Before October

Here we present to you chapter 6 of Before October!

We? Did I say "we"?

The fabulous and amazing Ace724 has joined the team as a Beta Reader! Without her skills of mastering the world- editing skills, I meant, this story would be the literal definition of chaos. So thank you for this Ace ^^

With that, you also fabulous readers, please enjoy!

Chapter 6: The Tide Approaches

East City Train Station, while Mustang secures his military Seal.

Last night had been Ed's first night away from his own home in Resembool. It was a late birthday surprise from his mother. But as soon as it had started, it was nearly time to board the train to his country town.

Trisha had arrived at the station in good time so as not to miss the train, and also to prevent the boys from having another snowball fight, of which there had been over ten. She had watched them as they lifted mounds of freshly fallen snow, loving how Ed had a younger sibling to share the excitement of youth with. With a gentle smile peering through her features, Trisha had tucked loose strands of her hair behind her ears. Her mind soon began to wander and she had started to reminisce over her own childhood, a time when she'd been a shy girl.

While Trisha remembered days long past, typical Ed only thought about winning a snowball fight. Finally, in the fourteenth, and final, round he had beaten Al with the same trick he had used against Roy.

Now at the station, the hive of activity of the day was slipping away. Ed noticed the dim lights glowing around the auditorium station as he looked skywards; night was stirring the world into an easy sleep. All he could hear was the quiet shuffle of his feet and feel the clamminess soaking his palm as he held onto his mother's hand, the only force preventing him from becoming lost in this labyrinth. And he could smell the fresh cotton of his mother's dress, the scent of laundry that wafted over the hills on a long summer's day. Ed blinked, clinging to that maternal comfort.

He had been allowed to take off one of his many jumpers so he wasn't the exact impression of a waddling snowman anymore. Even though he argued that people would see him, Al was subject to the same treatment, which Ed deemed a fair compromise. His mum had crooned about how cute he was and how Ed was her "little man" already. Edward Elric could walk into a train station with five layers of clothing on and be proud.

But Ed had not been expecting the swarms of people. Introversion had settled over him, an element inherited from Trisha. He clasped onto his mother and remained taciturn through to the evening, following her directions while mumbling a word or two as a reply. Alphonse was much the same.

The train was due to begin boarding passengers in fifteen minutes. Ed felt his arm being guided to the platform's edge, slippery against his boots, a river of marble covered in ice. His legs kept moving unconsciously before his mum tugged at his arm, noticing he was about to walk over the tracks. She winked at him and Ed mustered an appreciative hum. His body was sagging and his mind was slipping in and out of focus. So…this was exhaustion.

"Ed…big brother…" Edward turned around in response to the whisper, where Al was tugging at his sleeve. He loosened his grip on his mum's hand as he patted Al on the shoulder.

"Bathroom?" Ed asked, securing his gloved hand into Al's. As his little brother nodded in the affirmative, he was about to take a step forward. He gazed back towards his mother, who had taken a seat by the platform's edge, coughing lightly into her elbow. Edward felt so detached from her, as though he was watching a film, or memory, play out and he was hopelessly stuck at the other side of reality. Some visions were just a dream.

"Go on, you two. Just don't be too long!" Trisha shooed them off with a wave of her hands and Ed scuttled off like sheep being herded. Only the power of a mother could calm his rash and stubborn nature.

Ed stumbled on his feet as he accommodated Al's lagging pace. As he pinpointed the sign for the bathroom, he eased his grip loose from Al's hand, turning around and walking backwards so he could keep an eye on his brother. The younger Elric drifted forward in return. Overcoming the desire for sleep, his feet shuffled closer together. His eyes were hidden by curtain of blond hair and heavily-set shadows covered his usually bright aurous orbs.

"We'll call it a draw, ok?" Ed teased, pumping a gentle fist at his brother's chest. It was deflected by Al's puffy coat and Ed had to disguise his laughter – Al had the appearance of a gentle yeti.

Al pushed his hair behind his as if it were the futile struggle at conquering bed hair, his eyes never losing Ed's steadfast gaze. His features displayed wryness; Ed was still grappling onto his dignity and was attempting to preserve it to the best of his ability. Al radiated his joy, "Never, brother. I won them all, except for the last."

Ed rolled his eyes and regaled over his upright posture in comparison to his brother's sluggish walk. He had dignity – he was the older sibling. "Winning thirteen fights is unlikely though, Al, and you know it. Bad luck will strike you down. I'll then win twice as many fights when we get home…"

"Scientists aren't superstitious, Brother." That left Ed speechless and dumbstruck.

There was a thud - Ed and Al had collided into the bathroom door. Ed opened the door to the bathroom with a deft kick of his leg. He then jumped through before the swinging door closed, and he nodded in mock cruel jurisdiction to the resounding thud of Al slamming into it. Al made his entrance seconds later, his face long and drawn like their school teacher constantly scolding them. He wouldn't make eye contact with Ed and lowered his head.

Ed rubbed his brother's hair and hurried to the sinks while Al ignored his vivacious sibling. The creaking of the stall shutting and its metallic lock snapping shut followed. Ed snickered. Poor little Al was throwing a tantrum.

A quick inspection in the mirror alerted Ed that not only his mind was drooping, but his antenna too. Despite the bitterness of winter reigning around the train station, and hence the requirement for five layers of clothing, Ed turned the knob of the cold tap. Water sprayed across the mirror and spattered onto his face. He shivered, hairs rising and prickling along his skin, guarded by layers of wool and cotton. Ed drenched his hands wet, remembering to shove the gloves off from them, and slapped the loose drab of hair back into its upright position. His antenna was restored.

A proud beam settled across his face as Al unlocked the stall and reached up to wash his hands, struggling on his tiptoes to squirt some soap onto them. Ed, having endured a terrific growth spurt after his birthday, and for the last time in his life, was taller than Al, lifted his brother up. When Al's legs left the clutches of gravity, they dangled while Ed huffed at the unexpected weight of his brother. But Al was a whole year, four months and thirteen days younger than him! Still, they obtained enough soap for Al to wash his hands. Ed had to breathe heavily with his hands on his hips, out of breath from the already towering physique of his brother. When he had been the same age as Al, he had been much shorter…

As he recovered, Ed saw Al through the mirror. All Ed could see was the top of Al's head and eyes which lousily rolled like pebbles tumbling half-heartedly down a shallow slope. Ed was adamant not to portray such a weakness with anyone except his brother.

Ed suddenly thought of the long train journey ahead – seven hours of boredom – and stepped into a stall. He heard Al pull the tap closed and the roaring rush of air from the hand dryer like a jet stream being unleashed in the desolate bathroom. When Ed speculated that Al had said something, a crack of voice amid the hand dryer's moans, he shook his head, thinking of how he would like to lean against his mother's shoulder and fall asleep. However, when the hand dryer relented, diffusing into silence, the voice whispered again with greater strength this time.

"Brother…I'm scared," Ed saw the shadow of Al's figure lean against the stall door. He kept leaning so heavily that Ed panicked that Al would collapse to the ground.

"Come on, Al. I'll try not to win all of the snowball fights in Resembool," Ed retorted. Al was silent, without even a giggle or a smart reply in response.

"Brother…have you noticed it too?" Al inhaled deeply, and from the way his shadow flickered, Ed's eyes flashed with anxiety. Al was trembling. "Have you noticed…she can't keep up with us anymore…in the snow…" Ed swallowed the bile building up in his throat while Al stuttered on. "All I hear…is the coughing…Ed, I'm scared."

Ed was up on his feet. He would not let Alphonse cry, no way in hell. As he flushed the toilet and unlocked the door with a shaky grasp, a deafening explosion shattered the cruel repose settled in the air. Ed managed to grab Al as they scuttled like a bundle across the floor, banging into the opposite wall by the sinks. The room was too small for any impact to be too forceful. But internally, their minds were flustered.

The world had rotated in a full circle within moments, a kaleidoscope of colour brightened to a sickening quality. Ed's feet, sturdily grounded to carry the burden for his brother, gained an alien momentum which hurled them forwards, knocking the duo deftly off the earth. The brothers squeezed their eyes shut as white walls…white lights…white greeted them through the anarchy of matter without gravity; a swirling chaos.

But they froze. To an outsider, Edward and Alphonse Elric were a spall of limbs. As they detangled themselves faster than their garrulous spirt of alchemic equations, and jolted to their feet, they remembered the explosion, pandemonium, like an electric shock of truth every amnesiac wished for that brought the conspiracy of their memories to light. Except this was no memory. This was the present.

Mum…

Ed dabbed the soap onto his hands and rinsed them under the tap for a fraction of time. He left the water running, hands a hygienic mess, gloves abandoned, as he dragged Al out of the bathroom. Al was as light as a butterfly and was willingly shepherded by Ed. He was too shocked to speak. Ed repeated the same words over again, "No…mum..."

The bustle of the city station was deadened. People had stopped in their tracks, as had the trains, to stare at the immediate threat surrounding them or in the train's case, puff out steam. Nevertheless, the brothers kept crashing into the onlookers' legs, but the usual complimentary groan and mumble of apologies was forgotten. There was only the worry for the victims with the positioning of the detonation so close to houses on their minds. But more selfishly, their human instinct relayed panic about their own safety; and so the air stank of raw fear.

By some miracle, no glass had been shattered. The western fringe of the train station was panelled with glass (which was removed during the next month as a potential "safety hazard"), and glistened with the reflections of Starlight's tears. Edward cared not about the mirage of celestial lights above reflected by the glass but at the smoke crackling like tendons popping. It hovered above the explosion site, as though it was ruminating between two ideals.

Whether it was a sense of déjà vu or morbid curiosity, Ed was perplexed by the fire spurting outwards like a fighter's thrashing limbs. They were cold flames, a tide of orange carried by winds of ash and dust. Haunting and merciless.

And then Edward saw the flag. A black tree against an orange background which rippled in the breeze like sand waves sweeping through the desert. Ed knew his history. A black tree had been sown into the earth by the god Ishvala, and from it, the desert had formed, and the nation of Ishval had flourished. The tree represented the resilience of a nation through the desert's unchanging years, despite the pain and segregation hurled at them. To any oblivious Amestrian, the tree appeared to be charred already. Little did they know, but the Ishvalan's emblem prophesised their downfall.

Ed was too intent on his alchemic studies to read the newspaper. When he was outside, he was too competitive even to notice that last autumn's farming market had been the smallest in years as people migrated away from Ishval, and not closer to it. Ishval reeked of violence, inflicting its unsettlement across the East Area. Ed had been too absorbed in a book to hear the distant grumble of tyres dredging across the country road as small squadrons of troops were deployed to the source of the East's predicament.

But even he could not be ignorant to Ishvala's cry.

The faint crackles of fire suddenly burst into symphony like fireworks. "Why now? Mum…mum!" Ed thought, unable to form the coherent words.

Sirens whined into the night, like a hive of bees motivated to claim their golden prize, but forging chaos nevertheless. The police had their intentions, but in order to quash this rebellion, the means would not be as straightforward as a drawing board dictated. Ed gripped tighter to Al's hand as he pushed his way backwards through the thickening crowd.

"Al, listen to me. Don't look back. There is only forward. None of this matters – all we have to do is find her," Ed growled, uttering the instructions to calm his own nerves. The lights above were making his eyes giddy, it was almost too blinding to see his feet in front of him. He had to keep going. But trauma was slowing him down. He broke into a run, sheer will driving him onwards.

Please, mum.

He felt like a bird migrating in the centre of a flock. Instinct commanded his path of flight, and every passenger around him knew the way, but he was bewilderingly lost. He closed his eyes, drowning in opaque emptiness.

A mother would never let their children become lost. Ed brushed away tears as he collided into Trisha's lilac dress beside the train platform. Al and Ed continued to hold hands and formed a daisy chain around her legs, where she held them for timeless seconds. However, the train had rolled into the station, and the station master's call for Resembool boarding resonated quiet in comparison to the explosion. The train could not be prevented from departing. People had to be delivered to safety.

"We have to help them..." Ed whispered and looked up expectantly at his mother, eyes glistening with sun struck determination. Ed paused, seeing the concentrated hue in Trisha's eyes. He followed her gaze, and Al copied his brother's response.

As the smoke danced in the sky wrapped in its twilight satin, the fumes were ascending, and features on the ground were becoming clearer, like a morning fog lifting. Edward gasped, as the distinguishable outline of charred trees appeared in his line of vision. They were spindly fingers reaching for the heavens, veiled in shadow. But they were trees nevertheless. Trees which joined up like a dot-the-dot game to form a perimeter, an outline, in the rough shape of a circle.

In the centre of the ring of bark and twig trees, the Ishvalan flag of the black tree was mounted. Ed felt Trisha nudge his shoulder lightly, encouraging Ed to analyze his surroundings. Here in East City, open spaces were rare, and hitherto roads and transport, always bustling like the fanfare of people at the station, dominated the landscape. The military headquarters were detached, existing as a separate entity. But what they all had in common - there were no green spaces; the only of which was locked away behind the gates of the city's military HQ.

And that meant the only place with enough trees - where the explosion had occurred - was the park. Ed listened, but only the now familiar whine of military police sirens wailed on. No ambulances. For city dwellers relished their home comforts more than the blustery outdoors. So in the middle of a winter's evening, nobody would be in the park, which everyone unanimously agreed to like unspoken consent: Nobody had been injured!

"It's a warning," Ed and Al said in synchronization. While Ed laughed tersely, the sound as fast as a butterfly's wingbeat, Al turned back to the train and their mum. "Is everyone really going to be ok?"

Ed could see what Al was referring to behind his brother's golden cropped hair. MPs were arriving at the scene, and perpetrators had been brought to their knees as well as being cuffed. All of them seemed to be Ishvalan; their white hair was stark against the bold street lights and dusky hues of darkness swamping through the sky. However, they were not struggling to be free. They had made their point. Enough was enough. Their heads were bowed with content smiles drawn across their faces, waiting beside the MP's cars to be taken away.

As the boys boarded the train, Al rushed on ahead to find the seats he had pinpointed with eagle eyes, and had already claimed inside of his mind. Ed rolled his eyes. While his younger brother pursued his endeavour and ploughed forwards through the aisles of seats, Ed let the familiar rhythm of his body slow down to a halt. Ed couldn't hear the heavier click of his mother's shoes on the rattling train carriage. He glanced around and immediately felt bile rise in his throat as his hands started to tremble. Winter claimed his sudden panic. And then he started to shiver violently - but not from the cold.

Trisha was doubled over, a hacking cough tearing free from her delicate form. And Ed rushed forward, but buckled at his powerlessness to stop the coughing.

He could do nothing.

Roy swore under his breath as he heard the undeniable creaking of the headquarters' iron gates opening again. They had swung reluctantly open a dozen times in the past twenty minutes. The patrols of military police were racing to the source of the explosion, sirens blaring while animals bayed. It was a ruckus.

But there was no screaming. There must have been no casualties. At least the MPs could be appreciative for that.

For the recruits, they were speaking with each other in hushed tones, obviously perturbed by this turn of events. They obviously were ignorant about Ishval. Too damn hard for them to read further than the front cover of the newspaper, Roy couldn't help but sigh. Meanwhile the military personnel were solemnly looking out of the windows and door as the initial rush of panic subsided. Nobody moved to collect the enrolment forms. Nobody moved to refill the empty cups of tea, coffee, water, squash, apple juice even…and orange juice.

Maes was tapping at his purse impatiently, although his "Gracie-Gracie" lived in Central and only came to the East during the spring, summer and autumn months as Roy had been informed about twice from his companion. Important details. Maes continued to tap, eyes narrowed in furious thought.

What surprised Roy the most was Nassor's complexion. He had calmed what would have been mass panic in this assembly room, delivering orders efficiently to his subordinates; everyone was to stay as they were. But the palms of his hands were rimmed with condensation and there were a couple of loose flicks protruding from his pristinely combed hair. Nassor had not orchestrated this event. The Ishvalans had acted independently.

And so vengeance was sown. No more coercion for Ishvala's people by the military.

"Damn," Roy said through gritted teeth.