A/N: Does this chapter count as a title drop? Woo woo!
Also, I was not expecting this fic to take off so well! Seriously, thank you all for your support. I really appreciate y'all!
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[Year 1860]
He'd finally done it.
Edward stared at the massive stone and bronze frame before him, letting the last whispers of magic dissipate from his wand and the alchemy circle on the floor.
Once the crackling sparks disappeared, he was met with a deadly silence, the mirror's frame glistening faintly in the twilight bathing it from the window.
With shaking hands, Edward watched as the view behind the mirror's surface swirled and ever-so-gently cleared away, like a thick tumultuous fog slowly burning away by the sun.
"Come on, come on…"
With bated breath, he peered to see something- anything- familiar. Gradually, he started to make out blurry rolling green hills, a house in the distance- one that he recognized to be Granny Pinako's. A giddiness he hadn't felt in many ages filled him, bursting forth from his lips in wild laughter.
"Alphonse, I'm coming home." He said breathlessly, reaching forward to press into the window he had created- tap. Cold glass met his fingertips.
"No…" Frantically, he knocked on the surface blocking him. He had to go through! He was so close!
"Granny!" He shouted, wondering if the other side could hear him, the grass still coming into definition and the fog slowly rolling back, "Granny Pinako! Winry! I'm here! I'm right here!"
But nobody seemed to hear him, and the glass remained as solid as the stone surrounding it.
[Present]
A satisfying crack resounded throughout the room as Hohehneim was knocked to the ground. Edward ony regretted that he couldn't feel his father's nose smashing in with his metal hand.
"What the hell, Hohenheim?!" Edward spat, standing over the man on the ground. "You'd better have a damn good explanation this time!"
Van Hohenheim groaned as he sat up, blood dripping from the hand covering the lower half of his face. Wincing, the elderly man grasped his nose and twisted, another crack popping it back into place. "That was deserved." he spoke congestedly, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe up his slowly-healing face.
"It damn well was!" Edward raged.
"I suppose… I failed you again." Hohenheim gave a small smile that looked more like a grimace, eyes watering. He stood slowly, gazing at the mirror with something sorrowful in his eyes. "To give myself credit, I did want totry, at first. But I couldn't break it either. When you gave the mirror to me, you told me that I was heartless and could destroy anything without a moment's thought… well, perhaps you were wrong. To say that the past does not affect me… that would be incorrect."
Edward frowned darkly. "Then you have a real odd way of showing it, bastard." Hohenheim hummed in agreement.
"Perhaps I do."
"What are you planning on doing with it?" Edward asked with crossed arms, stoutly refusing to look into the glass.
Hohenheim turned away from the reflection to gaze at him. "Have you ever heard of the saying 'mirrors are portals to another world'?"
"Yeah." Edward said shortly, "And I proved it wrong. That's why that abomination exists in the first place."
"The theory is not entirely wrong," Hohenheim corrected. "While I've had the mirror in my possession, I decided to try to continue your work to some extent. Not in the way of going back to our world- you did already prove that wrong- but the idea of a portal itself. This mirror can be, as I have discovered, the link to the magical plane- a version of it, I should say."
"A version of it?" Edward cocked an eyebrow.
"Yes." Hohenheim placed his hand against the mirror's frame, leaning on it slightly as the bruise on his face faded away, "Like magic, the mirror has a pull for vanishing. However, unlike magic, that pull is interrupted."
"The alchemy." Edward assumed.
"Two forces that reject each other, yet are forced to meet in the same plane. If you try to meet it with a magical force, the alchemy will reject it. If you meet it with an alchemic force, the magic will force it out. However, I found one thing that it will accept. What else, but a balance of the two forces?
"...It only accepts that which shouldn't exist. Magical-alchemic abominations." Edward 's heart sank at the realization. He'd sworn never to make such an abomination again. Nicholas alone had proven that alchemy and magic should never be mixed, and yet many, many years later, he had only done the same, simpy without the stakes of a soul. In his desperation, he had broken a rule that he'd stood on from the day he'd discovered the existence of magic, and it had caused more hurt. Instead of a way home, he'd only created a monster that thrived in his sins and laughed in the faces of those who dare laid eyes on it.
"Just as it portrays," Hohenheim agreed, "Your desires that cannot be achieved. The mirror seeks balance while existing in a form which bears a constant instability. Therefore, if my theory is correct, it can only accept things in equal tumult."
"Flamel's stone." The words were dropped like icy pins. "...If that is so, then what stops anyone removing it after it has been placed?" He frowned, uncomfortable at the thought, "Surely, the mirror is constantly fighting to spit it out and would be glad to see it go."
"Yes... I did consider that. However, I think that the answer in this case is incredibly simple," a small amount of pride crept into his voice, "Remember, the mirror is unable to provide that which it shows in itself. If one approaches it seeking the Stone, then they will very likely find themselves completely unable to attain it. The mirror itself is its own weakness. The only ones who would be able to retrieve Flamel's Stone are those who reach for it, but hold no real desire to attain it."
"I see." Shoulders sinking at the reality of Hohenheim's plan, Edward nervously glanced at the edges of the frame and then to Hohenheim's face. The elderly man was gazing into the mirror itself, a deep, sad longing in his eyes that felt unsettling. "If all of this is a theory," Edward started, dragging Hohenheim out of his reverie, "Then how do we make sure it works?"
"You want the stone, do you not?" Hohenheim's reply gave Edward a sinking feeling. The Stone's weight felt all too heavy in his pocket, its sickening aura slowly seeping through his clothes and into his skin and bones. Who in the hell would want its cursed self besides Nicholas? No, he didn't want it, but at the same time, he couldn't imagine leaving the souls inside for dead. Abandoning them, when he could save them as well as his own. If someone else got ahold of it… well, he didn't want to imagine the carnage to both it as well as whatever the Stone was used for. Nicholas had proved that by himself. It was broken, an imperfect form of philosopher's stone, but still dangerous. Too dangerous. For the souls' sakes as well as the world's, he couldn't imagine passing the Stone to anyone else. Only he could keep it safe. As much as it disgusted him, he had to possess it. In that way, he did desire it. He needed it.
It was sickening.
"...Fine. I'll test it."
Taking a deep breath, he reached deep into his bottomless pocket, willing the brown envelope containing the Stone to his hand. It came willingly, meeting his fingers with a foreboding wave of nausea. With a trembling hand, he pulled the stained package out and tenderly peeled it open, pouring the contents into his right hand. For the first time since he had cast Nicholas away and burned the physical copies of his knowledge from the world, he laid eyes on the Stone.
It pulsated, capturing his gaze in its grisly beauty. No larger than a two pound coin, the Stone burned like crimson blood between his metal fingers, thin veins of gold threading through its jagged, uneven surface. It was enchanting. It was disgusting. It was… Edward almost dropped the cursed ruby as he felt the screams.
A roundtable of cries and wails, beings in the Stone reaching desperately for the power in his own chest in a dizzying putrid surge. Faintly, he realized that the screaming was his own Stone, likely sensing it better than he and voicing their fear and sorrow, but he understood. Pulsing with its light was wave after unending wave of foreboding energy battling with itself and its surroundings. It wanted everything out but tried to suck everything in tumbling round and round in a tumultuous force he could only describe as agony.
Swallowing the urge to throw up, Edward tore his gaze from its horrifying beauty to meet eyes with Hohenheim, who seemed equally disturbed. He'd taken a few steps backward- whether to get away from the Stone or the mirror Edward didn't know- and was watching it glow with an unreadable expression.
Finally, he turned to face the mirror.
Oh.
He'd known what his eyes would see, had been expecting it- the very reason he'd been forced to give his abomination to Hohenheim to destroy because the figure it bore was the very person he couldn't bear to see harmed… but it didn't make the shock hit any less. Alphonse looked at him with soft, dull-golden, human eyes that shone with health, happiness, and strength. There was no emaciation, no missing limbs, no pain- just he, and behind him the rolling hills of Resembool untouched by the destruction of war. In the far distance, Edward coud spot the figures of everyone he loved- Winry, Granny Pinako, Izumi and Sig, even Mustang and his crew- all unharmed and whole, as if the damned Promised Day had never happened at all.
"Hello, Brother," Edward's breath nearly caught in his chest as Alphonse greeted him with a wide, kind smile. He hadn't heard his younger brother's voice in well over 100 years. "Are you going to give me something?"
Edward took a deep breath, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. This… was the reason he'd never wanted to see the mirror again. Alphonse looked and felt all too real- he couldn't stand it, but he also couldn't look away. Heart in his throat, he nodded, holding up the despairing Stone in his automail hand. A hand which, reflected in the mirror, was whole.
"I'll keep it safe for you, Brother!" Still grinning, Alphonse held out his arm. Carefully, almost hesitantly, Edward placed his hand against where Alphonse's should have been, and pushed. The Stone sank into the mirror with resistance, its surface rippling like a shuddering wave. For a moment, Edward thought - almost wished- that he could push his fingers through as well, but the minute that the Stone was in Alphonse's hand, metal clacked hard against the mirror's surface. Without looking at the Stone given to him, Alphonse pocketed it.
"It's good to see you."
"Now," Edward said, voice unusually hoarse, "Give the Stone back."
"What stone?" His brother cocked his head in confusion,"Brother, you're not making any sense."
"The one I just gave you. It's in your pocket. Give it back."
"I don't understand." Alphonse made no move to dig in his pocket.
"Just try."
"I don't have a Stone for you!" The words came sharp like a hot knife. For an instant, darkness seeped into the corners of the mirror and Alphonse's face clouded with anger. Then, in the blink of an eye, it was gone. The hills of Resembool rolled in a pleasant wind as if they had never been touched and his brother was smiling pleasantly. "I'm sorry, I wasn't listening. What were you saying, Brother?"
"...Nothing." Edward shook his head and tore his eyes away from his reflection. It was hard to see from the water in his eyes. They leveled on Hohenheim, who was watching him intently. Anger burned through him at the sight of his father. It was a better emotion than the terrible melancholy Alphonse's face brought. He let it sink in, but it wasn't able to overtake the feeling. "I can't get it back."
"Then it works." The elderly man seemed relieved.
"...Yeah." Edward bit back a sharp retort, too tired now to get into another argument that wouldn't go anywhere. Instead, he settled for glaring. The mirror had worked. There was nothing more to say.
"Edward…" Hohenheim's voice interrupted his thoughts.
"What?"
"The mirror, does it speak to you?" The bastard seemed honestly curious.
Edward turned away from the bronze gilded frame, crossing his arms and refusing to look at his father. "Always has." He fiddled with his thin, patchy sleeve. A sudden curiosity overtook him, despite his better judgement. "...What do you see, when you look in the mirror?"
"Well," Hohenheim's voice sounded surprised to even be asked at all. "...I suppose I see something likely similar to you."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Hohenheim smiled sadly. "I think we both want something that we can never get back."
"You bastard," Edward grumbled hostilely, "Forget it. Don't test me any more. ...You've done what you came to do. Now please leave."
The older man bowed his head. "...Very well." There was a slight pause. "...Edward, for what it's worth, I still-"
Edward shook his head. "I don't want to hear it. Don't let me see you again."
Were those tears in Hohenheim's eyes again?
"...So be it. I will let Dumbledore know we are done here." The old man stuffed his hands in his pockets, dithering between looking at him and turning for the door for several moments. Eventually, he sighed, opening his mouth to speak once more. "...Goodbye, Edward."
"Hohenheim." he acknowledged with finality. As the elderly man closed the door, he looked back to give one more sorrowful smile. Edward refused to look him in the eyes.
The door of the disused room clanked shut with a condemning echo, and Edward sank to the floor next to his stone and bronzen atrocity with his head in his hands.
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A/N: That was some heavy stuff. Guh, poor Hohenheim and poor Edward. Life is not nice to him (though nor is he to it). But we're starting to see some parallels!
As always, thank you for reading and reviewing. 3
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Guest reviews:
Guest (on chapter 4): Thank you so much! I agree, that one is my least favorite chapter as well. I am trying to avoid repetitiveness but found a chunk of the dialogue in that chapter was a bit unavoidable to my chagrin. I'm happy to hear I was able to make it a bit more interesting though!