Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ The Sinner Repents ❯ ACT I, SECTION I ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

When the clash of swords echo,
The journey chasing the past ends and
The journey to know today begins.

One soul seeks another and
Pledges their sworn friendship to another
One mystery begets the next and
The doors of fate are opened.

“You are free to sever the chains of fate that bind you.”
- The Legend of Dragoon

The firelight flickered turning the entire world into an array of dancing, twining, light and shadow. The bonfire cracked and snapped; singing its very own entrancing tune that added to the sound of tambourine, flute, drum, and fiddle music. Women danced in the circle of firelight. A swirl of motion and color, while men kept time on knees and through clapping hands until one of the dancers invited them in. Scarves, shawls, skirts, and dark hair fluttered and spun accenting the movement of bodies shaped supple and honed by travel. Laughter filled the air as thickly as the smell of cooking food and woodsmoke.

Ed stood apart from them all at the edge of the circle of fire light; the shadows clouded his face, but the light of the flames still picked out his hair until it made it burn and his eyes almost glow. The Roma were an amazing people. They were so full of life and they enthralled him, but at the same time he couldn't bring himself to join them, not like Al.

Al was in there, right there with the Roma, hand in hand with a petite girl. They held their hands aloft as they danced: Bouncing, twirling, and spinning among the others. Their faces were alight with laughter. The girl was bedecked in brilliant carmine, gold, and white. She posed a brilliant foil to the more earthy tones that Alphonse sported, but neither was dulled. Their own energies well made up for anything clothing could leave lacking.

Noa had tried many a long hour to draw him out of his self-imposed solitude, but Edward could not be budged. It wasn't like he didn't want to join them, didn't want to loose himself in this: the throb of music, and fire, and movement, and life, but he just couldn't seem to manage it. He wanted, so very badly, to be able to grasp that peace, that freedom; he wanted to reach out with both hands, grab on, and never let go. He was tired of standing half in the shadows just at the edge of the ring of firelight.

“Come sit with an old woman.” A voice spoke up from near by. It cracked and rasped with age.

Ed looked to the side. There sat an old woman, bent with age. A heavy knit burgundy shawl was draped across her shoulders, and trailed the ground to either side of her hunched form. When she turned to look at him her face, beneath the worn and tattered head cloth she wore, was lined and spotted. Her eyes nearly disappeared in the wrinkles at the corners and her brows. For a moment, though, as she looked up at him he saw them. A disconcerting beetle black that in this forgotten edge realm both gleamed and dulled; the whites looked hazy and rheumy.

Ed felt compelled to step forward, and he did. The shadows slid away from his face like water running through a sieve. He folded his legs as he sank to the ground, his hands dropping listlessly in his lap.

The old woman gave him a wide, toothless smile. It made the folds and wrinkles of her cheeks deepen like a bloodhound's even as it explained the thick dregs of stew in the bowl before her. She turned back around to face the bonfire and the dancers. Her profile was all curved lines and reminded Ed of a boulder worn smooth and round with time and weather.

“I hear the two of you are leaving us.”

Ed startled slightly, unaware that he had been staring. The old woman didn't seem the least bit perturbed, but what he could see of her eyes were gleaming. He didn't think it was just from the firelight.

“Yes. We have a mission.” The words were tense and clipped though he couldn't really understand why.

“Hmmm.” The old woman's face creased with a small, sly, knowing smile. “Don't worry so, my boy, fate isn't done with you yet.”

Edward's breath hitched, catching in his chest and sticking in his throat. When his voice came out, it was strangled and he had to swallow a time or two to work passed the lump that had formed, “What... What do you mean?”

“If you keep following the path that you're on you'll find it is a long one, darling. A very long path indeed.” She looked at him then, widening her eyes to really look at him and Ed could feel the hairs on his arms and at the nape of his neck standing on end for no reason he could perceive. “Enjoy this night for you will soon pass out of our lives entirely.”

The spell was broken as the old woman turned away, reached out, and grabbed her bowl before working on the remains of her stew. Ed's gaze gravitated toward the dancers and the fire, a pensive frown weighing heavy on his face.

“Where have you been to?” The old woman asked suddenly.

Ed didn't even look away from the fire, instead he watched it with an intense enthrallment he usually only dedicated to his research. He thought he could see pictures in it that danced much more finely than any human ever could. The fire pulled him in, held him deep, and conquered his entire world. He almost felt as if he could topple into that conflagration and be happy.

His voice, when he spoke, was dreamy and distant even to his own ears, “I've been to Avalon.”

“And what did you find there?” She asked, scratching absently at the mole on her chin.

“Not the Holy Grail and King Arthur that's for sure.” Ed growled derisively, his voice gaining a little more vehemence.

The old woman cackled. It was only then that Ed was able to tear his gaze away from the blaze and turn toward her. It was interesting to watch the way her face contorted from the laugh. She turned to look at him to, and mirth made the lines of her face as deep as canyons.

“Soon, very soon darling you will be passing out of my sight. The path rounds a bend up ahead. I've never looked down that path. The fog there is thick and beguiling. Keep walking forward.”

“I've always kept--”

Edward awoke with a snort to find his stomach telling him it wanted fed an hour ago. Tugging his arms out from under his head he stretched, back arching, one arm unfurled to the side while the other fist remained tucked close to his ear. He growled, retracting like a snail into its shell when his fist knocked against the back of the front seat. He was currently sprawled all over the backseat of his and Alphonse's car.

He noticed belatedly that they weren't moving anymore. Hooking white gloved fingers over the top of the collar of his heavy black jacket he pushed it down off his face and peeked out. Sunlight spilled into the vehicle turning the black interior more of a charcoal color. He sat up, kicking his boot heels against the side of the car to scoot back a bit; the jacket slid off his chest and pooled across his thighs.

Reaching up Edward pawed at his eyes for a moment, digging the grit from the corners of them. His neck ached dully from the position he'd slept in. Glancing toward the front seats he noticed that Alphonse wasn't there. A look at his surroundings across from him revealed them to be in a city or town. Leaning to the side he reached down, flipping aside the trailing edges of his jacket to reveal the heavy leather satchel that rested on the floor of the car. So harmless and unprepossessing in appearance, but containing within itself something so dangerous. Ed was just glad it was right where he left it.

With a grumble he settled back against the side of the car to wait for Al to appear. He was sure it wouldn't take long. As he waited his mind drifted back to the dream he'd just awoken from. It was a very familiar dream. Not only for the fact that he had had that dream before, but because it was a memory of the night before he and Al had left the Roma behind to search of the Uranium Bomb. The only difference between his memory and the other dreams was the very end.

The old woman had never asked him where he'd been. No, right then Noa had approached him again with a hand held out and that time he had allowed himself to be drawn into the circle around the fire. That time, he had let worry fall from his shoulders and allowed himself to enjoy the way the night and the atmosphere set his soul ablaze until he felt like he was dancing with the fire rather than around it. He and Al had danced into the wee hours of the night. Danced until they had collapsed together and gotten much needed sleep. The next morning while mist still lay heavy on the moors they had slipped away without even a goodbye.

Alphonse hadn't liked it, but Edward had a gut deep feeling that the old woman was right. He didn't want to make any promises to these people that he couldn't keep. He knew if they had said farewell that there would be things said like Until next time and See you again or Come back soon. His instincts had rarely led him wrong yet, after all.

What made him wonder the most was why he had felt suddenly so light. The old woman's words should have made him worry more; after all Edward had had more than enough with fate and what it did to his life. He should be sick and tired of having his world turned upside down, should have been horrified at the very thought. And yet, it had had the opposite effect on him. He had been somehow elated in knowing that there was something more, a goal to strive for. Just as then, now he felt a heavy weight on him that they had gotten the bomb. Surely that meant the journey was coming to a close...

This world was so drawn, contrived, and dull. While he had told Alphonse that this was their world now, and they needed to embrace it, he couldn't seem to manage it. He cared for the people, but in a vague way; like a man watching a picture show cares for the characters on screen. He knew all the actor's faces from an old favorite, but none of the characters were the same, nor did the problems grip him as tightly.

He wasn't unhappy, but he wasn't content either. What he really felt, Edward decided, was restless.

The drivers side front door open with a clack and Alphonse's sandy haired head appeared as he perched on the edge of the front seat, warm brown eyes already smiling at his older brother while his lips quirked slowly, “Finally awake I see.”

A sheepish look stole across Edward's face, and he ducked his head, “Sorry, Al.”

They were supposed to have traded off partway through their trip so each of them could get a few hours sleep after the ambush. Edward had gone to sleep first, and apparently hadn't woken up again until now.

Al shook his head at him fondly, “I didn't mind. It was good you were finally getting some sleep.”

Edward had been on the go for nearly twenty four hours before the ambush on Glastonbury Tor. Alphonse had tried to get him to settle down, to stop worrying, but it hadn't exactly worked all that well. Given, Al was pretty sure it hadn't all been worry, Edward wasn't exactly the kind to nitpick plans after all. It was more likely that he'd just wanted to get moving, get acting, get the plan underway and be at it. Either way the end result was still an insomnia plagued, fidgety Edward.

“Anyway,” Al said. “If we hurry I bet we can catch a late breakfast. I noticed a nice looking cafe just around the corner.”

His answer came in the form of Ed's jacket smacking him in the face. Al didn't bother to catch it, and just let it flop to front seat. Ed nimbly climbed over the back of the front seat, before leaning back over it to grab the satchel containing the bomb. Al frowned.

“You're not taking that with you are you?”

Ed turned his head and gave Al a gimlet glare, his chin jutted out and the muscles of his jaw stood out from the tension as he clenched his teeth together, “I'm not leaving it here. We just spent a year looking for this thing. I refuse to let it out of my sight. Just knowing our luck it'd get stolen and then we'd have to find it again!”

Al sighed, stood, and stepped back from the car in a show of acquiescence. As much as he hated to admit it Ed was probably right. Al waved his hands at his brother, “Okay, Okay. I get it.”

It still bothered him a bit to have the thing in places populated with innocent people. What if it went off or something? There wasn't much they could do about that, though, until they figure out what they were going to do with it; how they were going to get rid of it.

After Ed clambered out the door he spent a moment to smooth the wrinkles out of the charcoal gray undershirt and the black vest he wore, and shake them from his black pants. That done he slung his dark jacket on and pulled the satchel strap over his head, settling it diagonally across his chest. Seeing that and knowing that was a bomb resting comfortably against Ed's hip made Alphonse distinctly uneasy. Almost as if he knew where Al's thoughts were heading Edward flashed him a half sort of grin that set Al at ease.

“Where are we anyway?” Ed asked, head turning as he glanced around them. The buildings around them were all of warm colored stone or brick, with the occasional shock of a white washed one, or something else different that stuck out from the norm.

“Amesbury.” Al answered promptly as he closed the door, and set off down the street with Ed at his heels.

“Ah.” That didn't really tell Ed much except that they weren't in Glastonbury anymore. He supposed that was enough.

Alphonse led the way around the corner at the end of the street. There didn't really seem to be anyone about yet, and instead the town was encompassed by a sleepy feeling of quiet and lassitude. A few more feet along this path and Al turned aside to tug open the door on a building made of brown stone with a large airy window on the front alongside the door. Filmy white text in simple but elegant curling letters declared the places name. A chime sounded when Al opened the door.

The inside was as warmly colored as the old stone that made up the exterior. The walls were painted a rich cream color while the baseboards were of a dark wood. Booth's lined two walls, made of dark rich wood with deep red seating. The tables were made of a paler sort of wood and the chairs and tables down the middle of the small cafe echoed this theme. A few potted plants hung above the middle tables, draping trailing blooms, leaves, and vines over the edges of their holders. The muted aroma of flowers told that they were real rather than fake. A few paintings decorated the walls near the booths. Their images of local landscape including an image of stone henge; all in black and white.

Al and Ed chose the table right before the window with Ed putting his back to a corner. Al shrugged off his gunmetal gray jacket and settled it over the back of his chair. He was dressed similarly to Edward only in shades of white and gray while his pants matched the color of his jacket.

It seemed only two or three people manned the place as two women stood near the counter. The one on their side of it, obviously a waitress, had a loose fall of blond hair that reached her shoulders. The woman leaning lazily on the counter was a brunette, pretty enough with her lips curved into a wicked tilt. The brunette's eyes flickered over, catching sight of them and she said something quietly to the waitress. When she turned Ed sucked in a breath of surprise.

It never failed to shock him when he saw the doppelgangers of this world. He was never prepared for it.

The waitress walked toward them, and as she stopped at the side of their table her lips curved up in a polite smile, Al and Ed found themselves staring into the face of Riza Hawkeye; only Riza Hawkeye didn't have green eyes. Nor did Ed think he'd ever seen such an open and kind expression on her face.

Edward had to look away. Seeing the face of Riza Hawkeye like that made him feel horribly disconcerted. He didn't think he'd ever get used to this, and had hoped on some level that he could avoid running into people he'd known so long back ho-- in Amestris. This was home now. Why couldn't he seem to remember that?

Instead Ed focused on settling the leather satchel between his chair and the low wall beneath the large window. And trying not to flinch when Not-Riza spoke.

“Would you like a menu?”

Alphonse smiled up at her pleasantly, “Yes, please.”

The woman's lips quirked a little further upward at Al's pleasant and earnest manner as she handed over two of the menus. Ed took his without raising his eyes. The pair scanned the breakfast menu for a few seconds.

“Toast and Blackcurrant Jam, please.” Ed said quietly, hand extending the menu back up to the patiently waiting Not-Riza. He never once looked up. “And a glass of orange juice.”

Alphonse smiled up at her, all boyish charm, “I'll have porridge. And orange juice as well, please.”

Edward wrinkled his nose at his brothers choice, but said nothing.

As Not-Riza walked away Al turned to smile a little sadly at his elder sibling, “You all right, Brother?”

Shrugging a shoulder laconically Ed replied morosely, “I'm fine it's just...” He waved one hand in the air, giving up on the ineffective words. Words just couldn't really describe what it was.

“I know.” Al whispered, looking down at his hands clasped on the table top.

Ed watched Not-Riza discreetly from behind lowered eye lashes. His head was angled so that he seemed to be looking more toward the window that the interior. One arm thrown over the back of his chair while the other propped up his chin with an elbow on the table. He looked a vision of somnolence.

Seeing Hawkeye in a modest knee length black skirt and simple white blouse was nearly as baffling as her open demeanor had been. He was sure there was a time or two that he had seen her out of uniform, but he couldn't think of one now. Riza Hawkeye was forever imprinted in his memory as an uptight figure with a stern, but not unkind attitude.

While they waited, mostly in silence, a few odd customers drifted in; apparently on their way to work they stopped to grab a baked good or the like. They simply approached the counter and left with their order. A few stayed, and soon there was a small amount of patrons scattered through out the restaurant. There wasn't much in the way of talking, only quiet murmurs from a few, and the rustle of a news paper from the man in one corner.

Not-Riza returned and set the plate with Ed's toast and a small glass bowl with his blackcurrant jam down before him, and Al's porridge, still steaming, before the younger Elric. Edward wrinkled his nose at his brother again, but didn't comment in favor of liberally spreading the jam on his slices of toast.

Al gave Not-Riza a cheerful smile, “Thank you.”

Not-Riza bobbed her head, smiling again with more warmth than even before, “Ask if you two need anything else.” With that she went back to the rest of the customers.

More customers came and went as Ed tore apart his toast and ate the pieces and Alphonse slowly spooned through the porridge. By the time they finished morning was well progressed. Ed was just downing the last of his orange juice while Alphonse finished off his porridge when the bell on the door chimed. Ed automatically glanced up and froze.

It couldn't be...

Noticing his brothers suddenly pale complexion Al turned to look to and gave a surprised squeak.

There, in the doorway, was this world's version of Roy Mustang.

While he could have been Roy himself in physical appearance; the pale skin, dark hair, and dark eyes was all the same. It was his manner of dress that didn't resemble the man they knew at all. The white button down he wore was half tucked in, and his pants creased and wrinkled; though the long dark coat he wore could have been the twin of one the brother's had seen Roy Mustang wear. The black hair was mussed as though he'd been running his fingers through it, and upon his nose was perched a pair of glasses. He looked as if he hadn't shaved recently with stubble lining his chin and jaw. In his arms he carried a great deal of notebooks and texts. Not-Roy's dark eyes scanned the room for a moment before the man ducked his head and made his way to a booth near the back of the room; head bowed and shoulders slumped.

“Hey, Elizabeth, it looks like Mr. Mustang is here.” The brunette at the counter said in an obvious stage whisper.

Not-Roy hunched his shoulders further, sinking slightly in the booth he'd chosen. There was a rustle and shuffle of papers and books as the man busied himself with his things. Ed couldn't see what he was doing, he had his back toward them.

Not-Riza, no, Elizabeth left off cleaning a few of the empty tables and walked toward Not-Roy's table. Stopping beside it she said quietly, “Hello, Royce. The usual?”

Royce lifted his head to look up at her, “I, uh... Yes, that would be fine Miss Hawkeye.”

Elizabeth smiled kindly at the man, “How many times do I have to tell you to call me Liza, or Elizabeth?”

“My apologies, E-Elizabeth.” Royce stumbled over the name.

Elizabeth gave him one more fleeting smile before going back toward the counter to make sure the order was placed.

Edward turned away, scowling heavily, and stood so abruptly that his chair scraped loudly over the floor. Digging into a pocket he pulled out his wallet and tucked a large tip for Elizabeth under one of the glasses. He nodded to Alphonse knowing his brother would see to the bill. With that Ed grabbed the leather satchel and stormed out of the building.

Alphonse sighed after his brother, noticing the looks they were getting. Standing up he made his way to the counter while Elizabeth slipped passed to clear the table. Smiling crookedly at the brunette he apologized, “Sorry about him, my brother has been having a rough couple of days.”

More like a rough several years. They'd both had that, but lately things had been harder than ever on Ed and he couldn't understand why no matter how badly he wanted to. For awhile Al had thought that Ed was keeping things from him, but it hadn't taken him long to realize that Ed didn't know what was wrong either. It worried him a great deal.

“I can understand. Things have been a bit tense lately haven't they?”

“Yeah...” Al agreed, handing over the money after she'd given him the price. “It was a wonderful meal though, compliments to your chef.”

The swinging door nearby popped open and a familiar looking blond head poked out, a cigarette dangling from the man's lips, “Thank you, mon ami.”

The brunette whipped her head around and glared at the Havoc doppelganger, “You better not be smoking in there!”

“I am not, ma cherie, as you can see it is unlit.”

Al somehow managed to keep his smile from wavering, and was devoutly grateful that Ed had already left. He didn't think his brother would know what to think of a Havoc look alike who was apparently both French, and a chef in a little English cafe. Alphonse didn't even know what to think of it.

Nodding once more to them Al moved back to the table to retrieve his jacket then quit the place to go in search of his brother. He found Ed sitting cross legged on the hood of their car, the satchel protectively in the cradle of his legs. The sight once again made Alphonse nervous, but he swallowed it back. Ed's features were set in a grim frown.

“I'm going to go ask around town a bit for directions then we can get moving again.” Al said.

Ed nodded sharply, “I'll wait here. I don't feel like wandering around and listening to people gabble.”

Al's lips quirked into a slight smile. He knew that was Ed speak for 'I'm still weirded out and don't want to deal with another one.'