Chapter Twenty-Five: Goodbyes

It was dark; it was the middle of the night, but that didn't matter. I was afraid of what Al might be doing, and in the shadows, my mind conjured up foul images of what might result. As quickly as I could, I got dressed and, taking the notebook, headed towards where Al now lived with Becca.

Could this really be possible? Pages and pages of explanations, calculations, tediously written out in the small notebook. Some of it made sense. Some of it… most of it didn't. How could he believe something as outlandish as this? That he had the power to openthe Gate?

Fear struck again in the pit of my stomach. He didn't just want to open the Gate, he wanted to become the Gate, isn't that what he had written? How ridiculous, how stupid of him to believe that.

All the same, my biggest concern was that it would work, and Al would be lost.

It still didn't make sense, but I had to talk to Al, to convince him it wouldn't work, and that he needed to stop thinking these delusional, dangerous thoughts. In the darkness, I could barely see a thing, but suddenly I was there, on the street where Al lived. There was nothing unusual about the street. There was no evidence that a transmutation had occurred, or that the Gate had been opened. He hadn't done it. Not yet.

I knocked on the door, loudly, interrupting the heavy silence of the night. There was no sound from within, so I knocked again, and again, and again. Finally, a light switched on inside. I held my breath.

Becca opened the door, in a thin, short nightdress. "What are you doing here?" she asked groggily.

"I need to speak to Al," I told her.

Tired as she was, she still managed to smirk and say, "Don't you want to talk to me, Edward, love?"

"I don't have the time for this!" I replied loudly. "Rebecca, I have to speak with my brother!"

A door opened and closed behind her. My gaze moved over her shoulder. Al was standing in the hallway. "Go back to bed," he said, addressing Becca and walking toward us.

"Are you sure?" she asked, her hands suddenly on his face, his neck, his chest, caressing him tenderly. Her voice was soft and concerned. He took one of her hands, his eyes never leaving mine.

"I'm sure," he replied, and she looked between us once, then left.

For a while, we stood there silently. Then Al looked at the notebook in my hand. "You read it?" he asked me.

I nodded, and the panic ebbed away slightly. "Do you really believe this?"

He looked at me carefully for a minute, then, slowly, he replied, "Yes. I do. Do you understand it, really? At surface level it sounds preposterous but when you stop to think-"

"It still doesn't make sense," I finished for him. "You know as well as I do that there's nothing, nothing that could make this work. You're just tired, and, I don't know, unhappy, or something, and all you need is to calm down and stop thinking crazy-"

"But it's not crazy," he told me quietly. "Did you even read it? It's not crazy at all. It makes perfect sense, when you stop to consider all the variables."

I just looked at him.

He glanced around, leaned in and lowered his voice. "There is something, maybe the only thing in the world, that could make this work. And I think you know what that is."

I looked at the notebook, and then thought back to what was written in it. "An extremely powerful substance… what, like a bomb?"

He shook his head. "No. Something that, as I said, exists in only one place in this world." He put a hand on his chest, above his heart. "Something that is in my possession."

I stared at him, completely lost.

"Come on," he muttered. "You know where this is going."

Blankly, I searched for an explanation in my mind. Nothing made sense, not even with Al's twisted way of thinking.

Unless…

"Oh, no," I said. "Oh, no, no, no. You wouldn't… there is no way… Are you really suggesting that you," I paused, letting the shock wash over me, "that you have a Philosopher's Stone?"

He smiled bitterly. "No," he replied. "Well, yes, in a sense. I've been thinking about it, since I remembered, in all those journals. Ed," he said, "I am the Philosopher's Stone."

There was silence. I think he realized how ridiculous his words sounded, because his expression faltered slightly.

"You're insane," I told him.

"No, I'm not," he sighed. "Don't you remember? I was made into the Philosopher's Stone, Scar did it. I thought that was how I brought you back. But I gave up all of my body and my soul to bring you back, and so the Stone, or a portion of it, at least, should have been preserved. Right?"

"But Al," I said cautiously. "You lost the Stone when you got your body back. It – well, if anywhere, the Stone must have been left with the armor, wherever that is now."

Al shook his head. "But don't you understand? My soul was attached to the armor by that blood seal, and that blood seal was on the armor, part of the armor, and I could not have survived without it. So, my soul was the armor, or at least the blood seal on it, and that means when the Stone was created, it was part of me, inside my metal body, attached to the blood seal, and therefore attached to my soul. And when you – when you pulled me back from the Gate, my mind may have forgotten things but that doesn't mean they didn't happen. My soul was undamaged; a part, however small, had to still be attached. And that's all I need. Just enough to fuel a single transmutation."

"You've got to be joking."

"I'm dead serious."

There was silence. Hesitantly, I began, "But that doesn't make sense-"

"Why not?" he asked me. "Try to find the flaws. Taking into account what the Philosopher's Stone is, how you attached my soul to the armor, and what you did when you brought me back, the whole thing makes perfect sense. Why shouldn't it work?"

"Have you tested it?"

His gaze flickered away and then back to my face. "No. But that's because I don't want to waste any of the Stone. I'll need all of it if we want to go back home."

I was reminded of the fear I had felt earlier. "We? But aren't you implying that you want to turn yourself into the Gate, which means you would be unable to go through?"

Now, in the silence, Al finally looked uncertain. Panicked, almost.

"I said someone," he mumbled. "Not necessarily myself."

"You can't-" I began instantly, my whole mind immediately erupting into protests. "Al, you can't really expect someone to sacrifice themselves for this." He shook his head, but before he spoke, I continued, "And if you're thinking that you could do it without their consent, then let me just remind you that that is the equivalent of killing someone. I don't want you turning into a murderer on a hunch that it just maybe might open the Gate."

Thoughtfully, he leaned against the doorway. "What if that person is dying already?" he asked.

"We're all dying already," I replied. "Every second we're closer to death."

He shook his head. "But what if someone is in pain? And what if, by living, all they do is spread their pain and, and their hate, into the world?"

"That's selfish," I said. "To use someone's, anyone's, death to fuel your own-"

I stopped talking, finally realizing what that strange, almost scared look in his eye meant.

"You want to use Becca," I said, and it wasn't a question.

"I don't want to," he said, without skipping a beat. "But she's dying, and she does nothing good in the world – no, see, I'm not an idiot. I know that she's using me and that she doesn't love me at all." He looked past me. "That doesn't stop me from loving her, and I hate that power she has over me." He shook his head violently. "I don't want to kill her! I don't want to kill anybody! If she could just… there must be a way that someone could become the Gate and still live. But that's ridiculous-"

"Yes, it is," I interrupted angrily, but he ignored me.

"That's ridiculous, because there would be too much power in one place. The equations don't work out." He looked at me. "So, I don't know what to do. I know how to get back, but I can't bring myself to do it. I thought, for a while, that I could turn myself into the Gate, to get you back, but I decided I've sacrificed too much, and I refuse to let myself die again. Like you said, it's a selfish choice-"

"No," I said. "That isn't selfish. That's just human."

He smiled and shook his head. "Just human. You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Maybe it is," I replied, shrugging. "Maybe human isn't good enough."

His expression soured, turned into something between disbelief and disgust. "You're saying I was better off the way I was before?"

"You were still human, Al, no matter what your body looked like. And yes, it does make sense that you want to go back. But what I don't understand is why now? Why couldn't you have thought of this a year ago, when I was ready to kill myself to go back?"

My voice rose while I said this, and, over Al's shoulder, I saw a door open slightly and Becca appear in the hallway, standing silently. Al followed my gaze and turned around. "Go back to bed," he repeated dryly.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, sounding frightened.

"Nothing," I said.

"We're almost done," he told her. "Just give us a minute."

She nodded and then, slowly, disappeared into the room again.

His voice was very, very quiet when he continued, but there was something burning behind his eyes. "I didn't want to go back," he said. "I had a life, a future here. I wanted to live here. I had thought about this theory a lot, yes, but never really considered it, because I thought we might manage to finally become normal here. And for a while, it seemed like we could." He stopped talking suddenly, and closed his eyes. It took him a long moment to gather the courage to speak again. "But we can't," he whispered. "And there is nothing that ties us here anymore. I don't want to be jerked around anymore. I want to go home."

"But…" I shook my head. "But what about the University? What about your book?"

He smiled again, softer now. "I've published one. That's enough, isn't it? I've left my mark on this world. I won't leave it unchanged." He paused, looking almost ashamed. "Besides, the University's decided they don't have a place for me anymore."

I stared at him. "They kicked you out?"

He shrugged. "More or less."

I was shocked into silence. "But… I thought…"

"It doesn't matter anyway," he said, feigning nonchalance. "It's my own fault."

"What happened?"

"I hadn't been contributing, I hadn't been attending. The usual, I guess." I found myself looking at the spot where Becca had been standing earlier. "It wasn't her fault. Please don't look like that."

"When?" I asked, something like anger starting to boil in the pit of my stomach. The University was the reason we came to America… He shrugged again. Obviously, he didn't want to tell me. I let out a frustrated sigh. "Al… the reason we… why can't… I thought you wanted this."

"I don't know," he replied. "I honestly don't know at all. I can't think straight, not ever anymore. I don't know what's wrong with me."

He looked worried, scared. I swallowed the anger I felt for him. "Nothing's wrong with you," I reassured him. "Just calm down, okay? Don't do anything stupid."

"I wasn't going to," he said. "If I'm going to do this right, then I need your help. I wouldn't try anything without you."

I wanted to tell him that I would never let him do it anyway, but that didn't seem appropriate. Instead, I stayed silent, weighing my next words carefully.

I said, "Tomorrow Roy and I are leaving for a couple of days. While I'm gone, don't think about this, okay? Think about something else, anything else. Just for a couple of days. Then I'll be back and I can talk you out of it-"

"But I don't want to be talked out of it-"

"Yeah, but you need to be."

He looked at me. "Please. Please, consider this. You wanted to go back so badly. This is our chance. You could see Winry again; you could be with her, like you never really were before. Don't you want to see home again? Don't you miss the grass, and the clean air there? We could live there, forever, and not have to worry about things here. Don't you want to know what happened to General Mustang and the others? You could meet Rose's son, and we could be normal there."

"That's what you said about this place."

"Well, I was wrong, wasn't I?" he asked heatedly. "I understand that. But there, we know them all and they would not hurt us, not in a thousand years. Unlike here."

I studied his face. "What did Becca do to you?"

"Nothing, she's done nothing," he said. "That's just it! Nothing. She hasn't done a damn thing. But I'm… it's like I'm addicted to her." He shook his head. "I promise not to do anything foolish while you're gone."

"Good," I said.

He sighed deeply, then looked up at the night sky. For a moment, all was silent, then he muttered, "I wonder if this sky is the same as the one over our home. Isn't that what you thought, once?" Before I could answer, he continued. "It doesn't really matter, does it? I guess not."

After a moment, I said, "Goodnight, Al."

He nodded. "Goodnight, Ed."

I turned and walked away. The door closed and there was a quiet click as the lock slid into place.

When I got home, it was like some of that stale awkwardness had followed me there, and, as I lay in bed silently, staring up at the bleak ceiling above me, my mind slowly trudging through the remnants of the conversation I had had with Al.

I was still worried about him. What if he broke his promise? What would happen to me then? Without him… everything would have been for nothing. I had to believe him when he said that he wouldn't do anything stupid. But I was also angry at him; why now? Why did he finally have to figure it out now, when he could have just became my friend again and everything would have been good? I was doing so well. And he had to bring up the possibility of going back… although it couldn't work. There was no chance, no way, it was just impossible. Simply impossible. Opening the Gate within oneself, that could have happened, with the Philosopher's Stone, of course. But the Stone doesn't exist in this world. It can't. His life for mine would not have been enough. He had to have used that whole Stone.

Hidden deep beneath these convictions, however, was a quiet, secret hope that the Gate could be opened. And I was ashamed of myself for even thinking it.

The next day, after I awoke, I didn't move for several minutes, letting the sunlight flooding in from the window warm the room.

Early in the morning, Roy and Riza were talking to each other quietly in the kitchen. In the living room, Lillian strolled over to me, a small, regretful smile on her face. She looked down at the ground, then at me. "The ship leaves soon. I only have a few minutes." A pause. "I suppose this is goodbye, then."

I looked at her. "Yeah. I guess so."

There was silence, except for Roy's muffled voice in the room over. Then, Lillian sighed. "It's funny, really. I came to America to escape my past. But now… now I've finally found exactly how much I want it back."

I smiled gently. "Yeah. Sometimes, things turn out that way." I paused. "Will you write?"

"Of course. As soon as I can."

"Good."

Before either of us could say any more, Irene poked her head into the doorway. "Lillian, you have to go," she said. "You don't want to miss the ship."

"Goodbye," I said to Lillian, and she nodded, smiled, and waved farewell to me as she left the house. It was the last time I ever thought I'd see her.

Later, Roy and I were outside, ready to leave. Just before I got into the car, another, familiar car drove up. Without even turning off the engine, a woman leapt out of the driver's side, slammed the door, and strode up to me.

"Stop interfering," hissed Rebecca, glaring at me.

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"Whenever he talks to you, he acts all strange," she said. "I don't like it. I think you're putting lies into his head."
"Look who's talking, Becca," murmured Roy from the other side of the car, with a small smile. She shot a glare his way.

"You're the only thing that's stopping him from being happy," she told me. "I hope you're ashamed of yourself."

"I'm not," I replied mildly.

"You should be," she sniffed. "He was such a wreck last night. He's always a wreck after he sees you. Just go away, and don't come back! Do your brother a favor and get yourself killed while you're out there, okay? Because all you're doing is hurting him."

"Are you even listening to yourself?"

"I'm trying to make him happy," she said icily. "You're ruining that, for me and for him."

"Oh, please," I sighed, rolling my eyes. "The only person you care about is yourself."

For a second, it looked like she was going to pretend to be offended. Then, she just shook her head and let out a noise of frustration. "I'm sick of having to warn you to stay away," she told my lowly. "I didn't want it to come to this. But I'm not just going to sit by and let your ruin my happy ever after." Her lip curled cruelly. "Watch your back. Things might get nasty."

There was a second of silence. Then, cautiously, Roy began, "Becca-" but I cut him off.

"Are you actually threatening me?" I asked incredulously.

"I'm merely mentioning that you might not want to wander the streets when it gets dark," she said, her voice suddenly much lighter. "It's dangerous, you know."

She turned and strolled back to her car. Before she got in, she called, "Good luck. Just so you know, it's completely fine if you manage to get shot while you're off playing your little conspiracy game. Your brother won't miss you. I'm sure I can take his mind off things." She smiled deviously. "Goodbye, Edward. Have fun. Don't forget what I said."

"Oh," I replied as she got into the car. "I won't."

The car show forward like a bullet, leaving her laughter buzzing in the air.

Roy said quickly, "Forget about her. She's lying."

I looked at him. "How do you know?"

He shrugged. "She always lies."

Neither of us said anything. Then, he got in the car. "Let's go," he said.

I nodded, my hand on the handle of the car's door. I wondered, vaguely, what would happen if I never talked to Al again. He probably wouldn't do it. He said he needed my help to pull it off, anyway.

"Ed," came Roy's voice. "Are you coming?"

"Yeah," I replied, snapping out of my reverie. I slid into the car.

"Forget about her," Roy muttered again, as he pressed down on the pedal and the car sped forward.

Her laughter rang in my ears once more.

Reuploading, fixing a few minor details so that the rest of the story works. You guys probably didn't notice the mistakes, but it's been annoying me for a while so yeah.

So as I originally said, what do you think? Is Al crazy? Constructive crit desired, as always. Sorry about the lame ending. I wasn't sure how to finish it up.