Travelers

This is my second FMA fiction--I've got some of it already written, but I'm not finished yet. This one is going to be quite a bit longer than my first one. So, I hope it's enjoyable.

I don't own Full Metal Alchemist. The first time I saw it though, I thought Envy was a chick.


Also--there is no real smut at first. You have to get into the story a little ways. I'm hoping the plot might draw you in. :)

NOTE:: This story takes place about a year or so after the series ends and I have added in details. I am also writing thise as if the Thule society didn't really exist. In other words, didn't come to invade like in Conquerer of Shambhala. I debated a long time before I eventually decided this because doing so would take the story in directions I wasn't ready to go, as a writer. The changes I ended up making after the first draft of this would have made it too complicated with too many characters to deal with the Thule society. I apologize for that--because I think it would be incredible to do that--but when I look at my own skills, I don't think I'm ready for it.

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I may run and hide, but I never tell a lie!--Duo Maxwell, Gundam Wing
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Alphonse Elric laid an arm on the table, setting his chin on it. He watched Winry lift two plates piled high with mashed potatoes, a piece of meat, and some green beans, bringing them over to the table with a smile on her face.

“Here ya go, Al. You know, you might consider settling somewhere and getting a normal job, then you’d have money to buy food.”

“I don’t need a lot to eat, Winry.”

Winry snorted. “And what would you have done if I hadn’t been home? You’re a growing boy, aren’t you?”

Al smiled softly. “I’m all right.”

“Which is why you keep coming back.”

“The company is good.”

Winry took a drink from her glass. “Very funny. How’s the food?”

“Always wonderful, Winry.”

“You little suck-up.” Winry grinned.

Al shoved a spoonful of potato in his mouth, grinning. “You asked.”

Winry smiled, setting her glass down and putting her chin in her hand. “You are such a charmer. You’re going to be a lady-killer when you get older.”

Al blinked and hunched his shoulders. He shoved another spoonful of potato into his mouth.

Winry gave a delighted laugh. “Oh, I miss having you around, Al.”

“Well, you’re always gone yourself, you know, Winry. You’ve worked so much that your auto-mail skills can’t be beat.”

“Ha!” Winry tittered. “Could they ever?”

Al graced her with a warm smile.

“Y’know, that’s the nice thing about you, Al. You don’t disagree with me.”

“Well, with your knowledge Winry…”

The young woman paused and gave him a hard look, as if uncertain if he was joking or being serious.

He grinned.

She glared at him, making him laugh. Winry stretched. “So how long will you be back for?”

Al glanced away, laying down his spoon and taking a sip of milk. “I don’t know. Since Izumi is gone and I’ve been traveling on my own….she’d be angry if she knew what I was studying.” He paused, a smile lifting his sad features. “Or, well, maybe not. Edward did it once already, didn’t he?”

Winry’s smile fell. “He tried to get your body back.”

“And he did…”

As if sensing something that Al wasn’t vocalizing, she said, “But no one knows what happened to him, Al. I don’t need this to be some sort of vicious cycle where one brother revives the other revives the other. It’s…” Winry bit her lip.

“I’m sorry, Winry. I gotta find him.”

Winry sighed, shaking her head. “I wish you had your memories so you could see where this is heading.”

“I do too.”

Winry frowned. “…sorry…”

“No. It’s okay, but I doubt that even if I had my memories I would stop.”

Winry smiled, shaking her head again and leaning back in her chair. “No, probably not. You and Ed are both too damn stubborn.”

Al picked at the black shirt he wore, glancing at the red coat hanging over his chair.

There was a knock on the door, making them jump.

“Oi! Winry! You home? You’ve got visitors!”

Winry rolled her eyes. “C’mon in, Ranen. Who is it?”

A smallish, sleepy-looking woman entered the room. She waved to Winry. “It’s Trigham’s boys. Russel and Fletcher.”

“Really?” Winry said, looking stunned. “I don’t think they’ve ever come out here before.” She got up.

Ranen looked around the room with her sleepy-looking gray eyes. “Oh, hey Al. What’s up?”

Al smiled, standing up also. “I’m doing all right.”

“I figured you’d still be gone.”

“I ran into a hitch and had to come back early.”

Ranen snickered, smiling lazily. “What’d’ya do?”

“Nothing!”

“Sure. Whatever you say, Al.”

Al grinned, putting a on hand on the table and leaning on it. “Are you calling me a liar?”

Ranen crossed her arms, keeping her sleepy eyes on him. “Wha’f’I am?”

“You wanna fight?” Al said, already starting to laugh.

“Oh, that reminds me!” Ranen said, snapping her fingers. “Lookit this.” She pulled off a pair of blue gloves. “I got ‘em tattooed on while you were gone.”

Al studied the two identical transmutation Circles tattooed on Ranen’s hands. “Where did you get that done?”

“Central. Ran into your Colonel friend while I was there. He says hi.”

“What was he doing there?”

Ranen shrugged. “Didn’t ask. Ain’t polite. Besides, I barely even know the guy. He’s a friend of yours, not mine. And some trigger-happy blond was glued to his side, I didn’t feel comfortable making inquiries.”

Hawkeye isn’t trigger-happy. Al mentally scowled. Why did everyone assume Hawkeye was trigger-happy because she was a sharp shooter?

“Is that where you ran into Russel and Fletcher?”

“Al! Are you coming or not?!” Winry roar filtered through the walls.

Ranen grinned lazily again. “The Queen calls; let us fly.” She and Al walked away from the kitchen. “As to your question. No. I ran into them about a week and a half later on the train. I was coming back here anyway, see how Winry’s doin’.”

He nodded.


Al was clapped on the shoulder the moment he entered the living room. Russel roughed him up a little and then moved so Fletcher could shake his hand.

The two boys had grown, Fletcher especially. Gone was the tiny boy that Winry had told him about. (Evidently he’d been quite small.) Fletcher was a few inches taller than him. The Trigham brothers had been with him when Winry had rushed to see him in Central—after a woman named Rose carried the newly restored boy up from the Underground City. They had been just as confused as Winry but they had done their best to protect the boy Rose was calling Al from officials and officers.

“I thought you two were going to work in agriculture?” Winry said, gesturing for Ranen to grab some cups.

“Oh, we are,” Russel told her. He was tall too, fairly towering over Winry. “We’ve just taken a break and we thought we’d come see how you were doing.”

“As soon as I told them where I was going, he said they were going here too. All by coincidence, of course,” Ranen mumbled, yawning as she set down some chipped mugs and some tea bags.

Winry looked at her, confused. Russel looked at her, glaring.

Al watched Ranen give him a slow grin. “Just sayin’, is all. Because there was no way any of us (‘cept for me of course, as I had a letter from her telling me she was goin’ back to Rizenbool) would know Winry was home. It’s pretty damn amazing that all four of us showed up here at nearly the same time.”

Russel suddenly looked incredibly agitated. He turned on his heel. “So, how have you been Al? What have you been doing? Regained any of your memories, by chance?”

Al glanced at Ranen, feeling as though he was missing something funny but not quite certain of what it was. Shrugging, he turned to Russel. “I’ve been traveling mostly, relearning the things I’ve forgotten.”

“So…your memories…are still gone?” Fletcher asked, looking sad.

Al smiled faintly. He’d heard this before. The same mantra question, the same sadness, the same wistful looks at things they all wanted him to remember but he just…couldn’t.

There was silence for a moment, broken when Ranen brought Al and Fletcher mugs of tea and then one more for Russel, who looked ready to kill her.

“What’s wrong with him?” Al asked Fletcher quietly.

Fletcher shrugged. “Dunno. He said we were just going to go on a little vacation to the south for a while. Then we met Ranen on the train and she told us she going here to see Winry and Russel changed his mind. He said he wanted to come here instead.”

Al pondered that for a moment but couldn’t quite grasp the heads or tails of it. Just a mite of understanding was there but Al wasn’t certain what to do with it. He glanced at a photograph on the sideboard of himself, Winry, and his brother and felt a tang of smoldering protectiveness in him. But he wasn’t quite sure what to do with that either. So Al settled for simply shrugging at Fletcher curiously, who curiously shrugged in response.

“You had any more offers from the military lately?” Ranen asked, blearily looking at Al over the rim of her blue mug.

Al smiled. “Not really. They’re starting to get the picture that I don’t want it. Roy only asked me once.”

“Yeah, I heard about that,” Winry muttered, scowling. “Armstrong really wants you to come back. He says he misses you.”

Al shook his head. “I won’t. I want to find Edward first.”

There was a strange silence in the room as everyone considered this.

“Y’know, Al,” Ranen started. “If you—“

“Ranen.” Winry’s tone had a bite of warning in it.

The sleepy-looking woman studied the other. She smiled and shrugged. “All right, Winry. But, you know, it’ll only be a matter of time.”

“Not if I can help it.”

Ranen nodded. “Maybe. But he’s not stupid.”

“To make a—“

“Careful.”

Winry got up. “Get out if you’re going to instigate a fight. I won’t put up with this. We’ve lost Ed. I won’t lose Al too!”

“What are you talking about?” Al stood up, confused as to the sudden change in atmosphere.

“Just an idea.” Ranen smiled, setting down her mug and digging about in her ragged overcoat pocket. She pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “Gonna go out an’ have a smoke. Ok?”

Al followed her out with his eyes. Then he looked at Winry. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, Al.”

“You don’t seriously expect me to believe that.”

Winry licked her lips. “No. I know you’re not stupid. But if you love me at all, Al; if you love your brother—just let me protect you from this. Ok?”

Al felt everything in him go very, very still. “All right.” The lie came easy, easier than he thought it would. He struggled to not feel guilty about it.

I’m not a child anymore.

There was an uncomfortable silence.

Russel broke it. “So, how long are you going to be home, Winry?”

Winry took a sip from her mug. “I learned everything I could in Rush Valley. I think I’m just going to relax here for a time. It’s nice to be home.”

“When did you get here, Al?” Fletcher asked brightly.

Winry started to laugh. “About a day before I did. He was sleeping on the porch. I don’t know why—you could have just gone inside.”

Al ducked his head. “That would have been rude.”

“Did you find out any new information while you were gone?”

Al shook his head. “Nothing…”

Russel leaned forward on his elbows. “Y’know Al…Ed…he’s gone, Al. You probably won’t ever find him.”

Al didn’t look at him. He had just said aloud the thing Al had always feared. That everything he has worked to become had been a waste and he’d never find his brother. He had been telling himself he couldn’t believe that. There was always hope.

Always.

Al slid off his chair.




A few months previous to this, Edward Elric smiled into his glass, rolling his eyes as the Irishman continued.

“Me ancestors were kicked out of Ireland, y’know? They were officers un’er Patrick Sarsfield. Resisted William o’ Orange in 1691! ‘Course…didnae do much…but Orange sai’ ‘e’d give the Catholics rights and all that if we left quietly. An’ the French! The French urged ‘im to tear up the Treaty an’ fight! Would y’believe that? The French!”

Ed nodded, setting his glass down. “Bartender. Another drink for my friend here.”

“Yer a goo’ man, y’are. I s’pose y’believe all the stereotypes tha’ the Irish are just drunks who like to fight, aye?”

Ed paused for a moment, thinking fast over what Alfons had told him about the Irish. “Of course not. Just thought you might like another drink.”

The Irishman smiled. “Tha’s goo’ t’know. We ‘ave a bad rep’tation. People say we jus’ drink an’ fight an’ beat our women. S’not true, y’know. It’s a terrible thing…the rumors and lies tha’ are spread. Take the Germans—by the by, frien’, where’s yer German? He’d know wha’ I’m sayin’.”

Ed looked around. He’d been wondering that himself. Alfons Heiderich had excused himself about a half hour ago, saying he had to take care of something, leaving him some money and telling him to make a friend. “I don’t know.”

“Well, when ‘e gets back, you’ll have to tell ‘im. The Germans get a ‘orrible rep’tation an’ not jus’ cause of the Great War, lad. They say that all they do is drink an’ fight. I kin commiser—commis…er…feel fer ‘em ‘cause I git the same damn thin’. Germans are some of th’ brightest people you’ll ever meet. Some o’ the finest scientists, scholars and musicians come from Germany. Good bunch, they are. Friendly too. Good at cards, the bastards.”

Ed nodded in agreement that what the Irishman called ‘rumors’…well, he appeared to be doing the same thing to the French but instead of mentioning that, he said, “What are you doing in Germany, if you don’t mind my asking?”

The Irishman shook his head, rubbing his stubbly chin. “Don’ mind et all, lad. Came ‘ere to visit an ol’ friend. Saw ‘im yesterday. Bastard stole some money from meh. ‘ad to get et back or me sister a’had me eyes.”

Ed blinked and summoned a smile to his face, suddenly feeling a little anxious. “You got your money back then?”

“Straight t’hell, I did. Gave ‘im a soun’ beatin’ too.”

Ed didn’t want to know what hell was if this burly Irishman had given the man a sound beating additionally.

“Edward.”

Ed looked up from the Irishman, seeing Alfons standing behind him.

“Ah, Alfons. Where were you?”

“Yer the German lad, aincha?”

Alfons smiled and nodded at the Irishman. “I’ve got our arrangements worked out. So, if you’re ready to go…?”

Ed stood up and pulled some money from his pocket. It had been incredibly confusing to come to a continent where every country had a different money system. Alfons must have explained it to him thirty times. He stared uncertainly at the money for a moment and glanced up at Alfons, silently asking for help.

“Are yeh all right, lad?”

“Uh…just trying to remember how many drinks we had…”

Alfons grinned and walked over to him.

“Well…you ‘ad two, an’ y’bought one f’me,” the Irishman informed him, raising the glass of dark beer and gesturing to his four empty ones. “Are yeh drunk already?”

“No,” Ed told him, smiling as Alfons nodded subtly to the necessary coins. “Uh, here.” He laid the money and waved down the barkeep, who he politely thanked, and then turned about.

“If I ever meet y’again lad, I’ll buy y’a drink, aye?”

Ed nodded to him. “Thank you. Til next time.” He followed Alfons out the door.

Ed stretched in the cool air, getting the scent of heavy smoke from his nose. “Where were you, Alfons?”

“I went to secure us a flat. I know a woman, a friend of a friend, you might say—that rents out a couple apartments. I went to her to see if she might have one available.”

“And she did?”

“Yes. We got lucky. Are you sure you didn’t have anything you wanted to bring besides your suitcase?”

Ed smiled, a little sadly. All my things are back home… “Yes, I’m certain.” He held up his only belonging in this entire world. It was a stout little suitcase with a change of clothes his father had bought for him (just before he’d disappeared again) and a few books he managed to find.

Ed had traveled extensively. He was wanderer now and had, by chance, met this young man, Alfons Heidrich, in Romania.

He’d let it slip once, doodling transmutation Circles on a piece of paper and Alfons had asked him what he was doing.



Ed struggled with himself for a moment. The day had been particularly bad. He sighed and said, “You probably won’t know what I’m talking about even if I told you.”

Alfons laughed. “Cut me a break. What?”

Ed smiled sadly at the doodles. “Ever heard of alchemy.”

Alfons snorted. “Of course. Hasn’t everyone?”

Ed’s eyes shot back over to meet his. “What?!”

“Sure,” Alfons said, pulling up a chair and sitting next to him. “Alchemy was pretty extensive about two hundred years ago.”

Ed just stared at him. His father hadn’t told him that.

Alfons pulled back a bit. “What’s wrong?”

Ed got a hold of himself. “What happened to it?”

“What?”

“Alchemy.”

Alfons leaned one elbow on the desk. “It declined after the breakthrough of modern physics and chemistry. No one bothers with it anymore.”

Ed looked away, stunned. He stared down at the Circles. “So…no one performs it.”

Behind his back, Alfons gave him a quizzical look. “What are you talking about?”

“No one…performs alchemy anymore? No one researches it?”

“Well no, of course not. You can’t really turn lead into gold.”

Ed gave him a quizzical look. “Lead into gold? You can’t do that.”

Alfons was looking at him oddly, seeming uncertain. “Well no, of course you can’t. That’s what I said.”

“Right,” said Ed, gesturing towards him, looking down at the Circles. “It's taboo. The Principle of Equivalent Trade--”

“The Principle of Equivalent Trade? What’s that?”

“It’s what makes alchemy work. It’s the main rule! The Principle of Equivalent Trade—“

“Ed, what are you talking about?” Alfons looked decidedly concerned now.

Ed closed his mouth. He stared at the Circles. “There was alchemy in this world?”

“This world?”

Ed froze. He’d let it slip. Feeling nervous, Ed stood up and started to gather his papers.

Alfons picked one up, studying the Circles. “What are these?”

Ed swallowed. “Transmutation Circles.”

Alfons crooked his eyebrows. “What are those?”

Ed felt as if he were digging himself a hole. This was quickly becoming uncomfortable and possibly dangerous for him. What would Alfons say? He took a leap, praying that this world’s alchemy would be similar to his own (although it seemed unlikely if this world’s alchemy did not have—or at least did not appear to be aware of—the Principle of Equivalent Trade). “It’s what alchemists use to transmute objects into…other objects.”

The look Alfons gave him was one of absolute bewilderment. “You’re an alchemist?”

“Formerly,” said Ed, rolling his shoulders.

“Where did you study it?”

Oh shit…

“What do you mean?”

“Well, there are several places that studied ancient alchemy. China, Egypt, India, Islamic nations, Greece and Rome…places like that. Where did you manage to find a teacher? And why would you even study something like that?”

China? Egypt? India? Rome?

Ed mouthed soundlessly for a few moments, only changing Alfons’ look into slightly suspicious.

“Do you smoke opium?”

”What?!”

Alfons raised his hands, giving that disarming smile of his. “I just thought I would ask.”

Irritated, Ed snapped, “No, I don’t smoke opium. Where I come from, alchemy is a very real art. It’s used daily. Many are trained in it, especially for the military. There are State Alchemists and—and….”

And then Ed realized he’d gone too far. Alfons didn’t even look bewildered anymore; he just looked very concerned and very, very serious.

“Ed…where exactly are you from?”

Ed looked away, at the same time, tearing the paper from Alfons’ hand. He felt his lungs shudder as images of Al and Winry popped into his mind. He clenched his teeth. “It doesn’t matter,” he said gruffly.

But evidently to Alfons it did matter. Ed had walked away and Alfons had followed him, at first, seeming merely concerned with Ed’s mental health and well-being but as Alfons continued to prod he came to the realization that either there really was another world—or Ed simply firmly believed there was. So firmly that there was no way to convince him otherwise.

It intrigued Alfons…and worried him because Edward Elric seemed like such a pleasant, if sad, young man to work with, and he was a quick learner besides. So he had asked Ed if he had anywhere to go and when Edward told him he didn’t, he’d offered up a place to live if Ed would be willing to settle in Munich, Germany.

Edward had agreed and haltingly managed to worm more information about this world’s alchemy from Alfons and a couple of his friends. He was so fascinated by it, he’d gone out as soon as possible to look for books. He’d found some in several shops. Books about Olympiodorus of Thebes, Al-Razi, Zhang Guo the Elder, Hermes Trismegistus, Mary Prophetissa, Isaac Newton, Roger Bacon, Nicolas Flamel and so many others. So many it was a wonder to Edward that the art had died here just because of technology.

All the books he’d managed to get, he’d stuffed into his little suitcase. They were his prized possessions now, including his knowledge on rocketry and this world’s chemistry and physics.


So now he stood in front of a little shop next to Alfons, waiting for their new landlady to make her appearance.

And when she did, Ed nearly had a heart attack. “Gracia,” he whispered, barely managing to bite his lip to hold himself in check.

She hadn’t appeared to hear him, but Alfons did. He looked at him. “You know her?”

Ed glanced at him and looked away, stilling his face and making it impassive as the woman put down a bundle of flowers and approached them with a kind smile. “Thank you for coming so quickly. I went ahead and unlocked the doors and opened the windows. It’s almost completely unfurnished, except for the kitchen accessories. Do you have beds?”

Alfons smiled and said, “We’ll get them soon enough. We’ll be fine on the floor.”

“Well, at least take some blankets,” she told them, looking concerned.

“Oh, that isn’t—“

“It’s not a problem. Follow me.”

So they followed her into the shop, Ed half-expecting to see poor, dead Maes Hughes pop around the corner.

He should have thought of that, of course. When Dante had sent him to London he’d inhabited the Edward that lived with his father there…it made sense that there might be alternative versions of the people you already knew.

Look at Alfons.

The young man had a striking resemblance to Al—or at least, what Ed supposed Al would look like if he’d grown up. He shouldn’t have been surprised…but he was. He’d helped this woman give birth. It was unsettling.

Gracia gave Alfons some blankets and handed some to Ed as well; but he was so disjointed he could only just manage to take them, not daring to look her in the eye.

“Are you all right?” She asked, putting a soft hand on his arm.

“Uh, yeah…just…uh…you…remind me of my mother,” he threw out, unable to think of anything better.

“Oh…is she gone?”

You dunno the half of it.

“Yeah. She died some time ago.” He smiled. “Uh, thanks for the blankets.”

She patted his arm sympathetically. “You’re welcome.”

So Edward and Alfons spent the next few days airing out their little apartment and getting their things in order. Alfons contacted his uncle, John, and two of his cousins, informing them of his new location, roommate and instructions on where they might continue their work.

It wasn’t until their fourth day that Alfons mentioned it. He’d made dinner and they were sitting down to it when Alfons pushed his plate to one side, looked Ed in the eye and said, “How did you know Gracia?”

Ed felt everything in him clench.

“I didn’t even know her name until that day. How did you know her?”

Ed started to smile. If there was a god, he certainly must have hated Ed. He got up from the table, appetite gone and made to leave.

“Edward, I just want to know.”

Ed shook his head, still smiling. “It’s not as if you’ll believe me.”

Alfons stood up too but the look on his face was sad. “I’m sorry.”

Ed looked away. “It’s fine.” He snorted. “If someone had come to me where I used to live and told me there was a place where people couldn’t use alchemy, I’d have been critical too.”

“You did live in some other world then?”

“You could say that,” Ed smiled miserably to himself. “In my world, there’s a woman named Gracia who I know. She was the wife of a friend on mine. I was in the military, a Major and a State Alchemist. She was married to Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes.”

Alfons stared at him. “That’s bizarre.”

Ed simply looked at him.

“There’s an officer who lives around here. His name is Hughes.” Alfons smiled, looking at the floor in an amazed sort of way. “He is always about with Gracia, but he’s never really—”

“There’s a Hughes here?” Ed perked. He mimicked Alfons’ amazed laugh. “In my world, Hughes was murdered.”

“How?”

Ed laughed, again, in that miserable way. “That’s complicated.”

Alfons gave him a hard look, than he smiled that easy, charming smile of his. “Fair enough.”


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