Before October
Chapter 12 is here! And to think that several of my stories are now over a year old o.O that is a strange thought.
Thank you Ace724 for your amazing Beta work and help herding those plot bunnies!
We have a lot planned for chapter 13 :) but for now, readers, here is some much needed fluff. Until next time, please enjoy!
Chapter 12: First October
The autumn leaves were spilling across the garden like a mirage of fire. A year ago Edward would not have known where to look; there were so many colours in this world that he could see all at one time. And beyond that innocent wonder lurked a thirst for understanding the cycles of this world - the birth of flowers in the spring and the falling of leaves in October. For it was those cycles which dictated the fundamentals of alchemy.
His breath collected like ghosts on the glass window in front of him. He was staring out of the window without seeing anything; the world was lost in a numbness he couldn't explain, as if his body couldn't muster up the strength to smile anymore. It had been a long winter, and an even longer summer. His mother had progressively become sicker over the course of the year, and helpless with only mundane alchemy at his disposal, Edward was helpless. Al felt the same way that he did, and Ed could hear his little brother cry himself to sleep most nights. But Edward had only become numb. As he stared out of that bedroom window, an observer might have noted how sad he had become, as if he was watching and waiting for the falling of the leaves, much like the deterioration of his mother.
But within, a fire burnt. Behind that glassy reflection, a determined flame flickered and simmered with life. That was what it was - the longing and resilience to spit at Mother Nature. He wouldn't allow his brother to cry; he wouldn't allow his mother to suffer in pain throughout the night. His father was useless and never around, but that didn't mean that his family were losing out.
His father's absence was actually a source of Edward's strength; without his father around, responsibility to take care of his small family rested upon the older Elric brother's shoulders now. He loved them both so much, and he would do everything in his power to take care of them. But he would never say it. Instead he would let his actions govern the thoughts and feelings in his head. Sometimes though, even he had to reflect on what was happening. He would do this by working through his father's research notes, or taking out Den for a walk. Watching the autumn leaves as he was doing helped to soothe his troubled mind too.
There isn't enough time! A voice screamed in his head, and Ed physically shook his head attempting to quash the thoughts fleeting into his mind. They never seemed to stop. He stretched his aching muscles and sat up from where he had been lying on the windowsill, gazing out of the window. There was too much to do.
He climbed down the stairs two a time to see if they had had any letters through the post. He had sent letters to all of the contacts that their father had known, and begrudgingly their father himself, because as much as he hated to admit it, Trisha needed him here. She would see their family together and that would encourage her body to recover. He had read about it in a psychology book. His father was pathetic: leaving Trisha on her own with two young children and never being around as a father to his sons. Edward had taken role as the head of the household. With his mother sick and Al too young, it had been left to him.
There were no letters waiting for him. Ed lifted the dusty mat and sighed when he saw no letters wedged beneath it. They had sent all of the letters out over two months ago, and still there had been no reply from the dozens of pleas he had sent out. Someone out in Amestris had to know where his lousy father was! Unless he had left Amestris altogether. Ed snorted - that was the most likely option to consider. He didn't care about any of them. After all, if he had cared, he wouldn't have left in the first place.
Ed's fists were shaking. He growled softly and dug his fingernails into his palm. Luckily he had been biting his nails and all that was left were stubs, otherwise he would have drawn blood. And then suddenly, he heard the sound of his nightmares, the thought that always lingered in the back of his mind:
There isn't enough time.
He could hear his weak mother coughing again. All day, all year, she had been coughing without stopping. Even on the days during the summer, when the heat cleared some of the infection from her lungs, she would still be coughing weakly, and when it became colder she would begin to cough louder and harsher. Her boy was becoming more frail too; she couldn't grow her fruit or vegetables because she barely had the strength to leave the bed these days. Edward had tried to take care of the vegetable patch around the side of the house, as he could guarantee that homegrown food was organic. That was the best produce that Trisha could eat to aid in her recovery; Ed had read that in a book too.
Edward was useless at housework; he ended up breaking more objects rather than cleaning them. His skills in alchemy were only rudimentary, so when he used alchemy to fix the damaged objects, there were transmutation marks across them. All he could do was try, but trying was never enough. Granny and Winry would come over more often than not to help the Elric brothers with the chores and cook some of the meals. However, he hated to depend on others and lean on anyone. He had to learn to be an adult and take care of himself so he could therefore take care of his family. He didn't want to lean on anyone.
Quickly retreating to the kitchen, Edward let the kettle boil and placed some honey and lemon into two cups, pouring them into the scalding water before resting them on a tray. With deft movements (from plenty of practice), Ed hoisted the tray to rest on his arms as he climbed the stairs. The hallway was silent and dark - the curtains were closed. All of the doors were also closed, so the blond slowed his pace, tiptoeing across the landing. He reached the door on his left first, knocked lightly, and entered when he heard a croak in reply. Breathing in the bitter aroma of the honey and lemon drink, Edward tried to dispel the scent of sickness that wafted from the bedroom as he entered to visit his mother's bedroom.
Trisha Elric was coughing. It shouldn't have been a surprise to him, but every time he saw his mother, his gentle and vibrant mother, crippled with an illness, made his young heart break. He felt guilty for flinching when she spluttered, but he was afraid. Never would he say it out aloud, but his whole heart and soul was afraid. He was afraid of the unknown, the future and whether he will ever find peace amid the turmoil his life had been thrown into.
She looked at him affectionately with her grey eyes, patting for him to come and sit next to her on the bed. Her curtains were open. Edward rested the tray on the bedside table and awkwardly perched at the end of her bed. He stared out of the window, letting the space between them turn into an extended silence. His mother would not lift her gaze from him.
"I never see you play in the leaves anymore, Ed," Trisha said sadly, her head turning to watch the ember-coloured leaves break away from the branches of the tree and drift to the floor. One of the branches of the tree had a swing attached on it, but it was rarely ever used. Aside from going into the garden to collect laundry or watch over the vegetable patch, or leaving the house to head to Granny's and the village, he wouldn't be outside. Sometimes he watched the other children from Resembool excitedly trek into the forest or mountains to go on an expedition, but Ed had no intentions of joining them; he wasn't a child anymore, no matter what anyone else may have said.
"I don't need to be treated like a child, Mum," Ed refused to make eye contact with his mother. He watched and waited for the leaves to detach from the tree. Why was he here? His mother needed to rest and didn't deserve to be pestered by him-
"My little man, you'll always be my son," Trisha reached her arms out, and reluctantly, Edward dragged his body closer to hers, until he could scent her lavender and honeysuckle smell, the scent of summer from the years when his greatest worry had been getting stung by a bee or tripping over nettles. He had been a child then. But not now. This year had changed him, and he was determined that this change was for the better, even though he had become far more withdrawn, taciturn and spent longer brooding in the solitude of his mind.
"You need to drink this," Ed avoided the subject, handing Trisha the broth he had made for her. She sipped at it lightly, and started laughing.
"What did I tell you and Alphonse was the best cure for tickling coughs?" she asked, amusement ringing in her voice. This surprised Edward, as he had not heard such a pleasant sound in a very long time.
"What I made for you," Ed answered, and then he elaborated, "honey, lemon juice and hot water."
"What else?" she insisted gently.
"Was there something else?" Edward asked, panicking and confused. There was so much he needed to remember these days. He could easily recite the fundamental laws of organic chemistry applied to alchemy, but remembering a recipe was impossible. His mind was not hardwired for practical memory...
"Yes," his mother said.
And then, he wasn't in the bedroom.
His vision swam and settled. He was in a bright room, the kitchen. Scents of cooking drifted through the open windows. Alphonse was only a baby, and sitting patiently in a highchair waiting for his dinner. Edward, after being good all day, had been allowed to sit on the kitchen counter and observe his mother through her cooking routine. He loved watching her create such delicious meals. He knew that he liked to create too. Ed understood how building blocks of things added together, like a jigsaw puzzle, and what could break these apart. His father was an alchemist. Mama said he was an amazing man and Ed was her amazing little man and so Ed wanted to become an alchemist to make her proud.
Except he couldn't at the moment. His nose was blocked up and his throat was dry. It was a strange sensation and he didn't like it. He felt all blocked up.
"Listen carefully, Ed!" his mother took the boiling water off from the stove. She took three ingredients into her hands. There was the bright yellow lemon, which tasted strange and made his face squirm up. There was also honey, the golden stuff that bees made. That was yummy.
And the last item was brown. It didn't look very nice to eat. When he smelt it, it was strong and made his eyes water.
"Ew, Mum, that's not good," he protested.
"It's spicy, Ed. And it's called ginger. Remember when you have a bad cold, mix honey, lemon and boiling water together. But don't forget to add the ginger."
He swallowed the strange concoction, and gagged at its taste. Mama said it would take a little while until he felt better. He didn't believe her, and sniffled on his own. Alphonse was clapping his hands. Everyone else was happy, but he didn't feel well so he was grumpy.
He sat on the kitchen counter with his arms folded crossly until the cooking was finished.
"How do you feel, Ed?" she asked him.
"Same. Bad," he sulked, but he realized his throat wasn't sore anymore. And he wasn't coughing!
"Do you really feel bad?" she asked him again. He shook his head, his face flushing red, and she scooped him up and whirled him around in the air. He watched her brown hair twirl with her lilac dress, "I told you, my little man."
Edward blinked, and he was back in the bedroom again. He realized his vision was blurry, and he quickly wiped at his sleeve.
"It's ginger," he said with such certainty he had not felt in a long time, "the missing ingredient is ginger."
"Of course, you're right," Trisha leaned closer and her voice lowered to a whisper, "you're going to do incredible things one day."
"I will?" Edward was shocked to hear those words from his mother. This moment was meant to be about her and not about him. He raised his concerns, but Trisha shook her head and pulled her son into a warm embrace. Ed resisted, but then quickly stopped his struggling. His mother's touch was warm.
He knew he had been isolating himself from her. And it was not just Trisha he had been withdrawing contact from, but Al too. Alphonse had been bedridden with the flu for the best week. When the doctor had come to perform a health examination on Trisha, Edward had silently shoved him a few more coins to check on Alphonse. A part of him dreaded the fact that his younger brother could have contracted the same illness that was making his mother's health deteriorate so rapidly. He was resting in bed, and the second drink Ed had made was for his little brother.
Ed had to take care of them both, but for these precious minutes, could he be a child again? He was being selfish for being mollycoddled by his mother, but he needed her assurance. He wanted to believe that everything was alright, and that this illness was just a bad dream that would go away...
"You will travel the world, and help people. You have the mind of a scholar, and a heart of gold. Don't lose either of them," Trisha said sternly, her grip tightening from where she held his shoulders, her thin hands digging into his shoulders.
"I won't," Ed promised.
"You make me so proud, Ed," she told him, holding him in that warm embrace before Edward ended the contact, pushing her away. Her chest was heaving, and correct to Ed's assumptions, she had started coughing again.
"I'll bring you something later, Mum," Edward hurried to lift up the tray, but Trisha clasped at her son's hand.
"Go outside into the leaves. For me," she requested. Edward merely nodded, not knowing what words that needed to be said, and quickly left the room, closing the door behind him. He had to get this drink to Al before it became too cold. He lowered his head, a beaming smile spreading wide across his face.
He would do whatever he could to make his mother proud. And he knew that when he went outside, his mother would be watching him from her bedroom and she wouldn't look away.
However, he wouldn't go outside alone. He waited outside his little brother's bedroom door. As soon as Alphonse was better, Edward would take his younger brother's hand and they would watch the October leaves unfurl like crimson fire together.
Roy swore under his breath. He stuffed the letter into his pocket and reached forward into his drawer, throwing in its entire contents, only wishing he could speed up.
Ever since he had been accepted to train as a State Alchemist earlier that year, he had been preoccupied.
Very preoccupied.
He had immersed himself into life at the academy and as a result, the outside world had become but forgotten to him. His thoughts of home became less and less, not because he didn't care...but because he was so damn preoccupied.
He had received the letter that morning. The original address had been to Berthold Hawkeye, but the message had clearly been forwarded onto Roy. And knowing his Master, he never made mistakes and whatever he decided to do was not by coincidence. At the bottom of the envelope read the alchemist's motto, in Hawkeye's scrawl: Be Thou for the People.
Inside was a sheet of paper. The penmanship was neat and delicate, which did not reflect its contents. What the letter contained was the cries of two young boys from Resembool, Hohenheim's sons, seeking help on the whereabouts of Hohenheim.
Nobody had seen nor heard of the rogue alchemist in years, and as a result, the boys pleas would likely to unanswered. But Roy was furious with himself for becoming so complacent; he had grown lazily expecting that the only important matters in his life rested in the academy. He rarely left the place, despite his frequent promises to return home. Out of his time so far, he had only returned to East City for one weekend. And during that time, Riza had been ill and unable to see him. She wrote him letters weekly though, and as a result, Roy had not seen cause to worry; she was never the most extroverted individual that he knew.
The work demanded by a State Alchemist was gruelling. They not only required exemplary alchemic skill, but when they had completed their training, they would be thrown into the chaos of the military as Majors, highly-ranking officers. Every State Alchemist therefore needed leadership qualities, a sharp wit and adaptable mindset as the bare minimum to succeed in the first week after qualifying. His life had become that for the military the day he had decided to walk this path.
He shook his head. He had become a mindless Dog of the Military, just as Nassor had promised.
Thinking of the Major General, Roy twisted his wrist to catch a glimpse of the time; he was due to have a practical session with his tutor that morning. But he had exactly three minutes to reach the other side of the building if he wanted to arrive on time. Even if he sprinted, the journey still would have lapsed ten minutes.
He didn't want to attend.
He was leaving for East City that instant.
While he had been attending lectures, those boys were having to take care of a sick mother. And what of Riza? What of Master? Roy was even concerned about that equine menace back at home too...
Roy cursed again - he had stubbed his toe dropping his suitcase to the floor. He was rushing and not thinking anything through. How could he attempt to compose his mind?
Quintessence. And you know it.
Hawkeye was disturbing his thoughts now.
He had forgotten about the promises he had made to the people outside of the academy, and this was the time to reassess his priorities.
He would travel to Resembool.