Normal is Subjective

Chapter 4

Alphonse sat on his bed in the dorm room he shared with his brother, struggling with the buttons on his shirt. He was able to do almost everything on his own, he was even eating actual food instead of just soup. But buttons...he cursed, something he rarely did around others, but he seemed to be doing more and more frequently while he was alone. He had vowed to stop relying on his brother for so much; he saw how Edward had been looking at him. Ed always seemed tired and exhausted, and he was spending as much time as possible in the library or in the offices, away from Alphonse. The look in Edward's eyes told Al all he needed to know. Sad. Always sad. All because Ed couldn't live his own life; because he had to care for Al.

Buttons, buttons! Why the hell did everything have to be fastened with buttons?!

He growled, the vibrations tickled his throat in an annoying way as not-so-nimble fingers slipped again. "Damn it!" He must have spent ten minutes trying to fasten that first button. Was it ever this hard? He swore that he'd been able to fasten buttons when he was younger. He threw his hands down in frustration as Edward walked in.

He'd been wearing a smile as he stepped in, but one look at Alphonse and Ed's eyes filled with that sad expression. He rushed to his brother's side. "Hey, let me help," he said softly, reaching for Al's shirt. Ed quickly finished the buttons and straightened the collar, "There."

Al mumbled a quick thanks.

"I-I uh, I'm going to the library. You want another book?" He turned his face away.

Al didn't know what hurt more, the fact that he couldn't do anything himself or that Edward wouldn't look him in the eye anymore. "No thank you. I have to go talk to the colonel. I shouldn't be too long."

Ed gave him a worried look then turned around to the door, "Oh, okay. Thanks for telling me. I'll bring us back some dinner."

"I can get my own, Ed. You don't have to."

Ed's shoulders slumped. "Okay. I'll see you back here later." He grabbed his pocket watch off of the dresser, he must have forgotten it on his way out the first time, and left.

Al sighed, trying not be so much of a bother to his brother was more turning out to be more difficult than he'd ever thought it would be. But that didn't matter. He needed to stop interfering with Edward's life. He needed to stay out of the way.

With a sigh, Al knelt and picked up his bag. Books sure were heavy. He really did need another book from the library, but he didn't want Ed to have to get it for him. No, Ed would ask why. He didn't know why he felt so bad about asking his older brother.

Al was sure he had seen the transmutation circle that was bugging him before, but he couldn't find it in any book. It was simple, but complex at the same time. The circle was filled with triangles and had a hook hanging from the top. He couldn't just draw and activate it; if he didn't have the right materials, didn't know what would happen...alchemy was a dangerous science, he had found that out firsthand.

Maybe Colonel Mustang had seen it before?

He lifted the bag and slung it over his shoulder, sighing. One more thing to ask the colonel.

Alphonse took a deep breath. He needed to do this. He refused to be a burden anymore. Mustang would agree to this, he had to. Alphonse was much better now. He was walking a mile and a half every day; he had been completely off of the morphine pills for almost a month. His brother wouldn't spar with him, so he didn't know if his martial arts skills had waned, but after practicing a little himself, he found that he was still fairly limber. Though it exhausted him very quickly, his muscles still remembered the moves.

He stepped into Mustang's offices; he waved and greeted everyone, Hawkeye and Havoc both answered with, "Good morning, Alphonse," while Breda, Fulman, and Fury stared. He'd gotten use to stares while in the armor, but it was different now. When people he knew stared at him like that his face felt hot, something in his stomach tightened uncomfortably, and he had an overpowering urge to run away.

He took a deep breath, "Is the colonel in? May I speak with him?"

"He's on the phone with command," Hawkeye smiled at him. "You can go in when he's finished." Alphonse noticed the little glass vase and flowers sitting on her otherwise very spartan desk. It made him smile as well. "Why don't you have a seat?"

"Or better yet," Fury said, "talk to us!"

"Yeah," Fulman finished. "We haven't seen you and Ed in, what? Four months?"

Alphonse's blushed, "I...I was sick. Ed had to take care of me."

"Ed?" The lower officers looked at each other, Hawkeye just gave him a sad expression. Of course they would notice that he'd stopped using the term, "brother."

"Did you two have a fight?" Fury asked, worried.

Not yet, Alphonse thought. Instead, he laughed, "Not today, but he isn't too happy about me walking around alone yet. He's at the library, or...he's probably getting himself something to eat by now."

Hawkeye eyed him suspiciously, "He knows you're here this time, right?"

Al nodded, "Yes, I don't want him to worry anymore."

"He's you're older brother, Al," Breda said, stepped around her desk and gave Al a light hug. The boy tried to hide his wince. "Edward will always worry about you. Its part of the job."

Too many emotions filled him then, "He needs to worry about himself! All he does is try to take care of me. He's sixteen! He shouldn't have to." Al flinched and swallowed the rest of his emotions when he saw the shock on all five faces in front of him.

Havoc cleared his throat and abruptly changed the subject. "So, do you have anymore glass sculptures or toys to wow us with?"

"Yeah," Breda said excitedly, "We saw what you made for the colonel and First Lieutenant Hawkeye. They're beautiful."

"You could open your own shop and make a killing! 'Toys and Art by Alphonse Elric'. I'd buy them," Fury said.

Alphonse beamed, Hawkeye smiled at him. "No, but," he pulled out the piece of chalk that was always in his pocket, "I could make something while we wait." Havoc handed him a fresh pencil. "Hmm, wood, carbon, steel, rubber..."

"How about a little figurine, something to put on my desk, like what you gave them," Havoc asked.

"This isn't a lot of material, it will be very tiny, even if I make it hollow. It'll be very fragile."

"Oh," Havoc stared at the pencil.

"How did you learn to do that? I mean, make glass like that." Fury asked, straightening his glasses.

"Oh, its actually very simple. You just have to know the right circle, and glass is just heated silica, so it was simple to figure out what elements made what color and go from there. I didn't have to change anything complex."

"So, is it like what Colonel Mustang does?" Breda asked.

Alphonse laughed, "Oh, no! Adding energy to make the glass is very simple. Flame alchemy is one of the hardest things to learn, let alone master. Colonel Mustang actually manipulates the fuel/air ratio around the flames to control the amount of heat and light. There are very few who actually attempt it. Most who've tried are usually covered with scars from burns. It proves what a powerful alchemist he is."

"You say that like you admire him," Havoc laughed.

"I do," Alphonse answered. "He's always helped Ed and me. Even if Ed gets angry at him, he always takes care of us."

"Have you made anything for yourself?" Breda asked.

Al looked at her questioningly, "Myself? Why?"

"Practice?" She shrugged, "I don't know, I'm a soldier, not an alchemist."

"I did make this," Alphonse reached into his bag and withdrew a small silver figurine from it. "I just wanted to...I can't show it to Ed, it'll make him upset."

It was a palm-sized replica of his armor body. Every detail, exactly recreated, down to the painted symbol on the shoulder.

Everyone jumped as the door to Mustang's private office was thrown open. The colonel stomped out, "I'm going to lun—"

"Alphonse wanted to speak to you, sir," Hawkeye said swiftly. The other officers went back to their desks.

Something flashed in the colonel's eyes, something Al couldn't quite make out, before he turned and motioned to his office, "Come in."

Al took a deep breath and steeled himself. This is for Ed, and walked into the room.

When the door closed, Mustang said, "Have a seat," and sat back behind his desk. The flame glass sculpture was sitting prominently on the right side. "What can I do for you?"

Now or never. "I was hoping you would be willing to sponsor my application to become a State Alchemist."

"No."

Alphonse gasped, he'd expected an argument, but a flat-out, no? "Why not?"

"What did Edward say when you asked him?"

Al grit his teeth, "I didn't ask him. This is about me, not him."

"He is your legal guardian, you're underage. We would need signed consent."

"You didn't need any consent for Edward! He was twelve!"

"You were orphans, wards of the state. I made sure the paperwork was dragged out so you two wouldn't be sent to an orphanage. When Ed got his certification, one of the papers he signed was for legal guardianship of you. You were eleven, Alphonse, do you really believe the state would have let you run around the country without a guardian?"

"No one came for us after mother died."

"Risembol is a small village in the mountains, by the time the state found out and sent someone, you were off on your alchemy training. Talk to Edward, if he says yes, I'll think about it."

Alphonse was fuming. Ed would say no, of course he'd say no, but something in the back of the boy's mind told him that even if by some miracle Ed did say yes, Mustang would still say no. "I know I'm not as good an alchemist as Ed, but I'm sure if I studied I could do better on the written exam than last time."

"Better?" Mustang laughed, "Don't you know what your score was?"

"You told me to drop out, I didn't check."

"Do you know what a passing score is?"

"Yes," Alphonse nodded, "three hundred fifty correct or satisfactory out of five hundred eighty two is required. Four hundred is considered high level."

"Yes," Mustang nodded. He stood and walked to the filing cabinet near his desk and pulled out a blue folder. "I scored a four o' two. Your father scored four ninety-nine. Edward, four ninety-eight."

"Just one under dad?" Al sighed, "I knew Ed scored high."

"Did you know that out of all of the people taking the exam that day, you were the only one who finished?" He sat down and opened the folder.

"I was?"

"Yes, your score caused a lot of problems. It wasn't Edward the fuhrer was there to see, he was there to see you."

"Why?"

"I allowed you to take the exam because I never believed you would pass. You were eleven, you allowed Ed to decide damn near everything, and I hadn't seen you use alchemy." He sighed and turned the folder so that Alphonse could read it. "You, Alphonse Elric, age eleven, scored the highest since the exam was created."

"I scored higher than Ed? What did I get?" He looked down at the folder.

"Out of five hundred and eighty-two questions, you answered correct and satisfactory on five hundred and seventy-six."

"What?!"

"The proctors hand checked every answer. First, they suspected cheating. Then, they started arguing over what you would be doing once you were given certification. Talk about you being one of the Fuhrer's personal alchemists. If not that, you would be working on the most top-secret of projects. You would have been taken away from Ed, it would have been discovered what you were, and you would have been locked away in a secret location for who knows how long. They don't know why you disappeared. Why do you think I brought you to a secluded alley to tell you to drop out. If they knew..." he sighed. "You are not a soldier, Alphonse. They would turn you into a killer."

Alphonse stammered for a moment, unsure of what to argue first. "Why don't I know this? The exam results are public record! If I did so well, why didn't I have people asking me about it?"

"The results are public record only after the alchemist is certified. The only people who know about this are the proctors, the Fuhrer, you and myself."

Alphonse was now getting desperate, "I have to! I have to do something! Ed can't take care of me anymore!"

Mustang obviously misunderstood, "If that's what you've been worried about, Alphonse, don't. Edward gets extra pay every month for having a dependent. How you boys traveled, and the fact that you did not have to eat or wear clothes even saved your brother a lot on money. You have nothing to worry—"

"No!" Alphonse interrupted, "I know he has more than enough. I don't want him to have to take care of me. I don't want to be a burden anymore!"

Mustang started, "You are not a burden to Edward. He loves you. I'm sure if you just talk to him, he will tell you. Is this why the two of you have been fighting?"

"We aren't fighting! You haven't seen how he looks at me! Ed needs to live his own life; and if I need to be gone for him to do that, I will disappear!"

Mustang closed his eyes and sighed, "All I ask, then, is that you—"

"Be careful," Alphonse scoffed, "I know." He stood to leave, not caring about manners. But he remembered the circle. "Oh," he pulled out a piece of paper he'd drawn the array on. "I've been having trouble with this. I feel like I've seen it before, but I don't recognize what the symbols do. I can't find it in any book. Have you seen it?"

Mustang took the the paper, "It looks familiar. I'll check around."

"Thanks," Al mumbled. He left the offices without one look at the other officers. He'd go down and get some food before heading to the library. He wouldn't be allowed to read some of the alchemy books he'd had access to with Edward, but he'd make do. He just needed to walk off this anger first.

The Fuhrer would make him disappear because of his score. Edward wouldn't have to worry about him.

He didn't know if he believed Mustang about his score, but if it was true...he didn't want to think about it, but, if Mustang wouldn't back his application, maybe someone else would? He didn't want to be under anyone else's command, but he had to think of something. He sighed, the muscles of his shoulders and neck felt tight, and he was clenching his jaw without realizing it.

He was angry, frustrated, confused, and at a loss for how to fix it. Maybe food would clear his head. Hopefully, Edward was already done eating, he didn't want to see that look in his brother's eyes right now. Not after his plan had been so entirely shot down.

He growled and ran a hand through his hair. He wasn't paying attention to where he was going. He just needed to walk. His heart was pounding, he could feel his breath was irregular, but kept trudging forward. He didn't know how long he walked, wondering the halls of Headquarters. He needed to think!

He had to stop and close his eyes for a moment to try to clear away the black spots that danced in front of his vision. His heart was beating too fast. His breathing was wrong...too shallow...he lifted his arms the way Hawkeye had told him. It didn't help. His breaths were too shallow.

He fell against the wall, trying to catch his breath. What was wrong with him?!

"Hey, kid, are you okay?"

He tried to look at the blue blur asking him the question; instead, he collapsed, unconscious before he hit the floor.