A/N: *Wheezes* It's finally here! This fic is also now a year old, I can't believe it! Happy new year and here's to many more chapters to come!
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[Present]
Edward never made it back to his room. Subconsciously, his feet carried him down a corridor, up two sets of stairs, around a corner, down a hallway… the next thing he knew, he was standing in front of that door. Its heavy, oaken frame loomed above his head. He stared at it for a few long moments, frozen in place while his dinner grew cold in his hands.
'Don't' chanted faintly in his head against the tightness in his throat. Against his instincts, he entered and before he knew it, his fist was clutching gray fabric.
It hit the floor with a dull fwump.
"Hello, Brother."
"Al…" he choked out, the grassy waves of Resembool simultaneously like a breath of fresh air and being stabbed.
"You want me to tell you you're a terrible person," Alphonse noted matter of factly, bowing his head sadly.
"I am! What the hell am I doing, Al? I should just take that stone and run! This is a fool's errand. Albus and his plans be damned!"
"I can't let you do that," Alphonse folded his arms, a childish pout overtaking his face.
"Then you're the terrible person!" Edward raged agitatedly, smashing his flesh fist against the mirror's rim. Cursing loudly, he stepped back and shook his hand, the pain cooling his head a little. Closing his eyes tightly for a moment, he tried to cool the flame of frustration, sighing heavily. "Sorry, Al. I didn't mean that. It's those wizards… I can't do this. Alchemy should not exist in this world."
"But it does."
"Only because I… and Hohenheim… it was a mistake . I never should have taught him."
"Would you like to see?" Alphonse asked in a strangely cold voice.
"What?" Edward asked, suddenly nervous.
"Right now you want, most of all, to never have taught Nicholas Flamel. Would you like to see that outcome?"
"I… Yes," Edward breathed, "I want to know if I did the right thing."
"Then I will show you." Alphonse said.
Behind him, the flowing grasses of Resembool began to fade.
It was that day.
The Promised Day.
Edward's breath caught in his throat.
Bodies littered the ground, Amestris still and silent. The sky was coated with red. Entranced by the vision in his eyes, Edward took a few hesitant steps closer to the silver-laid glass. Alphonse smiled sadly. The image of Amestris swirled away and a scene of a dark and dusty room replaced it. Wooden walls, lit by the dim glow of a flickering candlelit lantern, shrouded a lonely figure sat upon a creaky stool, a manic glint in his eyes.
"The answer… the final answer! It must be here somewhere!" Nicholas Flamel muttered, wildly flipping through the pages of an ancient book. In his fervor, he knocked a strangely familiar wand by his hand. It clattered onto the floor but Nicholas paid it no mind, gasping as he stopped his frantic paging, staring reverently at a page, brushing his fingers over and over the corner. "Is it?" Flamel hardly dared to breathe as he ripped the page out of the book, slamming it shut and shoving it away. A rock dropped in Edward's chest as he recognized the cover; Theorie Der Alchimie .
Nicholas held the page up to the light of the lantern, lifting a small pair of glasses to his nose for further inspection. Edward wished he could step forward and get a closer look, but the mirror did not allow him. Scowling, Nicholas slapped the paper onto the desk, fumbling for the wand and cursing under his breath as he had to crawl under the desk for it.
Re-situated, Nicholas pointed it at the paper. "Revealio," he whispered, giving a half-suppressed laugh in delight as golden words curled across the page. "It's here!" He whispered with reverence. He stroked the page tenderly, almost lovingly , bearing no sign of the frantic madness he had held before.
The image swirled to a new room. A library. Nicholas stood before a number of pages arranged on the floor, each bearing words Edward could not read that glowed golden, gently illuminating the room in their light.
"The final formula," Nicholas murmured reverently as he stood before the paper circle. He held out a bottle of dark liquid, pouring it into the center. "Innocence," he placed the glass down, "And purity," Standing once more, he tapped his wand to his forehead, closing his eyes.
A wispy silver string trailed from the wand as he pulled it away from his head. Nicholas sighed as it disconnected and dangled freely from the wand. He held it over the papers and let the wisp float to the floor.
"Combined." He touched the wand to the edge of the gold letters. In a deep voice, Nicholas started to chant.
His words were quickly lost to a violent thrumming. The golden letters turned red and the room began to tremble. The papers began to rise, the silver wisp and the liquid with it, the two swirling together until they, too, were lost from sight as the red glow overtook the mirror's vision. Edward's throat ran dry. "No…" he murmured in quiet defeat.
Behind Alphonse, the scene changed again.
A stone; large, disfigured, and bearing a golden core was clutched in Nicholas' hand. His fingers were trembling, stood in a forest raked with dead trees and drying grass, dead birds littering the ground amongst the browned leaves.
"Bleed for me," Nicholas demanded, letting out the chuckle of a madman as he pressed his wand into the translucent stone, drawing out the golden liquor.
The scene changed before the wizard could cup his hands and drink it.
"It's mine! Mine! I will not stop, Adeline!"
"How much price is enough? I know what it does, Nicholas! How many towns, how many cities and lands has it been? I can support this no longer. Please… let it go. Let's just live the rest of our lives in peace…" a woman begged Nicholas.
"This is our life!" The man snapped.
The images continued to come, getting shorter and faster- sick animals and people, dead forests, dried rivers and polluted waters, empty fields filled with bones and sand, rows and rows and rows of graves, all surrounding Flamel and his damned misshapen stone. Edward felt acid climbing up his throat.
"Stop," He choked out hoarsely, licking his lips and tasting salt, "I don't want to see this. Please stop."
Slowly, the final image was blessedly wiped away and replaced with the familiar vision of home , green grasses alive and swaying in the gentle breeze. Though now, Edward didn't find it so comforting.
"You asked to see," Alphonse shrugged. Exhausted and disheartened, Edward slowly sank to the floor in silence. Faintly in the distance, many pairs of footsteps and happy chatting echoed down the castle's halls as dinner finished up, stomachs full and warm. Carefree.
"...It's hopeless, isn't it? I'm an old fool." Edward murmured at long last, a bitter smile upon his lips. "Humans. We… will never stop trying to play god, will we?"
The mirror only offered a sad smile in return.
"But we're not," Edward sighed in a whisper, "and we never will be." He swallowed, looking up into his (not his) brother's eyes. "It's a little cruel, isn't it? We're always reaching for something we can never achieve." Metal fingers clacked against the glass, inches away from Alphonse's hand. "So why, then, do we keep trying?"
"Perhaps out of foolishness, or… because you have hope." Alphonse voiced his own thoughts for him.
"Right…" Edward still didn't feel convinced. They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, Edward absently tracing meaningless lines into the thin layer of dust on the floor. The mirror watched.
"...Brother?"
"...Thanks, Al." Edward refused to meet his brother's figure in the eyes. Instead, he rolled creakily to his feet, pulling the gray sheet up with him. "I'm just tired. Goodnight."
The fabric draped unceremoniously over the mirror, Edward scooping up his forgotten dinner plate and making a face at it. He didn't feel like eating anymore. Quietly, he left the lonely room, welcoming the dim light of the hallway outside.
Uncertain thoughts followed him all the way back to his room, simultaneously settling some of the guilt weighing down his shoulders and creating new unsettling revelations. If what Alphonse had shown him was right, then it didn't matter that he had taken Nicholas on as an apprentice. It didn't matter he had brought alchemy to this world. The wizards would have always tried to play god. No matter how he meddled, or if he had simply ceased to exist, pride would find a way to cause pain.
It didn't matter.
It was so laughably sickening, Edward wanted to scream. His punishment. His cross to bear. It all made sense now.
Edward had failed . Truth hadn't sent him here for atonement. Truth had sent him here to watch another world's sins. He was here to suffer like Amestris itself had suffered.
A life for a life. A world's grief for another's. But when would the pain be fulfilled?
He could almost hear Truth cackling in his ears.
'We are here,' his Stone whispered. 'We don't deserve this!' more voices wailed.
"No, you don't." The voices pulsing in his chest shattered his reverie. "You never should…" he murmured, "...Truth, what are you playing at, huh?!" his sudden outburst echoed down the hall louder than he intended. Grumbling, the giant that guarded his room peeked open an eye and shook his fist at him from the painting and Edward realized that he had reached his quarters.
"Sorry Ingus. Alphonse." He sighed. Not for the first time, he regretted making that name his password. The painting unlatched.
"Elric?" A familiar seedy voice approached. Edward stopped in his tracks.
"Professor Snape," he greeted coolly, as if he hadn't just been having half of a meltdown.
"Was that you shouting just now?" the man asked suspiciously.
"What are you doing here?" he evaded with a defensive scowl. Severus matched his expression equally.
"You blew off Minerva at dinner. Nobody blows her off like that."
"Well I do." Edward huffed, inching toward his door. He didn't want to engage in a battle of wills right now.
"What's wrong with you?" the greasy man asked exasperatedly.
"Why do you care?" he shot back, crossing his arms. "Look, this has nothing to do with Quirrell, so you can turn your silly robes around and go back to your own business."
"Temperamental, as always." Snape rolled his eyes irritatedly. "What if I'm asking as colleagues? If we're going to be working together, we may as well make it less… unpleasant." The potions professor looked almost constipated getting out the last words. Edward composed himself through the thick tension.
"You may have a point," he amended unhappily, "But don't expect me to get all heart to heart with you. I didn't feel like talking to McGonagall right then. End of story."
Nodding, the tension in Severus' shoulders dropped minutely, now stiff as a board rather than a slab of stone. "And the shouting?"
"Was me." Edward nodded toward and elbowed Ingus' painting and the giant threw hands. "I need sleep. Goodnight."
With that, he made a hasty retreat into his room.
"Ugh…" he groaned, collapsing in the chair by the softly glowing fire after abandoning his dinner. First Truth and now this. The mournful irony of the whole situation was getting to him. Getting close to him was generally a bad idea. He made sure to be rude, annoying, and generally unlikeable to the common public. Hell, he may as well be carrying a large glowing sign that read 'STAY AWAY'. But despite his efforts, the teachers still weren't giving up. Albus had never given up either.
His methods usually worked on muggles, at least. Maybe wizards were just too stupid.
Grumbling to himself and the Stone, he toed off his dress shoes and grabbed his battered journal and a pen. Settling deep in the chair, he began to write. Crossing lines, adding notes, filling the journal with his new thoughts was always a smooth dance of ink, looking innocent to any onlookers. However, before two hours had passed, the pen clattered to the floor, Edward fast asleep in the armchair.
That night, his sleep was near dreamless, filled only with a distant, glaring white and a gleeful cackling echoing in his ears.
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A/N: Shorter chapter this time, but it's got some thick stuff. Thanks for waiting and sticking around! I'm hoping the next one will come much sooner. ^^;