Travelers

Man, you know what I love? Lasagna. I had to open up Microsoft Word and type it down to make sure I was spelling it right though. I wasn't. So I copied the correct spelling and put it in. I hate words like lasagna--even though I love the food. It's just awesome. I'm not a big fan of italian food either. I've been to the Olive Garden. Their food is very...rich. And too expensive for what you're getting. You know waht I hate? Being ripped off. Damn. That sucks. The Olive Garden is all atmosphere. There's a really nice resturant around the area where I live--it's called Tippecanoe Place and you pay, like, $15 dollars per meal. And you know what, the menu blows. There aren't very many options and the food isn't very good either. You're paying for the atmosphere--because the resturant used to be a nice house. I hate that place.

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Please! I have a pencil in my shoe! Parody Episode 45: Whoa, whoa, whoa! She's a Lady-- of FMA by Chopsticks
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He could see him just ahead.

Al. Running. He was wearing a pair of dark pants and a red t-shirt. He was running.

From what?

Ed chased him. Calling to him, Al!

But his little brother looked back and only terror was on his face.

Al was fast approaching a house. A neat little house, dark on the inside.

Al can’t go in that house. Al shouldn’t be near this house.

“AL!”

Al opened the door.

Something nabbed him and in a fury of terrified screams, Ed reached the door.

And Al is—

”AL!” Edward jumped so violently, he toppled right off his bed. He yelped, smacking into the floor and somehow managing to right himself, breathing hard. He sat on his hands and knees, staring into the wood grain, trying to force the terror out of his mind.

Blind panic. His head was spinning.

Edward licked his lips, feeling a surge of raw emotional choke into his throat. He let out a wordless cry, blindly swinging his arm out—smashing into the bedposts. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, it was his flesh arm (meaning the bedpost wasn’t dented this time) but it didn’t stop him from wincing—the pain forcing him into reality.

Reality?

What’s that?

Gotta save Al…

Gotta find Al….

And before Ed even realized what he was doing, he’d grabbed a piece of chalk in his trembling fingers and drew up a Circle.

A human transmutation Circle. Just like the one he used before. Go back, save Al, die. It would be fine, so long as he died this time. Not living in this hell.

“Al…” Ed whispered, leaning over the chalk Circle and straining to contain his wildly struggling emotions. He breathed hard, blinking quickly to keep his eyes from tearing up. He tried to strangle a dry sob but it lunged up out of his mouth.

You’re too old to cry over a Circle that…

…isn’t going to work.

With a roar of frustration, Ed hurled the chalk away, swinging his arm around again to slam into the wall. The pain shook him. Ed, on his knees, crouched before the wall and put his forehead on the cool wood.

You are too old for this.

“What the hell…,” Ed murmured to the wall, letting his barriers fall away. “Al…” Ed weakly hit the wall again.

He started to cry.

Aren’t you suppose to be a man? You have nothing to cry about.

That broke Ed’s resolve completely. He suddenly found himself completely unable to hold up what he wanted to be. He dissolved into a seventeen-year-old boy, separated from his only family member, his few friends and the world he’d grown up in. It was worse than death. Here there was always the call…tempting…maybe he could get back, maybe he couldn’t. It gave him a reason to get up in the morning…but even that was beginning to sour, as every day was the same thing. This world didn’t give him the peace that death would have. Everyday was a source of worry. Was Al all right? How was Winry? If he ever got back, would she still be there? What if he’d bungled Al’s transmutation? What happened to the Colonel? How was Izumi? What was Al doing right now?

Death would have been so much easier.

Edward Elric cried. He sat on his knees with his hands on the ground in front of him with his forehead against the wall and he cried.

He heard the door open but didn’t even flinch. He felt someone crouch next to him but he didn’t pull away. He knew someone was speaking to him but he couldn’t make himself understand the words. There was a tug, and Ed’s forehead left the wall and settled on something solid, smelling faintly of oil.

Alfons…

How cruel it was and how utterly, utterly ironic. The argument they’d had swam into his brain; the guilt choking him further. But it was too much to think of making it up to Alfons right now so Ed let his forehead sit on Alfons’ shoulder as the tears kept coming. His entire body was trembling.

Alfons had his arms wrapped around Ed’s lean shoulders, contemplating his options and staring down at the chalky outline of another one of those damn Circles.

Alfons pushed it from his mind; the Circles didn’t matter right now.

Alfons suddenly felt as though he were a parent and Ed, a child—suffering from nightmares and memories he couldn’t escape. He felt Ed’s shoulders heave under his hands and pitied him. The few times that Edward had gone into detail about his old friends and his strange other-world—when he stopped—he separate himself from the world for several days as if he felt wrong about it.

And here, Ed was crying. He’d probably lock himself up in the morning. If there was one thing Alfons had learned about Edward Elric, it was that Ed may have been calm, generally collected, smart and incredibly mature—but he was also proud. This was going to be a blow for him. They were men, after all. They shouldn’t cry—especially not in front of each other. A horrid societal influence.

Not that Alfons didn’t believe that something hadn’t happened to Ed. It was obvious that something had. He’d seen the horrible scars that laced his body and his metal limbs, of course—although Ed had refused point-blank to tell him how he’d lost them. He’d heard Ed screaming in his sleep…it haunted him, made him edgy, made him jump at shadows. Something horrible had happened to Edward Elric, Alfons could in no way deny that—it had made Ed half-crazy…

Of course, Ed was also prone to excessive guilt. He probably would have locked himself up anyway; in shame of the argument they’d had. Alfons looked into Edward’s hair. The argument was petty, it shouldn’t have mattered…but he knew it would to Edward.

Alfons frowned further, sadder and picked up Ed’s limp arms. He pulled him upward to better support him.

Edward doesn’t need to prove himself. I’ve seen how tough he is. He needs a friend, an ally.

Alfons smiled miserably, anxiously. Even if he is half-crazy. All the more reason, right?

Edward quieted perhaps a half hour later, his tears drying up. The only thing Alfons could hear was his almost silent breathing.

He leaned back to take in Ed’s face and was surprised to see that Ed was staring, face a numb mask, over his shoulder. He blinked when Alfons looked at him. He drew back and Alfons could practically see how the shell would fold back around him.

“I’m sorry,” Ed mumbled. “For everything. I don’t know what came over me. I—“

“Edward,” Alfons interrupted. He grabbed Ed’s flesh hand in an iron grip. “It’s fine. Just relax.”

Ed stared at him and nodded but he pulled away.

“How about some hot chocolate? I think there’s still some of Gracia’s cake in the cupboard.”

A slow, exhausted, half-smile managed to drag itself onto Ed’s face. “Thanks…”

Thus, the truce was called.




Al suffered an uneasy sleep that night, plagued by dreams of…a young man who resembled him remarkably…but older…and something was wrong with him. And he could sense another presence with this young man…something familiar that he couldn’t quite place.

In the morning, Russel woke him up.

Al opened his eyes and sat up. “What is it?”

“I wanna talk to you.” Russel sat back on Al’s bed and leaned against the wall. “What do you suppose is going on here?”

Al shrugged. “Ranen didn’t give me any details.”

Russel looked warily around the room. “This is bullshit.”

There was a knock on the door.

They both looked at it but neither answered.

It opened.

Ranen looked over them sleepily and smiled. “Breakfast? Evidently Crane makes some killer bacon.”

Al got up. “What is going on? How did he know we were bringing Russel?”

Ranen shrugged. “Can’t really give out the details.”

“No,” Al snapped, letting an edge of anger into his voice. “You can’t keep me in the dark. That’s not fair. You’ve involved us in something and you’re not telling us what.”

Ranen looked away. “It’s gonna help you find your brother. Calm down.”

“How do you know?”

Ranen smiled at the floor. “Well…Crane is a retired State Alchemist. I’m assuming he knows what he’s talking about. If you wanna get technical—he hasn’t given me very many details.”

“What?! So you don’t even know?!” Al stared at her for a moment. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Why do you want Russel to come?”

“You wanted him to come, Al. You wanted him away from Winry.”

Russel gave Al a dark look.

Al glared at her. “No. You walked around Russel and Winry…and you had me think it up.” Al looked at the floor, smiling. “And I fell right into it. What would Izumi say?” He shook his head. “I can’t believe you.”

She looked away. “Don’t get angry. It was for your own good. Crane said he needed both of you. He knows your story.”

Al snapped his eyes to her. “What?”

She shrugged. “Don’t ask me how. I have no idea. But he says he’s got something worth your while—but he says he needs both of you to do it.”

“And what’s your part in this?”

“Just to get you here. That’s all.”

“How do we know you’re telling the truth?” Russel asked her, cocking an eyebrow.

Ranen shrugged.

“Excuse me but are you going to have some breakfast?”

The three of them looked out the doorway where Isaac Crane was standing. He gave them an eerie frown.

Al struggled not to glare. “Sure. Thank you very much.”

The man turned away without a word. Ranen followed behind, hands stuffed into her pockets.

Russel and Al looked at each other, conversing with their eyes.

Let’s keep a sharp eye out.

And not trust either of them.



It wouldn’t be until after an awkward, silent breakfast that the Ghost Alchemist finally got down to business. After the dishes were cleared away, he gestured for the two boys to sit down. Ranen scratched her temple, looking blearily at the three of them.

“Now, I think it’s about time we discussed our options, Mister Elric.”

“You say you can help me find my brother.”

Crane nodded. “For a price, of course. And the price will be hefty.”

Russel scowled at him. “And what will it be?”

Crane raised a finger and wagged it at him. “Not just yet, Mister Trigham.” He took in a breath, drank a sip of his coffee and then leaned forward onto the table, folding his fingers together. “I assume you are wondering how I know your story, from what I heard of your conversation in the basement.”

Ranen barely tensed, flicking her eyes to look at Crane and then immediately shifting them back to Al.

Al didn’t look at her, and thus, did not see this; he hardened his face. “Yes.”

“I am the Ghost Alchemist, as Ranen told you. As you know, every State Alchemist is given a second name. The Flame Alchemist—dealt with fire. The Full Metal Alchemist had metal limbs. The Strong Arm Alchemist was freakishly powerful—etcetera, etcetera. They had names that told about them. Being the Ghost Alchemist should tell you that obviously, I am connected with spirits and souls. I can communicate with them, summon them, control them, ask for help, and when I perform alchemy my results are always…correct.” He gave Al a strange smile. “It is amplified by the use and assistance of souls.”

Al stared at him, horrified. “You use souls?!”

“Don’t sound so frightened. I always ask their permission. I try to never command, although I am capable of it.” He took another sip of his coffee. “I used these spirits to gather the information I needed so I could have some sort of lead on how to find you. You are a powerful alchemist, Mister Elric. I will need your assistance on what I plan to do.”

“And just what are you planning to do?” Russel interjected.

Crane completely ignored him. “I want to make you an offer, Mister Elric.”

Al swallowed, a little shaken and took a steadying breath.

“You have something I need. In return, I can give you something you want.”

“And what would that be?”

“You want your brother back but to do so you would have to create a Circle to enter to the other-world. You would also have to transmute yourself.”

“Other-world?”

And here Crane smiled his eerie smiled again. “You have no memories of it, do you?”

Al shook his head silently.

“Just as well, it takes me to the second part of my bargain. There is only one real item that bypasses the law of Equivalent Trade. And that is the Philosopher’s Stone. You can’t imagine how long I had to travel…how many spirits I used…to follow the trails to Lior and enter the Underground City. The spirits I encountered there told me of the creation of the Stone, it’s destruction, and the opening of the Gate. And how you, of course, were restored to your body. Now, stand up,” Crane commanded, he himself getting up as well.

Russel shot Al a glance but Al didn’t see it, getting up slowly. Ranen tightened her fingers into her armrest.

Al stayed in one spot as the Ghost Alchemist approached him.

“Please stay still, Mister Elric.” He drew out a piece of chalk and Al flinched when the man raised it to his forehead. “Stay still, please.”

The man drew a Circle there and then he touched it.

The Stone. The Stone. Inside of him. A suit of armor. Someone. Blond hair. Eyes open. Dead. Dead. Dead. The transmutation Circle. Dante. Envy. The transmutation. Golden light.

Then nothing.

And then the Gate. And the blond hair…and eyes….golden eyes.

Edward Elric.

His brother.

Equivalent Trade.

Nothing.

Al gasped, going ramrod straight, staring straight ahead.

Russel jumped up. “Al! Are you okay?!”

He took shaky, rasping breaths, slumping into his chair. He looked at Crane. “What was that?!”

Crane smiled. “That was a memory, Alphonse Elric. One of your memories. My spirits travel through the curves and lines of creation in this Circle and can enter your mind. I can use it to unearth the things you’ve forgotten. “

“What are you saying…?”

Crane wiped the Circle off of Al’s forehead and stepped away. “I should think it would be obvious. You help me create the Philosopher’s Stone and I will allow you to use it to retrieve your brother and I will restore your memories.”

Al’s mouth fell open. “But…but I don’t know how to make the Philosopher’s Stone!”

Crane shook his head. “You don’t remember. That’s fine. I already know. Through souls, I can find out almost anything. Of course, there are limitations. If a soul has made no contact with what I wish to know, I obviously can’t get information from them. It’s a matter of finding a correct soul. Which is why I need Mister Trigham…as I have been unable to locate a soul who has contacted anyone or anything with information on the Red Water so coveted by Xenotime and researched by Nash Trigham.”

Russel’s mouth fell open this time. “You can’t be serious! You don’t really expect me to help you with that!”

“The Red Water will speed up the process. Trigham will crystallize a stone and we will transmute my souls into it.”

“How…can you just use souls?”

“Enough will respond to my commands. And after I use the Stone, they will be set free again. Nothing is ever permanent, after all. It would be unwise to keep such an object. I was unable to find anything about the Circle used by a man named Scar and those memories you have of him are so deeply buried that even I can’t get to them. My limitations, you see. This will be the best way.”

“And in exchange…”

“You get your brother back and I restore your memories.”

“Which means that Al doesn’t hand over the Stone until he returns with his brother, correct?” Ranen asked, casually leaning back in her chair.

“Absolutely,” said Crane, a strangely smug look on his face. “And Trigham, of course, will also be compensated.” He looked at the other boy. “I will personally make sure that you and your brother never have to worry about money again.”

Russel raised his eyebrows. He glanced at Al. “But you will destroy the Stone after you’re done with it?”

Crane nodded, his eyes dark.

“What do you need to do with it?”

“Ah-ah. That isn’t part of the deal. I will only tell that when I have the Stone. You and Mister Trigham and Ranen; however, will be more than a match for me—should you decide that I’m using it for unjust causes….” Crane continued to stand at the head of the table, now sliding a finger in a horrible gesture across his throat. “Think of the situation, Mister Elric. If you and your friend help me create a Philosopher’s Stone and I use my souls to transmute it—we will not have to kill anyone. I will allow you to use the Stone to cross the Gate, retrieve your brother and return. I will restore your memories and ensure that Mister Trigham never has a want for anything. All you must do then is hand the Stone over to me. I will then tell you my intentions for it. If you deem them unworthy, kill me. If not, I will use it and then destroy it. What do you say?”

Al stared at the tabletop. “I need to think about this.”

“Very good, Mister Elric.”

My memories…

Edward…

That’s the first time I’ve ever seen him…besides in pictures…

I can get him back…

Alphonse got up, his legs feeling like rubber. He stumbled away to go downstairs.

Russel cast a careful glance at Ranen and Isaac Crane. He got up and followed Al.

Crane looked at Ranen. She looked back.

An odd silence followed.


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