Author's Notes

Some sources say Al's twelve in CoS, others say he's thirteen. I'm inclined to agree with the later, seeing as Ed's eighteen (thanks to Bob'sCookie for pointing that out). This is because Al was originally one year younger than Ed, so his mind should be seventeen. Take four years off that seeing as that's the time his body spent in the Gate, and it's thirteen. Remember that Alfons is seventeen though, so his resemblance to Alphonse isn't immediately recognisable.

I spend a little more time in our side of the Gate, but from my current plan (still in progress), that's the last time it happens.

The mansion belongs to Hausofer. I can't seem to remember whether or not Eckhart shoots Hausofer…I think she does. She definitely kills someone. Let's just go with the assumption she did kill Hausofer. It simplifies things.

This wasn't the chapter I was supposed to post today. But then again, I intended to get this done a while ago but got stuck on the beginning. I hate it when plans go awry. But I think I hate this week more. I've got more tests to do than days to do them. I know, I complain a lot when it comes to tests…but it seriously takes the pressure off. On the bright side, I got this done instead. And it wasn't too bad as far as updates go. It went a tad over a month, and I roughly intended to update this once a month. The reason it takes a little longer is because I've only watched the series once in its entirety, unlike stuff like Digimon that are probably going into double digits. Blame the late discovery.

And a bit heart-felt thank you to everyone who's following this story. Whether that's by reviewing, favouriting, alerting or just plain ol' reading. Thank you guys. :)

And…that's about all I need to say. Enjoy, and don't forget to tell me what you think. Seriously, all you guys keep me up on Cloud Nine.

In the Midst of a Dream World

Alfons Heiderich is shot in Munich. When he wakes up in the middle of what looks like a war, the first thing he thinks is that he's failed. In fact, that's the second thing he thinks too. Post CoS/Slightly AU on tech.

Alfons H & Roy M

Chapter 2

The Two Halves of the Gate

The last thing, or the first thing, he heard was Noah's cry. In the sparse moment between her arms rising up to the ceiling in an almost feverish desperation, he wondered whether or not he was making the correct decision in denying her the place to call her own that she so longed for. A little later he wondered whether or not he even had the right to decide such a thing…but he accepted the bitter reality she had closed her eyes to. That "his" world (he used the term quite tentatively) was just as imperfect as its reflection on the other side of the Gate. That the Gypsy wouldn't be able to find a place there any better than this one without standing upon her own two feet and striving ahead to build one. And he suspected (although he didn't rightly know) that the consequence of her passing through the Gate, similarly to how he had initially, would result in the death of her counterpart. A woman the same age as he but mothering a son. A boy he'd shared so much with…but didn't even know the name of.

The world was so large a place. Sometimes, it seemed too large, but the scope it offered was larger still. The possibilities…and he couldn't accept the fact that it might cost someone else's life to give in. Not until there was no other option. And possibly not even then. He'd seen too much blood spilt, little streams collecting into the main river running beneath his feet…

He'd gladly face a woman's wrath knowing that. But it hadn't sounded like a scream of anger…or of despair, the cry that had followed him in the rocket through the Gate.

It had sounded like grief.

And he couldn't understand it, not at all, until he climbed out of what remained of Alfons' pride and Noah raised her tear-streaked face to look at him, clad in her blood-soaked dress.

'Why?' she asked hoarsely, stumbling a little as she made her way towards him. 'Why did you come back?'

'I-' For some reasons, the reasons that had been so clear in his mind fled without ever making it to his lips. He took in the blood. He took in the body lying to the side with wide frenzied eyes frozen in death, the woman who had sought to destroy his world because she had feared the unknown. But really, they all did, didn't they?

There was blood there too. Under her. A little only; fear froze the circulation of blood after all. It was remarkable people didn't die from fear, their heart slowing to a stop as the paralysed particles failed to continue the one-way flow that kept the whole system up and running.

The suits of armour showed no blood. But no doubt they had some in them. Probably clotted into hard black because of the pressure they had punched through to reach the other side. It would explain the black tendrils that wrapped themselves around the baby metal, refusing to come free. It would explain their mindless action, stumbling along like the half-dead, simply shooting, scurrying around in search for warm blood, and shooting again. Almost like animals…but like the homunculi there were humans somewhere in their past. The reason he had brought as many carcases as he could manage along with him. Their families at least deserved that last humane act.

After all, they'd all wanted things. And none of them bad. He'd wanted to return home. His brother had wanted to bring him there, and Wrath for whatever reason had wanted to help. Alfons had wanted to fulfil his dream before his death. Noah had wanted a place to call her own. Eckhart had been trying to summon up the forces to back her political leader through the imminent war, before turning around and trying to destroy the things that brought fear and unrest, thinking she was doing it for the good of her own world. And it could have been, if he could believe himself to be a monster. But if he accepted that, he didn't think he'd be able to continue walking forward. And he didn't think he'd be able to stand that. Especially, since the last time he had come close, it had been Rosé who had picked him back up.

'Why?' Noah asked again.

He let a wry smile cross his face. Sometimes it was a hard thing to be able to see a light at the end of a long dark tunnel, or a caterpillar crawling around in a dense forest. Strangely, he hadn't really considered the fact that he had left his home for good, by his own choice (although someone did have to pilot the ship through the portal). In the end, it was purpose that kept him going. Fixing his mistakes. He had spent four years fixing one, and now he had to patch up another.

'Why indeed?' he asked rhetorically.

But someone beat him to the punch.

'He came to destroy the Gate.'

The connotation registered a little earlier than the words itself, and the wry smile diverted itself to the suit of armour that had straightened up to stand beside him.

'How long till the connection fades again?' he wondered, just a hint of sadness touching his tone. He would much rather have not had the impending conversation. Seeing his brother after three years after living with his oh-so-different counterpart only to say goodbye again was almost gut-wrenching. It just made the job coming up all that harder to do.

Then the helmet fell off, and his heart skipped a beat as Alphonse's head, his baby brother's head, popped out of the shell. 'What do you mean brother?' the younger Elric asked, amused?

'Wha-? But-' For perhaps the first time in his life, Edward Elric was struck completely speechless.

'Colonel Mustang will destroy the Gate,' the thirteen year old explained as he tried to claw his way out of his confinement. 'I snuck on after you, then hid in this empty suit so you wouldn't find me.'

The first thing that occurred to him was that some of those armours would be empty.

'I wanted to be with you,' he continued explaining, finally succeeding in clamouring out, red coat pulling free somewhere along the way with a slight tear. 'Those four years we spent together…they were the best times of my life.'

Every one of those words were said with heart-filled emotion.

'So you remember.' Then he half-smiled. 'Equivalent exchange.'

It was Noah's choked half-cry that reminded him of the rest of that situation, and he pivoted in his position, crossing paths with Hughes' shocked expression for a fleeted moment. The gun was still drawn, the barrel smoking. And he, Edward, couldn't help but smile the tiniest amount. He really loved Gracia, to roll over years of prejudice and save the life of a Gypsy girl at the cost of killing a woman he had worked with.

But when his golden eyes met her brown, the smile vanished again. Especially as she held out her bloodied hands. No words passed between the two as the colours merged. Then she lowered them and pointed one at a soldier restrained by two colleagues the pair had worked with.

'He shot him,' she said quietly. 'In the back as he watched his dream take to the skies, complete.'

The young adult sighed heavily. 'So he's dead.' The body could be anywhere. Crushed by the ship. Blown apart by the force they had come down by. Buried somewhere with the others, all faceless, nameless.

'He doesn't regret it. It's the best thing in the world, to see your dream come true.' Slightly teary, Noah clasped her arms to her chest.

Alphonse looked between his brother and the woman who largely resembled Rosé. He refrained from questioning; he could see both of them had lost a friend, but he took a step forward still. He didn't know about the woman in strange clothing, but his brother at least could not stew standing still.

Edward saw the questioning look in his eyes as he turned, but didn't have the heart to tell his brother the truth…or what he theorised to be the truth. Something they both had wanted more than anything else in the world..; he couldn't burden that with what might be the price they payed for it. Not after equivalent exchange had become a concept so dissolved.

Instead, he looked up. At the Gate that stretched across four corners.

It had messed with enough lives. Of course, that was what it did, but leaving it there, like that, was too much.

'It'll be a challenge destroying that thing without alchemy,' he mused. Another mistake to fix. Another challenge. At least he could safely assume it wouldn't take a miracle this time.

'Between the two of us,' his brother replied, coming to stand beside him, thankfully an inch or so shorter in height. 'We'll figure it out.'

The yellow pigments mixed and blurred. For an ephemeral moment, the once-Fullmetal Alchemist could swear he saw lips smirking down at him.

Yellow still majorly consumed his vision when he next came round. For a split second he wondered if God had decided to dye heaven in a golden die, before he blinked and other colours began to come into view. Remarkably, despite the flecks of grey and white dust that littered everything in sight, including the people, there was just a dash more colour than he was used to seeing.

But that wasn't what registered in his mind as he blinked blackly at the blue sky, taking in the outlines of his periphery vision. What he noted were the long cracks running through buildings, the smell of sulphur and other gases in smoke, and the plaster bits covering parts of what he assumed were buildings and roads.

It looked to him like he was lying in a crater in the middle of the latter…with a man wearing military stripes (a Brigadier General if he recalled correctly) hovering above him. There was another in the same sort of uniform, a woman he thought, standing at the edge of the crater with a black dog at her heels.

Behind her were more blue figures running around, and flashes of light. Almost like flash-grenades. And the smell of smoke permeating the air…it was as if he had awoken to a war instead of heaven.

'What's your name?' The voice was male, brisk and commanding. Everything the voice of a man of such a high rank should be.

The dirty-blond opened his mouth to answer…and coughed instead. The images wavered, blurred. The yellow became more pronounced. He felt his mouth fill with the familiar coppery taste. White shapes came into his vision, replacing the colour and enhancing the grey, but he could make nothing out…save a shadowy sort of smile.

For some reason, it gave him the sensation of looking at his reflection in a mirror.

And then he was suddenly choking. Pain flared through his body, unnoticed till then, having dulled away to a slow ache.

There were unfamiliar voices talking to him again, but by then he was directing all his energy into staying conscious. And even that seemed to be failing.

He wondered if he was still in Munich. Had he somehow failed? Had the pressure surface knocked the rocket back and exploded the fuel on board? Or had they passed through and brought a war back?

Because it seemed, as the darkness finally succeeded in blotting out the yellow haze, that he had woken up in the middle of a warzone.

Or perhaps it was hell, for people like him who shoved their dreams to the forefront of their priority list, all because he had been about to die…and he hadn't listened to Edward.

Wordlessly, Hawkeye came down and helped the Brigadier with his load, and together the two of them managed to navigate the debris and drag the unconscious teen to the surface.

'Is he one of Central's?' Mustang asked, his tone purely professional.

Riza stood up straight, clicking her tongue so Black Hayate sat at her heels.

'Not that I'm aware of,' she responded crisply, before a slight frown played upon her lips. 'He does appear somewhat familiar, but I cannot…' She cut herself off, before ordering a passing soldier to take him to medical as well. The seriously wounded would, from there, be transferred to Central Hospital.

It took a few more moments for the place to clear out, and Hawkeye gave her once-Commanding officer a swift nod before retreating with her loyal dog at her heels.

Mustang raised one gloved hand in salute to her back, before descending down his alchemically craft steps again.

This time, nothing was going to stop him. The circle glared at him, taunted him, even as imperfect and broken as it was. He could make out little shapes. A vase, much like the ones his late mother used to create. A curved sword, his father's weapon of choice.

Those thoughts, at such a time, were dangerous. Before they could come to him again, he raised his right hand and snapped.

'Are you sure this is a good idea?' Alphonse asked, screwing the last bolt into place. 'Doesn't this place belong to anyone?'

'Sure it does,' Edward replied with a bit of a scowl, his way of showing concentration. 'The guy's dead though.' He kept the emotion out of his tone. That made the story just that much more complicated. 'The government will seize possession of the land, but the place's fair game.'

'Didn't he have any family?' the younger Elric asked. Somehow, he couldn't imagine what that would have been like. If it hadn't been for Ed's memory and the hope of him being alive, and the Rockbells and the Curtises...and even the friends he had made and forgotten over the four years they had spent in search of a way to correct the mistakes of their past, he didn't think he'd be able to press forward. He didn't think he'd have dreams to press on with.

Of course, that might be better in some circumstances. But the world wasn't perfect. That was what made it so beautiful, no matter where one was within it. No matter how derelict their situation was.

'All right,' Dolcetto said, standing back and effectively interrupting the brothers' conversation. 'We're ready to blow this place up.'

The Elrics backed away, and in the process, Edward answered his brother's question.

'No, he had no family.' Only his dreams of seeing Germany liberated.

Any other thoughts were drowned out by the blast that shook the ground and rattled their teeth. It seemed somewhat cruel, to destroy the mansion and all they resembled as they had, but like they had burnt their home years before, it would liberate them to follow new paths and new dreams.

The crater smoked around him. Moisture evaporated into the air. Plaster crumbled into dust. A few stray drops dripped, and unseen to all except herself, a face formed for a fleeting instant before vanishing again.

If anyone had seen however, they would have been shocked at the likeliness to Trisha Elric. As it was, only Black Hayate sensed anything at all, and the moment had passed before a growl escaped his throat and his mistress turned questioningly to him.