CHAPTER 9: THE PROMISE
The following morning after New Year's Eve Al and Alfons trotted downstairs to the ground floor of their landlord's house to have breakfast. Neil Oscar Cotton was actually an incredibly messy person. Everywhere there were dirty dishes and other mess floating around the house. Alfons was surprised someone would even want to have guests over in a house looking like this. He actually wanted to offer himself to clean for him as thanks for helping them so much, but he figured that might be rude.
And even if the place looked like an old loft, Cotton could cook. The older man had made the table ready with a meal that could've fed ten Edwards, with bread, bacon and eggs, and pancakes with maple syrup.
"Dig in, lads," the man grumbled, showing slight amusement by the surprised expressions on their faces. "You're both still growing, so you better eat a lot."
They settled down by the table and started to eat in appreciation. Al was starving and the pancakes reminded him of home. Winry had often made pancakes for breakfast while he had been living in Resembool. Ironically, that had been when his brother had been in this other world. He was still adjusting to it, though he felt a bit excited to see more of this new place. He was even more excited about the fact that Alfons finally had accepted that he could use alchemy to bring Edward back. And he would.
Al was happy about the prospect of being able to bring Edward back directly to their location. That way he didn't have to worry about Edward not being able to find them once they pulled him out of that white and lonely place. He was eager to start planning out the array, though he would need a special array for this purpose and he wasn't exactly sure how to do it yet. Though, he hoped Alfons could give him every detail he remembered about the time they were inside the Gate. Anything he remembered might be fundamentally important.
All Al could remember was that he had jumped in with his brother, and then their father's soul had showed up, though he didn't remember their conversation. Subsequently it all was just a mad mess of images of his brother and black hands and the Gate. His brother had spoken to him, and he had been upset about what Edward had said. Probably because he had realized that Edward wouldn't come with him to the other world.
Al decided to talk to Heiderich about it as soon as they got the chance.
"So, how are things going up there?" Cotton asked, taking his glasses off and cleaned them on his shirt before putting them on again. "Are you two settling?"
"We're in progress," Alfons answered. "We'll continue cleaning up the living room today. Yesterday we merely concentrated on the bedrooms. It's a very nice place though. We'll be forever grateful to you for offering us to stay."
"Oh, it the least I can do for a fellow rocket scientist. Besides it's a shame that place hasn't been in use for long," Cotton said with a shrug. "So it's really a good thing you arrived. About the price, the average house rent is around 28 dollars per month. I've settled that 12 should be enough."
"12?" Alfons echoed. "Are you sure?" That didn't sound very much at all. Alfons was almost getting suspicious of all his kind hospitality, considering the fact that the previous months he had experienced how people he met only wanted to either use him or kill him. He shuddered a bit, not wanting to think about that sort of things now.
"Of course," Cotton said frankly. "I don't need much money, my business is going well, and I'm glad to help."
"That's very kind of you, sir," Alfons said. "We've been saved for a lot of trouble thanks to you."
The man grinned through a pair of rows of yellow teeth. "The pleasure is mine. Did you watch the fireworks last night?"
"Yeah, we did," Al replied blithely. "They were very pretty."
"Indeed. I was at a party with some of my co-workers," Cotton said conversationally. "And I told them all about your visit last night. They're quite excited to meet you now, Alfons."
"Really?" Alfons quipped.
"Of course," Cotton nodded. "There's nothing to worry about at all. Nothing too formal. I hate such things."
"I'm glad," Alfons said relieved. "Though, I still want to show what I can do."
"I'm sure you'll do just fine," Cotton assured. "By the way, I'm curious to know this and sorry for bringing such matters up now, but what happened back in Germany before you left?" His eyes had turned more solemn. "How did Falman lose his life to such crime?"
Al and Alfons paused their eating and gave each other a look. Alfons was unsure how much to tell. But after all Oscar Cotton had already done for them, lying was unacceptable. He just had to take the risk that Cotton wouldn't decide to throw them out in fear for his own life.
"We think he was murdered by someone who is after us," Alfons said austerely. "We don't know exactly who they are, but the reason why Falman was killed might have been... because he was close to us."
Cotton stopped eating as well and frowned at him. "What are you saying?"
"We had to run away," Alfons elaborated, his palms tightening around his fork and knife. "Before anyone else got hurt."
Al had stopped eating entirely and avoided looking at either of them. He felt like everything was his fault. He had been careless considering Dietrich.
"I understand if this might change your view on having us here," Alfons said urgently. "I probably should've told you about it sooner. We don't want to cause any trouble."
"Calm down, this is very upsetting news, but," the older man said with concern, "I wouldn't throw you out for something like that. I don't understand though, is anyone trying to hurt you?"
"I don't know what they want," Alfons half lied. He couldn't start talking about alchemy and other worlds. That would be a bit too much. "Though, even if we don't know exactly what, I think they need something from us which they want to get a hold of."
"Oh my," Cotton mumbled. "They might be interested in your knowledge within aerospace engineering then?"
"Could be," Alfons lied. That wasn't it at all.
"It's a dangerous knowledge," Cotton went on. "Many powerful people would go far to obtain it if they could. You should be careful, Alfons. If your government knew you've moved to America to work in this field without submission, they might come to bring you back to Germany."
Alfons had had so many other things on his mind that he hadn't even considered that possibility. "Is that for real? My intention was never to..." Would they take him for a deserter? He had never even been in the army. That thought reminded him sickly of what Edward had gone through in his own world.
"I know," Cotton said. "But the German government takes nothing lightly after the war. They lost the war and have barely anything left but their brilliant minds of their scientists. If they suspect that you're sharing technology with America that they can use against them, they'll come after you and bring you back to Germany in handcuffs."
"I can't afford that to happen," Alfons mumbled. What about Al...? What would happen to him if the German government found out about this? He tiredly rubbed his forehead. It felt like his head would explode soon. But one thing helped him calm down. "We got help from a friend in the police before we left," he said. "I trust him. He probably won't let anyone find out if he can help it."
"Let's sure hope so," Cotton replied. "Or, you could always apply for American citizenship like I did. It takes some months to get an answer though, but then at least your government can't touch you."
Alfons thought about what he had just said. It felt wrong to do that as well. He would always be German. He couldn't even speak English properly. "I have to think about this. Maybe I can send Hughes a letter and ask him about it." Alfons sighed. "Sorry if we're causing you trouble."
"Not at all, young lad," Cotton said. "I just want you to be aware of how unfair this world can be."
Alfons let out a hollow laugh. "I've experienced some of it already."
Oscar Cotton gave him a grave look. "You both look like you have. Something else is bothering the two of you as well, I can tell."
Al still avoided any sort of eye contact and Alfons drew his eyes away as well. "You're right."
"Go on," Cotton said.
Alfons sighed softly. "We... lost someone else."
"You friend?" the man alleged. He looked at Al. "Your brother?"
Al stared at him in wonder. "How did you know?"
"You mentioned him yesterday," Cotton said. "And it had me wonder why he wasn't with you."
"He isn't dead," Al said fast. "He's just... lost."
Cotton nodded. "You came to look for him here?"
Al nodded. That was a way of saying it.
"I hope you find him," the man smiled a small smile. "I'm sorry, this conversation became awfully grave. Please, eat some more and we'll talk about something more cheerful."
For the sake of politeness, they both forced down another pancake.
After breakfast Al and Alfons returned to work around the apartment. They had still barely even started on the living room and the kitchen. Alfons brushed some dust off the couch, and coughed a bit in reaction. It seemed it hadn't been cleaned for far longer than his old apartment in Munich. Luckily they had borrowed what they needed to clean with from Cotton, so it was just to get started.
"We need to clear out some things we don't need," Alfons began. "We can move a couple of shelves into each of the bedrooms."
"Alfons," Al said, drawing the elder's attention to him. "We're going to bring my brother back, right?"
Alfons faltered by the abrupt change of subjects. "Of course. But what about cleaning up here first so he'll have a decent home to return to?" He smiled.
Al nodded. "M-m. But while we do that, could you tell me more about what happened inside the Gate?"
"Hm." Alfons slumped down into the couch, and Al joined him. "I was unconscious most of the time..."
"My memories are hazy," Al said. "Anything you can tell me about what happened there might be of help to plan out the array."
"There's one thing. Something you never knew about even in Amestris," Alfons said. He got up and picked up a pen and paper from a desk and came back. On the sheet of paper he drew the eye. "This thing got tattooed on your brother's neck. Before, it was on me. There was some kind of exchange where the Gate marked him as its property or something."
Al frowned. "So, it wanted my brother's body?"
Alfons nodded. "I think so. But that is how he switched places with me so I could leave the Gate."
"So, my brother can't leave the Gate as long as he has the mark?" Al construed.
"I don't know," Alfons said, feeling a bit helpless. He hadn't known much at the time the mark was on him either.
"That complicates things," Al mused. "I wonder if I can remove it between the time I activate the transmutation circle and he gets through the Gate."
That sounded complicated, indeed. "Edward figured that the only way of removing the mark was to close the Gates," Alfons said.
"He could be wrong about that," Al said slowly. "It might would've made the mark ineffective for Truth, but not removed it."
Alfons was concerned. Maybe opening the Gate wasn't the main problem they had. Maybe Edward simply couldn't leave because the Gate was tying him down? He had seen Edward's condition in his dreams, and he wanted to cry just by the thought of it.
"I'm not going to give up," Al said resolutely. "There's still two months left until the prime moon. I will work on this as much as I can."
"If I remember anything more that might be of use, I'll tell you," Alfons said, and in that moment, he did. "Actually... wait here for a second." He got up again and stepped into his bedroom. He kneeled down by his suitcase and rummaged through some clothes he hadn't put away yet, the hollow book with the gun and... there it was. He brought it out to the living room again and handed it to Al. The notebook he had found in Van Hohenheim's deposit box. He felt bad for having kept it hidden from Al, but until now he had thought it had been for the best.
"What's this?" Al scowled and opened it, reading through the notes of his father's handwriting. "Could it be...?"
"It belonged to your father," Alfons confirmed.
"I've been looking for a notebook like this!" Al said excitedly. Then he frowned. "Why do you have this?"
"I found it in the deposit box," Alfons said honestly.
"And you never told me?" Al stood up from the couch as well and stared wound up at him.
Not again... "I'm sorry!" Alfons urged. "I didn't want you to use alchemy, remember? But I admit that I was wrong." He tried to calm himself down. "At least I brought it along, right? I want you to use it. But, not without me, okay? We'll do this together."
Al nodded slowly, relaxing again. "Alright. There are no more secrets now, right?"
Alfons nodded as well. "I swear. No more secrets."
Al sighed. He wanted to start studying his father's notes right away, but he had to admit that there was still a lot that needed to be done in the apartment. It would be better to work there when everything was in order, so he decided to join in on clearing off the living room of old junk. It would be faster doing it together, after all.
"I'll start over here," he said and stepped over to some boxes filled with old newspapers and books.
"Alright," Alfons replied. "Gather what we don't need by the door so we can carry it out later."
Alphonse settled down by the boxes, concluding shortly after that there was nothing very interesting in any of them and carried them over to the door. There was a shelf standing next to his bedroom which he moved into his bedroom instead, like Alfons had suggested. He had stuffed so many books he could into his suitcase, and it had been quite heavy to carry as a result, but he considered the effort worth it.
After he had put all the books he had into the shelf, it still looked like a pretty deficient book collection though. He figured he had to do something about that later. He hadn't been in this world for that long, after all. But he considered it important to always have a small library of influential works on a variety of subjects he had all read more than once. As a source of reference. For now, he only had some of his father's books he had found interesting, This Side of Paradise by F. Scott Fitzgerald and the German-English dictionary.
He stepped back into the living room and discovered a new box that had been hidden behind the other ones and the bookshelf. It had a strange-looking tube that reminded him of some kind of megaphone. Curious, Al sat down and explored the content of the box. To his excitement he found out that it was an old phonograph. He had never had one, but he had seen one at Gracia Hughes' place in his own world when he'd visited her and Elicia once.
He lifted the phonograph carefully out of the box and put it on the floor. He blew some dust off the top and gently pushed the pointed arm off the surface. Eager to try it out, Al peered down into the box again and found what he was looking for. There were three records stored in the box. Al picked up the first one, and put the large, black circular disk neatly onto the spool on top of the surface. He settled down the handle down at the disk, pushed the switch, and the disk began to rotate. There was a low noise before a gentle piano tune started playing from the tube.
Alfons drew his attention towards the music. "What is that?" It felt nostalgically familiar.
Al picked up the cover of the record disk. "Fredric Chopin. The song is called Lullaby."
"Amazing," Alfons muttered. "Whenever I couldn't sleep, my mom used to play this for me when I was little."
"I like it," Al said with a smile.
"Yeah, we definitely have to keep that," Alfons agreed. "The phonograph works just fine, I wonder why he put it up here."
Al just shrugged and listened to the sound of the playful, but serene piano tune. He could keep listening to it forever. It was like it gave his mind some yearning rest not even a night's sleep could provide, the tunes finding their ways to the inner secret places of the soul. When the melody was finished playing, he only wanted to listen to it again, but decided to wait until later. He wanted to listen to it when he could settle down in his room with his father's books and work on the array.
When the evening came, the apartment started to look much better. They had carried out the things they didn't need and run over the floor with a mop. What was left was a table, the couch, a small kitchen table with three chairs, a desk, a bookshelf and the phonograph placed on a small, round table.
Alfons made them some dinner by the stove, and Al replayed the Lullaby-song while they ate.
"It brings back some memories," Alfons commented softly. "She played a lot when my father was away in the war. I think she did it so we both wouldn't feel so lonely. The music brought some peace to our hearts."
"Music is really amazing," Al said. "It's something that can't be created with alchemy. It's an art of its own."
"That's true," Alfons chuckled. As he finished eating, he rose from the table. "Will you manage alone for a couple of hours?"
"Sure, but where are you going?" Al asked.
Alfons shrugged. "I'm just taking a walk. I won't be late."
"Okay..."
Alfons smiled before he stepped to the front door, shrugged on his jacket and left out in the cold evening air. It seemed like things were starting to work out, despite that they had left Germany more or less on a whim. Oscar Cotton's words had made him slightly uneasy, but that wasn't his greatest concern at the moment. Even if things were working out, something had been bothering him deep inside his heart ever since they left.
He couldn't feel Edward's presence anymore.
On several occasions he had tried to relax, close his eyes and listen to that soothing whisper inside him, the ghostly touch against his neck whenever he felt depressed and lonely. But now it was completely absent.
Alfons had never experienced anything more frustrating. He had just learned that this feeling or whatever to call it was real, that he wasn't crazy, and then it had simply disappeared?
It was an amazing and awfully comforting prospect to him. A portion of Edward's soul existed inside him. He could connect to him sometimes, almost feel his touch, and speak to him.
Even if what they said didn't reach "the actual" Edward's mind and body, Alfons still felt more at loss than ever that he wasn't able to feel him anymore. It had been the last sense of Edward he had managed to hold onto. Was he completely gone? Hadn't he come with them to America?
"Where are you?" Alfons whispered as he followed a random street. It had already turned dark being that the wintry days were so short. "Come back. I need to know for sure that you were really there, all this time..."
He had been able to find Al with the help of this connection the night before they left Munich. That had to count for something. Alfons wasn't telepathic. Edward had led the way by following his soul frequency. He would never have been able to find Al unless Edward's presence had been there, existing within them both. Alfons needed to see him again. He needed to talk to him. But how? He had no control over when or how Edward showed up. He was always just suddenly there.
Alfons had no idea where he was going. He simply followed the street, passing by a person now and then. It was late already, so not many people were outside. Especially not in this cold night. Boston had the same cold wintery ambience as Munich at this time of the year. Part from that, nothing about this city seemed familiar to him. How did he expect to find Edward here when nothing even reminded him of him?
There was one thing he could do. Alfons didn't know if it would do him good or bad, but the sight of the old Irish pub on the corner of the street seemed too alluring. It was pulling him in by invisible strings. Not much else was open at this hour anyway.
He stepped inside the bar and the cheerful atmosphere hit him like a slap in the face. It didn't really lift his own mood since he didn't know anyone, but he wasn't really here to gain friends either right now. Alfons stalked towards the bar counter and slid onto an available stool.
The bartender immediately noticed him. This seemed like a kind of place that rarely had other visitors than the regular ones. He was a middle aged man and his eyes were of the kind sort. During the last couple of years Alfons had learned how to tell.
"I haven't seen you around here before," the bartender said conversationally. "Can I get you anything?"
Alfons nodded curtly. "One. I moved here yesterday, not far from here."
"You're foreigner," the bartender observed while filling the glass, judging by his awkward accent. "Belgium? Holland?" he guessed, and placed the large mug in front of Alfons.
Alfons regarded the beautiful golden liquid for some seconds. "Germany," he said. He didn't want to lie about where he came from, no matter how much they might hate Germans. He had experienced being hated because of that before, even gotten in a fight. He didn't exactly wish to get in a bar fight, but at least he wouldn't be the one who started it.
"Ah, Germany," the bartender acknowledged. "I can't say I've been there. What's it like?"
Alfons scowled suspiciously at him, but then he realized the man did nothing to judge him whatsoever. "It's... well, I wouldn't recommend it for a holiday right now."
The older man chuckled heartily. "You look like you've been through a lot. Drink up, it's on the house."
Alfons stared at him in surprise, but before he could thank him the bartender went to serve another customer. He just wanted to drink himself into oblivion, and hopefully find back to the small portion of Edward resting inside him again. It had been over a drink he had gotten to know Edward better the first time he had met him, after all. Alfons took a long and healthy swig of his beer.
Was Edward hurt? Right now, nothing frightened Alfons more. He knew Edward was still out there. But the Gate could damage him in ways beyond repair. There was no time to lose. He had wasted away precious time already, just by moping around and mourning. Alfons was angry at himself. Damn it, what if they could've had Edward back already, hadn't it been for his negligence?
Alfons thoughtlessly slammed the empty mug down into the bar counter in frustration, though immediately realized how rude that might have been and muttered an apology.
The bartender laughed heartily and stepped over to him again and addressed the empty mug. "You sure drink like a European."
Alfons made a noncommittal sound in response. "I'll pay for the next one."
The bartender filled up another mug and replaced it with the empty one. "Here you go, son. Allow me to keep guessing. Did you lose family in the war?"
Alfons nodded, slightly amused despite the subject. "I'm guessing you meet a lot of depressed people in this job."
"I meet a lot of talkative people," the bartender said and smirked. "And I like listening to stories."
"I would've told you mine if I knew where to begin and that you wouldn't think I'm crazy if I did," Alfons informed. He took a new hearty drink of the fresh, golden liquid. He would soon need another one. He might not be the most talkative person in the world, though the more he drank the better his English got.
"You don't seem like the crazy type," the bartender chuckled. "You didn't come all the way here from Germany alone, I hope? Do you have a girlfriend?"
Alfons shrugged half-heartedly. "I guess I do. I just... lost her." He'd rather not go into detail about his sexual preferences either.
"That's a shame," the bartender said. "Love is the most important thing in life."
"I'm going to get it back," Alfons said confidently. The second mug was empty and he motioned lazily for another one. "I just don't know where to look yet."
"You're still young," the bartender pointed out, replacing the empty glass. "Someday a girl will be very lucky."
Alfons humbly shrugged while continuing nursing his third beer. He wondered about that. Was Edward lucky to have this pitiful excuse for a boyfriend? Not at all. It might have cost him both his life and sanity. Where he was now, inside the Gate, was the closest thing to hell you could ever be. Alfons had left him there, being useless as always.
And now he was being even more useless, drinking and destroying himself with guilt.
"I'm pathetic," Alfons seethed and ran his palm through his hair. It had grown a bit longer. His cheeks were unshaved. He hadn't thought about that until now. He needed to go to a barber soon. He needed to fix himself. Then he might be worthy enough to get Edward back in the first place.
"Hey son, maybe you should take it easy," the bartender commented. "Don't be so hard on yourself."
"Hey Andy," a clear female voice said, stepping up next to Alfons. "The usual."
"Coming right up."
"Fresh meat?" she deduced playfully, regarding Alfons up and down.
Alfons flushed a bit, completely clueless when it came to this sort of encounter with a woman. She was tall and pretty with large breasts and had long, light brown curls of hair.
"He's cute!" another female commented and showed up on his left. "You look lonely, sweetheart." She smiled charmingly.
"Shut up, Rosemary, I saw him first," the first girl crowed.
"Aw, let him choose then," Rosemary returned wickedly. Her hand touched Alfons' arm, lightly brushing up his shoulder.
"Uh..." Alfons said. So light these touches were. He would never have gotten used to something soft like that. He wanted metal. He wanted firm and hard touches, the rawness and the roughness as they tugged and fisted his shirt.
"In that case, let him be with a real woman and not a little brat like you," the first woman said and her hand landed on Alfons' thigh.
Alfons jumped a bit in surprise and was about to decline as politely he could, as he was saved by the bartender.
"Leave that one alone, he's not in the mood for you today," the bartender said.
Both of the girls made a disappointed moan.
"Oh well," Rosemary chirped. "Next time then, cutie."
Alfons smiled a bit timidly in return and quickly went back to the drinking as the women found someone else to flirt with. He had to pull himself together. He needed to fix himself up and find Alphonse a good school. Yes, that was his next priority. Edward would come back to him when he deserved it, right? Edward wouldn't like to see how pathetic he was right now anyway.
"I hate being like this," Alfons muttered, speaking more to himself than anyone else. He didn't know if the bartender was still listening or not. "I don't have the right to be like this. It's my fault and I've done everything worse."
Maybe Edward's soul didn't visit him because he was disgusted with him? That was kind of hard to believe, even in Alfons' current condition. Despite it all, he and Edward had been happy together, right?
Weren't we?
"Of course we were, you idiot, and we still are. You're such a dumbass!"
Blue eyes widened fractionally. Golden hair reflected from the nearly empty mug of beer, like Edward was sitting right at the same spot as him.
"Edward!" he gasped, though the reflection turned back to be simply his own.
"What did you say?" the bartender asked confused. Apparently he still had his attention somewhat pointed at him.
"Sorry, I have to go," Alfons said fast. "Thank you for the drink." He left a 10 dollar bill on the counter and ran out the bar.
As he came out in the snowy streets, the world circled a bit in his vision, but he quickly adjusted to it. As his vision cleared, he took a deep breath and listened to his own beating heart. Edward had been there just now.
"Come back," he whispered. "Don't leave me."
"I won't," Edward said gently. His presence brushed against Alfons' palm, and Alfons jerked his eyes down at his hand, seeing a familiar metal one lacing in with his fingers. Slowly, the rest of Edward's presence emerged in front of him, like he had been the night before they left Munich.
Unshed tears welled up in Alfons' eyes. "Where have you been? I was worried about you, stupid!"
"I'm sorry." Edward's invisible form stepped close and hugged him. "I was unable to reach you for a moment. It's not your fault."
Alfons dried his sore eyes and leaned into him in a sense of holding him closer, ignoring how strange that might look like to people close by. "I'm sorry for being this pathetic," he slurred out. "I miss you. I promise, I'll bring you back."
He was drunk. No doubt about it. Though, he didn't care because Edward was there.
"Let's go home," Edward said. "You're cold."
Alfons nodded and trailed off with some uneven steps. The ground seemed to be waving like an ocean, which made it terribly annoying to walk on. Maybe he had drunk those three beers a bit too fast.
"I know you're real," he assured Edward. "Al made me realize. You're a part of Edward's soul. Al infused it with ours so we wouldn't lose you. We're going to get you back."
A man he bypassed gripped after him and spoke, but Alfons ignored the words and shoved him off and continued walking.
"Alfons, just think about yourself for a change," Edward said with concern. He walked next to him and looked like he wanted to grip after him each time Alfons swayed dangerously to the side. "You need to get to bed, you stupid drunkard."
"Sorry," Alfons grinned. "Once you said drinking helped you remember your world while you were here. I thought that maybe drinking would make you come back." What kind of stupid and irrational piece of logic was that? He didn't care, it had worked.
"I don't know why I couldn't reach you," Edward said, scowling thoughtfully. "But I think the Gate is trying to prevent that we meet like this. It doesn't want my soul to come close to you."
Alfons frowned, feeling suddenly mere rage towards the Gate and Truth or whatever the hell was controlling their lives. "The Gate can go screw itself!" he grated and stumbled a bit.
"Don't think about that for now," Edward groaned. "Just get yourself home already."
Alfons knew, if he stumbled and hit his head on the sidewalk now, there wasn't anything Edward could actually do about it even if he wanted to. He lifted his gaze up ahead, noticing the familiar street that was now his new home.
"Did you see our house yet?" Alfons said softly.
"Yeah, it's nice," Edward said. "I like the phonograph. Al played some Chopin while you were away."
"He likes Chopin," Alfons agreed. After a couple of minutes he reached the stairs and hugged around the icy banister to keep himself up. The stair seemed endlessly long and he ended up on his butt by the foot of the stairs, contently leaning back and closed his eyes in the soft snow. "I'm just going to rest here for a bit," he murmured sleepily. It was a bit cold, but he hardly felt it.
"Alfons," Edward groaned frustrated. "Alfons, get up, you can't just lie here!" With a sigh, he merged inside the house and found his little brother sleeping peacefully, curled up on the couch among their father's books.
"Al," Edward said and carefully stroked his long bangs back from his face, rousing him out of sleep.
"Brother?" Al murmured.
"I'm sorry to wake you, but I need you to do me a small favour," Edward said.
Al looked up at the ghost of his brother's soul, smiling a little. "What is it?"
"You're hereby at liberty to kick Alfons in the ass and drag him up here by his ear," Edward stated, his arms crossed.
Al stared at him in wonder, and then hurriedly got up from the couch in mild concern. He stepped into his boots and opened the door to the stairs outside. At the bottom of the stairs, Alfons was resting drowsily, his breathing misting in the air above his serene face.
Quickly, Alphonse stepped down to him and shook him. "Alfons?"
Alfons didn't reply and simply twisted away to avoid being disturbed.
"Seriously," Al muttered. "Brother was right this time." He grabbed Alfons' wrist and dragged him up in sitting position, ignored the complaining sound from the older, and hooked his arms under his armpits and started to drag him up the stairs. "What made you think that was a good place to sleep, really?" Al groused. Halfway up he had to take a break, but kept holding onto him in fear that Alfons would simply tumble down the stairs if he let go. "You're such an idiot."
"I know..." Alfons slurred. "Sorry." He blinked a bit and groaned.
"Get up," Al urged, relieved that Alfons wasn't unconscious. "It's freezing out here and I forgot to close the door."
"It's alright," Alfons smiled and managed to get up on a couple of unsteady feet.
Al kept holding onto him and brought his arm over his shoulder while pulling him further, putting the rest of the way up the stairs behind them and closed the door to the living room behind them both. With a sigh, he kicked off his shoes and made sure Alfons got off his, and supported him through the living room to Alfons' bedroom and dropped him into bed.
Alfons snuggled into the covers and sighed contently.
Edward stood over the bed and smiled before turning to his brother. "Thanks, Al."
"No problem," Al said with a half smile. "Goodnight, Brother." He turned off the lights and did the same in the living room before lying down to sleep in his own bed. He was glad Edward's soul had come back to them both. Now they only needed to get back the rest of him...
He felt Edward's warm presence lying down next to him and smiled. "I can't wait."
"Can't wait for what?"
"To hold you like this." Alfons put his arms around Edward's back and pulled him in for a kiss.
Edward smiled as well. "I'm glad you believe in me."
"We've been through too much," Alfons whispered. "I can't lose you."
"You won't. And I want to do this again as well," Edward said, his flesh hand trailing over Alfons' chest and stomach. "I want to feel you with my flesh."
The feel of the ghostly touch made his breath quicken and body stretch out on the bed, letting Edward lie down on top of him and seal his lips with his. Alfons ran his hands through Edward's long, golden hair, the feel of it tickling between his fingers. It wasn't solid, but he still felt something there. It was incredible, this feeling of something so spiritually divine.
"As soon as you're back, I'm never letting you go," Alfons whispered.
"Same here. Even if I come back, no one else shall be sacrificed," Edward stated. "Least of all you."
"I won't. I won't leave you alone," Alfons whispered. "I know how it is now. It's too painful without you. If you would feel anything like this without me, I'll never die before you, because I don't want you to feel anything like that."
"I'm sorry," Edward said, guiltily bowing his head down until their foreheads touched. "I didn't mean to put you through that."
Alfons smiled softly and closed his eyes. "Hopefully it'll be over soon."
Edward leaned down to kiss him again while fisting the front of his white shirt the way Alfons liked. The kiss was like a bond linking their souls, sensed through the heart. Soft and gentle at first, then it turned more intense and electric. He parted his lips and felt a tongue enter eagerly, cording with his.
"It's not going to be over," Edward murmured softly. "We'll finally start to live."
Alfons didn't even have words for how badly he wanted that. They had started living, but they hadn't started their lives yet. Too much had always been missing. But soon...
Edward's soul was discarding his clothes one by one, and Alfons did the same. First his shirt, then his pants and shorts. He gazed up at Edward as he lied back, at Edward's naked soul, drinking in the sight. It looked like he was glowing. His lover curved down to him again and ghostly lips brushed his mouth, throat and collarbone, blanketing him with his golden form.
"You're so warm," Alfons whispered fondly. He became lost in the memory of the weight of Edward's head resting on his chest, every time his ear had been contently placed against his beating heart, as Edward's hands slid against his skin, the flesh hand's fingers finding a nipple and rolling the soft nub under a thumb until it hardened, the other trailing playfully over his belly, very close to his bare arousal. Alfons's skin crackled under Edward's hands like heat of colourful fireworks flashing across the sky on New Year's Eve.
As their kiss deepened, Alfons's heart throbbed painfully in his chest. It had never felt so out of control, so insistent on making him take measure of the very fact that he was alive. But even with no body, this was still Edward; his soul catching silver light from the half-moon shining through the bedroom window, making his appearance blaze like the sun. He was the spark lightening any darkness inside Alfons' heart, igniting life itself and all of the passions and desires that made life worth living.
As Edward straddled his lap, Alfons sat up so their chests could still touch, so their lips could still merge. As their groins connected, Alfons's longing was a flashing burn that travelled down the length of his spine and erupted from his mouth as a quiet moan. Edward lowered himself onto him in one, slow motion as Alfons guided himself into him. His breath quickened a bit.
When Edward started moving, Alfons wrapped his arms around him and pulled him into a kiss while bucking up against him. Their bodies slithered and poured against each other with the same tender ferocity as rapids caressing a solid rock face; a gentle force that would forever carve and shape the landscape of the world.
Alfons's eyes flashed open, a well of need, desire, and dependence that sent him hurtling toward release and by God, he had just made love to Edward's soul tonight.
He collapsed back on the bed with Edward resting on top of him, both of their chests rising and falling in swift motions.
"I love you, Alfons," Edward whispered inside his heart.
Alfons felt a surge of emotion well in his throat, the months of self-doubt, encounters and abuse they had fought together. Battles they had both won and lost. The promise to protect one another. It had only been bound to become a broken promise. In the end Edward had managed to protect him, but because of that, Alfons hadn't been able to protect Edward.
Alfons closed his eyes by the echoing thoughts that never seemed to leave him alone unless he spoke them out loud.
"I want to make a new promise," he whispered in the dark. "One that both of us can keep. I will get you back, and when I do, we're going to protect each other. But that also means protecting ourselves, so the other won't be alone."
"Deal," Edward murmured.
"If we can't," Alfons continued, "I'll go wherever you go, whether it is Heaven or Hell, or even the Gate." His eyes fluttered open and he held his breath, his tears falling unchecked, because this was all he had to offer. A pledge of his body, his heart, and his soul as the only things in the world he truly owned and the only things he could promise to Edward with any sense of certainty.
"Okay." Edward's lips brushed his neck. "I'll be waiting."
Alfons slowly let his eyes drift shut again, feeling complete by the warmth of Edward's presence that was still blanketing him. It took him only a few seconds to be drawn into deep sleep.
Though, as much as he enjoyed sleep, his mind got trapped inside the despair of the white space as soon as he put his mind to rest. Alfons frowned at his surroundings. This had started to happen more and more frequent lately. It scared him.
The large eye emerged before him and black hands laced around his body, trapping him and twining around his limbs. Around Edward's limbs. Alfons shuddered from his safe stance inside Edward's heart.
You're not making me very pleased, it said warningly. If your soul keeps being disobedient towards me, I'll have to punish you.
"Go ahead, bastard," Edward snarled. "I'm not afraid of you."
Alfons got struck by sudden concern. Punish? He didn't want Edward to get hurt.
In an instant, Edward's arms were forced up into deviant angles, making him hang dangling in the air, held by the black monsters swirling themselves around his body like snakes. A loud scream erupted from Edward's throat as his arms got twisted further.
"Edward!" Alfons cried, desperation settling in his very soul. "No, stop! Don't hurt him!"
Edward breathed a bit sharply in realization of Alfons' presence inside him. "Alfons... Don't worry about me. This is nothing... he won't do me anything serious."
He hadn't even said it before two black arms shot forward and buried themselves into his stomach, making him abruptly gag after his lost breath and cough up some blood. Crimson splattered onto the white ground from his abdomen.
"EDWARD!" Alfons screamed. Even if he was sleeping, this was not only a nightmare. This was really Edward's body, his mind and his soul. Unlike the presence of Edward who would visit him sometimes, this Edward would remember that Alfons had spoken to him. But that also meant, this pain was real too.
Edward's lips moved, but he was unable to utter any sound. He writhed a bit in agony as the two black hands abruptly pulled back out of his abdomen. To Alfons' surprise, the black hands left no wound. But he had felt Edward's pain. It had been sharp and close to unbearable. He realized, in some bizarre way, Truth was hurting Edward, letting him feel the pain of it, but then instantly healing the wound.
Edward breathed out sharply again, blood trailing from his mouth and twisting his captured arms, but to no avail. "Alfons, get out of here."
No, stay Alfons Heiderich, for a little bit longer, it said. So you become completely aware of that your beloved isn't safe. Neither are you. I will keep hurting him if he keeps visiting your soul. You wouldn't like that, would you?
Alfons shuddered and regarded the eye through the window of Edward's eyes in terror.
Abruptly, the black hands shot forwards once again, impaling Edward's abdomen and sending a new splatter of blood on the ground. Alfons cried out like it had been him who had been stabbed. It felt like his soul was shattering in agony and despair. "Stop, stop, stop..." he whispered and clutched his eyes shut.
I could twist and pull out his insides if you want, I could let him bleed out to his last second of life ebbing out of him before I reverse the torture.
Edward gritted out a frustrated cry of pain that made Alfons' heart scatter.
"Why?" he whispered. Why was Truth doing this to Edward?
Why not? Because I can, puny human.
"Alfons..." Edward gasped. His wound hadn't been healed this time, and he was forced to see his own blood well out of his stomach. Though, he tried to ignore it. "I don't really know what the hell is going on here," he breathed out sharply. "But I don't care; as long as it keeps pissing this bastard off, I'm fine with it."
"Edward, you idiot," Alfons whispered, feeling his soul cry of absent tears which he needed an own body to provide. "Hold on, Edward. We'll rescue you soon!" His voice raised into a flustered yelling before his beloved could even start protesting against him. "And don't you DARE think we won't do it!"
The second after he woke up with a scream, tears running down his cheeks, and Edward's presence was gone.