Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ Set in Stone ❯ Edward Elric - The Fullmetal Alchemist ( Chapter 22 )

`Til The Sun Shines

 

Chapter Twenty-Two

Edward Elric - The Fullmetal Alchemist

 

To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end the heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks

Shakespeare

 

An impressive crowd gathered on the day. Despite the fact that it looked like it was going to rain, grey clouds stormed overhead, rumbling threateningly; the people emerged from their houses, with dark clothing and somber faces. They did it because he had been a hero.

 

He had been a hero, worthy of memories as grand as his temper.

 

People approached the two of them, granting their condolences, but many stayed away, because they knew it wasn't what they wanted to hear. They didn't want to hear apologies, they didn't want to receive sympathy, at that point and time, Alphonse Elric didn't think he could've cared for their words less. Maybe later he could take the time to appreciate the gestures, the kind soft-spoken words. But right then and there, he was feeling very anti-social.

 

It was only after a moment that he realised the people had stopped coming and that finally they were alone. His eyes stung. He was alone, truly alone. “It wasn't supposed to happen like this…” he said, his throat raspy and his voice hoarse.

 

“I know.” She whispered back.

 

“Why did he..? What was he think-” But he stopped there, because he couldn't say anymore. He heard Winry sigh next to him.

 

“Nobody knows what goes through Edward's mind.” The corners of her lips twitched in a shadow of a smile, but they didn't quite get there. “I don't think that he even knew. But I know he didn't mean for this to happen.” She sighed again, and took his hand, pulling him towards the group of people gathered near a large black coffin. “Come on.” She whispered.

 

They lowered it slowly, and friends threw things in after it. Flowers, letters, and objects that wore meaning to them. Winry carefully placed a single black rose, but Al had nothing to put there. The brothers had never owned anything, not anything that he'd want to lose forever anyway. Al held his wife's hand as the coffin was buried, his head was lowered, and his eyes were shadowed. It was sad, he mused, that he was the only family there.

 

He didn't know why…but his father had left once again.

 

 

“Dad?” Al asked, rising as the older man packed his things. Mustang and Hawkeye were there, as was Winry. “Where are you going?” His father didn't answer, he merely shook his head. Too much had happened, so much information had to be digested that Mustang didn't think that he minded Hoenheim was leaving. Things had been so much simpler without him there, and he still hadn't forgotten the words he had told him so long ago.

 

“You can never trust someone who's lived that long, remember that.” And Mustang did, but he wished the man would stay, merely because Alphonse looked so distressed. If it was a lot to swallow for Mustang, he couldn't imagine what the youngest Elric brother was feeling. He had to deal with a new brother, a step-mother that had been so before his own was born, and his 400 year old father.

 

“You can't leave.” Al said, a hint of anger in his voice, but Hoenheim wasn't listening, and if he did hear, he made no move to calm the man. “Its brothers…” he stopped. “…just a few more days. What's so urgent that you can't wait?” Hoenheim finally stopped packing, and though he didn't turn they could still here his voice clearly.

 

“I can't…not again.” He said, as though that would explain it, and he continued to pack, finally folding his last shirt and closing the suitcase on his belongings. He stepped towards the door and none of them moved to stop him. He opened the door, and glanced back at the four of them.

 

“Fine.” Al said bitterly when he turned around again, intent on leaving. “Leave, after all, it's the only thing you're good at.” None of them felt that they should say anything to stop him. Alphonse had every right to be angry, and somewhere inside them they believed what he was saying. “It's family and friends thing only anyway.” Hoenheim closed the door and Al left soon after with a short apology. He didn't follow the man, but went a different way, heading to the roof of the building. He couldn't care less if he never saw the man again.

 

 

Alphonse looked around at the somber faces that he knew; the faces, that had such an event not dampened his spirits; he would've been overjoyed to remember. He named them as he recognised their aged faces, silently going through the list in his mind so as not to have to listen to the person speaking at the head of the grave.

 

Russell and Tringham Fletcher, Close, Clara or Psiren, Halling and a few of the other villagers, Rick and Leo from Ishbal, Armstrong and his family, Mrs. Hughes, Elicia, Scheiska, Havoc, Breda, Falman, Fuery, Maria, Denny and their daughters, Izumi, Sig, Mason, Wrath, Rose, Alphons, Noa. He even recognised faces of many people who they grew up with in Risembool, not that it was surprising seeing as that's where the funeral was being held. (1)

 

He sighed and gripped Michelle's hand tighter, as she shifted Nina in her remaining arm. Mustang had meant to come, so had Hawkeye, but Al wasn't about to blame them for not showing up. Hawkeye couldn't very well tell the baby to stay in for a couple more days. They were in the tiny hospital that was in Risembool, he could even see it from where he stood, overlooking the green fields.

 

He felt bad for the tears that Winry tried so hard to hold back, when he himself wasn't crying. He'd done enough of that. There was a dull throb in his heart that he'd only felt a few times in his life. Once was when his mother had died, another was when Pinako had. There was so much death in his life, now that his memories had been restored to him he could remember so many other times that people important in his life had died.

 

As well as his Mother and Pinako, there was Nina, Hughes, Martel and all of Greed's other gang members, and now…

 

He felt helpless; the last thing that he had ever depended on, the thing that had driven him forward all those years was gone. The hope of finding his brother had driven him to find so much, one of the things he found was the woman next to him whom he called his wife, yet…he'd been unable to stop his brothers' death. He didn't just feel helpless, he felt useless.

 

Michelle had convinced him it was just survivors' guilt when he'd confined his feelings in her, and somewhere inside him he knew it was true, but at the same time, he knew he could've done more. He had been right there, if she'd shot a little more to the left…

 

No sooner had he thought that than he shook the notion from his head. He was no use to his family or anyone dead, and Edward had lost enough family members. The only `if' he could dwell on was, `If only he'd lived.'

 

The day wore on and the sun slowly inched its way across the sky, still hidden behind the dark looming clouds, and soon Alphonse realised that he was almost alone at the grave. Every one else had left for the Rockbells, where most of them were squeezing into the tiny house, or spreading out in tents in the back yard. Despite being the sole owner of the Rockbell house, Winry stood beside him, their two shadows were the only ones that could be distinctly seen across the green rolling hills.

 

“Somehow…” Winry said quietly over the small wind. “I knew it would always end like this…that one of you…” She sighed, a deep reverberating sadness in the expression. “Bastard.” She said, angrily. “What'd you go and die for? You never think of anyone else.” Alphonse understood the anger that she felt, he had felt it too at first, and it still lingered.

 

 

Michelle was worried. Alphonse had come home from their dangerous trip into the underground city almost two days after he'd left. He'd called from the hospital, and said that he was alright but he needed to stay for something. Then, only a few hours ago he'd arrived home, and she could tell something was wrong. That's when she found out, that Edward was dead.

 

She'd rocked the crying baby to sleep as Al had locked himself in his study, she didn't know what he was doing in there but after the shock he'd received it probably wasn't anything good. She wanted him to come out into the lounge, to sit next to her and tell her what happened, explain the bandages, explain the pained look and the anger in his eyes. Nina had just fallen asleep when she heard the loud crash.

 

She stood up quickly and laying the baby in her cot she rushed to Al's study room. She knocked on the door. “Alphonse?” She called quietly. Al could hear the anxious confusion in her voice, but he stood, breathing angrily in the middle of the room, his clock had smashed against the wall and the pieces were on the floor, the hands were still ticking against the cracked face, until they slowed and finally stopped. He let out a frustrated cry and buried his face in his hands, sitting down and leaning heavily against his bookshelf. He heard Michelle fiddling with the doorknob and the door soon opened. “Alphonse?” She asked again. “Oh, honey…”

 

She fell to her knees beside him, and wrapped her arms comfortingly around him. “Why'd he…why'd he have to die?” Al asked, his throat constricted and his voice cracked.

 

“I don't know Alphonse, I…I just don't know.” She whispered, not knowing what else she could say. He stood up and moved over to the broken clock, picking up the pieces to distract himself from his thoughts. “Why the clock?” She asked at last, unable to figure out why he'd have gone to the trouble of taking off his wall and flinging it to the floor.

 

“I…” He began, scoffing somewhat. “My stupid attempt to stop time…” He shook his head slightly. “It didn't work.” He admitted. “Time goes on like it always has, the Earth keeps spinning, the sun keeps shining, and most of the world doesn't care, Michelle. We're nothing but insignificant specks. We're as unimportant as…as an ant over in Xing that I've never cared about!” He said, his voice subconsciously rising. But he noticed and queitened the tone. “The world's a bitch.” He said bitterly. “And reality sucks.”

 

“Then don't think about it.” Michelle said, “Who cares? Who cares what everyone else thinks, Alphonse? Reality is that you're hurt because of it. Don't think about the logics, don't try to wrap your science up into it, just let go. Just cry, because bottling it up's not good. The clock can tell you that.” She joked. Al sighed and let out a chocked sob.

 

“I don't know what I'd do without you.” He admitted, wrapping his arms around her and just…letting go.

 

 

A light drizzle had started, and it soon turned into a downpour but neither of them cared about the pelting rain and the freezing wind. They stood together at the grave, like they had before. “Everything seems to happen to you Alphonse. Everything seems to happen to us.” Winry said, over the loud wind, but a rumble of thunder followed her voice and they turned their heads towards the dark clouds overhead.

 

A strike of lightning forked across the sky and a booming roar was soon heard after. “We better head back.” Al said, turning back to Winry. “The last thing we need is to get stuck by lightning standing under this tree.” She nodded silently, and despite the looming threat, the two slowly made their way back to the house.

 

They had to pass the ruins of the old Elric house as they did so, and Al stared at the rotten, almost degraded ruins. That was where it had all started, or had it? Surely they had transmuted their mother in that house, they had studied for that purpose, and that decision had driven them on the path they had travelled, but perhaps it had started before that. Perhaps it had started at her funeral, maybe Ed had been toying with the idea long before then, Al knew he had. A whisper rolled across the green fields and reached his ears, a memory from a distant past.

 

“Brother,” It was his own voice, as they had sat at the gravestone, they were alone. “Brother I'm cold.” He still hadn't got a reaction from the despondent boy. “I'm hungry. How are we gonna do it Brother? How are we gonna live without her?”

 

That was when it had started, when Ed had heard his younger brothers concerns, he had reached his final decision, he had thrown caution to the wind, he had been desperate. “We're not,” He had answered with such determination that a spark of hope had lit in Alphonse's heart. “We're going to bring her back.” And even the uncertainty Al had felt couldn't outweigh the bright horizon that was visible in that one sentence; the possibility, the notion; was crazy, but he was just a child. They were just children.

 

They didn't know any better.

 

 

Edward was vaguely aware of the fact that the hysterical, insane woman had shot the gun, that the sound had echoed throughout the city, more so than their voices, more so than any other gunshot for their entire battle. He was vaguely aware of a sharp pain above his midriff, vaguely aware that he let out a sharp involuntary gasp, that his vision had blacked out for more than a few seconds, but he couldn't concentrate on anything but the look on Hoenheim's face.

 

Ed sympathized; he had felt somewhat the same way when sloth had died. He had taken, in a small way, Hoenheim's first son from him. Whether he was a fake or not, he had meant to be his flesh and blood. But the look on Hoenheim's face as his knees gave out underneath him and he sunk to the floor, was enough to shake him out of his musings. “Brother!” Al caught him, falling to the floor at the same time, but saving Ed from getting injured further on the concrete.

 

As soon as the shot had been fired, and Havoc had leapt on Dante, bringing her down with their own round of bullets, and her rotted flesh was torn from her body until she fell to the ground, dead. Alphons, as well as everyone else, were quickly surrounding Al, and Alphons sat down next to them and tore his shirt, pressing the blue military uniform to Ed's wound, causing the man to hiss in pain. “Sorry.” Alphons apologised shortly, but didn't let up on the pressure. “Are you alright?”

 

“Considering…” Ed said, with a shaky grin.

 

“You idiot.” Al scolded, worry seeping into him as Ed's blood seeped through his clothing. “What the hell were you thinking? Did you think you could fly? You'd have died falling from that height.”

 

“Well…I didn't,” Ed argued, but he didn't have much of a strong case, and Al muttered that quietly to him as Alphons tried to make a makeshift bandage. He made Edward sit up and wrapped the material around the bullet hole but Ed muttered quietly, so only he could hear. “I don't think it's working.” He said, and Alphons noticed the glazed look in his eye, and the dribble of blood from the side of his mouth. He didn't listen though, and with the help of Al, he hoisted Ed's arm around his shoulder and the two of them helped him walk to the nearest exit.

 

Al began to panic, he could feel Ed's skin getting colder and colder and Mustang ended up carrying Edward in his arms when he passed out. “Brother…Edward…” Al murmured, shaking his shoulders as they half-ran to the surface. “Wake up,”

 

“Slap him.” Mustang ordered and Al did so, as best he could while they were running but nothing would wake him, and it was only when they were driving in the speeding ambulance that Ed opened his eyes, seeing Al at his side.

 

“If you die, I'll never forgive you.” Al threatened, his voice was shaking and so was he, and his eyes were more watery than usual.

 

“Sorry…” Ed murmured. “For…lying…sorry…Alphonse…” He coughed, and the blood spilled past his lips, and in that moment, Alphonse wondered desperately where that red stone had disappeared to. (2)

 

By the time Mustang and the rest of the group had arrived, no more than 10 minutes later, it was too late. The doctor told them that they'd made a valiant effort, and had the bullet been a clean shot he would've lived. But it had nicked his right lung and by the time they'd gotten to it he had drowned in his own blood. Mustang opened the door to confirm the sight for himself, he didn't want to believe it, but when he'd seen the form of Alphonse, leaning over his brothers' body sobbing heart wrenchingly, and he didn't have the heart to interrupt him.

 

He closed the door quietly after only taking a half-step into the room, and turned to face the ashen faces of his team. He shook his head, and for all of them, that confirmed it, he leaned heavily against the door and sunk to the floor. “Not again…” He muttered, barely loud enough for anyone to hear him. Yet, despite the commotion going on around him he could still hear Alphonse's cries through the door, and unlike anything else, it made him feel so much worse.

 

“Please…” Al sobbed, clutching at Edwards' cold-lifeless body. His golden eyes were closed for the last time, and Al never thought that it would ever end like this. He had only meant to help, he had only meant well. “Please….wake up.” He cried, unable to stop, his heart ached deep in his body, and he wished and wished that it was all just a dream. “Wake up, brother. I'm sorry. I forgive you, just don't…” He hiccupped and chocked. “…don't leave me alone. Please…just wake up.”

 

But no sound came from his older sibling. No words of comfort helped him deal with the grief. And the memory of their life together swirled around in his head, of all their efforts, of their trials, their tribulations, the horrors, the heartache…all for nothing.

 

“Please…wake up.”

 

 

The road was wet and slippery and the man hunched over his steering wheel. “Stupid weather.” He grunted to himself, trying to see through the dim light provided by his headlights. The streets were dark and empty, but he drove carefully, considering that he knew he was rather lacking in that talent. He spotted the traffic lights up ahead and sped up slightly, so as to guarantee he'd make the green light. But even as he passed through them they remained green.

A sudden screech of tires, and he slammed his foot down hard on the brake, his car skidded and careened, spinning, but avoiding the other car that had sped past him. “Idiot!” He bellowed loudly at nothing. “Your light was red!” He lifted his shaking hands from the steering wheel and brought them to his head for an instant before remembering he was in the middle of an intersection. He started up his car again, after it had stalled, and began to move to the closest curb he could spot in the pouring rain.

 

But no sooner had he started the engine than a loud horn sounded out. He turned his head wildly in the direction of the sound and tried desperately to move the heavy vehicle out of the way as two large headlights got closer and closer to him. The car hardly moved a few inches before the large truck slammed into its side and the driver barely had a chance to scream before everything turned black.

 

“Wake up…please…just wake up.”

 

“Wake up…”

`The only problem with quotes about death is that 99.999% of the time, the person who wrote them was alive.'

 

(1) Did I miss anybody out?

(2) Seriously, where'd it go? What's that? You forgot about it, oh okay, well then lets pretend that it…uh…exploded with the plane. Pfft. Yeah that's a good one. Okay let's say it's hidden under a rock and no one wants it. Lol, my bad.

 

OMG WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!!! YOU USED SHAKESPEARE IN THE BEGINNING QUOTE!! YOU BASTARD!! Or I could go. Oh my god, she killed Edward, that bastard. Well, I had this planned in a different way, but it didn't quite happen so this is what we have as a result. Hope you liked it and/or it was…feeling creating? What's the word I'm looking for…I don't know. Anyway, here is chapter 21…I think. Or is it 22? Yeah, 22, because I'm annoyed that it wont finish on an even number. Stupid odd number.

 

Misa92: Well thank-you very much, I actually thought that it was a bit…i-can't-do-fight-scenes-to-save-my-life but hey! If you liked it. I liked the journal entry myself though too. I think too much lol. Ah, but impulsive is so very fun. I hate our stupid education system. Like the fact that I have to go to school on a Monday, a Tuesday, a Wednesday, a Thursday, and a Friday. I.e. the next week. Gosh. I say bastard to everyone, the word entertains me too. FO shizzle. Lol our school gave us these books and it had all these words that teenagers apparently say. Lol. So now I've been saying FO shizzle (for sure) and call the wambulance (if someone's over reacting). I like the words, spastic, munged, and…what's that other one…matter. I know, why matter? It loses all meaning after you say it heaps. Did that the other day and now I haven't been able to remember what it means for like a week. Aw, you think I'm a good writer *blush* thanks. Shucks see that's another word.

 

Uniasus: OMG YOU SHOP AT BORDERS TOO! Blame my aunt and uncle -ARGH WAT THE HELL WAS THAT ARGH IT'S BACK. Omg there's this huge bug flying around my lounge and it just landed on me - oh god can't breath. Okay it's gone. Sorry bout that. Anyway getting back to borders, my aunt and uncle got me a voucher like 3 Christmas's ago and every Christmas since and then I discovered they sell Manga. So now I drag my friends there and secretly sneak off while they're not looking, but I never have enough time to read them lol. Hehe, I like the dragon quote. *writes it down to put in diary* mmm ketchup.

 

Phe: Oh…oh I see how it is…

…

Nah I'm messing with you. Where are you?