Chapter Text
In this farewell
There's no blood, there's no alibi
'Cause I've drawn regret
From the truth of a thousand lies
So let mercy come and wash away
What I've done, I'll face myself
To cross out what I've become, erase myself
And let go of what I've done
- What I've Done, Linkin Park
“It’s time.”
Someone like him could easily be spotted and not recognized as a human. Pale skin, purple eyes, purely long, black hair… and in his case, two limbs that don’t belong to this body. Whoever it must belong to, Wrath is not aware.
Everyone else already got to meet the young alchemist that seeks the Philosopher’s Stone. Wrath, however, has never actually left Dante’s mansion until now. When she wasn’t teaching him alchemy, Wrath would be alone in his room, bored out of his mind, but knowing he couldn’t leave or do anything about it.
This is the very first time the homunculus goes on a mission. He’s all on his own. Well, even if he wanted help, he wouldn’t get it: either because they don’t care about him, or they outright hate him. So, he’s not entirely disappointed by being alone. If anything, Wrath has gotten used to it.
He only has one mission: bring the alchemist back to the homunculi, alive. They failed in the first try, but Dante rests assured that Wrath will change the course of fate.
The boy is driven by his want to impress Dante and the other homunculi, so they would finally see that Wrath is worth something. He’s trained a lot to be part of their battles, and he needs to prove himself useful if they want him around.
Thus, Wrath is hidden behind the endless green of the forest, moving slowly, not making a single sound. While Dante receives her former student, he hunts down the alchemist in the wild, knowing he stormed off outside.
“You know what to do.”
It’s simple.
It doesn’t actually take too long to find a presence in the wild, not much far from the mansion. Wrath, already camouflaged, takes a peek where the light touches. Immediately, he detects braided hair, blond like gold, and overall black clothes. From this angle, the alchemist looks… short. He’s young but that was the only detail Wrath was informed of.
The teen appears to be thinking, hands inside his pockets. He’s rather quiet, looking up at the sky. Judging by his low shoulders, the prodigy seems… sad.
Wrath will definitely be detected.
So, he waits.
Observes.
For someone with such lively colors, the alchemist doesn’t reflect on them at all. He’s seeking the Philosopher’s Stone, like every other alchemist who tried, so he must be trying to bring someone back, right?
Before Wrath can even wonder, the homunculus shakes his head to focus instead on his enemy’s movements and noises, to advance in the perfect moment.
After a couple more minutes of nothing, Wrath is a bit surprised when the other boy takes something in his hand. The former can’t see it very well from here, but he hears an opening noise, kind of metallic.
“... Don’t forget…”
Wrath is able to leave the tree, slowly, as the blond’s attention is entirely on whatever is in his hand. The former’s arm has already been transmuted into a blade made of stone, so he can threaten the alchemist with it. If he’s fast enough, that is.
His purple eyes remain focused, whereas the other doesn’t seem to care about the world around him at all. Just this one object.
“... I won’t.”
Wrath does not make a sound.
The perfect spot.
“I promise,” the tired voice speaks out to the above, “I’ll make it up to you…”
Now.
Yet whatever name the alchemist was going to say, is never known.
Because he’s quick to also use a blade of metal out of his right arm, defending himself from Wrath’s attack.
But the homunculus is not going to give up so easily. He’ll do whatever it takes, for everyone’s sake.
The human alchemist is thrown off, panting, eyes wide. Eventually, he seems to calm down as he processes what has just happened, analyzing Wrath and frowning in confusion.
“You’re… a kid,” he notes. “But… you’re just like them , aren’t you?”
Wrath doesn’t reply.
“Wait, your arm is”– the other gasps in realization –“you can do alchemy?!”
Again, the prodigy gets no answers.
Only another fast attack, so the blond can only dodge and even throw Wrath away, but not taking off the latter’s stance. He can barely breathe.
“You don’t talk too much, do ya?” The alchemist tries to joke. “Not even a sad backstory?”
Wrath doesn’t show any emotion, not even annoyance or hatred. He just attacks.
That leads the blond to use the ground to create walls behind walls, only for them to be destroyed by Wrath’s own alchemy. The purple-eyed boy can also create spikes, shields, pretty much everything the other is using to fight. It’s like Wrath knows his enemy from the palm of his hand, despite the fact they’ve never met before.
For most of the fight, the human prodigy is stuck in the defense, never given one second to rest as Wrath is intent on immobilizing him. The alchemist is growing increasingly tired; after all, he’s just a human teenager, doomed by his physical limitations.
In the middle, Wrath realizes that his opponent’s right arm and left leg are made of metal. For one, the latter can transform his arm into a blade like Wrath does. But mostly he could tell by the strength and hardness of said limbs. The homunculus is his very opposite, bearing human limbs in a pale, soulless body, but it’s still the right arm and left leg, too. Wrath never quite understood where his human parts came from. His memories are a haze, he can only remember quick flashes of different moments, unsure if they were from the human he was supposed to be, or his existence as a cursed creature of Earth.
Wrath’s body is mostly hidden by his clothes; after all, he wouldn’t want to be spotted and captured. When he finally has the chance, he uses his shirt to trap his enemy. The latter defects most of the containing shreds, only for two of them to grab his metal arm, and his exhaustion only catches up with him. For the first time in the battle, Wrath smirks, even if subtly. The prodigy has no way out.
As Wrath starts closing the distance between them, the alchemist rages as a last resort. He pulls the other with full force, aiming his metal blade at Wrath’s head, giving the homunculus little time to dodge. Thankfully, Wrath doesn’t actually get hurt, but he stumbles and almost trips as he and the human boy go separate again.
Only this time, Wrath is the one who’s shocked. Maybe because this is his first real fight, and even if he’s a homunculus, getting sliced in the head sounds far from a pleasant experience.
He feels like something was taken from him. He feels… incomplete.
His human and artificial hands have black hair strands in them.
Then it clicks.
Most of Wrath’s hair was forcibly cut. Even just turning around a bit, he can spot the black mess lying in the grass. And for some reason, his enemy just… stands there. He doesn’t try to attack Wrath, even when the latter is now vulnerable.
Wrath feels something intense. Anger.
He knows he’s not supposed to be impulsive. He needs to focus his anger on the right things, and fight for the greater cause. Yet it’s like something boils inside him the more he stares at the lost black hair. Wrath consciously chose to let his hair grow, to be his own person, to be accepted by Dante and the homunculi.
This part of him was taken away from him, like everything else.
Tightening his fists, Wrath seethes and attacks again, but not calculatedly. After remaining silent the entire fight, he growls and yells, except he gets no reaction from the other end, therefore he traps the stubborn alchemist against a tree, left arm trapping him while his right prepares to punch his enemy in the face.
However, Wrath doesn’t hit him just yet.
Not with the way the blond is staring at him.
Golden eyes staring at him with a look so pained that Wrath has never seen in his life. The alchemist’s lips quiver in the same way his human body shakes. Regardless, he isn’t afraid. He’s horrified but… in a guilty way. Mournful, even.
It’s like… he knows Wrath.
As soon as the homunculus decides to shove these feelings down his throat and take the alchemist to Dante for once and for all, his troubled opponent finally dares to say something that stops the world from going.
“... Al?”
It paralyzes Wrath.
His fist is no longer firm.
Something resurfaces.
Yelling.
…
“Al?”
The voice sounds far away.
“Al, can you hear me?”
It’s cold.
“C-Come on, Al, say something.”
Dark.
“Please. Please, Al.”
Metal.
“No…” the voice sobs. “No, no, no!”
It sounds painful.
“I gave up my arm! Give him back! GIVE HIM BACK!!”
The pounding against metal is loud, scary even, especially the inside.
Instead of more angry yelling, there’s only mourning sobs and sniffs, until it quiets down.
“He’s my little brother… please…”
The tears aren’t felt or seen, but heard.
“Al… come back…”
As there’s no other answer, the pounding returns, and the voice growls in frustration.
“No! Al! AL!”
“AL!!!!”
…
Wrath unconsciously stumbles back, far away from the alchemist, this time the one wanting to escape from his painful, grasping look.
… his name is Ed, isn’t it?
The same voice…
Despite Ed’s shock, he still approaches Wrath slowly. He might as well cry.
“Al…”
That.
That name.
It brings more memories.
Learning alchemy, bonding, trusting…
It hurts.
When Ed dares to reach out a hand, Wrath slaps it away and runs away.
“Al!” He hears from afar.
The boy finally yells, “MY NAME IS NOT AL!”
Wrath merges with the forest once again, soon out of the other’s sight. Even if he’s quick to return to the mansion, he can still hear Ed yelling that name far away…
Somehow, Dante’s disappointment is the least of his concerns right now. Instead, it’s that lonely nightmare and those yells of grief, so intense… and so full of love.
Chapter 2
Notes:
Warning for child abuse in this chapter. Nothing graphic but it's a rather relevant theme here.
Chapter Text
“... Yes, when I heard she died, I knew it would come to this. They are his sons… after all…”
The voice loses itself to the rain as the person – an older woman – notices a presence besides the disfigured, hungry creature between them. The water from the sky falls with so much force that you might even hear the thunder far away.
“Now, that is a surprise,” the woman comments, sounding more shocked by the boy than the fiend. “What is your name, dear?”
He only hugs himself tighter – his arms don’t feel the same skin –, like he’s going to be attacked for being asked that. He gazes at the creature which could not give a care about the world around it, then back at the older lady, who seems rather patient with him.
“Do you have one?” She merely asks, likely noting his speechlessness.
The boy sniffs, afraid of the rain, of the situation that brought him and the pained being to that dark basement. He feels cold.
“Oh dear, you’re trembling,” the woman approaches him, causing the other to flinch. “Don’t be scared, sweetheart. I just want to help you.”
Her voice is… very sweet. There’s something odd about it. Something… familiar?
She appears to take more of those red stones she gave the creature, and instead she gives it to him. The unnamed boy, as if he were hungry this whole time, eats the stones with the same ferocity.
When he’s done, she still offers a kind hand, even if the raindrops catch it. When he takes it, he… wraps his small arms around the woman, and finally cries. He hopes it’s not uncalled for, but she hums fondly and soothes his back with her free hand.
“There, there… you’re going to be alright,” she reassures him. “I will look after you two…”
There’s a small pause.
“... Wrath.”
“Wrath ? Really?”
“He has had it rough, Envy. As he grows, his anger will, too,” Dante explains.
“I doubt that.”
“Oh, you’ll see. Wrath will be the best of all of us.”
Envy glares at the boy, who clings to Dante in fear. Envy really doesn’t like Wrath.
“Tch,” the older homunculus storms off, Wrath flinching at the door being shut with force.
“Don’t worry about Envy. He’s just jealous I brought such a bright boy home,” she jokes. Wrath doesn’t feel much better. “Now, I think you should rest after such a horrible night.”
Even as Dante sets the bed for him, Wrath only stands still, staring at his own arms and legs. His whole body is pale, except for the right arm and left leg. They have scars that he doesn’t remember getting. Not that he remembers anything, but they don’t feel like they’re his.
“Wrath?” Dante calls him.
“I’m… I’m just confused,” he speaks up. “I’m not… human?”
“No, but you will be, once we get the Philosopher’s Stone.”
“But how? How was I born like this? Why are my limbs like this?”
“I don’t have all the answers, dear. You should be more concerned about yourself right now.”
Wrath doesn’t really argue, because he is tired, and he knows Dante has done more than enough to help him. The bed does look comfortable, so he climbs up and the latter tucks him in… yet another gesture that reminds him of a hazy past.
“Tomorrow will be a brighter day, I promise,” Dante whispers to him. “Good night, Wrath.”
She rubs his forehead, delicately touching his dark short bangs. Wrath can’t contain a small, relaxed smile. Eventually, Dante heads to the door, and when she’s about to leave, Wrath immediately remembers something.
“W-Wait, what about… her?” He wonders.
“She will be alright. She will be more presentable soon,” Dante winks, and finally shuts the door.
Wrath sighs, still conflicted about everything, but the weight of his exhaustion catches up with him, so he sinks in bed and closes his eyes.
Even while he sleeps, the sound of the rain outside might be trying to tell him something. Something he cannot understand. Yet something… important.
“Wrath? What are you doing over there?”
He gulps, “I-I didn’t want her to be alone.”
“She needs to rest, dear.”
“I know, but I know she’s scared and confused, so I just wanted to be here if she needs me.”
“Oh, Wrath, you’re very sweet. She’s very strong, though, you don’t need to worry about her.”
He listens to the breaths, which have become calmer as the homunculus begins to look more like the others. She’s not awake right now, at least.
“Yeah, but…” Wrath tries to argue.
“She will be okay. She needs more time alone. That way you will help her better.”
He knows Dante means well, but Wrath just… needs to be there for the other homunculus. He doesn’t know why, but that was the first thing he felt when he found her in that basement, begging for her life. Even if he was completely lost and scared, he still helped her leave.
“Let’s go back to bed,” Dante says, taking his hand before he protests. She tucks him in like usual and closes the door.
But just like most nights, Wrath’s chest grows tight and he can’t fall asleep.
So, he returns to that room.
Hearing the breathing…
Making sure it’s there.
Because if it isn’t…
This time, he hears gasps.
They’re not very loud, but they obviously alarm him.
Wrath is right next to the bed, finding the long-haired woman sweating, like she’s having a nightmare. Wrath has certainly had his fair share of nonsensical dreams, so he waits patiently for her to wake up instead of intervening.
Fortunately, she quiets down and… she opens her eyes, like she’s finally conscious again.
“You’re awake,” Wrath notes, slightly surprised yet mostly relieved. “Are you okay?”
That makes the woman turn her eyes – colored and shaped just like his – to him. They stare at one another for a couple of seconds…
Then hers widen.
“You…” She speaks in a low voice, so… intensely.
Wrath’s smile immediately disappears. “Huh?”
“You… you two …”
Two? “What? D-Did I do something wrong?”
She shuts her eyes forcefully like her head is aching. She’s looking distressed again.
“Leave,” she orders. The woman isn’t at all loud, but the quietude is even scarier.
“Please, I d-didn’t mean to–”
“I told you to leave!”
Wrath backs off in fear and regret of making everything worse. The other homunculus becomes even more disturbed, as she sits on the bed and avoids the boy entirely.
And to make it all the more horrible, Dante and the other homunculi enter the room, none of them impressed once they find out the guilty.
“Oh, it had to be momma’s boy,” Envy rolls his eyes.
“I’ve told you not to come here, and you keep disobeying me,” Dante scolds firmly. This time, not patiently.
“I’m sorry!” Wrath begs. “I just wanted to help!”
“I’ve had enough , Wrath. Go back to your room, now.” The elder woman walks up to the bed to assist the panicking homunculus.
The other homunculi join her without paying Wrath any mind, causing him to stumble towards the door.
“Wait! Please, let me help!”
“You heard her, kid,” Envy bites, “get out.”
“B-But–!”
“I said GET OUT, you TWERP!”
Envy kicks Wrath in the gut at full force, enough so the latter is out of the room and the door is loudly shut. He doesn’t hear anything coming from there, and he doesn’t think he wants to with so much pain.
Wrath can barely walk back to his bedroom, which is strange since homunculi are supposed to be more resistant than the average human being. Still, the moment he closes his door, with as much silence as possible, he breaks down in tears.
He already knows they don’t pay him much attention, let alone like him. But disappointing Dante and hurting that woman were truly unforgivable. He messed up so badly. How is he going to be the best of them all if he keeps disrespecting them?
Wrath, once again, doesn’t sleep.
This time, he doesn’t even lie in bed, only sits on the floor with his back to the door.
Dante doesn’t come to get him like she usually does.
So, when Wrath leaves all by himself, he is surprised to catch a very long purple dress in the corridor.
It’s the woman. She’s… better, apparently.
Until her cold eyes meet his again.
Then she walks past him like he doesn’t exist.
Wrath only sees his teardrops falling on the floor.
Knock.
“Wrath? Are you in there?”
The boy sniffs, hugging himself pathetically.
Despite getting no answer, Dante opens the door anyway, with her same look of concern and gentleness.
“I thought you were still on your mission?” She questions.
Wrath doesn’t outright tell her that he failed – which he should –, but with his traumatized mind, he takes a hot breath.
“... Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what?”
Wrath’s head boils, no longer hiding his teary face and his mess of a haircut, which seems to surprise Dante.
“The alchemist! He KNEW me! He knew MY FACE and- and he called me a NAME! And- And I KNOW him, too!” He raises his voice. “I’m suddenly having all these memories of us! WHY wouldn’t you tell me?!”
“I knew that telling you would take away your focus,” Dante says indifferently.
“But I COULDN’T bring him to you because YOU didn’t tell me who he was! You didn’t tell me who I was!”
“Wrath, I do not appreciate your tone.”
Immediately shivering inside, the boy swallows his lashing out, and then he feels defeated due to the battle.
“What am I supposed to do with him?” He questions.
“You’ll make him give your humanity back, because he owes you that. He owes that to all of you.”
Wrath doesn’t believe that answer to be any fulfilling, not as Ed dominates his every thought. Childhood memories, good times, and very bad ones, too. He and Ed were inseparable, they always looked after one another… He was never alone, even after their mother died.
He should be angry at Ed for giving birth to Wrath and to Sloth. He should hate Ed because he’s the reason why Sloth hates Wrath. But even then…
“... I trust you, Wrath. I know you will do the right thing,” Dante brings him back to the real world. “You just have to focus and not care about trivial things.”
Wrath only nods, eyes downcast. “Yes, ma’am.”
Dante hums, staying quiet for a few seconds before suggesting, “Would you like some tea? Only you and me?”
Once again, he nods.
“Perfect.”
She takes his hand and guides him downstairs.
(That’s all he ever does. Follow her. Follow Sloth and everyone else. Obey their commands and fight and never look back. And if he doesn’t, he’ll be punished harshly for it.)
(Maybe that’s why remembering a past where he wasn’t punished is affecting him so much.)
Despite everything, Wrath still can’t help worrying about Sloth.
He knows she’ll only reject him. He knows every time he clings to her, she’ll only walk away. Sloth is the same kind of cold Wrath felt when he was first found in the rain.
She’s the very opposite of Envy: the latter openly hits him and calls him names, angry that Dante seems to give Wrath more attention. Yet strangely enough, Dante doesn’t bat an eye at Envy’s attacks, or Sloth’s cruel neglect.
In fact, none of them… care. Lust, Gluttony, and Pride never step in for him. Arguably, Pride is busy being the Führer and he assigned Sloth to be his secretary, but Lust and Gluttony don’t bother.
Whether Wrath is left by himself at the mansion or not, he’s still lonely. He certainly hates it when they are home, because Envy loves making his life hell, and Sloth and the others pretend he doesn’t exist. The only useful thing Wrath does all day is train alchemy, by himself or with Dante. He’s pretty good at it, like he’s a natural. It must be due to his human limbs, of course, but he can’t help wondering if there might be something else behind it, too…
Eventually, he grows sick of it all. He’s tired of the rejection. He’s angry that Dante, who promised she would take care of him, never tries to protect him. Sometimes she’s right there when Envy hits him, yet she never speaks up.
Everything goes down the drain when Wrath finally uses his alchemy on someone. That being Envy.
It’s not calculated at all, though. It destroys the dinner room and it actually catches Envy by surprise as part of the ceiling falls on top of him before he can even dodge. Obviously, it’s not lethal to the first homunculus of the group, yet if looks could kill, Wrath’s pathetic life would certainly have ended with the way Envy glares at him. Yet Dante appears right away, already knowing the disaster is Wrath’s doing.
And of course… she doesn’t bother scolding Envy. Dante grabs Wrath’s arm – his human arm – so roughly that it burns.
“You’ve gone too far this time, Wrath,” the older woman berates, disappointed. She isn’t loud, not that she ever is.
“But Envy started it!”
“That is no excuse. You have to control your alchemy, remember? You can’t just use it for a dumb fight.”
“But he HITS me! He TERRORIZES me with every chance he gets!”
“I know you’re upset, Wrath, but you’ve got to calm down.”
“Why won’t you LISTEN to me?!” Wrath yells louder.
“I do listen, dear.”
“If you did, you would SHOW it!”
Even though Dante’s smile fades into something akin to intimidation, Wrath doesn’t stop.
“If you even CARED, you wouldn’t let Envy hit me!” He screams. “You would actually tell me why Sloth hates me! You would tell me why I have this power, these limbs, a-and where I came from! You just keep me trapped here day and night to do nothing but get beaten up or abandoned!” Angry tears spill from his purple eyes. “NONE OF YOU CARE ABOUT ME, AND YOU CARE EVEN LESS !”
Dante stares at him with a cold expression that is very unsettlingly similar to Sloth’s, but somehow more spiteful. Regardless, Wrath doesn’t take back anything he said, because he’s too frustrated to back down. He’s not afraid of Dante, either, since she’s not threatening.
That is, when the human woman heads to an old wardrobe Wrath never peeked in, since it’s locked, and he hears her opening it. From here, he can’t see exactly what Dante has taken, but he’ll soon find out. Once she turns around, she’s carrying a big object covered in a dusty white sheet.
Despite not seeing what it must be, Wrath feels… dread growing inside him.
“W-What’s… that?” He asks, voice much smaller than before.
Dante smiles, remaining unsettling.
She removes the white sheet.
Wrath faces the dark.
Smells the metal.
Feels it.
Hears it.
For some reason, that thing makes him unable to move or speak.
“This is where you came from,” Dante says simply. “It’s scary, isn’t it? You were born in this huge suit of armor. You were alone and miserable when I took you in. I’ve taken care of you since then, and yet you really think I don’t care?”
Wrath gulps, managing out, “I-I… m-meant that…”
“You know how much I have to do to look after everyone? I can’t always make time for you, dear.”
“I know, but–”
“If you knew, you would show it.” The same words he used, but sadder, hurt. “You have to understand, I’m doing this for your own good. Soon, you’ll thank me.”
Wrath would have spoken further, but he realizes the helmet is approaching him. His head.
“W-What are you-?!”
“Shhh… it will only be for a while, sweetheart.”
“N-No, wait!” Wrath steps back until he’s trapped by the wall, with no way to escape. That helmet is limiting his movements and his thinking. “Please, d-don’t do this!”
“You will be alright.”
“No, please! Please, I’ll be good!” Wrath heaves and cries. “I’m sorry! I’M SORRY!”
In so much pain, he yells the loudest he can, until… everything stops.
He stops.
Wrath’s limbs don’t work, so he sits on the floor uncomfortably. His mouth can barely move and his eyes won’t even blink. It’s like he’s a corpse. No, worse, a doll.
The helmet is too big on him, too dark, but he can see Dante smiling at him one last time before leaving the room, the door still open. If Wrath is not too consumed by the metal, he might as well hear other voices coming from outside.
“What happened to the problem child?” Lust teases, unimpressed.
Dante snorts. “He just needs some time to think after misbehaving. I made sure he won’t repeat it any sooner.”
As usual, nobody questions it, and Dante finally closes the door, leaving Wrath alone and unable to move. This is torture. This is worse than Envy hitting him or Sloth ignoring him. Instead, it’s Wrath being trapped in a prison of metal, by a mellow-speaking Dante.
It reminds him of when he woke up, inside a dark and empty shell. At the time, Wrath was so scared that he panicked and managed to get out, only to face the fallen helmet of a huge metal armor. That was the first thing Wrath saw, and he was horrified. He had to push these feelings aside to get Sloth out of that basement, but ever since then, these feelings have been haunting him in his dreams. But they were never as intense and clear as they are now.
Because now Wrath has proof of where he came from, and it hurts.
Thus, he must never know the truth.
Chapter 3
Notes:
I actually already planned this chapter but I hadn't written it out until today, so here it is!
Now, the following chapters will actually take longer to be posted (unless I have a boost of creativity), mostly because they are not yet defined. I will insist though, I want to keep writing this AU, since I have quite a soft spot for anything that focus on the Elric brothers, but especially a homunculus Al, who's not usually explored in the fandom unlike homunculus Ed.
Warning for suicidal thoughts/ideation in this chapter, especially as it comes from a child.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“... AL! ALPHONSE!”
His throat is sore at this point.
He doesn’t know how long he’s been in the forest, looking for that kid. Someone like that shouldn’t be this hard to be spotted.
Edward coughs roughly, exhausted both from the search and the fight that once took place. He has fought many, many powerful enemies before, but he never thought someone would be as quick as Ed, knowing his every move.
Ed has pretty much lost his strength at this point, unable to run or perform alchemy. He’s glad his automail hasn’t broken, but there’s too much inside his head and Ed doesn’t know what to do about it.
As he drops to his knees on the dirt, not caring about it dirtying his pants, there are desperate steps coming in his direction. Ed almost wants them to be that boy, but it turns out to be Ed’s alchemy teacher, Izumi, who also seems to have been hopelessly searching for someone in the woods.
“Ed!” Teacher exclaims. “Where the hell were you?! I’ve been looking everywhere-!”
She stops the yelling when she sees the state Ed is in, her eyes softening in concern.
“Oh, Edward… what happened to you?” She asks as she helps him stand up.
Ed looks away, gulping in fear. Izumi was really angry with him when she found out what he had done, so he doesn’t want to make her mad again. She notices, hence why the woman gently rubs his cheek, probably to clean off the dirt in his face.
“Hey,” Izumi whispers, “you can tell me, Ed.”
He’s not entirely convinced.
Thus, she sighs.
“I… I’m sorry I never made you feel safe enough to come to me all these years,” Izumi apologizes. “So, I want to do this one thing right. I want to be part of your journey. I wouldn’t have come all the way to Dante if I didn’t.”
Her smile is… truly soothing.
Ed doesn’t feel scared of her right now.
Though, it’s really not just her. It’s the fact that everyone involved with Ed will only get hurt or disappear. He doesn’t want that to happen to his teacher, either.
Regardless, Ed finds himself relaxing, letting out the deepest sigh.
“Okay.”
Close.
So damn close.
Yet Ed couldn’t even do this right.
His little brother’s hand was gone.
And there’s a monster in the transmutation circle.
He failed.
But most importantly, Edward failed his little brother.
And he couldn’t bear that.
With his own blood and an absent leg, Ed yells at the beyond, hopefully to bring Al back even if in this armor for now.
Once again, the bright light obfuscates the dark basement.
And Ed has no right arm.
Except…
“Al?”
The armor doesn’t show one sign of life. Other than the monster, there’s no other sign of life at all.
Still, Ed, obviously struggling, manages to cling to the metal armor, to see if it’s going to move.
“Al, can you hear me?” The boy begs.
Nothing.
“C-Come on, Al, say something.”
Ed starts shaking the armor, though pathetically since he only has one arm to do that.
“Please. Please, Al.”
It smells like tears, blood, and rotten flesh.
And dead metal.
“No…” Ed’s voice is a pitch higher. “No, no, no! I gave up my arm! Give him back! GIVE HIM BACK!!”
He’s pounding on the metal armor, hating it with every force out there, and yet unable to rip it apart in two. Ed is so angry that not even destroying a thousand armors would ever satiate the feeling.
Edward gradually sobs more painfully, growing numb to the pain and the blood coming out of him.
“He’s my little brother…” he whispers, his true priority. “Please…”
He’s probably going to die.
What’s the point, anyway?
"Al... come back..."
He won't.
The older Elric growls loudly and pounds the metal with force, not even caring about hurting his only weak hand.
"No! Al! AL!" He yells. "AL!!!!"
Ed lost everything.
And he’s going to die alone, all because he was too selfish.
“I’m sorry…” Ed cries, vision slowly darkening.
He has nothing. Nothing.
…
There are steps coming downstairs.
They sound like… boots.
Ed already feels rage just imagining who that could be.
Not him of all people…!
The steps rush to Ed’s direction.
The boy growls, “Go away…”
Whoever is there scoffs quietly. “Kid, you are literally bleeding to death.”
“I don’t care!” Ed ends up whining instead of sounding actually angry.
It’s not like he’s even able to resist much considering half of his limbs are gone, so Ed feels himself being held in the stranger’s arms.
“So, you did all of this…” the man mumbles.
The boy’s golden eyes are filled with tears again.
“It hurts…” Ed sobs.
He realizes he’s losing more and more touch with reality.
Unfortunately, he doesn’t see Mom or Alphonse once he leaves.
“... Winry,” Ed whispers nonsensically, his last hope. “Rockbell…”
There’s silence, then a sympathetic sigh.
“You’ll be alright, kid.”
Beyond his better judgment, Ed finds himself hiding in that stranger’s firm arms, clinging to his wet coat. It’s far from comfortable, yet Ed has already lost everything to care.
The only things Ed will remember then are blurs.
When Ed wakes up, he’s in bed taking soup, Winry eyeing him with curious yet terrified blue eyes.
Winry and Granny are apprehensive, neither of them daring to speak. It’s quite a miracle that Ed survived, according to Granny. He expected her to give him a full lecture, and maybe she was about to do so… when Winry asked Ed about Alphonse.
With silence as their only answer, Granny is not even cranky. If Ed isn’t seeing things, she might be letting out tears in secret. Winry appears to have cried, too, and she still does every now and then.
It’s raining too much outside.
Ed knows that creature is still there in the basement, but maybe it’s just going to die due to its state.
Al, then… never came back.
Ed knows he can’t say anything. Nothing will be enough to explain what happened. No apologies will ever bring Mom and Al back. There’s absolutely nothing to justify the older Elric.
Unlike the Rockbells, he’s too empty to cry. Like all the tears were gone with the rain.
The boy doesn’t feel any pain.
He has nothing.
Nothing at all.
He could’ve just… died.
Why didn’t he?
Ed already lost everything.
What was the point?
He’s nearly claimed by the deep rain when the guy that saved him – and Ed already hates him for it – returns, after borrowing the house phone for the moment being. Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang, apparently, was looking for the Elrics’ father thanks to a couple of unsent letters. Ed tunes out of the conversation entirely at the mention of that old man, almost wanting to tell everyone else to leave him alone to die.
Ed is staring at the window, golden eyes deprived of any hope, when he hears the same boots coming to him… gently this time.
“You may not think so right now… but I know you have talent, kid,” Mustang lowers his voice to him. Ed refuses to look back, and the man understands it. “If you want to use it, well… I hope you are ready for the next State Alchemist exam.”
Now is the time Granny Pinako yells at Mustang, appalled that the Lieutenant Colonel would suggest something as such to a bleeding eleven-year-old. At least he leaves before the older Rockbell can kick him out with her wrenches and automail limbs.
Ed, for the first time that night, frowns.
None of them see it.
State Alchemist…
“... everything has been for Al.”
Izumi’s black eyes are deep with sadness.
“Nothing else mattered,” Ed explains to her. “I would do everything to get my little brother back. I joined the military, I fought the fiercest and most dangerous enemies, all just for Al.” He could only stare at his automail arm… now knowing where his real limbs must have gone.
His metal limbs make noise, shaking.
“I… I never thought… I-I’d see his face again.”
Izumi tenses. “What do you mean?”
Ed’s head is lowered. “... homunculi.”
She gasps. “You mean…”
He sniffs.
“He fought just like Al, but he was much stronger and faster than me,” Ed narrates. “He was… the only homunculus I’ve ever seen performing alchemy.” He blinks. “I didn’t know why at the time… but I think he has my limbs, Teacher.”
Izumi grabs some of her own hair. “No.”
Ed chuckles bitterly. “Turns out I haven’t lost my right arm for nothing.”
His metal fist tightens, almost breaking into pieces. Winry would disapprove instantly.
“He really wasn’t like them. He only focused on fighting me. Until… I cut his hair with my automail, and he was suddenly really angry,” Ed recalls. “His hair was long and it covered most of his face, so it was only when he was about to punch me in the face that I… saw him.”
Growling teeth, intense purple eyes, profound hatred and resentment…
“It looked like… it was really him , Teacher.”
“Edward,” she warns, “you know that isn’t true.”
“It wasn’t just the- the physical appearance, it was like the real Alphonse wanting to beat me up for everything I did to him,” Edward’s voice breaks just imagining his little brother hating him. “And it’s even worse that the moment I called him Al… he looked terrified. He ran away from me. It was like he hadn’t heard that name in years, and… it meant something to him."
Izumi looks like she wants to deny that the homunculus is Al, yet she’s too pained to dismiss Ed’s suffering.
“I’m pissed off, too, that the homunculi never told me about him,” he bites. “They must’ve known this whole time, and they decided to play with my feelings to get what they wanted.” Ed can only remember Nina’s dead eyes staring deep into his soul, after he also failed to save her, after she brightened his darkest days without Alphonse’s sunlight.
The woman sighs. “I’m so sorry, Ed.”
“It’s not your fault, Teacher. It’s all mine.” His eyes grow wet, only for his left arm to dry them. “I’ve already suspected something was off for a while… but after seeing that boy…”
He doesn’t finish the sentence, refusing to come up with the conclusion. Izumi notices, and while she does not force him to spit it out, she grabs him by the shoulders gently yet solidly, her eyes now serious.
“Edward,” she calls him, “you can’t run away from the past anymore. You have got to make a decision, to take up responsibility for what you’ve done. You must, or else you will regret it.”
The pain of a mother giving up her own child, and unable to turn back on it, is heard beneath Izumi’s stoic nature. Ed swallows the tears of his eleven-year-old self, the tears that rarely come out nowadays because he lost everything that night.
Izumi cannot ever go back on her choice. Ed wants to believe he can bring his brother back, but now that the truth has come to take him down itself…
He doesn’t want to give up on this. He can’t let Al go.
Ed doesn’t think he could handle living with his absence any longer.
“It’ll be okay,” Izumi reassures him, wiping his unseen tears for him. “I promise.”
She hugs him like he’s her own child, loving him despite all the mistakes he’s made.
Ed isn’t entirely soothed by the embrace, which is not Izumi’s fault. He knows she’s trying her best and will continue to do so.
The knowledge, however, of that lost boy in the forest, running forever and ever without a destination, and that ghost that keeps haunting Ed whenever he’s near the Führer…
He won’t be ready.
…
Not yet.
Notes:
I'm unsure if Izumi is OOC in this installment, mainly because I wrote her to be much softer than her canon counterpart... I am really not a fan of her treatment of the Elrics, so I do feel like she would be more patient here since Ed lost his brother.
Also my first time writing parental Roy... as brief as it might be. But I don't think he's going to show up more often in this fic, so apologies if you're into parental Roy. I am not the writer for that.
Either way, I hope you're enjoying this AU for now! I also post some concepts and ideas on my art blog on Tumblr, if you ever want to check out, especially Wrath's design. My art Tumblr is lotusthekat, and the posts related to the AU are all under #homunculus al :)
Chapter 4
Notes:
I'm aware that the chronological order of FMA 2003 can be confusing in this AU, but I always enjoyed Al's interactions with the Ishbalans, but especially with Scar. I personally really like the arc of Al questioning his existence in the 2003 adaptation, so I made sure to include it in this story.
Not sure if anyone is OOC in this, though, and I'm sorry about that. Still, I'm glad to get comments praising this AU! Thanks for your support! <33
Chapter Text
“So the pipsqueak gave you a haircut?”
Rolling his eyes, Wrath instead ignores the comment, knowing that feeding Envy’s bullying only makes everything worse.
But of course, Envy knows exactly how to annoy other people.
“I wonder how the favorite must feel knowing that he failed his first mission,” he teases.
Wrath has learned better than to fight back.
“... I wonder, too,” he bites, “how pathetic you, Lust, and Gluttony are for Dante to entrust one person with a pipsqueak.”
Immediately after, he gets a punch to his gut, causing him to drop on his knees. Envy is growling like a furious animal.
“You’re just lucky because you’re an alchemist ,” the older homunculus says, pulling Wrath’s now shortened hair hard.
Although it hurts like hell, something in Wrath has him smirk at the reaction, because Envy really is pathetic enough to bully people when he can’t measure up to anything himself.
Their little exchange doesn’t last longer, though, because Dante has called them all to another meeting. Usually the meetings are brief, with the exception of a few, and Dante doesn’t mention Wrath’s failure. Instead, she emphasizes on the Philosopher’s Stone, so everyone needs to try their hardest to make it happen. In the end, Dante orders Envy, Lust, and Gluttony to return to Liore, Sloth and Pride to remain in the military, and Wrath… to stay behind while everyone is dismissed.
Wrath can tell everyone is judging him as they leave, based on their looks. Envy still looks grumpy and he internally wishes he could kill Wrath over and over again. The others just ignore his existence, as usual, only this time the weight of his failure is crushing.
Still, Dante cups his face so very gently, and pushes some of his irregular bangs away from his left eye.
“Wrath, my dear,” she whispers even though nobody else is in the room. “I want you to head to Central to look for the alchemist you seek. Sloth told me he should be there tonight.”
The boy frowns. “I’m… going alone?”
Dante hums in confirmation. “You still need to prove yourself to your fellow homunculi. I know you can do it, Wrath, but they still don’t know your full potential. I want you to focus on your goal, and to keep persevering.” She rubs his cheeks with her thumbs delicately. “Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”
Wrath doesn’t hesitate to nod, though swallowing his nervous gulp, because he knows what happens when he fails.
“Good,” Dante smiles, kissing him on his forehead. “I’ll be waiting here for you. Go out there and make me proud.”
“I will.”
(Wrath’s smile doesn’t feel genuine.)
(He only smiles because Dante wants him to.)
(And that’s how it’ll always be.)
The Central is huge .
Wrath has no idea why Dante wants him to go this far. He clearly doesn’t belong out here. His first mission made sense, because it was in the forest, a place that he knew from the palm of his hand. But the Central is a whole other level that should’ve been reserved for more advanced missions.
Then again, it’s what Dante said: everyone needs to see that he’s worthy. If he couldn’t succeed in an easier task… then he should try harder to prove what he can give to them.
He should fight for himself, for the homunculi, for Dante.
That’s his whole goal.
As for his objective, however… he has no idea where to even look.
Which hotel is it? What if Ed is out in town to eat? What if the military has already called him somewhere else?
Wrath only has one way to know.
Lurking in the shadows, he manages to find a phone booth unnoticed. With great memory, he already knows what to do, and who to call. As it tries to reach the other end, he admittedly feels his gut acting out of anxiety, because… he usually stays out of the way until someone notices him.
(He only goes with Dante’s permission.)
Either way, when the other end picks up, the same coldness already speaks to him.
“You are not supposed to call this number.”
Wrath gulps, feeling like the cold has stabbed him in the chest.
“I-I… I just wanted to–”
“You’re not ready.”
This is barely lasting a minute, and he feels like he’s breaking apart with every word that comes out of Sloth’s mouth.
“B-But Dante said–”
“You’re confused, and if you really cared about our cause, you would have taken it more seriously. For starters, you wouldn’t have called me.”
Wrath’s violet eyes are blurring.
“Please, I need help,” he begs, “I need help so I can be good. I can’t fail again.”
“You need help because you only care about yourself.” Sloth doesn’t hesitate at all. “Because you are pitiful . You make no difference.”
The worst part is, she doesn’t even sound hateful. She just sounds indifferent.
And somehow, that makes Wrath cry.
He tries to swallow it back down, but Sloth likely knows.
“Don’t call this number again,” she says rather professionally, like she doesn’t know Wrath.
(Maybe that’s true, because even after three years, they only feel like strangers around each other.)
The phone dies.
Wrath involuntarily lets go as the tears burn his cheeks.
Afraid of being seen, he runs away, having not realized that it’s raining now. His clothes get the worst of it as he flees, one of his shoes flying away. He barely sees whoever is passing by, but it’s not like they would notice him or bother to worry anyway.
Sloth’s words just replay in his mind like a broken and repetitive melody, like the music Dante plays in her mansion late at night. When one is cold and brutal, the other is nostalgic and melancholic.
(Both equally haunting.)
Wrath has run so much that his legs give up and he falls in the shadows of a dark alley. There are a lot of empty wooden boxes stocked onto the other that previously served to keep food. The homunculus’ baggy, dark clothes feel too cold, and the freezing rain mixes with his hot tears. Unable to hold it in anymore, Wrath openly cries for the first time outside, not trapped in the mansion, not trapped in his room. He doesn’t have to be silent right now.
He only has his own comfort, so he hugs his knees tightly, trying to calm himself down with his own company. He was taught to do things this way.
Even if all he wants is Dante’s warm hug.
Even if all he wants is Sloth not to hate him. Or anyone in general not to hate him.
Even if…
He wants a family again.
Every time he hears Sloth’s voice now, he remembers the woman with brown hair and green eyes that always smiled at him, that always hugged him whenever he had nightmares or couldn’t sleep at night.
And he hates to admit it, but…
Wrath remembers Ed’s loyalty, his protectiveness.
And he certainly recalls the young alchemist yelling his name in the forest, because it still feels like Ed is looking for him this entire time. Especially right now in the rain.
(Does he want Ed to find him?)
Wrath is supposed to hate him.
He needs to hate him.
He does hate him.
He does.
But…
…
Maybe Sloth is right.
He is confused.
He is pitiful.
He doesn’t make a difference.
(Besides…)
(Ed would probably hate him, too.)
…
The moment Wrath hears rushing steps, he freezes in place like a statue.
Much to his bad luck, the steps are coming his way. He doesn’t dare look up, but from what his senses can tell, it seems like at least two people have come to hide in this very alley.
Somewhere near him, Wrath can tell someone is yelling angrily.
Then it’s gone.
The two strangers sigh in relief, tired out of running, probably.
“We lost him,” one of them says, satisfied. They sound… young. Like a boy. “Here, eat up.”
“I don’t want any!” The other, younger, protests. “What were you thinking?! You just picked it up out of nowhere and stole it! If Mom knew we were–”
Something… grumbles and silences the two kids.
“There, see?” The older one is soft. “You can’t be so hard on yourself.”
Wrath knows said words aren’t meant for him. He has nothing to do with those two, whoever they are.
Still…
Wrath sniffs again and sobs quietly.
“Whoa, did you hear that?” The elder boy whispers.
“It’s… a kid,” the other observes, concerned.
The homunculus doesn’t look up, afraid of what they’re going to think of him.
There’s some thoughtful silence between the three, until Wrath hears some shuffling.
“Um, hi?” The younger voice speaks up, and a hand touches the other’s shoulder, causing Wrath to flinch violently.
“Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you,” the older one says. “Hey, are you hungry? We have some apples here, if you want.”
Sniffing again, Wrath considers it. At this point he has nothing left to lose. He doesn’t even have a place to go. Maybe he needs to eat something to clear his head.
The homunculus slowly lifts his head, indeed finding two boys gazing at him with sadness and curiosity. They look very similar, so maybe they’re siblings. Unlike Wrath, who’s pale and has purple eyes, the duo is brown-skinned and… red-eyed.
Ishbalans.
Wrath remembers Dante mentioning them when it came to the Philosopher’s Stone. He remembers Ishbal being devastated and its people massacred. This is Wrath’s first time seeing them.
He pushes these questions for later though, because the older one is holding out an apple for Wrath, even smiling at him. The fact that two strangers are being so kind to him, more than the people he has known his whole life, makes him want to cry miserably again.
Wrath barely raises his head, knowing the two are going to see through him and judge him, so he eats the apple in silence, slowly.
“I’m Rick,” the younger Ishbalan says with a smile, “and this is my brother Leo. What’s your name?”
Wrath doesn’t reply and looks away.
“Hey, aren’t you even gonna tell us your name?” Leo asks impatiently.
The homunculus insists on being silent.
Leo groans.
“Great, he’s just like Scar,” he curses under his breath. “But at least he’s eating something.”
Everything stops.
“... Scar?”
His first word surprises the two Ishbalans.
They also look shocked by Wrath, who instinctively exposed his pale face and violet eyes.
Regardless, Rick answers his question.
“Yeah, that’s him,” he replies. “Do you know him?”
Wrath shakes his head.
“Well… you could follow us and meet him, if you want,” Rick suggests. “He’s not bad like everyone makes him look like.”
Leo elbows his younger brother’s arm kind of aggressively.
“What are you doing?” He hisses. “What if he wants to hurt him? Or us , for that matter? Look at him!” Leo gestures at the entirety of Wrath’s pathetic form.
“What, now you’re going to judge him the same way everyone judges us ?” Rick argues, firm but patient.
Wrath’s defenses seem to lower the more Rick speaks. He’s supposed to be on a mission that he can’t fail, and yet here he is, talking to two human boys, and one of them is treating Wrath, a homunculus, like a person .
“Don’t listen to him,” Rick reassures Wrath with a friendly smile. It reminds the latter of the past, of looking into a mirror. “I mean it, you can come with us! You don’t have to be alone.”
Wrath shouldn’t feel… warmth inside him. This is selfish. He knows Dante wouldn’t approve, nor would Sloth or any of the other homunculi. Wrath needs to find the Fullmetal Alchemist and bring him to justice. He can’t lose time.
But…
Scar is with them.
Wrath heard that Scar seeks State Alchemists. Maybe he’s looking for Ed, too.
Maybe Wrath and Scar could… team up.
He’ll do anything for his mission.
His mission only.
Wrath stands up and… takes off the dark hood that covers his head, exposing his whole head and wetting his messy black hair.
While Leo looks suspicious, Rick has the biggest smile on his face, completely welcoming of the stranger.
(Wrath tries his best not to smile back.)
mid_wintxr on Chapter 1 Sat 08 Apr 2023 07:59PM UTC
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Emissary_of_Stuff on Chapter 1 Sun 02 Jul 2023 11:04PM UTC
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Emissary_of_Stuff on Chapter 2 Sun 02 Jul 2023 11:36PM UTC
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PHBL19 on Chapter 3 Sat 20 May 2023 09:51AM UTC
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