“Sinful Betrayal”

Chapter Three

Two months ago:

You cannot resist.

Alphonse scrunched his white undershirt over his chest and squeezed his eyes shut.

Why do you try?

His golden bangs obscured his cringing face as he hunched over. He used the wall of the alley to keep him erect, but the pain in his stomach only intensified with each passing moment.

Give your body to me.

God, where was Ed? He’d left almost twenty minutes ago to search for breakfast, and since then, the voice had become louder. He could almost make out the words, and that freaked him out more than just knowing they were there.

Of course, maybe his aversion to this entire situation unnerved Al. This, in his opinion, was overkill. He finally squeezed an agreement from Ed to return to Central, so his big brother wouldn’t be court-martialed by Colonel Mustang, and yet, Ed kept all their time spent traveling in secret.

“What happens if Scar attacks?” Ed insisted time and time again. “You won’t be able to fight him off, and you’re no longer a suit of armor. He can make brain patties out of you.”

Central was a few train stops over. Really, what were the chances the Isbalan would find them in that short period?

You cannot escape me.

“Stop it,” Al hissed, his fisted hand shaking. “Just stop.”

“As long you remain with the military, Full Metal, I will not heed until you are dead.”

Al ducked just in time to avoid the hand coming for his head and attacked with a knee upward. The force behind it wasn’t very strong—he still had a long way to go before his strength returned—but it allowed him enough time to roll out of the way and take a fighting stance.

Really, what were the chances? They had only stopped for breakfast. Maybe God really did hate Ed and him.

“I’m not out to fight you, Scar,” Alphonse spoke as forceful as he could, but even that small amount of exercise made him huff. With his brother, he usually just survived a fight against Scar. Without his brother and still weak, Al knew his chances were cut even lower.

Scar started before blinking at Alphonse. “Full Metal…?”

Alphonse returned the bewildered expression. His golden hair resembled his brother’s, but his was slightly longer because of his time at the Gate. Not to mention, he wore it as a ponytail that was tied every so often down his back. His clothes were lighter, too, with khaki pants, a white long-sleeved undershirt, and a blue vest that wore more like a jacket—cutting at his shoulders and waist, with a high collar that curved about the back of his neck. The only pieces of clothing that mimicked his brother’s were his black boots and the insignia on the left breast of his vest they shared with their teacher.

He and his brother looked close enough to be fraternal twins, maybe, but Scar moved too fast to notice the “changes.” Alphonse back flipped to avoid Scar’s attack and combated with a quick right punch. At one time, Scar would have been up against the wall. This time, the older man caught his left wrist and twisted it hard, almost bringing Alphonse to his knees. He instead freed himself with a hard kick to Scar’s shin—something he learned from Winry—then clapped his hand together. A rock formation came at Scar, who quickly destructed it. The blast sent Alphonse soaring backwards, and by the time he recovered, Scar reached for him. Rolling upon the ground, Alphonse came to his feet and turned to face the Ishbalan once more, but Scar backhanded him across the face. A subsequent punch in Al’s stomach reminded the young alchemist of the pain and voice.

Right now, he had more important issues on his mind—like surviving.

That seemed to be unlikely when Scar attacked him again, hand out to destruct, and the backlash sent Al’s boots scraping along the ground. Scar quickly looked down at his hand, then Al, whose shirt had torn and now exposed a flesh right arm.

“It’s impossible,” Scar breathed before he clutched his hands in angered realization. “So, you’ve created a Philosopher’s Stone, have you, Full Metal? Using the lives of innocents for your own benefit?”

Though Al would have pointed out how that resembled Scar’s own agenda, he needed to keep from talking. His voice would alert Scar that he wasn’t his brother, which would send Scar into the streets for Edward. As long as he could keep Scar occupied enough, Ed would return, and together, they could fight.

“Are you still a State Alchemist, then?”

When Al remained silent, Scar screamed, “Answer me!”

Al did the most Ed thing he could think of—smirk and give a snorted chuckle.

Scar growled. “Then you are still my enemy.”

When Scar lunged, Al back flipped to miss his hand, but when he landed hard upon his feet, the difference in mass from his steel frame to his flesh mass caused him to lose his balance. The mistake saved his life, however, when Scar’s hand missed his face. He scrambled to his feet, but a large fist knocked into the side of his face. The force behind it wasn’t as hard as it was prior, and instead of covering Al’s head with his entire hand, Scar grabbed Al by the vest and tossed him effortlessly. A stinging pain burst into his back when his back smacked against the alley wall. A choking hand closed his windpipe, causing his lungs to heave for air, but he still could breathe.

Scar stopped trying to kill him?

The thought fled from his mind when Scar’s hand touched his forehead. He scrabbled at Scar’s hold upon him, but even desperate scratches wouldn’t allow his freedom from the strong grip.

Oh, God. Was he really going to die? Was this equivalent exchange? He had survived the journey and the Gate for what? Just to die?

Ed.

I’m sorry.

Al barely sucked in a breath when his body began to pant, and the hand he thought would deliver his death did nothing more than push his bangs to the side to get a better look at his face.

“You’re…You’re not the Full Metal Alchemist.”

A clap. “Looking for me?”

Alphonse looked over Scar’s shoulder—and saw nothing. Then, he noticed the flash of red just behind Scar—his brother’s robe.

“Get your hands off him before I start calling you ‘Scars.’”

Al never saw the punch, but he felt the impact and the pain as he slammed into the ground. His eyesight swam, and his head pounded from the vicious blow. His stomach felt like it was in knots, and he finally let out the bile that had risen in his throat. Fists hitting flesh and metal, alchemist rumbles and destruction—Alphonse wiped his mouth. He pushed to his feet and dashed toward the fight as Scar kicked Ed, then lunged for him with his hand outstretched.

Al slammed into Ed’s side and lifted his own arm to catch Scar’s attack.

“NO!” Ed yelled as he smacked into the ground, though Al hardly heard him as Scar’s hand touched his vulnerable flesh and the reaction sent him flying backwards again in as many minutes. He grunted when his shoulder connected with the cruel pavement, and he inhaled a sharp breath as pain infiltrated his arm. At least he knew it was still there.

Scar took a step back and stared bewildered at Alphonse, his eyes widening at the younger teen, then at his older brother who stood directly in front of the prone Al.

“You…can’t be…You can’t be the—” He shot a look at Edward, who shifted into a fighting position. “He’s your armored brother, isn’t he? You created the Philosopher’s Stone and reclaimed your brother’s body.”

“I didn’t create one,” Edward defended, his robes torn about his arm to reveal his automail. “It was given to me. I just used it.”

“Then you defied God’s will once more—”

“I was making something right!” Edward flicked his hand out. “I made a mistake. Why should he have to pay for my sin?”

“Brother!” Alphonse chastised as he reclaimed his footing, but Ed’s full attention stayed with Scar.

Scar’s hand once more curled into a fist. “Then I was right. Your people have gone against the principles of God. So, tell me, Elric. Are you still a State Alchemist?”

“Not by choice.”

“Then I still must destroy you.” His eyesight diverted for a second to Alphonse. “Your brother is not my enemy. I will not fight him, but if he chooses to interfere, then he, too, will feel the wrath of God.”

Al once more took a fighting stance, blood drying on his chin. “I’m not going to let you destroy my brother.”

“Then you have made your choice.”

Scar dove for Edward, but his older brother was faster. Clapping his hands together, he formed a wall directly in front of them.

“Come on!” Edward grabbed onto Al’s hand and tugged him down the alley as a reverberating explosion rumbled under their feet.

Rounding the bend, Edward maneuvered his brother through the crowded market, his automail hand clamped down on Al’s wrist. Al spurted out apologizes for his brother and him as they weaved in between people until finally Ed stopped, looking around.

“Why are you—HEY!” Al grunted as Ed put his hand on the top of his head and pushed him underneath the cover of a vendor. He joined Al a second later, then pulled the cover down to hide them.

“‘Go to Central,’” he murmured, kneeling on all fours and watching the shoes passing. “‘Check in with Mustang and not get court-martialed. No way Scar will find us.’ Who was right, huh?”

Alphonse hated to admit it. “You were.”

“You know, I like the sound of that. Say it again.”

Al punched Ed in the arm.

“Ow!” Ed returned the hit. “Don’t hit your older brother, idiot.”

“Don’t hit me, and I won’t hit you.”

“You hit me first,” he hissed and put up his automail for a moment as a set of footfalls sounded near the tent. Al froze and held his breath as the shoes seemed to crunch the gravel on the pavement, as if pivoting, then moved along rather quickly.

Al let out a long sigh. “Well, that was closer than I would have liked.”

Ed relaxed on the ground, then turned to his brother with a hard glare. “What’s wrong with you anyway?”

“Uh…” Tell him about the voices again. Tell him. “W—What do you mean?”

“You just decide to jump in front of a State Alchemist killer? What the hell is wrong with you?” Ed yelled. “And why didn’t you just tell him you weren’t me?”

“So, he can then go after you? No way, Brother.”

“You were going to sacrifice yourself…for me?” Ed smacked him again, this time using automail fist.

“OW!”

“I thought I told you. Self-sacrificing is selfish.”

Al dropped his hand from his shoulder and placed it on his brother’s automail. “Is it really, Brother?”

Ed glared forlornly at his hand, his eyes trembling, before looking at Alphonse. Finally, with a sigh, he turned away. “Yeah, Al. It is. It always is.”

Silence.

Alphonse hated it. For four years, he sat up at night listening to the sound of nothing. The lack of noise deferred to an imaginary ringing in his ears that to this day, he still heard whenever noise lessened. At times, he woke up in the darkness, then would make an excuse to wake his brother just so he wasn’t alone.

Now, he welcomed it.

Since getting his body back, the voice inside him he now knew as Pride had haunted and tormented him. Since fighting with his brother, the voice had picked up again, but he was able to force it low, so he couldn’t even hear the words. And thankfully, Alex Louise Armstrong remained silent. If there was one thing Al did not need now, twenty questions about his feelings was it.

Too bad he didn’t get it.

“You should talk to him.”

The power inside him raged once more. “I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

Armstrong’s curl drooped, but his face never changed. “This is not you, Alphonse Elric.”

Alphonse continued to stare out the window of the train, his eyes half-lidded. His formal tone returned, drowning out the coldness of Pride. “I already went through this with Ed, Major. Who knows who I am?”

“I understand that you must feel—”

“No, you don’t know how I feel.” Al whirled toward him. “Have you ever had someone inject their own memories into your spirit or someone force you to become a sin and to kill and destroy?”

Armstrong’s eyes darkened. “No.”

“Until you do, don’t tell me you know how I feel because I don’t even know how I feel.” He once more pulled his legs up onto the bench and glared out the window. His tongue tugged his bottom lip into his mouth, and he bit down. At least he could focus on the pain rather than Armstrong.

Silence once more took over, and he closed his eyes.

“You must realize that Edward only did what he did—”

“—to manipulate me.”

“—to regain the family he lost.”

“So, the fact that I just happened to be there was a plus for me?” Alphonse retorted. “Or did you not hear? He didn’t know I was his brother when he saved me from the Gate.”

“But since then, you and your brother have formed a strong bond—”

“One he created.”

Armstrong abruptly snapped shut his mouth under his mustache. “Perhaps when you are ready to discuss this rationally, then we will be able to discover how you feel.”

The major, Alphonse knew, did not deserve that. He turned his back to Armstrong and glared out the window at the pasting foliage. “He used me, Major. He just didn’t want to be alone, and he made me so he never would be.”

“He loves you, Alphonse. There is no doubt in my mind of that.”

“Love?” Al balked with a scoffing laugh. “Love doesn’t mean lying to the person you’re closest to. Love doesn’t mean creating a fake history and implanting it into another’s spirit. Love…” His voice faltered, and he ducked his head to hide the river coursing his cheeks. “Love doesn’t mean creating a fake little brother who follows you wherever you go because you’re lonely and need someone.”

Boot scrubbed across the floor, and a weight lowered down next to him. He braced for the colossal hand which enveloped his shoulder. “You are not fake, Alphonse Elric. I can feel you.”

“But who am I, Major?” He pressed his face farther into his knees. “I…I’ve never been me. I’ve always been whatever Father contrived, and then Ed created a personality for me, dictated what he wanted me to be through those memories.”

“Perhaps there is a greater question within, Alphonse. He risked his own memories, those he cherished most with your mother, to include you. If a rebound would have occurred, he could have lost those memories—and his own life.”

Alphonse’s tears slowly dried, but as he turned to look over his shoulder, a flicker of light caught his attention at the end of the train. He ignored it when Armstrong spoke again, “Perhaps you should not focus on the act itself but the outcome. He did not just inject memories into you. He made you a part of his life.”

Alphonse raised his head. “But the memories…and everything I am…”

“Then you know what you must do.”

“But he—”

“—went on a journey to find the body of a brother whom he never even met face-to-face, and through it all, he risked his life time and time again for you.”

“And so did I, but…am I like that? Is that who I am? And now with Pride…”

Alphonse tensed as he felt Armstrong’s hand move from his shoulder to his back and press down on the tattoo. “Do not let this dictate who you are, Alphonse Elric. You are who you want to be, not who your brother or the one called ‘Father’ wishes. Only you can decide who you truly are. I believe that once you do, you will see what we have always seen.”

As Alphonse stared out the window, he allowed Armstrong’s words to sink in. He shook off the feeling that someone was watching him, knowing it to be true, and simply leaned against the major.

The Resembool train station was just as empty as ever—which was what scared Edward. He stepped off his suitcase and looked up at Mustang. “Well, I didn’t think it was possible to lose Major Armstrong.”

“Which makes me think we didn’t.”

Edward didn’t like the tone in Mustang’s voice and told the colonel, though it sounded more like, “What have you been smokin’?”

Mustang rolled his eyes. “Your brother was pretty pissed when we split. It only makes me think that leaving him alone with Major Armstrong wasn’t a good idea.”

“Are you saying Al would have done something to the major?” Edward scoffed and swiped a dismissive hand. “Al can’t hurt a rabbit. Trust me. I know. He made me do it when we were training—or at least he would have if he had trained with me.”

Mustang arched an eyebrow down at the boy. “I don’t think I want to know what that means.”

“Ah! Then there is something you don’t know!”

“And I said I don’t want to.”

Edward shrugged. “I still win.” He headed back toward the train cars, lingering along side of them. Cupping his hands about his mouth, he yelled, “Al! AAAAALLL! Come on! I said I was sorry!”

Before he even made it halfway through the cars, Riza rejoined him and Mustang and whispered something into the colonel’s ear. Mustang’s back straightened instantly, followed by a tug on Ed’s jacket. “Come on!”

“Whaaat?” Edward asked, perturbed, before his insides froze. “Is Alphonse okay? What happened? Is he—”

All his anxious words sputtered to a halt, as did he, when Riza led them outside. Armstrong flexed his muscles, but even his strength, passed down from the Armstrong Line, failed against the steel ropes tying him to the pillar of the train station. The major finally slumped over, utterly destroyed. Even his curl drooped.

“I couldn’t…Even my amazing body could not stop a little boy.”

Panic immediately settled in. “Where’s Al?”

“I am sorry, Edward Elric. Your brother wanted to leave without even me as an escort, and—”

“Where’d he go?” Edward rushed up to Armstrong, pleading. “Where, damnit! Tell me!”

Armstrong looked into Ed’s terrified eyes, then averted his own. “He did not say. When he voiced his opinion on leaving, I told him to wait. He pushed me into the pillar, and before I knew it, he ran off—”

Ed rushed off down the dirt road, not even looking back.

“…just like that.”

“Wait, Fullmetal!” Mustang called after him, but Edward never even glanced back. Sighing, he turned to Lt. Hawkeye. “You don’t happen to have a piece of chalk on you, do you?”

“In my side pocket, Colonel.”

“Really?”

“No.” Hawkeye surveyed the steel bonds. “I could try to shoot them off.”

Mustang glanced at her with a shit-eating smile. “Perhaps I could melt them.”

“I believe we have bigger problems, Colonel.” Armstrong interrupted, his forlorn eyes still watching Ed’s slowly disappearing back amongst the countryside. “We’re accompanying the Elric Brothers to protect them. Now that both are on their own—”

“Oh, shit!”

Heaving lungs beckoned air, but Ed refused to slow down to allow them reprieve. Only spurts of air kept him going, causing his head to spin with an onslaught of lightheadedness. His concentration waned, but the burning in his heart, a mixture of fear and love, fueled each step.

Stumbling over a surfaced root, Ed stumbled for a few feet, his real and artificial limbs flinging outward before plunging into the dirt. He grunted as he flipped over and haggardly, pulled himself up, never losing his momentum. Al. He had to find his little brother, and he only had one idea where Alphonse might go.

Lurching up the stairs and passed the jumping and barking Den, Edward slammed open the door. “AL!”

His scouring eyes immediately laid upon the startled Winry, who jumped up from the table in the middle of the room, wide-eyed. “…Ed? What’s—”

“Winry, is he here?” He ran about the table and slammed open the door to his and Al’s room. “Alphonse!” His panic worsened his trembling when the room empty. His only hope at finding his brother rapidly dwindled, and he hardly kept from collapsing. There was one more place he still had to check. He frantically ran toward the stairs. “AL! Are you up there? ALPHONSE!”

“I guess he was easier not to lose when he was seven feet of armor,” Panko mused as she rose slowly from the table and stopping the alchemist in his tracks. “Where have you lost your brother this time?”

“You don’t understand! He left!” Ed quivered so hard that he couldn’t stop his hands, and he fisted them in his hair when he didn’t know what else to do. “He’s gone, and he’s not coming back!”

Soft hands touched his and gradually unfurled his tightened fingers from his long hair. Their presence didn’t stop his trembling since the only feeling would be his brother’s warmth against his. Even when Winry drew him against hers and held him tightly, he couldn’t stop his violent shudders. “Oh, come on, silly,” Winry soothed. “Al would never leave. He loves you too much.”

Ed buried his face in her hair and tried to gain comfort from her smell. Instead, his fear intensified, as if confessing to her all over again would make what he did real. “Winry?”

“Yeah, Ed?”

“Al…he knows.”

Those simple words stiffened Winry in their embrace. He did need to explain to her what or how. They all knew, and his shaking increased ten-fold.

“He knows…and he isn’t…” He whimpered and pulled her tighter, trying to make the hurt go away. Yet, he knew it never would. “…he isn’t going to come back.”

For the first time since gaining his automail leg, he couldn’t stand.

Even without Teacher’s lessons through Ed’s memory or his fights with his “siblings-in-souls” fights, Alphonse knew he was being followed. After all, he was sure they wanted him to.

He stopped short at the edge of the forest and glared down at the stream in front of him. He couldn’t have gone the traditional and short way to his destination, or else Ed would have found him. He didn’t want to be found just yet or even knew if he wanted to be found. Everything in his mind swirled into a plethora of confusion and uncertainty between the reality of life and the fiction of a boy only a year older than he.

At the moment, the only real things to him were the military jacket upon him, the tattoo on his neck, and the sword leveled behind him to swipe.

Alphonse ducked quickly and raised his hands to block the attack. He cried as the sword cut through his jacket and sunk into his forearm. The slice was quick, but he still cringed and staggered backwards. He clamped his opposite hand over his now crimson forearm in attempt to stem the bleeding and glared up as best he could at the face of Lin Yao, whose normally wicked smile remained more leering than mischievous.

“Wrath knew you’d sway.”

“I don’t know how,” Alphonse gasped in agony and weaker than he would have liked. His stomach began to bother him again, and he bit the bottom of his lip to focus his attention anywhere but on his wound. “What do you want, Greed?”

Greed held the sword steady just above Al’s shoulder, ready to slice. “To realize your position, nothing more. Well, and to follow orders. Not too demanding, is it?”

“Depends upon what Father wants me to do,” Alphonse muttered wearily, his eyes screwed shut as his arm throbbed uncontrollably. “And why should I follow him? It’s been over four hundred years, and he’s still no closer to achieving his final goal. What will my participation mean in the scheme of things?”

“Planning a rebellion?”

Father must be getting old in his ancient age. He should have known better than to send Envy.

The thoughts weren’t his own, and flinching, Alphonse regained not only his composure but also his own mind. “Jealous, Envy? Not new for you.”

“You think you’re still better than me?”

Yes.

Alphonse felt the tentacle creep up his back and grab his hurt arm. Alphonse tried to swallow back the howl, but the pain was too great. Envy’s appendage wrung Al’s arm until the boy fell do his knees, gasping in agony and wincing with tears.

“Back where you belong,” Envy hissed before releasing the boy’s arm. “You really don’t want to fight me. I thought your brother would have at least told you that.”

“Edward’s an idiot,” Al murmured.

“And you’re not any different.”

“Shut up. I’m nothing like him!”

With a sharp inhale of air, Alphonse gathered his strength and lunged toward Envy, but the Sin simply stepped forward and kicked. Al blocked it with his good forearm but moved to attack with his hurt hand. His hand connected with Envy’s face, which only allowed the younger sin to kneel him in the stomach.

“I told you not to start this, but now that you have—” Envy flung out his left hand, now a tentacle, and connected with Al’s face. Pain flourished in the boy’s back when he smacked into something hard and slid to the ground. “You think just because you’re older than me and were the first birthed by Father that you can disobey orders? You can run away?”

Envy stalked toward Al but stopped at the sudden sword in front of his stomach. “Father told you not to kill him,” Greed told him.

So, this was a direct order—and really, he sent Envy?

Alphonse shook his head, feeling anger building within him that wasn’t his own.

Envy scoffed, “I don’t care. Father can just create another Pride stone.”

“You know that isn’t true.” Al pushed down on the ground with his good arm and shakily rose to his knees. “Father won’t succeed with Amestris.”

Envy stalked toward him, fists clenching. “What makes you sure about that? Wrath has control of the military, and that weakling Mustang can’t do anything to stop him.” He halted just in front of Al and smirked deviously. “And let’s be honest here. You really think that Full Metal twerp can do anything to stop us? You think he’d want to, now that he knows what lives inside you?”

Al glared at him, which prompted Envy to sneer.

“His sin. You embody his pride, don’t you? You’re what he created, and he’ll want nothing to do with you now that you do. Before, you were someone to follow him, feed his ego. ‘Oh, Brother!’ this, ‘Oh! Brother!’ that. Now, you are someone to remind him of his sins.”

“I said.” Al allowed his hurt hand to fall lifelessly to his side. “Shut up!”

Envy allowed Al to hit his shoulder before lunging with his opposite side, grabbing a handful of Al’s hair and tugging. As Al’s head jerked back, he placed his foot directly in Alphonse’s back, shoving him toward Greed. Al hardly blocked Greed’s first attack, followed by a slash. Using Teacher’s lessons, he acted instinctively and turned away from the blade, so it only caught his hip. Envy met him on the other side, sending him back with a punch to the face. A strong hand grabbed him by the jacket and brought him back to Envy. A punch, a kick, a slash, a backhand. Al collapsed to the ground. He only had enough strength to lift his bloodied and bruised face.

And that was when the voice came.

Let me take control.

The pain eased slightly, and he felt his arm wound tingle, like it was asleep.

You’re better than them. We’re better than them.

Stop, Al pleaded, closing his eyes.

“You were supposed to bring him to Wrath.” Greed placed his sword next to Al’s throat. “Have you forgotten your mission, Pride?”

Al coughed then spat. Crimson spattered on the rocks and ground. “W—Why me?” he demanded weakly. “Why do you need me?”

“Pride is finally in his correct body.” Greed inched forward, his sword scrapping Al’s skin just above his collarbone. “You are the perfect mix—a loyal dog and the cruelest of sins. You won’t rebel. It’s not within you.”

“My brother is the dog, not me.”

“But you’ve been following him for the last four years just like a puppy.”

“Why do you think Father allowed you all that time away?” Envy shrugged and crossed his arms. “Please don’t be stupid. It’s annoying.”

Al’s eyes widened. “No…”

“Father knew you’d keep that pipsqueak alive for us.” Envy crept forward and narrowed his eyes. “You had to know it’d come this. This was your life mission. This is what Father had in mind for you since I took you. You were trained by us, raised to accept Pride. Do not disappoint.”

No, do not.

When Alphonse’s body trembled with coughs, a tentacle wrapped around Al’s neck, its end touching the boy’s cheek and forcing his face up toward Envy.

“You always sat at Father’s side and tried to learn alchemy. When you failed—” Envy squeezed the tentacle tighter about Alphonse’s throat, saturating the ground under Al even more. “—he’d ask us teach you the lesson. My favorite part was always—”

His words drowned into Pride’s coaxing voice, He is a fool, and you—you are a more skilled fighter, an alchemist! No more suffering…

The cuts across Al’s back slowly healed themselves.

No more pain, little one.

And yet, the pain in Al’s stomach forced the air from his lungs. He shook his head and pushed back the voice, the numbness waiting to take over. He focused upon Envy, trying to get away, get away from the desire for mayhem and overwhelming temptation to listen.

Positioning his hands underneath him, Al shot to his feet, at least thankful that some of his wounds were healed, and instead of attacking Envy, lunged for Greed. Faking with a right punch, he whirled back onto his left foot and delivered a kick, knocking the sword from Greed’s hand. Snatching it, he swiped it back and sliced Envy’s tendril.

Oh, let me finish him.

Alphonse ignored the voice and pivoted just in time to block Greed’s kick; he returned the attack with a swipe, drawing a thin line of blood across Greed’s chest. Though his back only faced Envy for a split second, it was enough for an excruciating agony to tear through his side and his flesh. The sword clanged to the ground, and he pressed his hands against his side wound.

“What do you want, Envy?” Alphonse croaked when the younger sin strode in front of him.

Envy ground his teeth. “I want you to pay for what you’ve done.”

“Envy—” Greed started but to no avail.

“I’m human,” Al defended, too tired to even struggle. “That’s what pissed you off.”

Envy guffawed and backhanded Al across the face. “Were human. Now, you’re finally one of us. Take pride in that.” He pivoted and started to leave, his feet seeping into the ground. “Know the only reason I want you to become Pride is so I can finally kill you.”

Al averted his eyes. He knew Envy’s true form, and though Ed had described it to him when he forgot, he now knew his brother’s description paled in comparison to the real thing.

Lithe footsteps barely bent the blades of grass in front of him, and Greed bent down to smirk. “Word of advice. Don’t fight it. The only reason why that weakling in my body is still alive is because he accepted me. If you fight, Pride will win, and you’ll lose your body again.”

Greed patted Al on the head, then stood and started after Envy. Al closed his eyes and remembered what he thought to be his real life. He remembered Father’s true plan, and the death and devastation that would occur if he succeeded—or even tried.

Hell. He remembered the role Father deemed for him.

“Is it true, Lin?” Al gulped back blood and saliva. “Is it hopeless?”

For a moment, the world was still before Greed looked back. “You would be in less pain if you use your regenerating power to heal yourself.”

“That’s it?” Al complained as he pushed to his knees and clutched a hand over his bleeding stomach. He felt the flow of blood and followed its tether to his tattoo, where a surge of energy was stored. He directed the the energy to the wound, and slowly, a bright light shone from the left to the right until only a line of blood remained on his stomach.

“Your spirit is now intact in a body, no longer able to be changed by anyone, not Father, Edward, or even Pride,” Lin declared. “You can trust that.”

Without ever turning, Greed disappeared into the forest, leaving Alphonse alone.

“No luck, yet?”

Ed, leaning his elbows on the guardrail, pressed his forehead against his forearms to hide his tears. “God and luck hate me. Where have you been the last five years?” He clenched his automail hand. “He’s gone, and I don’t blame him for getting out while he could.”

Mustang came to stand next to him, hands upon the railing. “So you’re letting him go?”

Ed scoffed. “Of course I’m not letting him go, but I don’t have a choice. It isn’t about me. It’s about Al and what he wants, and he’s so pissed at me that we can’t even talk about …” He lifted up his shirt and buried his face in it, wiping his tears from his cheeks.

“…You do realize that if you don’t reclaim your brother, then Father will.” Mustang turned on his heel and leaned back, resting his weight his elbows. “Al’s already made it known that he disobeyed Father when he didn’t bring you to Wrath. What if Father tries to recruit him again, and your brother decides not to join? Father will probably transmute him into someone who will follow him, and you won’t be at the Gate this time to save him.”

Ed raised his tearstained face to glare into the unfathomable dark night. “Al’s strong. He doesn’t need me.”

Mustang snorted and shook his head disapprovingly. “Do you hear yourself, Fullmetal? It’s pathetic, and I won’t stand for it any longer.” His hand fisted in Ed’s shirt, and when the teen didn’t even struggle, Mustang tugged Ed, so their faces almost met nose-to-nose, shocked to pissed. “What the hell has gotten into you? If you loved that kid half as much as you swear you do and were willing to risk your life for him, then damnit! Why are you still here and not out there looking for him?”

“What the hell am I going to say?” Ed pushed both his hands into the colonel’s chest, freeing himself instantly. “ ‘I’m sorry I created our past! I’m sorry our father was such a bastard and gave you up for me. I’m sorry you were raised by some maniac with a God-complex, and I just happened to make everything worse by covering that up and lying to you for the last five years!’ ”

Mustang shrugged. “It’s a start.”

Ed glowered at the colonel. He’d wanted so badly to scream that at someone since he arrived at the Rockbells, and finally, the colonel seemed to get the hint. Ed hated Roy Mustang, and yet, sometimes the colonel acted like his best friend—or uncle…or something like that. And sometimes, Ed would let his guard down in front of him. “And what if after all that…he won’t come back?”

“You at least have to try, or else you’ll regret it for the rest of your life,” Mustang pressed as he meandered inside. “And if you really love him, then you’ll respect his wishes.”

Long after Mustang left, Ed simply stood there and stared into the night sky. No stars shone from above to light a path, and for the first time since he transmuted his brother’s memories, he realized he was alone.

Ed didn’t know where Al would go—since his brother would probably shy away from anything he thought was transmuted—but he had one guess. Weaving in between the grave stones, Ed came to an abrupt halt at the relieving sight of shivering figure in a military jacket plopped in the grass a few feet away. The jacket appeared dirty, as if the wearer fell in a puddle, and blood accented the tears on the blue. He still pulled back his hair into a ponytail, but Ed noticed how disheveled it was.

No noise sounded but the crunching of dry grass under Ed’s boots as he staggered forward and sunk his knees just behind the boy. A thousand words swirled in his mind, but his mouth refused to open. Nothing he could say would ever be enough to make his brother forgive him for what he did, so he knelt there, behind Alphonse, content to be in his little brother’s presence and know Al was alive and safe. His brother would never speak to him, but he still waited for the miracle he didn’t believe would occur.

It came more than an hour later.

“I never knew her…” Alphonse murmured in a gutted sob. He didn’t move, only continued to press his face into his knees.

Ed leaned forward on his hands, his head bowed. “No, you didn’t.”

“But I remember her. I remember the way she looked, the way she would smile at us when we performed alchemy. I remember how she smelled—of fresh herbs and spices from her cooking. I remember how she always looked to the stars, and we thought she sought Dad.” He shivered, then rested his chin on his knees to gaze at the stone. “But she wasn’t looking for just Dad, was she? And Dad didn’t leave for work.”

Ed closed his eyes, finding the strength within to answer. “No, he didn’t. She didn’t.” It made sense now, why their father left their mother and Resembool. He had a made a choice and couldn’t live with it. Hohenheim wanted to make it right, and Trisha looked to the stars in hopes that her second son and her husband would one day return.

But neither did until after her death, and Alphonse returned as a hollow suit of armor—until now.

“I—It was my fault,” Al stammered. He cringed, pulling his legs closer to his body. “If she wouldn’t have been alone, then maybe she would have lived. If Dad would never have left to find me—”

“No!” Ed lunged forward and grabbed his brother’s shoulders, shaking them roughly. The boy’s eyes lit up, wide and all absorbing in their gaze. “Don’t think like that. Don’t you see? Don’t you see it was all his fault? He made the wrong choice…”

Ed fell backwards on his haunches, shaking his head. “He should never had made a choice. That bastard should never have settled for only one of us…We all made the wrong choice.”

A disgusting feeling washed over Edward. He was his father. He made a mistake, dragged his brother into his horror, and then left their home to correct it. But he didn’t forgo his responsibilities. He took Alphonse with him, and he cared for his brother, just like his brother cared for him. Even though Ed consciously knew he transmuted his own memories, for some reason, those with Al always seemed more real than those he had physically lived. He only lived with Alphonse for five years, yet he couldn’t ever imagine his life without his little brother.

“What’s real, and what’s fake?”

The abrupt question, mixed with Al’s soft but determined voice, startled Ed. “Huh?”

Alphonse met his brother’s eyes, and Ed saw the pain glistening in them. “I can’t tell. I know you created my memories, and Father raised me the first ten years of my life, but…those don’t seem real. And the ones I know I couldn’t have lived—I remember everything.”

Ed settled into a more comfortable position across from his brother and sighed. “Time dims our memories, and sometimes we forget things. So, when I had to mold mine to include you, I guess I had to re-look at my memories and examine them to make them seem real to you. They probably seem more real because they’re more acute senses-wise.”

Al’s legs fell from his chest to the ground, though a hand clutched his undershirt just over his stomach. “Did you create my thoughts? What about those?”

“No,” Ed dismissed with a growl and a ruffle of his hair. “Look, do you remember the night we first talked?”

His face scrunched in contemplation, Al finally replied, “…kinda.”

“You sat in the corner of my room for the entire year, not doing anything. I finally got my automail, and I was debating about seeing Mustang. When I finally implanted my tweaked memories into your spirit, I got a look at your ideas and thoughts and twisted mine to include them.”

“Wait.” Al swallowed hard. “You didn’t immediately take Mustang’s offer first?”

Ed fought the urge to shrug. “Why would I? I had no reason to become indebted to the State. My limbs worked, and I didn’t want another failed attempt at human transmutation. When I didn’t see Mom there…” He sighed and shook his head. It hurt to remember them, the feeling of loneliness when his mother wasn’t at the Gate and the truth that he lost her pierced his soul. But he was willing to endure the pain to keep Alphonse from leaving. It was the least he deserved for his sin. “It doesn’t matter. I just didn’t want to do it again, but when you talked…I realized how much pain you were in, and I was in so much pain. I thought…I thought I could make the pain less for both of us.

“I know I used you, okay?” Tentatively reaching forward to grab Al’s boot, he swallowed back whatever tears he felt. “And…you’re right. I was alone, and I needed someone. Instead of leaning on Winry or Granny, I created my own family. I’m not going to try to justify—”

“You took Mustang’s offer…because of me?”

Ed blinked at the sudden change of subject but grinned slightly. “Well, yeah. I had to get my little brother’s body back, didn’t I?”

He moved to touch Alphonse’s face, but his hand stopped just before Al’s cheek. He gasped at the sight, realizing for the first time his brother’s injuries were inflicted wounds from a fight. Crimson smeared the boy’s forehead just under his long hair. Caked blood gathered in the crease of his mouth, but he’d wiped what had dribbled down his chin. His white shirt offered no relief for Ed’s nerves, stained crimson, and Al’s jacket revealed he had been cut by a sword—probably Lin’s.

Ed sighed and allowed his hand to drop. He collected his thoughts the best he could. If the homunculi had found his brother, then the fact that Al was here was a miracle within itself. “Al, please don’t leave me, too....”

Al rose to his feet with a start. Fear gripping him, Ed lunged and snatched his brother’s wrist.

“Al, wait—”

As his voice cracked, Al turned and with one motion, curled his fist and smacked his brother in the left cheek. His little brother hit harder than he remembered when even in the suit. Ed flipped onto his back and pushed to stand, though he still wavered from the imbalance of his real leg and his piecemealed one. He somehow ducked a punch from Al before accepting blow after blow with his automail. A left, a right, a left, another right. Every punch begot more tears than the one before until the boy finally kicked out, catching Ed in the stomach.

Ed slammed to the ground, only for Al to straddle his waist and pull back his fist. Ed flinched as the fist came down but was surprised when it smacked the ground next to his head. Following up his brother’s arm, he gasped at Al, who bent over, his body shaking uncontrollably, his chin dripping with tears.

“I knew her…through you…” Al leaned back and wiped his face in the sleeve of Armstrong’s jacket. “You had no right do to what you did.”

Ed dropped his head to the grass. “I know.”

“And you have no right to ask me to stay.” In one swift move, he abandoned Ed and dashed down the line of gravestones.

“Like hell I don’t!” Ed yelled and also rose to his feet.

Al halted instantly, his face tensing, and he whirled toward his brother. “What?”

“I went on a four-year journey to find your body. I gave my right arm for you—twice!” Ed stomped forward. “And the second time, I also gave my leg. I risked my life to save yours and the only thing I had left of our mother—my memories—all for you. That gives me more than right.”

“You bargained with the Gate!” Al shrieked. “You manipulated me, so I wouldn’t know who I was or what happened to me—”

“And wasn’t it better when you didn’t?” Ed seized his brother by the jacket, bringing the boy closer to him. “At least then you weren’t ruled by a sin.”

“Don’t try to rationalize what you’ve done.” Al attempted to shove him away, but Ed refused to let him go.

“What are you going to do if you leave? Where will you go? Back to Father?”

“Would that bother you, Brother?” Al hissed.

Yes. It would destroy him.

Ed’s mouth suddenly dried, and the words he wished to form died on his tongue.

Al seemed to notice his disconcert and sighed. He freed himself rather easily and rubbed the back of his neck. “Pride isn’t one to take orders, especially from Father, and he cares for no one but himself. His job is to follow you and make sure you keep in line, and he doesn’t want that.”

“So, you’re letting him win?” Ed asked, low and guttural. “You’re going to give him what he wants.”

Al shrugged helplessly. “It’s the only choice I have.”

“There is always another choice. Haven’t you learned that yet? We make our own choices in life.” Ed finally clasped Al’s shoulder, and his brother sent him a dirty stare.

“Like the choice you made?” Al glared directly at Ed’s automail, then up at his shocked brother’s face.

Ed reclaimed his automail hand and focused upon his mother’s grave in between them. “I told you. Self-sacrifice is selfish.”

Al looked down at his own hands, opening and closing them. “Ed—”

“I thought I could break the laws of alchemy.” Ed paused, not sure if he could continue through the heartache, but when he focused upon Al, he took a deep breath and found the calm voice he always used when talking to his brother about their past. “I was foolish enough to think I could cheat death or God or whatever it is. I thought I could bring Mom back, and when I realized I couldn't do that, I thought I could save you, even though I knew I was making the same mistake. I thought I was strong enough to make everything perfect, but I'm not even close.”

Alphonse continued to stare at him, taken aback.

“Don’t you see? The Sin inside you isn't yours. It's mine.” Ed reached out and but stopped before actually touching his brother. “I wish I could take it back. I wish I could make this right, but I don’t even know how to start…I guess…except to say…I’m… sorry.”

Alphonse clutched his stomach suddenly and turned, hunching over as if in pain. “Just stop, Brother.”

The words were his brother, but the tone sounded too cold to be Al. “I’m not going to let you go without a fight.”

Al whirled suddenly and with a clap, fell to the ground. Two strong arms of dirt rose up to seize Edward before he could move, and he grunted as he kicked and struggled. “You idiot! What the—”

“Not everything is about you, you know that?” Al shook his head and turned his back to his brother. “A little advice. Something terrible is going to happen to Amestris. Take Granny and Winry and head to Xing. I’ll hold Father off until then.”

“So, that’s it,” Ed breathed. Why didn’t he see it before? “You’re sacrificing yourself for me!”

“I told you, Ed.”

No, Al, don’t use his first name.

“Pride doesn’t want to follow Father. It’s not his nature, and I can’t stop him.” He glanced back at Ed, and for the first time, Ed saw the soft gold that shone with more love than anyone had ever showed him—except his mother. “He’ll kill you just to prove his independence, and I won’t let him.” He sighed, and his shoulders slumped in the wake. “…I’m sorry, but this is the way it has to be.”

“No!” Ed struggled against the dirt to connect his hands, but he could only move them a few inches. “You’re an idiot! Grrr! Al!”

Al continued to walk, his head down, his stride determined.

“Do you really have that little faith in me?” Ed shouted, and though Al never turned, he saw his brother tense. It was then he realized how to beat Al—and Pride. “And really, what kind of prize is Pride anyway?”

Al immediately flinched, and a moment later, Pride turned, his eyes a venomous glare. “What did you say?”

Ed relaxed in the dirt’s grip and smirked. “Well, let’s be honest. Why would Pride want to kill me anyway? I’m his ticket to truly stopping Father.”

The cold voice returned, more frigid than ever before. “And you would be useful to me how?”

“However you want,” Ed said nonchalantly, looking away with a thoughtful expression. “Whatever Father’s planning, yeah, you could stop it by killing me, or you could use me to bring Father to your feet. After all, who else is Father going to use to open the Gate? I’m the only confirmed human sacrifice.”

Pride’s calculating eyes wandered up and down Ed until finally, he sighed and clapped his hands. He fell to the ground, and a moment later, the dirt tentacles retracted. As his little brother stood, Ed saw the change in expression and heard the piqued but soft voice. Al’s. “I hate you.”

“Hey, it’s my life,” Ed retorted, pointing a thumb at his chest. “I get to do what I do with it.”

Al looked away. “I can’t stop him.”

Ed sighed and reached out to tug Al’s jacket tighter about the boy. “Don’t worry. I will.”

“I…” Al ran a hand through his hair and mumbled, “I wouldn’t survive watching him kill you.”

“He won’t,” Ed said simply.

“Well, I’m still pissed at you. I’m just letting you know.”

“I kinda figured.” Ed shrugged and started to walk toward the Rockbells. Looking at the boy next to him, he smiled. “But you’re here.”

They only took two steps before a cocking startled them both, and as one, their bodies slid into fighting positions. However, they relaxed just as quickly when Lt. Hawkeye emerged from behind a tree, her gun pointed toward Ed.

“Lt. Hawkeye!” her target yelled. “What’s the deal?”

Lt. Hawkeye smirked, which quickly snapped into a bewildered gasp as a black tentacle seeped over her gun and removed it from her hand.

“I didn’t want Pride to get angry,” Alphonse muttered before handing it back with the magazine out.

The thought and appearance of the other arm unnerved Ed, but he was sure he would get used to it.

“I have orders to find you two and bring you home,” Lt. Hawkeye declared. “If you didn’t make up, then it was to be by gunpoint.” She turned and motioned for them to follow. “Consider yourselves lucky that Colonel Mustang didn’t send Major Armstrong.”

Ed immediately imaged both he and Al under the major’s arms being carried back to the Rockbells. Perchance luck didn’t hate him anymore, either.