Hey all! Thank you for your patience. As you probably know, there's a wild discussion going on about a certain RedButton here on the site, and my stories might be in the danger zone since some parts can be considered MA-rated. I don't want them to be taken down, so if they get reported, I will tone down on the probable violation of ToS.

I'm giving you all permission to save my stories on your computer so you can keep them the way they are.

Enjoy the next chapter! :)

CHAPTER 6: FEROCITY

Alfons could hardly keep track of his own actions the next couple minutes after the phone call with Officer Hughes. Suddenly he had written Al an uninformative note that he'd be back shortly, and stormed out of the apartment. The streets were as good as deserted this day, especially this early. Every store was closed, and everyone was resting after the big and joyful day of Christmas Eve.

Alfons was sprinting as fast as his legs allowed him to, sending grains of snow spattering up in the air for each running step. The only thought in his mind was to get to Vato Falman's house as soon as humanly possible. He couldn't be dead. But Hughes' words... How had this happened? Why? First the horrifying doll on Al's bed, and now this? He just refused to believe it.

His breath came out short and shallow as he reached the right street. Even from a distance he saw the obvious police activity outside Falman's place and the bad feeling in his stomach increased to an almost breaking point. He swallowed to beat down the mounting nauseous feeling growing in his chest, and couldn't get there soon enough. On the other hand he was scared to hell of what he would find. Still he had to be sure. He refused to think the worst before it was confirmed.

He ran straight into the front yard and was immediately stopped by two police officers.

"Stop right there, kid," one of them said, letting a huge hand push Alfons hard in the chest to stop him from getting any further. "You're not allowed to be here."

"I know Vato Falman," Alfons said desperately. "Please, let me through. Where is Officer Maes Hughes?"

"Are you a member of the family?" the other one asked sceptically.

"No, but I'm the closest family he got," Alfons replied crossly. "What happened?" Tears were starting to press out behind his eyes. Was Falman really dead? He tried to ignore the officers and push passed them, but they strictly held him back.

"We can't tell you anything," the first officer went on in a sharp tone. "Sorry, kid."

Then Alfons suddenly got an eye on Maes Hughes coming out of the front door of the house, his face looking grim.

"Hughes!" Alfons called and struggled to free his arms from the police officers, despite knowing they wouldn't let him pass.

However, Hughes noticed him and stepped over quickly. "It's alright. Let me take care of him."

The other two nodded and backed off.

"Is he dead?" Alfons blurted, grasping the Officer's arm. "It's... it's just a mistake, right?" He still had a faint hope, but the look he received told him otherwise. He had never seen Hughes' eyes this serious before.

"He was already dead when they found him," the Officer admitted gravely. "I'm so sorry, Alfons. There was nothing anyone could've done."

No, this couldn't be happening. His friend, his co-worker, his substitute father... Dead. "Why?" Alfons whispered, slowly letting go of the man's arm and feeling his knees wanting to let him collapse in the snow. "How did this happen?"

"Someone murdered him," Hughes said. "He was shot four times in the chest."

Alfons' heart stopped for some seconds, and for a moment he couldn't breathe. He was even surprised by himself how badly he was taking the news. He felt like he was reacting to this more strongly than when Edward disappeared, but that couldn't be possible. Still, Falman had been like a father to him and he had been a close friend of his old man too. Alfons had known him since he was a just a toddler.

Warm tears were trickling down his cheeks and he found himself staring aimlessly at a spot down in the snow. Choked sounds escaped the tightness of his throat. He sobbed. He fucking sobbed.

Hughes hand squeezed his shoulder lightly and his voice spoke softly. "I'm very sorry about this, Alfons. It was definitely not this I had expected after spending such lovely Christmas with him... He was my best friend."

Alfons nodded slowly. "Hughes... I don't think this is a coincidence."

"What do you mean?" Hughes asked concerned.

"There's something I have to tell you." Alfons took a deep, shaky breath. "The reason I called you this morning... Last night, we found a bloodied doll looking like Edward in Al's bed."

Hughes' eyes widened. "What are you saying?"

Alfons could hardly even speak anymore. "I'm sure it's him... What if Falman was killed by the same man who was after Alphonse? What should I do? I don't know what I should do..." He lifted his palms and pressed them against his temple. "What if Falman was killed because of...?"

"No," Hughes said strictly, and firmly grasped his shoulders. "You're not going to feel guilty about this. This is neither your or Al's fault. The important thing is that you tell me everything you know so we can catch the culprit."

Alfons nodded shakily. "I... I should've called you right away. But I didn't want to disturb your Christmas."

"There's nothing we can do about that now," Hughes said. "I know your intentions were purely good at heart, but don't let this get any more dangerous for you than it already is. The culprit could've been close to you when you got home last night."

Alfons took a deep, nervous breath. Even if he had checked everywhere and barricaded the door, it had still been reckless not to tell the police what had happened. He could've put Al in danger... How could he have been so stupid?

"I will get to the bottom of this," Hughes said determinedly. "Do you still have the doll?"

Alfons nodded.

"Good. I'll send someone with you to get it, it'll be important evidence. Meanwhile, you should stay put and look after Al." His voice softened. "He needs you, you know. Seeing you two together yesterday, it was like you were his older brother."

"But I'm not..." Alfons whispered.

Hughes sighed. "I'm sorry, but I have to ask you this. Did this man called Dietrich know about your relations with Falman?"

Alfons nodded. "I'm afraid so. He was here the night we arrived in..." He was about to say this world, but changed his mind in the last moment. "... Munich."

Hughes looked slightly disturbed by this. "Either way, promise me neither you or Al will blame yourselves for what happened," he repeated.

Alfons just nodded, even if there was no way this wasn't his fault.

"But it seems it might be dangerous for you to be staying in Munich much longer," Hughes elaborated quietly. "If he came into your apartment, who knows what he'd do next." His palm slapped his own forehead. "Not even Gracia will be safe at her flower shop until he's caught."

Alfons furrowed his eyebrows in realization and his anxiety grew even further. "What are you saying, not safe here? Should we leave? Where would we go? There's nowhere to go..."

Hughes sighed and let his hand drop. "For your own and Al's safety, you should consider it, Alfons. But for now, you should go home. I will ask one of the officers to drive you and pick up the essential evidence."

Alfons was too shocked to even respond. Should he just take Al and leave Munich? Where would they go? What would Al say to it?

Maybe they wouldn't have a choice? If Dietrich was after the lives of people they knew, or anyone else for that matter, they would only put more lives in danger by staying. They might have no other choice but to leave to keep distance from people they cared about. Before anyone else was murdered... Or what if Dietrich had pended in Al next? Alfons felt suddenly sick and wanted to go back home as quickly as possible.

A while later the doll had been removed from the floor in their hallway, and Alfons was sitting on the side of Al's bed. Al had his back pressed against the wall with a round piece of chalk clutched in his trembling hands, his eyes dreadfully red and baggy like he hadn't even slept for a minute that night.

Alfons curved forward, resting his head in his palms. "He was murdered."

Al's lips were shaking. "W-Why was he murdered? W-who...?" But Alfons knew he already thought the same thing he had. When Alfons didn't reply right away, Al's eyes went blank. "Is this my fault?"

"No," Alfons said.

"Is it because I didn't agree with Dietrich's terms?"

"No!" Alfons repeated, his voice sharper and increasing in volume. "That man has proved to be insane after what he did last night. It's not your fault, this is completely out of our hands. I'm scared as hell! God only knows what he'll do next."

Al stared horrified at him by the end of his speech, and Alfons was already regretting his words. He wasn't really making anything better for Al.

"Will the police find him?" Al asked. "What if we set him up to meet with me again, and then surprise him with the police? Then he'd be caught faster."

"No way!" Alfons cut him off. "Are you crazy? I'm not letting you put yourself into any more danger. You're not alone, remember? I'm going to figure out something."

Al looked away again. "It's not your job to look out for me. You didn't even ask for it, right?" There was something familiar and evasive in Al's tone which made Alfons think about the first night they had been back in Munich. But he knew Al was as upset as he was and only had a different way of showing it. He chose not to say anything more, and instead he stood up and left the room.

It was like if his last bit of family, his past, had gone six feet under. Falman had meant a lot to him. He had also been the leader of the current rocket project. Without him, continuing the project would be akin to pointless. Alfons didn't know if he would be able to do it. Perhaps he would have to find a new job.

Besides, Alfons knew Maes Hughes had a good point. Dietrich had been in Al's bedroom and left that horrible note. It had really gotten to Al, Alfons could see it in his eyes. Usually it would take a lot to weaken Al's determination, and now Al wasn't even safe in this apartment anymore. There was also one other thing that bugged Alfons, and that was the fact that Al had went to meet up with Dietrich on his own, and what if he, in spite of everything, decided to do that again? What if Al decided that succumbing to the enemy was the right choice to make?

Alfons didn't trust Al. He hated himself for it, but he couldn't hide it from himself. And the truth was, if Al disappeared, Alfons would be all alone. Al was his only remaining connection to sanity and he ought to hold onto him, no matter what.

Therefore, his decision was set. They had to move. He even knew where to go now. He remembered a conversation he had had with Falman a year back, after he'd come back from university, and decided to tell Hughes about it first to hear his opinion.

By the next day, Alfons made sure Al was out of range of hearing and called the Officer. The moment he he dialled the number until Hughes picked up seemed to take forever.

"Officer Hughes," he finally replied in the other end.

"Sir, it's Alfons," Alfons said, fidgeting.

"Hey, are you alright? Did anything else happen?"

"No," Alfons answered, looking behind himself to be sure Al wasn't eavesdropping on him. He lowered his voice. "I've thought about what you said, and I think you're right. We should probably move."

"Yes, I know it's kind of a hard decision," Hughes said with concern. "Concerning the fact that you won't be here if Edward comes back."

Alfons' jaw went slack. Edward... He hadn't even thought about that. Was it really alright to leave? His brows furrowed in confusion. They had to. They had already been back for two weeks and Edward hadn't returned. If he had been able to come back, he would've by now. There was really no way Edward would come back... No matter how much he wanted him to.

"Edward is gone," Alfons said monotonously. "We have to live on."

"That is true," Hughes said slowly. "So, do you know where you will go?"

"Yes," Alfons said. "We'll go to America."

"I know your father would've been proud of you if he knew how far you've come so early in your life." The older man smiled kindly and clapped the younger blond on the back as he stood up from having worked underneath the latest rocket model.

"Thank you, sir," Alfons said with a bright smile. "But I wouldn't have gotten here without you."

"Yes, you would," Falman chuckled. "It's in your blood."

"But Falman is the master," Edward simpered, sitting laid-back on the work table with a sketch and a pencil, and Alfons could hardly ever take his eyes off him whenever he was "working."

"I wouldn't say that," Falman said humbly. "Even I still have a lot to learn in this field. But that's what I like about rocketry. It's always developing."

"Who is the master of the master?" Edward wanted to know.

Falman laughed. "My friend's father. He was American."

"Was?" Alfons said.

"Yes, was," Falman said. "He died of lung cancer. The job affected his health too much, and he had to give in to the illness a couple of years back. But his son is still a good friend of mine who also develops rocketry while living in Boston. We continued our work to honour his memory."

"Wow, Boston?" Edward echoed. "It's kind of amazing that you had an American tutor, considering the tension between Germany and the States, right?"

Alfons felt a little uncomfortable hearing that, but Edward had a good point. He just hoped he didn't offend Falman by simpering it all out like that.

"The war was awful, yes," Falman said. "But we didn't let the politics come in between us. We wanted to show the world that cooperation between the countries is possible, even in our field. Remember this, both of you. In more than one way, our field is very dangerous."

Edward and Alfons exchanged a look, and then nodded.

"I'd like to save up for a trip to America and visit your friend sometime," Edward said. "Wouldn't you, Alfons?"

"Yeah, that would be great," Alfons said excited. "Maybe American technology is turning out different from ours. It would be interesting to see the development from another point of view."

Falman smiled. "My old friend's name is Neil Oscar Cotton. He'd probably be delighted to get some fresh visitors from the rocket industry as well."

The trip had never happened, but that didn't mean that it still couldn't be done one year later, Alfons thought. It had to be some sort of calling. They could find Vato Falman's friend, and it was Edward who had first suggested it, even. His two dearest people... It was like they were leading him, helping him, even when being gone.

"The states?" Hughes repeated. "That's far..."

"I know it's far away," Alfons said. "But I don't have any other places to go. Could you please help me in getting a passport made for Al?"

"Of course. Bring him to the station tomorrow and I'll work something out. But are you really sure about this? What will Al say to the idea?"

"I'm sure about this, but I don't know what he'll say," Alfons admitted. He hadn't even started to imagine it yet. "He'll probably understand after a little convincing. But just in case, don't tell him it's a passport... please."

Hughes hesitated. "Are you sure you're making the right choice here, Alfons? For Al?"

"Yes, yes I'm sure," Alfons said intently. How many times was he going to ask, damn it? "He is from another world, however insane it may sound, and now he's being chased. He doesn't know what's best for him, and I want to avoid another confrontation between him and that murderer."

"Calm down," Hughes butted in. "I know, I know. But, you should tell him as soon as possible."

"Yes," Alfons said. "I know... Goodbye, Hughes."

"Goodbye."

Alfons headed to Al's bedroom and knocked gently on the door. This was going to be a difficult conversation, unless he let out a few parts for now. He figured it would be better to take things a little slow, and rather tell Al the details when everything was set.

"Come in," Al's voice called from behind the door.

"Hey," Alfons said as he stepped inside. "There's something I have to tell you."

Al looked up from This Side of Paradise. He had reached one of the last pages of the book. "What is it?"

Alfons sat down on the bed side with a small sigh. "You know, a lot has happened recently. I don't think we should be living in this apartment for much longer."

Al scowled thoughtfully. "But won't the police find Dietrich soon? It will be fine once they catch him, right?"

"Well, so far he seems to be hiding quite well, is fully capable of murder and getting into people's houses in the middle of the night," Alfons surmised. "We should move."

Al was silent for a while. "I like it here though."

Alfons was surprised to hear that and not sure if he really believed it. "You do?"

"I don't know. This used to be my brother's room." Al looked away. "I'd prefer to stay here, I guess. But still, I understand... Dietrich knows where we are, and he might come back. I don't want any more people getting hurt. But even if we move, what if he acts again?"

"We'll have to count on that he won't," Alfons muttered, suspecting that there were more reasons to why Al didn't want to move as well. But he seemed to be accepting it at least.

"Then, where are we moving to?"

"I'm not sure yet," Alfons half lied. "I have to make some arrangements, but I will tell you as soon as I know the details, okay?"

Al nodded. "Okay."

"We have to stop by the station tomorrow for some formal things," Alfons said vaguely and rose from the bed. "Try to get some sleep tonight."

"Yeah..." Al replied wearyingly. "I'll try."

As the elder left the room, Al's eyes fell on the piece of chalk lying on his nightstand. For some reason he had brought it with him from his world, like a memorial of a transmutation he had shared with his brother. He still remembered that moment clearly, because Alfons Heiderich hadn't been present in this certain memory. They had been captured by Thule Society and tied up to a pillar. Then he and Edward had transmuted the bonds into chalk to break free.

"Brother..." Al whispered. "One day not too long from now, I will draw an array with that piece of chalk and bring you back." Break you free.

Inside his heart, Edward closed his eyes and snorted with mirth. "Cheer up, little brother. Don't worry about me."

Next morning it was Thursday. Alfons was reluctant to tell Al what they were going to the station for. Until he was sure they were actually going, he wouldn't want to upset Al with the idea. It was far. But it was safer. Still, he had to get tickets first. They were expensive, but they had plenty of money. Dollars, even. His intention was to order them as soon as Al's passport was ready. Hughes had promised him they could have it done same day, bending the normal circumstances a bit.

Usually it would take around two weeks for a passport to be ready, but they hadn't that much time. Within two weeks, that man could already have killed someone and taken Al away. Alfons would never let that happen. He remembered so well the time Thule Society stole Edward away from him, and he had looked everywhere, even in Romania to find a trail he could follow. In the end he had found out about Thule Society. He didn't doubt for a second that this Dietrich had a connection to them as well.

Al obediently went on with everything at the police station without seeming suspicious. He got a picture taken, and filled out a form with information, and Hughes had provided him with a German personal identification number. That way, no one would question where Al had come from. Al was reading some magazines in the waiting room when Hughes finally came back and Alfons stood up to meet him.

"Is it finished?" he asked in a low voice.

Hughes nodded and handed Alfons a brown envelope. "I'm bending the rules here, Alfons, you know that, right? But I don't want to put my fiancé in danger, and neither do I want you to get hurt."

Alfons nodded slowly. "I know. Don't worry about us, sir. We'll manage."

"Do you have money?" Hughes asked.

Alfons nodded, without revealing the details. "I will get a job when we get there. Everything will work out." The main problem he had to figure out first, was how they were going to get there. It was a long way to travel, after all.

"This doesn't have to be permanent," Hughes said. "I hope you'll come back soon. It's here where you belong."

Alfons eyes lowered. "No... I don't." I don't belong anywhere Edward can't be found. He put the envelope inside his jacket and forced himself to lift his gaze again. "Thank you for everything, sir."

Hughes nodded. "Anytime, Alfons. Be safe."

Alfons turned away and waved Al to follow him. Al rose slowly from his seat and bowed fast at Hughes before leaving after the elder. Maes Hughes watched after them as they disappeared and let out a quiet sigh.

"What was all this for?" Al asked curiously while trying to keep up with Alfons Heiderich's long strides.

"Everyone needs identity papers," Alfons said vaguely. "Or it would raise questions, for instance at the school you'll be attending."

"Have you found a school yet?" Al wanted to know.

"No, not yet," Alfons said. There's no point yet. "First we should find a new place to live. Besides, it's still holidays anyway."

"That's true," Al admitted.

Planning out the route for the trip was something Alfons had longed to get over with since he decided where they would be going. When they got home, Alfons started making dinner and secretly waited for Al to pull back into his room to read like he usually did.

"Do you need help?" Al offered, showing up in the kitchen frame as Alfons made the white sausages ready to be fried in the pan.

"No, it's fine," Alfons declined kindly. "I'll let you know when it's ready."

"Okay." Al lingered in the door frame, looking a bit guarded. He felt that Alfons was hiding something from him, Alfons could tell. But Alfons pretended he didn't notice it. After a minute of silence, Al decided to leave the matter be and turned to his room without another word.

As soon as the door had closed, Alfons shut off the heat on counter and stepped silently to the phone in the living room. He brought the phone into his bedroom, knowing that Al would sit down to read and not come out for a while.

He settled down on the bed with the phone, plugged it in next to his bed and found the brochures of information he had gathered and the map over the world he had shown to Al some days ago. He had managed to find plans over possible flights, boats and train routes from the police station. Flying was the most expensive alternative, but he had money for it and it wouldn't take as much time as travelling by boat across the Atlantic. The boat went from Bordeaux in France, and would take about a week. The flights went from Amsterdam, Prague and Paris. On either alternative there was no guarantee that there would be anything available for months. In contradiction to the boat that could take many passengers at the time, the airplane would only be fit for fourteen people at the most.

First he calculated the quickest route. If they took the train to Prague in Czechoslovakia, and the flight from there to Boston, the trip in all would take about three days. The flight would land in Lyon in France on the way before crossing the Atlantic. That was absolutely the most effective way. Otherwise, they could take the train south-eastwards to France, change trains in Marseille to Bordeaux, and then take the boat to Boston from there. That would take them about one week and three days.

Alfons spent the next couple of minutes, calling the phone numbers on the brochures. He called the flight company in Prague first, spoke in a low voice without seeming too suspicious, and became aware that there were a few seats available on a flight leaving early Saturday morning. That was the day after tomorrow, unless he wanted to wait another three weeks. The passenger flights for the states did only leave occasionally. The reason why there were some available seats was because someone just had cancelled them.

"Saturday morning then," Alfons said. "Two tickets." Now he only needed to find a train that fit to that time. Another call, this time to the train station in Munich, secured him two tickets on the train to Prague already the next morning. That would give them enough time to reach the flight on time. If everything went according to plan, they would arrive at Boston on Sunday night.

Alfons put the phone down again with a deep breath. It was soon, but he couldn't wait another three weeks. It might be too late and Dietrich could already have hurt Al or taken him away. But he had expected that he would still have a couple of days on him to bring Al the news. Now he didn't have such good time anymore, and he decided to bring it up after dinner.

He went to knock on Al's door, but didn't wait for him to open. "I'm going out for a bit, it won't take long," he said.

Al opened the door. "Where are you going?"

"The bank," Alfons said. They would need dollars from now on, and this was the only time he had to go and get it before they left. "See you soon."

"Okay," Al said puzzled and watched after him as he put his coat on and left.

An hour later he came back and hid the money in his room. After dwelling over it, he had also brought the notebook and the gun. He didn't even know why, but he ought to keep them secret from Alphonse. He had only taken half of the money as well, without knowing why. Though, it would seem suspicious to have too many dollars in case they were stopped in the customs.

Now he had time to jump into the situation of telling Alphonse the truth of where they were moving and when. And he had to admit to himself, this was kind of sudden. He didn't know how Al would react.

He continued making dinner and called for Al as it was finished. Al noticed the tension oozing from him as they ate and in the end, he couldn't stand it anymore. "What's going on?" he asked. "You've behaved weird all day."

Was he that transparent? Alfons took a deep breath. "Al, there's something I have to tell you. I've decided where we're going to move."

"Really?" Al said surprised. "Have you seen the house yet?"

"No, I just know the place," Alfons admitted.

"Then, where is it?"

Alfons took a deep breath. "In the US. I just ordered two tickets to the states."

"The states...? In America?" Al's jaw went slack. "What for?"

Alfons explained quietly. They had to move somewhere safe. He knew of someone there. It would work out, they would find a place to stay when they got there. It was the best choice, and it would be far enough away from any dangerous people who might know about alchemy and the Gate. It even was one of the closest places to Amestris in this world, at least in Edward's books.

There was a long silence, and Al had neglected his food long ago. The explosion came as a storm after the silence, and Alfons' heart slammed a bit wiry as Al abruptly shot up from his chair.

"No! You can't be serious about this! We can't just leave!" Al yelled. "We... We can't just leave the country! When you said we were moving, I didn't think you meant moving away from Munich!"

Alfons didn't look at him. He knew what Al was thinking. That they had to stay close to the only place on Earth Edward might return to. But still... Even if he wanted it to be, it wasn't the wisest choice to make.

He rose from the table as well and stepped hesitantly towards the other. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I guess I was vague on purpose," he admitted. He had known deep down that Al would react like this. "But we have no other choice. Besides, it's been one month, Al… You know he won't get back, after all this time." It hurt so much to say it, but it had to be said eventually. "The Gate is gone, and so is Edward."

"YOU DON'T KNOW THAT!" Al shouted and punched him in the chest. "Don't tell me you've totally given up on him!" Some part of him didn't want to believe it. Some part of him still wanted to believe that Alfons Heiderich believed in him, and still believed in Edward, and that he would come back. Or had he completely given up and stopped caring for real?

"Al..." Alfons' heart felt like it was being stabbed by a bouquet of spikes. But Edward wasn't coming back this time. The Gate was really gone, so how could he? He didn't want to think that he was gone, but Edward would've wanted them to live on. Continue their lives. Rationally thinking, they couldn't just set their lives on pause when there was no guarantee that Edward would ever return.

"He's not coming back," Alfons said in a low voice. "Edward is gone."

Alphonse's eyes doubled in size and Alfons had never seen such hurt eyes before. "I THOUGHT YOU SAID YOU LOVED HIM!" Al screamed. "AND YOU'RE JUST GIVING HIM UP LIKE HE'S DEAD!"

"He'd want us to live, Alphonse," Alfons said harshly and grabbed Al's punching left fist that had come flying towards his chest once again. That's what I told him to do too once, and I meant it. "At least he'd want you to have a life to come home to, no matter what world. There's nothing else we can do. Don't tell me that you've forgotten about all that has happened already? That Falman was murdered? Sooner or later that man will hunt you down until he gets a hold of what he wants. I don't know if he's from Thule Society or not, but if we stay here he'll definitely find us."

All the things that had happened after he returned to his own world with only Al with him, hadn't just been mere coincidences. They knew something about them and alchemy. And Alfons did not intend to get either Al or himself involved with them. They were capable of killing…

"This isn't my home!" Al yelled. "I HATE THIS WORLD!" The anger was chasing around inside his body, and it felt like it was scraping him from within. The thought of leaving was absolutely ludicrous! He didn't even want to be here. What right had this person to decide where he was to go?

"You do, don't you?" Alfons mumbled. The fierceness of the words struck his deep in his soul and he had to struggle to not turn away for a moment. He couldn't stand doing this to Al, but what else could he do?

Al sniffled, no longer able to hold back the tears clinging to the corner of his eyes. "We can't leave," he whinged. "We can't go to America. It's too far. What if Brother manages to come here? He'll never even find us, and we'll never know that he's back."

"Listen to me!" Alfons jerked the smaller boy closer, keeping a strong hold around his arm. "If we don't leave, that man will probably find us and make you do alchemic experiments for him or something, and he'll kill you if you refuse. I'm already through with all that! I've seen both Edward and yourself suffer in the hands of people like that before, I won't risk that happening again."

Al continued trying to punch him, but his effort was starting to become more or less half-hearted. "You don't understand," he chromed. "Nothing like that has ever stopped my brother or me from continuing towards our goal in the past, and not even you will come in the way of that!"

"Alphonse, you're not even thinking clearly right now," Alfons returned sharply. "We can't stay here either! Besides, I have already booked the flight. We're leaving in the morning." He didn't want to cancel it, he couldn't! Then they would end up not going at all, and the consequences of staying could be even more fatal.

"What?" Alphonse looked even more shocked. "In the morning?" He glowered at Alfons like he had betrayed him. "And you tell me that now? It's too soon, I don't want to go!"

"We're going!" Alfons stated, hardly even realizing the grip tightening around Al's arm. Why couldn't he just understand?

"In that case,go ahead! Just GO!" Al cried out and pulled his arm back, stepping backwards to gain distance from him. "You can go without me. You'll probably be happy to get rid of me anyway! I refuse to come with you. I'll stay right here!"

Alfons gritted his teeth. "No, you're not." What made Al believe he would be happy to leave without him? He couldn't go anywhere without Al. But they had to go, so Al would have to suck it up and come with him. "This is ridiculous," Alfons groaned. "I've already decided, it's for the best."

Al angrily swept the air in front of him with one hand. "You can't decide for me! You can't make me. You're not my brother!"

"No," Alfons admitted. "I'm not your brother. I hardly even know you anymore. But I swore to him to take care of you and to protect you."

"You can't protect me!" Al grated. "I don't need you. I can take care of myse-!"

"You can't do alchemy anymore, that's not the way this world works," Alfons cut him off. "I fucking swore to him… They were the last words he said to me, so I'll make damn sure to live up to them."

Al stilled, and just stared widely at him.

"That's why, I'll make you go whether you like it or not," Alfons said threateningly. "And if you try to run away from me, I'll hunt you down before that insane murderer does."

Al swallowed hard and turned away from him to dry his eyes on his sleeve. "I can't believe that you're just forgetting about my brother."

Alfons froze. Forgetting...? About Edward? How was he forgetting him? Wasn't he just living up to his last wish? Of course he was! Edward's words meant everything to him.

Al went on. "Besides, you're wrong about the alchemy in this world, and you know it! I can use it and I can bring him back! Why don't you believe in me? You don't even believe in my brother!"

"Al, please—"

"You can't forbid me to use alchemy when I can!" Al stood there panting when he had finished the sentence, his face still flushed with anger.

There it was. The magical, forbidden topic they had developed which had haunted Alfons' mind ever since that night Al had melted snow without fire. And it was that statement that made his blood boil.

"This is my world!" Alfons bawled, starting to lose control as well. He had never felt this furious, at least not for a very long time. It was almost a minute where he stopped and started thinking about what he was saying, but it was too late. His blood was scorching and he couldn't stop it. "Each world has its own rules. Alchemy isn't a science here, it's just magic, rubbish! And it's dangerous. There's absolutely no way of getting him back even if you tried! Edward is gone! He won't come back, it's just you and me. Therefore, I do forbid you to use it ever again, or so help me!"

"The Gate existed in this world before and it can be opened again!" Al insisted loudly. "Then I can bring my brother ba—"

"Edward is dead!" Alfons cut him off, tears suddenly flowing down his own eyes. He hadn't even noticed that they had started pressing forward. It all made sense, didn't it? It took too long, far too long. If Edward had been able to come back, he would've been back by now. "Edward died inside the Gate." He took some deep breaths. "Please, be realistic. He's never coming back, he isn't just gone. He's dead."

Al stood trembling slightly in front of him, his fists clenched at his sides, seeming not able to actually believe the words he had just heard. "You really believe that?"

Alfons looked away and Al stared appalled at him and shook his head in disbelief. He had always thought Alfons at least believed that Edward was still alive. Now he lacked faith in even that. Al couldn't take it anymore. Bronze eyes kept showering his cheeks with quiet tears. "I hate you," he whispered. "You have no idea... If we just could've waited a little bit longer…"

Alfons pretended he didn't hear it, but inside his heart, Edward's smile had dimmed. Golden eyes peered at the scenes that had just occurred inside his mind with a concerned scowl, and Alfons wanted to tell him to either yell at him or go away. He wasn't real anymore! He never was. Edward felt just like a dream.

"Pack your things," he instructed to Al. "Our train for the airport leaves at 8:00 am and that's final."

The discussion was over. Al and Alfons stomped in each direction to each of their bedrooms, and Alfons heard the door to Edward's old room slam so hard that the walls in the apartment shuddered in terror. He sighed inwardly as he started to cool down. That conversation probably couldn't have gone any worse.

The ugly argument with Al had given a bad aftertaste in his mouth, and that night he was being punished in his dreams. The white space felt heavy and pressing at him this time, and the odd humming sound of strong energy felt almost deafening. It was so lonely and just a minute felt like forever. Whenever he tried to move or run away, something invisible was holding his body back and a sense of agony prickled at his neck like something or someone was clawing him there.

Then his vision was suddenly covered by an image of the great, wide eye. Its red and black pupil was a spiral of despair and pain, and it was like he was being hypnotized into unawareness. All he could feel was pain. He wanted to wake up soon.

You're mine, the soundless voice cooed. Your body and soul belong to me.

"No," he whispered. "No!"

Alfons gritted his teeth in frustration and struggled to break the spell, to move and defend himself. Abruptly he lifted his automail hand to give the eye a good punch, but stopped dead in the middle of the attack. Automail?

"Alfons?" Edward's voice whispered. "Is that... you?"

The voice was coming from his own mouth, but Alfons couldn't reply. He wasn't in the same world. He was merely watching through a window of golden eyes.

Desperately Alfons tried to speak, to somehow communicate. He wanted to tell Edward so much; that he and Al were alright (at least not hurt), that they both missed him, that he still lovedhim... But the eye closed in on them and flowed through him like black smoke corrupting his mind and soul, and golden eyes fluttered closed. Everything went black, and in the next moment Alfons was sitting straight up in bed, panting heavily.

"Edward!" he cried, staring up in the ceiling. "Edward..." What the hell was that? Had that just been real?

He shook his head and put his feet on the floor. He needed cold water. Struggling himself to the side to disentangle himself from the damp sheets, it was like he still could feel the weight of having an arm of metal and the pain prickling at his neck.

It had felt so real, yet he had no idea what to believe. His mind was confused and his head ached like mad. Alfons made it to the bathroom in the dark, and got a bad feeling as he went through the hall but couldn't really point out exactly what it was. He turned on the cold spring water and swallowed his own face with it. After a minute or two he was so cooled down that he started to shiver. Wiping his face with the sleeve of his upper arm, he gazed into the mirror to the miserable person staring back at him. The bad feeling refused to go away. Was it really a good idea to leave in the morning?

Alfons suddenly whipped around as he had felt another presence brush past him. "Al?" he quipped. No answer.

It was all in his head, he was about to go crazy! But just to be sure he strode towards Al's bedroom, like the bad feeling was leading him straight there, and opened the door carefully. The light was off and he gazed towards the bed. His stomach was seldom wrong. In the dim light from the window and the hall behind him, Alfons realized Al wasn't in his room. The bed was empty, not even touched that night.

With a deep breath, Alfons backpedalled slowly from the room. "Al?" he called out into the dimness. "Alphonse?"

There was still no reply. The apartment was quiet.

Shaking lightly, Alfons used several seconds to wrap his mind around the prospect that Al was now gone too, and it didn't occur to him why until he turned abruptly and walked fast back to the hall. Now he knew why he had gotten the bad feeling as he went towards the bathroom. Al's shoes were gone, and so was his red coat. He had even left the warmer winter coat behind. It was like a part of his mind had tried to warn him that something was wrong, but he hadn't caught on immediately.

Al was mad at him and had run away.

Alfons cursed under his breath and hurried back to his room to get on some clothes. His eyes darted out the window for a second, seeing snow falling lightly and swirling around the wind. It was snowing and cold, and Al was out there somewhere. He had to find him quickly, or else he might freeze to death or get mugged or worse. The dream that had awaked him was suddenly all forgotten.

A couple of minutes later, Alfons was striding down the staircase while shrugging on his coat, three steps at a time and shuddered as he came out on the street in the night. It was 3:00 am in the morning and the streets were empty, apart from a few drunkards.

"You should've told him about it sooner." Edward's voice was gentle inside his soul, not angry as Alfons would've preferred. He didn't deserve Edward's fake voice inside him, sympathetic and understanding. "Why didn't you?"

"I'm a coward," Alfons said in a low voice. It didn't matter if drunken by passers heard him talking to himself, he couldn't care less. "I knew he wouldn't take it well so I just procrastinated the inevitable. All my life I've always done that, even with you."

"Even if I'm not here right now, you two have to stick together," Edward said. "Share your thoughts with him, Alfons. And he'll do the same with you too."

"I want to, but he's hated me since we came here," Alfons muttered. "He's simply endured it. His words were pretty damn clear tonight. He hates this world even more than you did."

"I never hated it," Edward said. "But you're not exactly giving him any reasons not to. You gave me reasons to love this world as my own."

"That's not the same," Alfons protested.

"Isn't it? We're all family, Alfons," Edward said softly. "Stop excluding yourself from us."

Alfons stopped walking, a sour wind ruffling his spiky blond locks. "Family..." he repeated softly. "You were the only family I had left. Vato Falman even died. I have no one."

"That's not true," Edward said. "Al is your family too."

He felt arms wrapping around his waist and a chin resting on his shoulder, and his heart stopped. There was a quiet sigh in his ear and the hairs there moved with the feel of a breath. There was no real sense of warmth against his back, but it wasn't cold either, it was just... there. Widening eyes turned to look down and saw the arms folded across his stomach, and if he leaned backwards, just a little, there was support. A fantasy? A dream? A mental disorder?

His heart had kick started and was slamming a mantra and he turned around fast, seeing the air stirring in front of him, and the image of Edward was materializing right before his eyes. "Edward..."

Okay, now he was delusional for real. Clearly he was seeing Edward because he missed him more than anything and that he was at a loss by driving Al away from him. Yet, he couldn't take his eyes off the image. He made no footprints in the snow. His breath didn't fog in the air the way his did. But Alfons had told Al that he believed in the things he had seen, and there was no doubt about it. He was staring at Edward.

It was like Edward's soul was glowing. Golden eyes peered gently at him and a small smile appeared on ghostly lips.

"Why am I seeing you?" Alfons swallowed a bit. "I'm going crazy, aren't I?"

"Nah, it's because I'm still a part of you," Edward said. "Believe it or not, it's hard for even me to believe it, but I'm right here inside your soul. I'm always with you." He reached out his flesh hand, experimentally. Awed, Alfons lifted his hand too, cooled by the frosty air, and slowly touched Edward's. Edward's hand didn't feel anything more than air, but something tickled against Alfons skin, and he didn't know if it was the snow falling, the wind, or something spiritually warming. If he was crazy, so be it. Seeing Edward like this was still a comfort.

"I need to find your little brother," Alfons said softly. "I have to apologize."

"I know where he is," Edward said. "I can lead you to him."

That didn't sound so stupid, Alfons thought and nodded pleased. "Lead the way, please."

They set out together. The wind was getting stronger and it was snowing more than before. The sky was dark and gray, and Alfons tried not to think that he was following after Edward's ghost to find Al in something that felt like to become a snowstorm. Well, things had stopped being logical ever since he came to another world. A small part of that magical place still existed in this one, after all.

They bypassed a man lying drunk and half unconscious in the snow, and Alfons shuddered. He hoped he would find Al before something similar happened to him. Edward's guidance was his only hope. The strange part of it was, it didn't feel like this was the first time Edward had guided him towards Alphonse. No. At that night of full moon, Alfons had followed a feeling deep within his soul before he had found and picked up Al as he was being chased by the mysterious man dressed in white. Somehow a part of Edward lived inside his soul, and he knew everything of what was going on. Alfons couldn't be more relieved at that moment. It was like Edward had never left at all.

"By the way, you were wrong about one thing, Alfons," Edward said. "I'm not dead."

At that point, Alfons had no doubt in hell that he going insane. He had to be. But he welcomed it.