This is my apology for last week, guys. Sorry I made y'all go through that. It was hard for me too.
Speaking of last week, I made a big mistake. I forgot to add a note in the chapters note about how last week's chapter would not have been possible without the hard work of my amazing little sister! She stayed up until almost 1:00 Saturday night/Sunday morning transcribing FMA scenes for me to use (most of the italic quotes for Ed). I had something going on Sunday morning that I hadn't prepared for (I was giving a talk in church, whoo!) and so I was working on THAT until 1:00 right along with her. But there's no way I would have been able to make that chapter as awesome as it was without her!
And while I'm doing shout out thanks, let's also hear it for my daddy, whose birthday it is today. I mean, come on guys, without him these stories wouldn't exist because I wouldn't exist. And even if I did, I get most of my storytelling nerd-ier qualities from him.
Al had a bit of a fascination with hands.
He though he had earned the right after all. They were magnificent things. With hands you could heal someone, or you could kill them. With hands you could create and destroy. He was able to do alchemy just by clapping his hands together. For a few years of his life his only hands had been gauntlets that could crush anything if he wasn't paying attention.
Throughout his travels and his training and sparring, his hands had become rough and calloused. They were strong. He was able to notice more veins in his hands with every passing day, and the worn skin almost seemed softened by the hours spent reading and petting Whiskers.
Now however, his hand was doing one its favorite things to do.
Holding Mei's.
They were seated side by side on the couch, each reading their own books. Her book was resting in her lap as she sat with her legs tucked under her. Her other hand supported the cover of the book, as well as flipped the pages every minute or so. Al was in his favorite position with his feet on the table, hand holding the book from the back. It meant that he had to drop the book onto his lap to turn the pages, but it was worth it to keep holding Mei's hand.
He snuck a glance at his wife and couldn't hold back his grin.
They had just celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary a month ago. 40 wonderful years married to the most amazing woman he had ever encountered.
Al squeezed her hand and she smiled at him.
Half an hour later though, he was yawning and just about ready to lie down for a nap, when the phone rang.
He looked at his wife, but she seemed to have no inclination to get up and answer the ringing appliance. Shaking his head, but smiling none the less, he stood and answered the phone.
"Hello?"
"Hello!" the voice on the other side of the phone said. It was a man that Al didn't recognize. "Is this Alphonse Elric?"
"It is."
"Hello, Mr. Elric! It's an honor to be talking with you. My name is Harold DeWitt and I am very interested in your life story."
"… Why thank you, son. Is there a particular reason you're calling…?"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Elric, let me make myself clearer. My name is Harold DeWitt and I am attending Central College, studying Journalism. For our final project, we are supposed to find someone with an interesting life story who has managed to change the world, interview them, and then write an extensive paper about their lives. It was my original thought to interview your brother, the Fullmetal Alchemist—"
Al's heart ached at the mention of his brother. Three, almost four years and he still couldn't quite get over the pain of losing his older brother.
"—but then I learned he was dead. A direct interview is part of the project. But while I was doing some preliminary research I found your name and a couple of news articles attached to it. I was fascinated. So I guess what I'm trying to ask is if you would be willing to be the subject of my project."
"I'm… I'm flattered. Thank you. But I don't know if I'm the best subject to choose… there are so many people who have done more. You could even talk to my sister-in-law, Winry. She's was an automail engineer for almost 50 years. She changed hundreds, thousands of people's lives with her work. Or even my own wife, she had a lot of influence in the current Emperor of Xing's policies, if that's not world changing, I don't know what is."
"That all sounds like great and noble things, Mr. Elric, but I wouldn't cut yourself short. You were involved in the Coup of 1915, you were a valuable Ambassador to Xing for thirty years, you practically wrote the Elric Treaty yourself, Fuhrer Mustang turned to you for help in switching Amestris to a democracy, not to mention all the valuable contributions you've made the alchemic field!"
"I… well… when you put it like that…"
"I would love for you to be subject of my project, Mr. Elric. Please?"
"… alright, I suppose I'll do it."
"Thank you, thank you so much, Mr. Elric. You won't regret it! When would be a good time for an interview? Would you like me to come to your house or could we meet at a restaurant somewhere? I would be more than happy to— anywhere you're more comfortable."
"We can do it here, Harold. My house could use a younger face to spruce it up. My son and his kids drop by every once in a while, but it doesn't seem right so quiet."
"Of course sir. My Grandfather says that every time I visit. Would tomorrow be too soon?"
"No, that's fine. I'll make sure my wife knows so she doesn't chop off my head when you arrive."
"Noonish? Later?"
"How about 3:00. That's a good time."
"Absolutely, sir. I'll see you then!"
"Please, don't call me sir."
"… of course."
"Come on in, Harold," Al said, opening the door wide enough for the young man to come in. He looked to be in his early 20s. He had brown hair and grey eyes that almost reminded Al of his mother. He was wearing a hat and was wrapped in two coats, but that wasn't surprising considering the temperature outside.
"Thank you again, so much, for agreeing to do this, Mr. Elric. It really is such an honor and so much help—"
"I already agreed to do the interview, Harold, you don't have to keep brownnosing me."
The young adult smiled and walked down the hall when Al gestured for him to move forward. He met Mei in the reception area and smiled at her.
"You must be Mrs. Elric."
"I am," Mei said politely, shaking his offered hand.
"I guess Mr. Elric told you I was coming, or he wouldn't have a head to talk to me with." She smiled, but this time it seemed much more dangerous and Harold withdrew his hand fairly quickly.
"He wouldn't. Tea?"
"… yes. Please."
Al settled down on the couch and Harold took one of the other seats.
"So, fire away, young man."
Harold withdrew a stack of papers and a notepad and pen. "What was your early life like? Your father wasn't around much, correct?"
"Correct. My father was a brilliant alchemist and he discovered the truth of the Promised Day — the Coup of 1915 — long before everyone else and set about trying to stop it. But he had to leave us to protect us." The words were familiar in Al's mouth, he had given them enough times. "I didn't see him again until I was 14 years old, and he died shortly afterwards."
"My condolences. But you and your brother were close."
"Very close. We learned alchemy together. Let's see, Ed was 6 and I was 4 when we started learning. We liked to impress Mom."
"Wait…" Harold looked up from his papers and frowned at Al. "You learned alchemy when you were 4 years old?"
"Just the basics, but… yes."
"… no wonder they call you an alchemic genius. Where you as good as your brother?"
Al shook his head. "No, Ed was better at it than I was… especially when we were younger. There's only so much that you can teach a 4 year old. But by the time we were 13," And by that of course he meant when he saw Truth and learned how to transmute with clapping as well as his brother, "we were about equal though."
"How is that your brother was hailed as such an alchemic prodigy when you were just as good?" It didn't seem like Harold was asking for his project anymore, it seemed more like he was just plain curious and impressed. Al flushed red.
"Well, Ed was always the flashier one. I mean, there was a reason he went around in a bright red coat. He liked attention, and I was fine with that. I never liked it too much. Becoming an Ambassador and having to speak in front of the entire Xingese court was quite the stretch for me."
Mei came in with the tea and pushed Al's feet off the coffee table by way of setting the tray exactly where his feet had been. He accepted the banishment gracefully, leaning forward to pick up his cup while Harold did likewise. A few minutes later however, his feet had found their way back. Mei pursed her lips when she came in.
"Feet off the table, Al. We have a guest over."
"I know, Mei my darling, I happen to be talking to him." She put her hands on her waist and glared at him. Al just smiled back and after a few seconds of silent staring match, she threw her hands up into the air, but she was smiling.
"Sorry about that," Al said, still grinning. "Where were we?"
Al didn't hear Harold DeWitt's name again for almost two years, and quite thought that the boy was out of his life forever. He kept an eye open for his name in any newspapers though. He continued on with his research and naps and talks with Mei. He kept on playing with his grandchildren, even taking a trip to Xing to watch over Nina's children so Nina and Zhou could take a trip to Creta together without the kids.
When they came back from Xing though, there were two or three notes shoved in their mailbox by the same frantic hand, and almost as soon as they walked in the door, the phone rang.
"Hello?"
"Mr. Elric?"
"… Harold?"
"Oh good, you remember me. I'm so glad I caught you, I've been trying to get in touch with you for almost a week."
"Oh. We've been in Xing, watching the grandchildren."
"Of course, Mr. Elric, that's perfectly fine. I'm just glad I've finally managed to get a hold of you. Do you remember the interview you gave me for my project at school? It was almost two years ago, but—"
"I remember."
"Well, my teacher was…. extremely impressed both with your life story and with the work that I had done. Most of the people in my class had found a doctor or asked a family member. Someone who made a difference in the lives of a handful of people. I'm in no way saying that the people they chose to do their reports on weren't important, but he was very impressed with the fact that I tracked down someone like you and convinced you to do and interview; that that's what reporting's really about. But anyways, Mr. Elric, he was so impressed with my project that he showed it to a friend of his who is in the publishing business, and that friend now wants to turn my project into a full length biography of your life!"
Al could feel his jaw hanging lose.
"… excuse me?"
"He wants to turn my project into a full length biography of your life. It wouldn't take that much from you, just two, maybe three more interviews, so I can get more information about your early life, what you've been doing since, a bit more about the inspirations behind your projects. I might have to call you to check a few facts, but it should be minimally intrusive. This is your chance to share your story with the world!"
"What if I don't want to share my story with the world?" Al asked, before realizing that it came off rather rude. He was more worried about repercussions of this would be. Even if he lied about his early life, what else could he do, that much information out in the public, someone would be able to figure out the truth of what he and Ed had done. And the truth about the Promised Day would be even worse.
"Oh… Of course, Mr. Elric, that's fine… I'm sorry to have bothered you, I just thought…"
"No. I'm sorry, Harold. It's just that… there are some things in my past I'd rather not relive and I'd rather not the world know the whole truth about. Can you imagine telling the world everything about when you were a stupid kid?"
"I think I might die of shame, Mr. Elric. I know I would never get a date."
"Exactly," he said, relieved that the boy could understand, even if he didn't understand the full reasoning and truth behind Al's reluctance.
"If there's ever anything that you don't want to go in there, I will avoid it. That's a promise, Mr. Elric."
"… I supposed I'd better face the firing squad. When and where?"
The book arrived in the mail November 20, 1964, autographed by the author, and soon after Al received it, the subject of the text.
He almost died of embarrassment when he read the title and summary.
Feet Off the Table: The Story of Amestris's Hidden Jewel
A key player in the events of the Coup of 1915, author of the Elric Treaty, participant in the first public interracial marriage, and champion of democracy, Alphonse Elric has long been ignored in the addles of history except for a passing mention in the descriptions of international relations. Of all people alive today, he alone has faced as much public pressure and done as much good as he has in the world today. Instead of being ignored, he should be trumpeted as a hero through the streets! But with a brother like the flashy Fullmetal Alchemist, it's no surprise that Elric has long taken the modest rout, preferring to see the effects of his work in action, blessing the lives of you and me today.
He and Mei had a few laughs over some of the information they found in the book. Most of the beginning was familiar lies — that Al wore the armor to protect himself and for alchemy training, that Ed lost his arm and leg in the Ishvalan conflict, during the attempted sacrifice of the whole country Ed was able to regain a flesh arm by giving up his ability to perform alchemy.
They had returned home to recuperate and two years later set out for the East and West respectively, where Al became Ambassador to Xing, traveled the East, fell in love with a Xingese Princess, designed a treaty to establish peace between the two nations for decades to come, married said Princess in the first public interracial marriage, discovered the secrets of alchemy and alkahestry, adopted two children from unfortunate circumstances, had a biological child, and then helped turn Amestris into a democracy.
It rather made Al sound like a hero.
"I sound like some sort of fictional character from one of those books you used to read."
Mei laughed. "No Al, you're much better than the Princes I used to wish would sweep me off my feet."
He bent down and kissed her soundly. "Thank you, Mei."
She smiled and rested her head against his chest.
"But you really do need to stop putting your feet on the table."
Fun fact, Harold is actually a character I created for a different AlMei story which has yet to see light. Thought that as long as I needed a reporter and the time period fit, why not stick him here?
Another reminder guys that AlMei week is August 3-9. The prompts have NOT been decided yet, so you still have a chance to submit any ideas on the DeviantArt AlMei group, or directly on the tumblr page (it's just almei week dot tublr dot com slash ask )
And also, if there is anyone who would be willing to do me a huge personal favor? I working on this project and I need unbiased opinions. It won't take much, just your time and your opinion :D And it's open to pretty much everyone, I need multiple opinions. You'll win my undying love! Isn't that worth something? Just mention it in your review if you're interested in helping or send me a PM and I'll give you more details.