "We're all alone, and you just witnessed me killing our own man."
Mustang met his gaze rather calmly. "And for that reason you're going to kill me as well?"
"I have several reasons to kill you," Kiehle replied spitefully.
Mustang's eyes turned into a frown. "So, it's true. At that time... you were..."
"Shut up!" Kiehle interrupted sharply. "It's not like you would ever understand what happened to me because of you."
"No, but now I know. All these years, you never talked about what happened," Mustang said in a low voice. "I know I betrayed you. For that time... I owe you."
For not sticking up for you when you needed me. I was a coward.
"It doesn't matter anymore," Kiehle spat.
Mustang remained quiet, expecting Kiehle to pull the trigger at any time. "I'm sorry, Rheo..."
Kiehle scoffed. "Rheo. You were the only one who called me by that name." He lowered his gun slowly. "You owe me one, huh?"
"I do," Mustang said. "This incident was an accident. I won't report you." His eyes wandered over to Anderson's body, feeling sickened by himself. "He was killed by our enemies."
Kiehle let his gun drop down entirely, and for a moment the two of them just stood there, letting the pouring rain soak them even further. The sound of thunder rumbled warningly in the sky above the battlefield. Kiehle raised his head and stared up towards the dark sky, feeling the heavy droplets of rain run down his face. "I'll never let your rank become higher than mine," he said in a low voice. "That's why I let you live."
Mustang's eye shot abruptly open, his forehead feeling uncomfortably damp.
"Sir? Are you alright?" The voice of his 1st Lieutenant sounded like she had tried to reach his attention for a while.
"Yes," Mustang muttered fast, sitting himself up properly in his chair. His 1st Lieutenant didn't look like she believed him. "Just an unpleasant dream," he added unwillingly. "What's the time?"
"Half past 5 pm," she replied.
"I see." He tiredly rubbed his aching forehead. "Tell Edward he's free to go home."
"He's already gone," Riza informed. "He left half an hour ago. Are you sure you're alright?"
"Yes," Mustang replied. "I think I'll be heading home now as well." He rose from his chair, turning to the window. It was dark, and the rain was slamming down hard against the windows. It was the same weather as that day, thirteen years ago.
"Al! Alfons!" Edward stepped inside, holding around his aching metal arm. He really hated the rain. The cold steel hurt where it was connected to his skin and he needed some oil to ease the movement of his elbow. Whenever his metal got cold, his whole body automatically turned cold as well, and a sharp sense of nausea bubbled in his chest. "Damn rain..."
The rain had started suddenly as he had been heading home from the office. To his surprise he found the house dark and quiet. "Are you guys here?" he called up the stairs. He wrung off his soaked shirt as he stepped up the stairs. "Al?" He went into his little brother's bedroom, but to his big surprise he found it completely empty. "I thought he was supposed to be sick," he muttered. He walked hurriedly to his own bedroom, finding it empty as well.
Where had they gone? And in this weather? Edward changed his clothes in a hurry and went downstairs again. He couldn't help feeling struck with worry, even if it was probably nothing. They could be out buying food or whatever, but still. Troublesome as it was, he had met Thomas Peterson a few hours earlier, and he had been telling him that Alfons would disappear from him sooner or later.
The fact that Peterson had said it, had known, didn't make it more true than it already was. Edward was fully aware of that. It was just that he had been reminded by him, and it annoyed him more than he wanted to admit to himself.
Because he's right.
The Gate was already on its move. It was deleting Alfons from people's memories, even if it was still not enough yet for people to notice it. Maybe even Alfons himself was affected without noticing. What if he was forgetting things about Edward too, and the rest of this world for that matter?
"Damn it all!" Edward yelled out, as he had searched to kitchen without finding a single note from any of them. Hell, there was even fairly enough food left, so they didn't have to be out shopping for anything either. And wasn't Al still sick? He was supposed to be in bed!
He hunched over the kitchen table, trying to convince himself that he was probably overreacting. Besides, they could take care of themselves, right? They didn't exactly need him to be there all the time. Edward sighed, calming down and rested his head in his arms. "I'll give them one hour," he mumbled to himself.
"This is it," Alfons whispered. "The truth is right here."
"What I don't understand is," Al said thoughtfully, "if Mustang never reported the truth of the incident, how come it's documented here?"
Scheiska adjusted her glasses as she squinted down on the papers in his hands. "The latest report is dated several years after the incident really happened. And look, it's signed by Lieutenant Colonel Hughes."
"What does that mean?" Alfons asked, disappointed. Wasn't it a real clue after all?
"Now I get it," Al said eagerly. "Mustang must have told Hughes what really happened, without reporting it officially to the military higher-ups."
"Yes," Scheiska said. "Afterwards, Hughes-san must have added this report into the files secretly, in hopes that someone would find out the truth by accident sometime. He had full access to this place since he started working as an investigator during the war, after all."
"I see," Alfons mused. "So we can still use this, even if it has been secretly documented?"
Scheiska nodded. "If it's secret it's even more important that you use it. It seems like Hughes wanted this to be known at some point, after all. My guess is that he disagreed with Mustang by not reporting it. No matter reason, someone who is capable to kill his own men like that shouldn't reach a high rank in the military..." She huffed.
"You're probably right," Alfons said in a low voice. "Scheiska, I'll be taking this report with me."
She nodded. "That's okay... since no one in fact knows that it was there in the first place, no one will notice anything missing."
Alfons folded the paper carefully and placed it inside his shirt pocket. "This is the proof I need," he muttered. "Now, all I need is a plan to go through with the rest."
"We'll figure it out," Al said encouragingly. "But I think we should talk with Mustang about it. Maybe if he's willing to testify against Kiehle..."
"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Alfons started hesitantly. Involving Mustang in this too? He was already uncomfortable enough knowing that Al and Scheiska knew this much. There was no guarantee that Mustang would want to testify against Kiehle after all these years. He had had a reason for not reporting him in the first place. Alfons still wondered what that reason was...
Suddenly they heard someone at the other side of the door, and the three of them abruptly froze. A key was being pushed into the keyhole. The guards!
"Hide!" Scheiska whispered frantically.
Al and Alfons didn't have to be told twice. Al quickly flattened out and slipped underneath the nearest shelf. The shelves were standing on four wheeled legs above the floor, probably so they could be moved easier, and it was just enough space for him to fit underneath. As for Alfons, he ran further into the library while keeping himself hunched down, and hid behind one of the shelves farthest into the room. The light was dimmer here, and hopefully it helped hiding him.
The door went up, and the light of a torch peeked in, searching abnormal activity. Al huddled together underneath the shelf, feeling the torch-light wander very close to him.
"Scheiska?" the guard said charily.
"Hi!" Scheiska stood up, her arms full of documents, awkwardly trying to salute at the same time but didn't quite succeed. "I was just adding the new files where they belong."
"Alright, that's fine," the guard said, and Al sighed in relief. He was at least buying it and would hopefully not come in to double-check if she was telling the truth.
"It's late now, though," he said. "Make sure you get yourself home soon. Although, it's raining heavily right now."
"Oh, yeah. Thank you," Scheiska replied with a beam. "I'll be finished soon."
"Alright, see you tomorrow," the guard said and closed the door.
Scheiska let herself fall to her knees, still holding onto the documents. "That was close, guys..." she said.
Al and Alfons crept out of hiding, equally relieved as she was. "That was a well-thought excuse," Al complimented.
"Well, it's one of the jobs I'm doing, after all," Scheiska said. "Since I used to be a librarian I'm familiar with that."
Alfons stepped to her and offered to take the messy stock out of her hands. "Thank you for everything, Scheiska," he said. Then he turned and started putting all the documents back where they had been. "We should leave now before any other guards turn up."
"Yeah," Al agreed. "And Nii-san is probably wondering where we are."
That was true. They hadn't left any notes and Edward was probably at home by now.
"Good luck tomorrow," Scheiska said as they headed off. "I hope everything turns out well!"
Fortunately they managed to sneak out of HQ without much trouble. The only obstacle they met was when they finally came outside and saw the heavy rain pouring down like a major cold shower.
"Can't always be that lucky," Al muttered.
They hurried home, not able to cover themselves from the torrential rain, but the thought of knowing that a warm home and Edward were awaiting their return was good enough to keep them going. It didn't help much on Al's cold though, and by the time they reached the house he was coughing and shivering with a running nose. Fortunately Alfons had managed to keep the paper in his pocket from getting soaked.
"Thank you for helping me, Al," he said as they reached the porch. "I would never have managed to find out about this if it hadn't been for you." He couldn't remember that he had actually thanked Al properly for everything, so Al deserved the credit for this one.
His smaller doppelganger simply smiled up at him. "No problem."
He hoped Edward wouldn't be mad at them for not letting him know where they had been. Alfons opened the door and ushered them both inside, wet and cold to the bone. As soon as they reached the dry shelter inside the hall, they were both attacked by a blond projectile of flesh and metal. With a yelp Alfons got dragged inside the living room by his shirt along with Al and they both got thrown down onto the couch.
Edward stood before them and crossed his arms, his golden eyes looking like he wanted to roast them alive. "It's about time!" he bristled, his voice hoarse. "Where the hell have you two been? I've been worrying sick."
Alfons sat up, still feeling a little taken off-guard, but couldn't help the small grin spreading across his face. "I had something I had to do at HQ," he said. "Al came with me because he was bored."
Edward frowned, obviously not buying just that. "What something?"
Al couldn't have gotten a coughing fit at any better time. He hunched over and choked on his own breath, and for a moment Alfons thought it might have been a little too convenient. Perhaps he was faking it a bit, but so what? It was working. Edward immediately got preoccupied by kneeling beside him on the couch, carefully hitting his back and feeling his forehead with his left hand. "Stupid, little brother," he muttered. "You haven't even gotten rid of that flu yet and still you head out like that."
"I'm sorry, Nii-san," Al apologized weakly.
"Bring him to bed so he can get better already," Alfons said without making it too obvious that the subject had been changed, and rose from the couch.
"I was better until now," Al contradicted.
"Still, you must rest until it's entirely over," Edward scolded.
"I'll cook some dinner," Alfons continued, relieved that Edward had seemed to have forgotten about his questions already. "You can bring him some when it's ready."
Edward didn't object to the idea of food, and did as Alfons suggested. "Alright, come on, Al."
Al sighed and then sneezed into his sleeve again. "Okay, Nii-san."
Later that night, after the three of them had eaten and were getting ready for bed, Alfons couldn't fail to notice that Edward was unusually clingy and could hardly even keep his hands off of him. Not even while they were brushing their teeth in the bathroom. A flesh arm was constantly wrapped around his waist and fisted his pyjama like he would disappear the second he let him go.
Alfons put his toothbrush away and steered Edward's face up to look at him. "What's with you today? It was just a small errand," he said innocently.
Edward blushed. "I hadn't expected you to be gone when I came home, that's all."
Alfons leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. "It's not like I'll suddenly disappear."
"Humph," Edward replied. "Don't be stupid."
"You're cute when you're blushing like that," Alfons added with a grin, and the other answered by throwing a towel at him.
"Shut up."
Alfons laughed and escaped out of the bathroom before Edward could catch him. But he didn't get further than the bedroom before Edward sat across his waist and pinned him down on the bed, attacking him with meddling kisses everywhere. Alfons writhed and squirmed to escape the tickling sensations.
"Edward, you're cheating!" he managed between his laughing kicks.
Edward grinned. "Hell I am. You started it."
Alfons caught Edward's wrist with one hand and the front of his shirt with the other. With all the strength he managed he pulled Edward all the way down on top of him. Edward landed flat on his stomach and got pinned as Alfons efficiently wrapped his legs around his waist.
Edward tried to slip free from his lover's unexpected advantage, but there was no use. He offered Alfons a curious stare. "And what are you thinking you're going to accomplish in this position?"
Alfons smiled innocently. "This." He pulled at Edward's shirt again until he was at decent kissing range and their lips merged together ardently. Since Edward didn't mind the arrangement at all, he quickly submitted and started feeling down Alfons' creamy skin with his free hand. He loved the feeling of warm skin, especially when it was raining, the bodily heat from Alfons reflecting onto his own. It had helped him survive through many rainy days.
"If every night can be like this before I go to sleep," Edward murmured. "Then I'll be happy for the rest of my life."
Alfons gazed up at him and kissed his neck. It wasn't like Edward to talk like this, but his words meant more to him than anything in the world. His hand stroked through Edward's bangs. "You're acting strange, Edward." He paused and half expected that his lover would deny it, but he didn't. So it wasn't just a feeling. "Something's going to happen soon," he predicted in a low voice. "Isn't it?"
Edward rested his chin in his palm and slowly returned a nod. "Yeah..."
Alfons' arms wrapped around him, feeling a terrible need to just hold him close. No matter what happened, it could affect the entire world, maybe even Munich and the rest of his old world as well. Everything was just so big that he couldn't even think about it.
Edward rested his head on his shoulder, and Alfons could feel a comfortable coolness from the metal plate on his chest pressing against his.
"Something happened today," Edward said. "I went to see Thomas Peterson because he requested to meet with me, but apparently he just wanted to piss me off."
Alfons remembered that Scheiska had mentioned that, but he hadn't asked about it since then Edward would figure that he had been snooping around the Department of Investigations. "Oh? I guess he's not going to sell out any information about Thule."
"No. All he did was sell out you," Edward muttered spitefully, and Alfons flinched in his arms.
"What?"
"Don't worry," Edward said fast. "The commanding officer at the Department of Investigations is an old friend of Mustang's. He won't let the information about you come out."
That was a relief... I've already got enough on my mind, Alfons thought darkly. It was fairly enough having Brigadier General Kiehle knowing the truth.
"It reminded me how ambitious the Colonel is," Edward said with a small smile. "He keeps up his determination on ruling the world, that bastard. But he has still many people supporting him, and I think he'll reach the top someday."
Alfons calmed himself down and thought about the Colonel. He was a good man. Alfons hoped he would reach the top too. He couldn't help admiring the man, and in that case understand why Edward had once loved him.
"When all this is finally over," Edward continued, "we'll settle down for real, you, Al and me. I'll pay back my time to the military, and after that we'll simply disappear. Somewhere peaceful. You could work with some small inventions, or whatever you'd like." He smiled.
Alfons sighed through a small smile as well. "Yeah."
"And maybe there will be a nice school for Al," Edward mused, in deep thought. "I think he should go to school. I know he'll be greater that I'll ever be." His head moved to rest on top of Alfons' chest and his eyes closed. "And I could find a job where I can help people, maybe by using alchemy. I'm good at rebuilding architectural structures. People need that as long as wars and attacks rage on all around, not only in Amestris but other places as well."
Alfons' smile never faded, simply by hearing Edward talking like this. He had never spoken out loud about how he visualized a possible future, but now Alfons felt inspired. When that time came, he would enjoy every moment of it. It would be like the life he had always dreamed of with Edward.
After some lazy rearrangements he was snuggling behind Edward, spooning into his back under the comfortable quilt. His living bed warmer sighed and held onto his elbow while drowsily urging him closer to his back. Alfons softened with contentedness and closed his eyes to welcome the quiet lethargy.
He had almost fallen into a soothing sleep already when he suddenly heard a door outside their bedroom being opened quite roughly, and then something hit the floor in the hall with a loud THUMP!
Edward jerked up on his elbows, his eyes immediately on alert. "Al!" he breathed, and hurriedly leaped out of bed. His metal foot clanked against the floor as he ran for the bedroom door.
Alarmed, Alfons got up as well and followed him while rubbing most of the drowsiness away from his eyes. What was happening now? Had someone broken into their house? He suddenly felt an urge to find something to use as a weapon, to defend them. But as they came out in the hall, they saw no one except Al. He was lying flat out on the floor across the doorway to his room. He looked like he was in pain.
"Al!" Edward called, hurrying to his side and kneeled beside him. Al's breathing came out a little stifled and he balled his fists against the wooden floor. Edward wrapped and arm underneath his chest to help him up. "Are you okay?"
Slowly, Al managed to support himself on his palms and knees to get up in sitting position. His hand shot up to his temple in confusion and he avoided any kind of eye contact. "Yeah..."
"What happened?" Edward asked persistently.
"I..." Al started. "I saw it again."
"Saw what?"
"The Gate... It was..." Al's eyes grew wide as a pair of china dishes. Like he had suddenly remembered a very frightening dream.
"The Gate?" Edward echoed slowly. In disbelief. "It was just a nightmare," he said, admittedly trying to reassure himself as much as Al.
Al shook his head. "It spoke," he said, looking horrified. "I think something is going to happen to me. I don't know. It said it's a part of an equal exchange. Maybe... Maybe I'll..."
Edward opened his mouth to speak, but his own voice failed him.
"What if I lose my body again?" Al shivered. "It'll take it back, because... the balance isn't right."
Edward stared at Al in terror, and so did Alfons. There was no way Al could know the details about the Balance, let alone obtained the information by simply having an ordinary nightmare. Which meant, whatever he had seen, it hadn't been just an ordinary nightmare. Edward was certain of that now.
Was the Gate doing something to Al too, as it was doing with Alfons? It was like the Gate had been occasionally visiting all of them to deliver bad news...
Edward shook his head. "No. That's impossible." He gripped Al around his shoulders as he still refused to look at either of them. "It can't touch you," he said intently. "I'll make sure of it." Although, he felt strangely frightened by this. More frightened than he could imagine.
The Gate seemed to be targeting Al through his dreams. Edward didn't like the sound of this at all. Either Al or Alfons were the Gate's target, and until now he had been sure it had been Alfons, but now he didn't even know for sure which of them! Alfons still had that mark under his foot, and now Al was getting tormented in his sleep. Would both of them be taken from him?
Edward shook his head. No... No. That couldn't happen. He tried to think rationally. He would stop this!
He realized these dreams must have been happening frequently to Al, but maybe not as extreme as this time, apart from the time they had been at the hotel in the town of Hugel a while ago. That had been the first noticeable sign. Al had been screaming in his sleep and it had been hard to wake him. These nightmares were probably connected.
The lives of the two people he loved the most in the world were at stake, just like in his own nightmare where he was forced to choose between one of them. And if he understood Al's words correctly, the Gate was planning to take back his body in exchange for Alfons, so Alfons could continue living in this world. If that happened, what would happen to Al's soul?
Edward didn't want to completely freak out, but still he couldn't help his own eyes darkening from the realization. "This is all my fault."
Al shook his head again where he sat on his knees. "Nii-san, that's not true."
Alfons took a couple of careful steps towards Edward's side and laid a trembling hand on his shoulder. "Don't say that," he said in a low voice. "Everything will be alright." They were just empty words, he knew that much. But he didn't want Edward to carry everything by himself anymore. This concerned all three of them. "We should probably just go to bed and deal with everything as it goes, right?"
Al could actually not agree more. He didn't want to deal with all this right now. He felt terrible, still shivering from cold sweat and his forehead was damp from high fever. His head felt extremely heavy, aching and his ears felt like they were stuffed with cotton, and right now he just wanted to lay on the floor and sleep.
"You're probably right," Edward replied slowly to Alfons. "Let's get you back to bed." He tugged at Al's sleeve. "Our bedroom." He gave Alfons a look, as if to ask if it was alright with him, and Alfons nodded. It might be a little strange, but he didn't particularly mind it. He knew how close Edward and Alphonse stood each other, and obviously Edward wanted to make sure Al wouldn't have any more similar nightmares like that tonight.
Al hesitated slightly before he let his older brother help him up standing. "Are you sure...?"
Edward gave him a firm shove towards their bedroom. "There's no reason to argue. I need to keep an eye on both of you, geez."
With that he urged them both into the bedroom and Alfons sighed through a smile. If Edward decided on something, there was really no point asking questions about it. They were already supposed to be sleeping at this hour, and it would probably make Al feel a little better to sleep close to his brother like he had done at the hotel in Hugel. Even if he had had nightmares at that time too, at least Edward had been right there beside him and calmed him down when needed.
Alfons lay down next to the wall, followed by Edward in the middle, and Al lay down next to his brother. The space was small, but Alfons had survived through a lot worse before. As they buried themselves underneath the covers, Edward turned onto his stomach and draped his arms around both of them, his flesh one over Al and the metal one over Alfons. Protectively. "Sleep now," he murmured.
Al smiled slightly and snuggled onto his side until his nose touched Edward's shoulder. It probably should have bothered him a little since he knew what kind of relationship his brother and Alfons had together when he wasn't there, but he was too tired to think much about it. Besides, he respected it more than anything else.
"Good night," he whispered. Even if this was kind of strange, he already felt a little better. It didn't really matter to him anymore what Alfons was to Edward. Edward and Al would always have their own special relationship bounded by brotherly love, which no one could ever ruin. He had learned to like Alfons, and he found himself thinking about him. Tomorrow he would have to meet his commanding officer, and he might get into some deep trouble. Al really hoped it would turn out okay, although he couldn't actually imagine the extent of his situation. However, he understood why Alfons didn't share it with Edward. It all would've gotten ten times worse, probably. He lifted his head a little and looked over from Edward's already sleeping face towards the other. Alfons lay on his back with one arm resting underneath his head, and his blue eyes were widely open still. He looked like he wouldn't fall asleep for a while.
Alfons noticed that Al was watching him from the other side of Edward and turned his head slowly towards him.
Al lowered his voice to a slight whisper. "You should sleep too."
Alfons concurred. "Yeah... Good night, Al." He watched Al lay down again and stilled on his side with his eyes closed.
"You can do it," he heard the youngest add in a low, but uplifting tone.
Alfons breathed in deeply. He hoped he could. He didn't want to think so much about it, but how could he not? The Brigadier General wouldn't be taken down that easily. He needed a plan of how to confront him, but time was so short. Though, he had at least some thoughts on how to go about it, they only needed some work. He deliberated; tomorrow he would probably figure everything out somehow. He needed to work this out. Or else, he had to escape in some other way and maybe even die trying.