First off, I'd like to apologize for this long-overdue chapter. I really have to focus in school so, unfortunately, my updates will be far and few in between. But, when summer gets here (which is soon, mind you), I should be able to update much more quickly =D

Second, thank you very much for everyone who reviewed, favorited this story, and added me to their author's list! I'm so glad you guys enjoy reading this, and that is my motivation to keep writing.

Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or Chrono Crusade

Chapter Three: Into the Oblivion

"No matter how we close our eyes, there's a whole world out there bigger than ourselves and our dreams..." -Edward Elric

During the course of less than one day, word had spread of Edward's arrival at the Magdalene Order. Much to the dismay of a certain Sister, no details were left out of the story as it was passed from one person to another, catching a few exaggerated details along the way. It wasn't at all surprising to them that Rosette was the reason for Edward's admission into the Order's hospital wing in the first place. In fact, they expected no one else to be the cause of it. But what kept them talking about it for the following week was Edward's progress.

True, Sister Rosette (and by extension, her partner Chrono) were assigned to help him recover. And, according to Sister Kate, the dynamic duo was actually doing a good job, for once. But of course, that was only concerning Edward's physical health. Mentally speaking, the blond-haired mystery was a train-wreck.

Edward Elric hadn't spoken a word since the day of his arrival, resigning himself to his bed or in the chair by his window. He wouldn't eat until, eventually, his nurse came to force-feed him. When he proved to be too much of a match for the frail, old woman, she feed him his nutrients through an IV with the assistance of a few more nurses.

There were also rumors going around that Edward had drawn strange symbols on the floor of his room with chalk, as told by the janitor responsible for cleaning it up. This raised some questions from the members of the Order, and soon, Edward became the topic of many discussions. Naturally, they were curious about him. No one had come to the Order, looking for Edward and claiming that he was their family or friend. And apparently, nothing could be found about Edward Elric (courtesy of a few eavesdropping nurses), not even his birthday. He was a complete and utter mystery that was practically begging to be solved.

As a result, a few Sisters attempted to visit Edward, in a useless effort to unravel his secrets. They were quickly chased away by Edward's nurse and were warned to not come back. However, only a few hours later, the Sisters came back to renew their attempt. Only this time, they brought reinforcements.

A whopping thirty-seven Sisters, most of whom had a crush on the silent teen, were intent on entering Edward's room, if only to see him.

It was then that Sister Kate decided to change Sister Rosette's duty into another form of helping Edward. Instead of directly aiding him (bringing food, giving him medicine, helping his nurse), she would help Edward by keeping back his ever-growing group of fangirls from breaking down the door.

"I said stay back!" Sister Rosette screeched, her temper flaring. Those around her were smart enough to get out of the way before she got physical. "How would you like it if I bother you when you're sick, huh?"

"Please, just let him rest," Chrono pleaded with a strained smile, trying to keep his half of the crowd at bay. They were at this for two hours already… "He needs peace and quiet."

"We'll be quiet, we promise!"

"Just one look!"

"There's no harm in taking some of his hair, right?"

"Please let us in!"

Rosette growled in frustration. "What's wrong with you people? If you really cared about him, you'd leave him alone until he's better!"

"Says you," a brunette Sister near the front scoffed. She smiled too sweetly, placing a hand on her hip. "It's your fault that he's crazy in the first place. I bet something disconnected in his head when you hit him."

Everyone became silent, save for the noise of the hall, as every Sister present held their breath. All eyes were on Rosette, waiting for her reaction.

Rosette's face was downcast, her bangs obscuring half her face and making it impossible to tell what her expression was. Her fists were clenched tightly at her sides, trembling as if she were holding them back.

Chrono approached apprehensively, taking baby steps toward Rosette. You never knew when it came to her temper, so it was best to keep his guard up. "Rosette…?"

Her head snapped up, icy blue eyes glaring fiercely at the brunette. Chrono acted quicker than Rosette did, tightly wrapping his arms around his partner's waist just as she lunged for the other Sister. She struggled furiously in his arms, trying desperately to break free with frustrated shouts.

The brunette, thanking her lucky stars that Chrono was always around to keep the hot-headed Sister in check, quickly made her escape, followed by the rest of the Sisters gathered around Edward's door. No one wanted to stick around Sister Rosette when she was really ticked off.

"Come back here!" she growled at their retreating forms. "Say that again to my face!"

"Please, calm down Rosette," Chrono keep his hold firm. "She's gone now. They're all gone."

She continued to struggle for a few moments before becoming limp in Chrono's arms. He didn't let go, however, because she was still trembling. It wouldn't do to let her go when she was still angry –

His thoughts were stopped cold when he felt something wet fall onto his hand. Then he heard a sniff.

Was she crying?

Chrono immediately loosened his hold and moved in front of Rosette, where her bangs had once again hidden her eyes from view. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong, but she spoke before he could.

"She's right," Rosette said, her voice thick from trying to hold back tears. "It is my fault."

Chrono frowned, his heart tugging with worry. Rosette was always so strong, and it hurt him to see her like this… vulnerable and insecure. "Hey," he called softly. Rosette looked up, coming face-to-face with a grinning Chrono. "You never get discouraged, remember?"

Rosette couldn't help but smile, especially with how funny Chrono looked when he grinned like that. She didn't feel a whole lot better, but with Chrono beside her, she could make an effort to try. "Thanks."

:DDDD:

Father Remington walked down the crowded corridors of the Magdalene Order's hospital wing once again, deep in thought. It was quite an interesting week, to say the least, even beside their new guest. The Order's hospital wing had recently taken in a record-high number of patients. Even the city's hospitals were overflowing with patients, which, of course, raised a few suspicions. The police were starting to think it was the work of some gang or organization, as all the patients admitted had been beaten within an inch of their life.

But something felt off about it. The victims were ordinary citizens, innocent people that hadn't done any harm and posed no threat. There was no purpose to this, no rhyme or reason…

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. He didn't yet have all the pieces to this new puzzle, so it wouldn't do any good to try and figure it out. All he would get was an incomplete picture, and possibly end up worse than he started off.

Father Remington stopped in front of a door with a sign which read: Dr. Marcoh, Hospital Administrator

Perhaps he has another piece of the puzzle to offer…

Dr. Marcoh was one of his and the Elder's few friends, and a reliable ally when one was needed. He had been a great help to Father Remington and the Order on numerous occasions involving strange events, proving to be useful in finding the truth. No matter what it was, Dr. Marcoh always managed to give a helping hand, however small it might have been.

He knocked on the door, hearing a strangely muffled, "Come in!" before pulling the door open. He was quite startled when a wave of papers flooded out of the room and pooled around his feet. He looked into the room curiously.

Every corner of the doctor's office seemed to be stacked with papers, even piling on the floor. Father Remington glanced around the room, but couldn't spot the administrator anywhere. "Dr. Marcoh?"

"Yes, yes," came a gruff voice. A stack of papers near the windows shifted slightly before toppling over, revealing the middle-aged, graying man. He smiled upon seeing Father Remington. "Ewan, what a nice surprise! It's been too long!" Dr. Marcoh trudged through his office, slowly but surely making his way to the door. "Please excuse the mess; it's been so busy nowadays… paperwork is piling higher and higher by the minute."

"That's quite unfortunate," Father Remington frowned. "Isn't there anyone willing to help you?"

Dr. Marcoh laughed bitterly, finally reaching the door and stepping into the hall with Father Remington. "If only. I may be the administrator, but if I fired everyone who didn't want to help me, then there'd be no more doctors or nurses left."

"Sorry to hear it," Father Remington paused as Dr. Marcoh pushed all the papers that had spilled into the hall back into his office, closing the door to prevent them from sliding back out. "I'll see if I can find someone to assist you."

Dr. Marcoh waved his hand. "You don't have to do that. It's really not that much…"

"It's a startling amount, Tim. Even you must have realized that. Something strange is happening," Father Remington watched as understanding dawned on Dr. Marcoh's wrinkled features.

"So then, this isn't a social visit?"

"I'm afraid not."

The doctor nodded, turning on his heel and quickly walking down the hall. "Then let's go somewhere private. Obviously, my office isn't exactly the best choice."

Father Remington followed Dr. Marcoh into a larger room, with six comfortable-looking chairs surrounding a large, rectangular table in the center of the room. Right beside it was a smaller table against the wall, with a few folders tossed onto it. In the corner farthest from the door was a large mahogany bookcase, filled to the brim with books of various sizes and colors.

"This is where the staff may come during their break, for lunch or to catch up on paperwork. I believe we'll be able to discuss what the trouble is quite safely in here." Dr. Marcoh sat in one of the chairs, grunting as he did so. "What have you gathered so far?"

Father Remington took the seat beside Dr. Marcoh, drumming his fingers against the table. "It's painfully obvious that someone is behind this, but the reason is still yet to be discovered. The police think it may be an organization… they're even going as far as throwing in the Mafia's possible involvement. But I have a feeling that this stretches deeper than anyone realizes."

Dr. Marcoh nodded. "Your reasoning is a bit more than I've been able to come up with, but it's more or less the same."

"Losing your touch?" Father Remington joked with a chuckle.

The middle-aged man sniffed indignantly, mock-glaring at his friend. "I still have a few cards up my sleeve." He immediately sobered. "I've read nearly all the reports of the victims admitted into the Magdalene Order, as well as a few from nearby hospitals. And… I've noticed something odd."

Father Remington nodded. Could this be the missing piece?

"I've noticed that there were more male attacks than women, though it's still a lot." His brow furrowed in concentration as he recalled the specifics. "All the male victims were either brown or blond-haired, between the ages of fifteen and forty-eight. As for the female victims, nearly all of them had black hair and were in their mid-twenties to thirties. There have been a few that stray from the norm, but other than those, their descriptions stayed relatively the same."

"Hmm. That is strange," Father Remington mused to himself. It wasn't exactly the ground-breaking clue he'd been hoping for, but it wouldn't hurt to store the information for later. The smallest details could add up to something larger. "Have you heard anything from the police yet?"

"No, nothing that you haven't already said," Dr. Marcoh sighed. "They're wasting their time looking into the Mafia, as if they could get the evidence to prove it, even if it was them. What they need to focus on is why someone would want to do this. What would one gain from all of this?"

Father Remington nodded in agreement. It was the same thing he himself had been trying to figure out.

Dr. Marcoh shook his head, clearing his thoughts. He felt that there was nothing left to say, and so decided to change the subject. "By the way, how's Edward doing? I haven't been able to check on him recently, with all these priority cases coming in."

"He's definitely gotten better. However – " Father Remington broke off suddenly, his eyes growing wide as his mind put together two pieces of the puzzle. And all it took was for Dr. Marcoh to mention them consecutively within the same conversation. He glanced at his friend, who appeared confused by his sudden silence. "… Edward hasn't spoken a word since Sister Kate and I questioned him… around the same time these strange attacks began."

The doctor frowned, confused by what Father Remington seemed to be implying. "You think the boy may have some part in this?"

Father Remington rested his chin on his hand, trying to organize his thoughts. "Even before I went to visit Edward, I took note that our clinic seemed to be busier than usual, especially that early in the morning. It may be just coincidence, but…" there are no such thing as coincidences, was his unfinished thought. No doubt, there was an ominous air about Edward, even to regular people. His metal arm and leg were enough to make the nurses fear the mute boy. But even if his arrival and the attacks were synchronized, what would Edward's role be? He was only a child. Albeit one with no record of ever existing.

There were too many conflicting factors. The only way he could decipher this mystery was if he could get Edward himself to speak, and explain his presence here and a few other things that didn't add up… like his limbs. That, at least, would make him look less suspicious in the eyes of many.

"I'll have to pay him a visit," Father Remington said, standing up from his chair.

"Would you mind if I tagged along?" Dr. Marcoh asked, also getting to his feet. "I'm curious about him and the things I've heard."

Father Remington pursed his lips, thinking it through carefully. The doctor could actually help, if he came and studied Edward. Perhaps he could form his own opinions on why the boy chose to be silent, though Father Remington had his own suspicions. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt," he finally answered, walking toward the door. "Let's go."

:DDDD:

Edward stared blankly at the chalk in his automail hand. He had told himself that he would save Al after he'd redeemed himself, but…

He closed his metal fingers over the small piece of chalk. It just wasn't that simple.

There were countless times he had failed when the only option was to succeed. Getting Al his body back, for example. It was something he had to do, but now… well, he wasn't sure his brother was even alive.

Don't think like that, a small part of him, the part that still clung to the single strand of hope he had left, scolded quietly in his mind. There's still a chance. If there was some way to get back home, you would see Al there, waiting for you…

There's no chance. Alchemy is useless here and without it, there's no way of getting back home, the larger part of him, the part that had given up, sighed in bitter resignation. It was only logical that Ed inclined to agree with this part of himself. After all, it appealed to his scientific nature. "Hope" wasn't a valid tool when it came to solving problems, so it didn't do much good to waste his time dwelling on it. He needed hard facts; undeniable truths that could lead him to the answer he was looking for. The problem was, he had absolutely no idea where to start.

It was times like this that he liked to look at the rain.

Wherever the Gate had sent him, it sure as hell rained a lot. Each day was shrouded beneath dark, gray clouds, which suited his mood perfectly. He would stare at the raindrops as they hit the glass, listening intently to the sound they made, to the point where it was the only thing he could hear. But, unfortunately, it didn't distract him for long. No, it seemed nothing could accomplish that.

His mind constantly whirred with countless solutions and theories, one after another being rejected. Impossible, his mind screamed. Everything here is backwards!

He made a promise… but would he be able to keep it?

He ignored the sound of his door creaking open. It was a little early, but he assumed it was his nurse coming in to try and feed him again. Couldn't they understand that he wasn't hungry? It didn't help that every time she brought his meals, she tried to spoon-feed him like a damn baby.

Ed's thoughts were cut short when a blonde man entered his peripheral vision.

"Hello, Edward," the man greeted politely.

Ed turned his head to look at him, giving him a blank look. The blonde guy looked really familiar…

"I'm Father Remington, if you recall. Sister Kate and I questioned you just last week."

Oh.

Father Remington took a seat on Ed's hospital bed, his expression an odd combination of light and serious. "I'll get right to the point, Edward. There are a few questions I have, and you might be able to answer them."

Ed looked away, turning his gaze back to the window. There wasn't any real reason that he refused to speak. At first, he concentrated all his mental power into trying to understand the equivalency of what the Gate had done, entering the same "reading-mode" as when he read books. He also weighed his options for the possibility of returning to Amestris, entertaining the idea that he even could. Without the factor of alchemy, everything he thought of was useless. At that point, people had already come to expect his mute state. And he didn't feel like sharing his life story with anyone, because he was sure they were curious about him; just by the way they gawked at his automail.

He heard the man sigh. "I'm not sure what's happened to upset you into silence… but nothing good can come out of it."

Ed firmly kept his eyes on a single drop of rain. Of course he knew that, he didn't need pretty-boy to remind him. He just didn't trust them enough to tell them anything about himself; they didn't need to know. Besides, they couldn't keep him here forever. They'd have to release him sometime, or else he'd have to leave on his own. And then…

And then what?

He didn't even know anyone; he didn't know anything about this world! It wouldn't be too hard to get adjusted to life on this side of the Gate (surviving was one of many things he knew how to do), but it was an issue of time. How long would it take for him to learn what this world had to offer? He already knew alchemy was apparently out of the question here. What else wouldn't work? What else could work? Now that he thought about it, there were many variables he hadn't taken into account and would have to research about. It was a grave oversight that could potentially keep him from even attempting from going home until many years from now.

Shit.

"Mr. Elric," an old, familiar voice called. Ed's thoughts froze, his eyes widening as the man continued. "Have you experienced anything traumatizing, recently? Your mind may have set up some mental defenses…"

Ed turned his head slowly, not believing his ears. It couldn't be.

"… to protect yourself from that experience. I wouldn't be surprised…"

It was. But how? He – Dr. Marcoh – Wasn't he killed by a homunculus?

"… if you didn't remember anything at all."

Ed blinked as time seemed to slow down, his mind working at a speed that only a genius could keep up with. First he took into account that this "Dr. Marcoh" didn't recognize him at all, judging by the friendly and concerned expression the doctor gave him. But he couldn't be sure, even if Dr. Marcoh did die… the Gate could be a bastard like that. He'd have to make sure later.

Then he moved on to something that could turn this situation in his favor. Dr. Marcoh or not, this man had just given Ed the perfect excuse for not telling them anything about himself. They couldn't get answers out of someone who didn't remember them, right? He'd play the part of an amnesiac, and they would have no choice but to believe him.

Father Remington studied Edward closely, though it was difficult. The boy gave no indication of having any sort of reaction, except for one moment. It was slight, but he saw Edward's shoulder's stiffen when Dr. Marcoh spoke. It confused Father Remington greatly, as it implied that Edward somehow knew the doctor, or his voice at least. But that was impossible, seeing as it was the first time Dr. Marcoh had even met the boy. Other than that, the blonde-haired mystery stayed just that: a mystery.

But everything changed when Edward turned to face them again. Father Remington could see a small spark of determination in Edward's strange, gold eyes. It begged the question of what could have triggered him to suddenly come back from his supposed "insanity".

"I don't remember anything," Edward mumbled out, confirming Dr. Marcoh's statement. His voice sounded a bit hoarse from underuse.

Father Remington ran a hand through his hair, holding back the urge to sigh. Well, this certainly complicated things. If Edward couldn't remember anything, then it was useless to ask him questions. However… only a week ago he told them his name, some sort of nickname, and the name of an unfamiliar place. If he truly didn't remember anything, how could he have come up with those? It wasn't likely that he lied, especially not after the breakdown he'd had.

"You were still able to give us your name," Dr. Marcoh pointed out, thinking along the same lines of his friend.

Edward frowned. "I meant that I don't remember what happened to me. I still know that my name is Edward Elric, and that I'm sixteen."

"Really?" Dr. Marcoh couldn't keep the surprise out of voice. "You seem much younger than that."

Ed's gold eyes flashed in annoyance as he looked at the doctor. He bit back the rather nasty comment he was about to make, just barely putting a lid to his temper. "Well, I'm not," he growled.

"Alright, alright," Dr. Marcoh replied defensively.

"There is one thing I would like to ask you, Edward," Father Remington asked smoothly. Ed immediately grew suspicious at the sound of the man's innocent tone, warily keeping his guard up for anything.

"Would you care to explain why you've refused to speak this past week?"

The ending is a little abrupt, but I just had to post this chapter since I actually have the time do it.

Don't hesitate to correct me, if you see anything wrong. I've had been working on this for a while now (duh), but I can't catch every single mistake (even if I've gone through it a million times). Please leave a review on your way out!