The Water Alchemist

Father

Welcome back to The Water Alchemist. I don't own any of the intellectual property of Fullmetal Alchemist.

Chapter Fifty-Three

Father

***

"Hey there," he said with a wave. He was taller and more slender than I remembered, his cheeks sunken under the stubble on his chin. He smiled, that same smile I had burned in my brain, and I wasn't sure how to respond. I blinked at him, unmoving. He shifted awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. "Marina, right? Gosh, you got so big." He laughed a beat, and my eye twitched.

"You're really... him..." I said eventually, more to myself than to him.

"I'm sure you must be confused, Rina," he said, and I bristled at the nickname.

"Yeah," I muttered, looking around. We were in Truth's void alright, but one thing was missing: Truth. Somehow, Truth's absence unsettled me more than their presence.

"Well, if you hadn't guessed by now, I'm your... father," he said, cutting straight to the chase, catching me off guard. "It's nice to meet you, finally."

I opened my mouth, only to close it again. I couldn't figure out what to say. Nice to meet you, man whom I've heard so many terrible things about, standing in Truth's infinite void of calamity seemed a bit coarse. But it's great to meet you, dad, seemed somehow worse. I opted for something neutral.

"What's going on?"

"Well, that's quite the loaded question," he said, scratching his chin sheepishly. "But a good place to start. It seems you, like me, managed to get yourself wedged between domains." I chuckled dryly, my first instinct disbelief

"You're kidding," I said. He shook his head. "What does that even mean?"

"Caught between this world and the next; that is where we find ourselves," he said simply. My mouth quivered into a smirk, which grew to a grin, and I laughed.

"Oh, man, you had me going for a second," I said after a few moments, clutching my stomach, my belly sore from laughing. I understood making up for lost time, but now wasn't an appropriate moment for a dad joke. "Now, what's really going on?"

"What I just told you," he said, his tone even. I continued to laugh. It echoed loudly, filling the void, working to ground me.

"That was a good joke, but let's be serious now," I said, waving him off, urging him to drop the act.

"I'm being serious, Rina," he said, addressing me with that name again. The way he said it set off alarm bells in my head as he stared at me. "This isn't a joke." His face remained stagnant, his gaze steady.

"No," I said, my chuckles faltering, my breath shortening, my mouth dipping into a frown. "You have to be joking because I wasn't supposed to get wedged between worlds— I was supposed to destroy the gate. But if I didn't destroy the gate, and I am stuck in limbo, then that means I... failed." The word came as a shock even to myself, falling from my lips in a broken whisper. My heart began to thrum in my throat.

"Marina," he said, his voice pitying. Stuck between worlds? That was just... he was wrong. Dead wrong. This was all a mistake, a misunderstanding. Truth was watching from somewhere, laughing at me; I just knew it.

Let's, for a moment, agree with Carter, I thought to myself fretfully. Let's say, yes, we've ended up in some sort of other-worldly limbo. How did it happen? My mind raced, retracing my every step up to this point, trying to figure out just what went wrong. Step one; development. Was the circle defective? No. Hohenheim and I had calculated so much, had toiled endlessly over the transmutation circle. I could understand if I had made a mistake, but Hohenheim was too well-versed in his alchemical knowledge. His making a mistake seemed highly unlikely. Step two; inscription. Hohenheim branded the circle into my back, alright. I could retrace the burning sensation with my eyes closed, and I did, bringing us to step three; activation. I was sure I had activated the circle. I felt it. But... what if something interfered with the activation? Hohenheim did say there was a possibility that something would happen, that something could go wrong, but I hadn't thought of what that might be. Had I activated it too early, or maybe too late? Was it reversible? Or... would I be stuck here forever? What about everyone else? What did all this mean for them? They were counting on me, and I—

"No, no, no," I murmured, my chest tight. I fell into a crouch, clutching my hair, my vision going flat. "I failed."

"Hey," a voice called me from my trance, jarring enough to force a deep breath into my lungs. "It's okay. Nothing's been lost, Rina."

"You don't know that!" I snapped, my breath catching.

"Rina, please, calm down," he urged, grasping my shoulders, shaking me a moment as tears pricked my eyes.

"Stop calling me that!" I cried, tearing from his grasp. He leaned back with a frown as I gasped for air, my chest constricting, my eyes burning.

"Look, I know it's been a while, but I used to call you Rina all the time," he said. "I'm still your father. Nothing's changed."

"You don't get to say that. Not after all this time, not when everything's changed," I said lowly, slinking further to the floor, hitting my knees, my hands pale even against the white of the ground. I hiccupped a sob, tears plinking to the floor, turning the white to a solid grey. I didn't pick my head up to look at him. "I don't know you, and you clearly don't know me." A moment of silence lingered in the stale air.

"You're right," he agreed, a bit to my surprise. His hand rested on the top of my head, and I flinched under his palm. "I guess I was hoping the nickname would help you feel comfortable enough to trust me. You can trust me, Marina."

Every story, everything I had learned about him bubbled to the surface of my mind. Shock is a hell of a numbing agent; it makes it easy to forget for a moment that you're standing in front of a murderer. The reason you'd never meet your mother or brother. The reason you were even in this mess to begin with. I laughed a short, humorless laugh, swatting his hand away.

"I don't trust you. I can't. Not after what you'd done," I responded with a note of finality. There was another long pause as I wiped my face, my sorrow finding root in anger and mistrust.

"I'm not proud of what I'd done," he began, and I scoffed.

"Not proud? That's it?" I asked, my jaw tightening as I grit my teeth into dust, a burning in my chest. "You killed my mother! And you're 'not proud?' Go to hell!" I wondered, briefly, if we were already there.

"Marina, hang on, what are you talking about?" he asked, but when I picked my head up to look at him, it wasn't a guilty look on his face like I had expected. I mirrored the confusion in his visage, pressing on.

"Elias told me everything!" I shouted, overwhelmed. I clutched at the ground, digging my nails into the floor. "You murdered them, and you're worried about your pride?"

"Marina, take a breath. Let's calm down," he said, approaching me cautiously like I was a wild animal.

"No! Just— get away from me," I said, staggering to my feet, taking off. I began in the first direction I turned that would take me far away from here, far from the man who claimed to be my father. There was plenty of void. Even if I had to spend eternity here, I wasn't going to spend it anywhere near him.

"Marina, come back!" he called, and I heard his stride, picking up in speed.

My body felt heavy, and I just barely managed to keep the bile from erupting from my stomach. But I ran. I'd run until my legs gave out if that was what it would take. I heard Carter call my name, but the sound of it drove me further into the void, my pace quickening as he followed. Each utterance he made sent me further into my own head until all I could hear was a slight buzzing in my ears. I ran until I couldn't, slowing just enough to catch my breath, and for a moment actually took in my surroundings. Carter was still there, in the background of the buzzing. There was the expanse of never-ending white, never changing, constant. And up ahead, there was something in the void, something that hadn't been there before. I began toward it, the structure in the distance growing clearer until I was able to make it out. A door towered above me, and I staggered to a stop, staring up at it in awe. It was larger than any door I had ever encountered in Truth's realm before. On it was images of planets, a galaxy of stars surrounding them, seeming somehow infinitee. There were also detailed inscriptions in ancient writing and alchemical symbols I recognized from my studies, and, most notably, the circle that brought us here in the first place.

"You've been misinformed," Carter called, drawing my attention briefly enough to turn. He grasped his knees, taking a moment to catch his breath before addressing me. "I swear, I would never have done such a thing."

"Liar," I frowned, facing him.

"Marina," he nearly pleaded. "Let me explain."

"Your word means nothing to me," I said, my chest still burning, rising and falling unevenly. We stood at a stalemate a moment before Carter ran his hand over his face, exhaling harshly.

"I didn't want to have to do this," he said exhaustedly.

I furrowed my brow at him, something pricking the back of my neck, an omen. I barely had time to react as he closed the distance between us, lunging forward. I moved, but I wasn't quick enough as he grasped my forearm, holding tight. A jolt ran through my body, and suddenly, I wasn't myself. It's difficult to explain, but I knew somehow the body I was in wasn't mine. Flashes of faces passed my vision, stopping over the face of an Ishvalen woman, one I recognized from the only picture I had of her. I was frozen, staring at her white, shiny hair as she dragged me by a hand much too big to be mine, and as she turned to face me, she smiled. I gasped, jerking from his grasp, and suddenly I was back where I belonged, in my own body, in the void of white I had left it.

"What the hell was that?" I croaked as I stumbled back, clutching my chest, searching his expression for an answer when he didn't give me one. "Carter!"

"My memories," he said softly, so softly the sound didn't even echo through the void. My mouth parted, my jaw slack. "You look just like her, you know. Had a feeling you would mere moments after you were born."

"Your memories?" I asked, barely processing what was going on to address my likeness to my mother.

"Yes. I can transfer them to you here, through a soul link," Carter explained, gazing into his palm, opening and closing it into a fist. I blinked at him. A soul link? It was similar to what happened when I saw the truth the first time. But what I saw with him was different. It was like I had become him. I could feel what he was feeling, think what he was thinking. I was quite literally walking in his shoes. I looked up at him, and his face softened, the creases around his eyes losing their definition. "I know my word means little, but; this may clear things up. Please. Let me at least show you."

"Show me?" I questioned, and he offered his hand. I recoiled a moment, confounded. I looked back to the door behind me, clutching my arms to my chest.

"I promise, I'll explain that after," he assured me, but I was still unsure.

Could I trust that what he'd show me was the truth and not something he'd made up? Or was he even in control of what he would show me? If that were the case, then, perhaps, I'd have something stronger than stories. Stronger than his word. I swallowed hard, taking a deep breath. I decided I had an opportunity I couldn't deny, whether I chose to believe it or not— his open palm promised perspective. I closed my eyes and took his hand.

***

Wind pelted my cheek, and I blinked, feeling strange in the body I inhabited. I strained against the sand that pounded against me incessantly, lodging in my ear, managing to take a quick look around through eyes that weren't mine but resembled my own. I was surrounded by a sea of blue but I couldn't distinguish anything apart from that. I didn't have a moment to gain my bearings before someone shouted ahead.

"Alright! This is where they've been hiding!" a man ahead of the crowd of blue shouted. Uniforms. Blue uniforms. "Flush them out!"

"Right!" Carter's voice echoed into the cacophony of affirmations from the battalion. I marched forward without thought, a passenger rather than an occupant of this body – his body – and followed the mob of blue that cascaded over the dunes like a wave. We were directed down a dirt road leading to a small town and eventually commanded into a house described as the base of the operation. The shelter offered a reprieve from the dust storm outside as Carter shook off the sand, but as soon as we were inside, things moved swiftly, overwhelmingly so.

"Move, move, move!" a man shouted, and move we did, scouring over the house like a plague.

There were screams and the wail of a child, and then gunshots. My heart – or, no, I guess Carter's heart – pounded wildly in his chest, but he pressed on, scaling the stairs, circling the balcony. The door to the room ahead was ajar, and a man and woman sat on the floor just beyond it. They were distinctly not Ishvalen but begged the man with the gun and a wicked grin on his face standing above them for their lives anyway. It was the same man who had led the charge, the name Major Lacey coming to mind.

"Please," the man pleaded, shielding the woman who grasped his arm tightly. "Please, spare my wife."

"You're the ones responsible for housing those dirty Ishvalens, helping them escape!" the soldier roared, his movements wild. They flinched as he shoved the barrel of the gun to the middle of the man's forehead.

"It was all me, let her live, please," the man begged, his gaze cast down, tears running down his cheeks in thick waves.

"No, James, no!" his wife begged, clutching his shoulder, burying her face in his back. I wanted to move. I wanted to dash forward and grab the Major by the collar of his uniform, ask him if he were out of his mind. Those people were Amestrian; those people looked just like us, were us, in a different life, on another path. Those people were people, people who'd done the good and just thing. Those people— and more than that, no one the military was hunting down, deserved to die. But whether these feelings were mine alone or shared with Carter, I couldn't tell. He didn't move.

"She'll be right behind you," Major Lacey grinned. She screamed, the shrill of her voice drowning the sound of the gun firing. Carter's stomach rolled, watching the man go limp, the woman clutching his stiff arm as blood pooled around them, seeping into the carpet.

"James!" she shouted his name ceaselessly, and the Major laughed.

Carter's legs were weak as he met the woman's eye, fierce and frightened, and another boom rang out in the house. She dropped, and he stumbled back, clutching for the railing, feeling as though he'd pass out with the way the walls moved. The shell of the bullets clattered to the floor and the Major turned, striding up to him. He was too petrified and dizzy to move, but a single word scraped past his throat.

"Why?" Carter asked, and he was yanked by his collar, forced to face the man.

"Why?" the Major asked. He narrowed his eyes. "They were traitors."

"They were Amestrian," Carter pointed out, to the frown of the man with a hand at his throat and a gun at his side, and I realized I probably got that trait from him; it seemed neither of us knew when it was time to shut up.

"That's what happens to traitors, Wayde. Learn this lesson now, and learn it well," he said gruffly, throwing him to the ground. He lifted his gun. "Understood?"

"Y-yes, Sir!" he saluted quickly, blood rushing in his ears, eyes trained on the posed gun.

"Right," he said disgustedly, stepping over him, moving on, and descending the stairs.

More shouting and gunshots rang through the house, but it all quickly became background noise as he sat there, unmoving. Carter clutched his head, gritting his teeth. This was war. This was what war looked like, felt like, smelled like; the metallic scent of iron and smoldering gunpowder. Marcoh had warned him, when he began studying to become a state alchemist, before becoming the Water Alchemist, that he could be drafted. His warning flashed quickly in our shared consciousness, though Carter thought that would never happen. But it was happening, right in front of him. He wasn't good at fighting and even worse at killing.

"Damnit," he cursed under his breath, moving to stand.

There was a clattering, and he halted, his eyes drawn to the source. He lifted his eyes to see a young girl, around my age, maybe a bit younger, emerging from the closet behind the murdered pair. It seemed her leg had slipped as it dangled over the floor. Something swelled in his chest as the girl looked on at the carnage. She looked up at Carter, horror-stricken.

"You—" she said softly, hiccupping a sob. "You killed them!" She began to howl, and Carter clamored to his feet, rushing into the room, slamming the door shut behind him. She let out another high-pitched scream, only muffled when his glove covered nearly the whole of her face.

"No, I didn't, I swear," he defended shakily, glancing over his shoulder. The girl struggled against him fiercely, and a worry bloomed in his chest. If she were found, she too might not make it. The girl bit his hand, and he pulled away, taking a sharp breath in through his teeth.

"Liar!" she cried, and he grasped her shoulder firmly, his fear overruling his pain.

"Please, if they hear you, you're as good as dead," he said hastily, and from the watery look she gave him, he regretted his word choice immediately. But he didn't have the luxury of time to take it back. Footsteps sounded through the house as she tried to pry away from him, and as they grew louder, she stopped, fear evident in her eyes. They sat crouched before the closet, hearts racing, as still as statues, listening and watching the door. The footsteps eventually stopped, and he was sure they'd be found as the knob of the door turned. He neglected to voice the thought that if he were found and she was still alive, he'd likely end up just like the two on the floor. He clumsily fumbled with his belt, just barely switching the safety of his gun. He fired it in the air, and the girl flinched with a scream, leaning back into the closet, muffling her ears with her hands. Carter grasped the handle of the closet door. "Please, be quiet." With that instruction, he closed the closet door on her. He rushed to the door just as a fellow officer opened it.

"You alright, Wayde?" he asked as Carter closed the door behind him. He nodded, and that seemed good enough for his comrade. Though, Carter never really spoke to them. "Alright, we're moving onto the next house. Try to keep up."

The soldier turned and rounded the stairs, exiting the house. Carter slid down the door, allowing himself a deep exhale, running a hand through his hair. He turned, knowing he'd have to go back in there. Carter opened the door, and the closet was still closed. He crouched next to it, opening it slowly, trying to be as gentle as he could. The girl looked up at him with big doe-eyes. She was the spitting image of the woman lying a few feet behind them but had clearly taken on her father's dark features. He breathed a shaky sigh.

"You alright?" he asked. She coughed, not answering. He bit the inside of his cheek. "You should..."

In all honesty, he wasn't sure what she should do. But she couldn't stay here. She pushed past him with a grunt, diving under his arm and reaching for the bodies on the floor. She cried over them, begging them to wake up, begging them to say something. Carter's fist clenched. He didn't understand why they had to die. Logically, within his Major's parameters, maybe he could, but they hadn't done any real harm. They hadn't been the ones he and his men had faced on the battlefield. They were a family. A husband and wife. A mother and father. And they'd left behind an orphaned child.

"Mama, Papa, please," she cried softly, grasping desperately onto them. Carter looked around, noticing half of his platoon was already outside, blood-soaked and seeming self-satisfied. It didn't feel good. It never did. He glanced back at the girl, not knowing what to do or how to clean up the mess his commander had made. Killing her was out of the question.

"Hey, kiddo," he began softly. "You have any other family?"

"Marie," she sniffled.

"Is that your name?" he asked.

"No, Marie is... she's..." she couldn't seem to finish her thought, and he nodded, figuring it a step in the right direction.

"I'll take you to her," he said, and she finally looked up at him, though her eyes were vacant. "Can you tell me where she is?"

"Uh-huh," she nodded timidly, and he scooped her up, surprising her a moment, but she didn't object.

He stepped through blood, making his way down the hall. The girl sobbed quietly in his arms and stared over his shoulder as he carried her away. They made their way through the house and down the stairs, bodies scattered about the home. Those people, her parents, had erected this encampment, offering refuge to the people of Ishval. He pushed her face deeper into his shoulder, hoping he could at least protect her from the sight as they left through the back door. They used the cover of the billowing sands to escape persecution. He'd make up some excuse for his absence later. He wasn't a stranger to corporal punishment, being as that he'd objected more than once to be 'useful' during raids, so that didn't weigh too heavily on his mind. But he knew he wouldn't handle the death of this Amestrian child nearly as well, and neither would I. Though history had already been settled, I had seen enough loss.

She directed him between sobs a few miles away to another small village, one he'd recognized on the maps they'd been shown of the encampments they were set to destroy in due time. He hurried into town, looking incredibly out of place among the brown faces that regarded him with fear, retreating hurriedly into their homes. He rushed up to a woman who slammed her door in his face. He tried once again at a man's produce stand, but he, too, shut himself inside. Carter breathed heavily, looking around at the deserted street.

"Please, I'm looking for Marie!" he cried out, all other options exhausted. "I mean no harm, but this child, she directed me here. Is there anyone here named Marie who knows her? Please!" He looked around the deserted village desperately, fear and hope swelling in his chest like a turbulent thunderstorm. But no one stepped forward. He looked down at the girl, holding tight to his blue uniform with a vice grip.

"Nessa?" a melodic voice called, and he turned, struck by the image of an Ishvalen woman in the street. She was dressed in a simple brown dress, a shawl over her shoulder. She seemed to be closer to his age than to the girl in his arms or even her parents. Even creased with worry, her face was radiant, her eyes bright and the color of rubies. They stared at each other a moment; Carter was mesmerized by her beauty. He was accustomed to seeing those eyes on the men they'd fought— he never imagined they could be so beautiful. I couldn't blame him; she was as lovely in the flesh as I thought she was in the pictures, maybe even more. I didn't realize the name she called was familiar until she called it again. "Nessa!" She rushed forward as the girl lifted her head, and as he looked down at her tear-stained cheeks and blood-soaked front, I wondered how I didn't see the resemblance before. This girl was the Nessa I knew. Those were her parent's.

"Marie!" the girl cried, squirming from Carter's grasp. He couldn't imagine what kind of relationship they had, familial being the furthest from his mind. But the girl, Nessa, collapsed into the woman's arms, and the woman caressed the back of her head soothingly as she cried.

"I know, I know, I'm here," she assured her, looking up at Carter. The warm face he had seen a moment ago turned cold as she glared up at him, and he took a step back. "What have you done?"

"Me? I— well, I—" Carter stumbled over his words, still entranced by her appearance, and he noted that the townspeople began to emerge, realizing he was the only soldier around. They carried hatchets and butcher knives and long sticks, looking ready to start a mob. A woman gasped, pointing to his hip.

"He's a state alchemist!" she cried, his silver pocket watch catching the light. He shuffled to conceal it, knowing the kind of role some state alchemists had played in the war, but it was far too late as the townspeople's whispers grew louder. Carter swallowed thickly as the mob surrounded him.

"Everyone," the woman said, her voice commanding their attention. The town stopped and quieted to listen, and so did Carter. His fate rested on the shoulders of this young woman. She gave him an inquisitive look. "You said Nessa directed you here?"

"That's right," he affirmed.

"Is that true?" she asked, and though she had posed the question to Nessa, her eyes never left him. Nessa nodded, and the woman helped her to stand, assessing Carter. He shifted under her steely gaze as her eyes narrowed. "Come with me."

The command was simple to deny, but Carter thought better of it. He followed her, luckily parting the mob, and thoughts of her beauty flooded our shared consciousness. It was a little cringy, but knowing they would eventually become... well, my parents, it was sweet in a way, too. Bitterly so as I remembered what he would go on to do. They arrived at a small home in the village, and he ducked inside after the women. He stood awkwardly in the corner as Nessa was ushered to a backroom to get cleaned up, left in the kitchen and in the presence of a small Ishvalen boy, one whose brooding scowl I recognized almost immediately, even without the scars.

"Hey, champ," Carter tried. The kid huffed at him, crossing his arms and turning away. A vein throbbed in Carter's temple. "What's your name?"

"Elias," the child grunted, and it pleased me to know he was just as ornery as a kid.

"Alright," Carter said, deciding to back off. Elias looked up at him quizzically.

"Are you not going to tell me yours?" he asked.

"Oh, right, sorry. I'm Carter."

"That's a dumb name," Elias said, and though Carter met his comment with chagrin, it made me laugh internally. It was quite entertaining to watch Elias at work rather than being the subject of his ire.

"Sorry about him," the woman from before said, returning. She scolded Elias and shooed him away into the other room. Carter waved his hands.

"Not a problem at all," he said. They stood in awkward silence a moment.

"Nessa told me what happened," she said eventually.

"Oh," was all Carter could say.

"Thank you for bringing her to me," she said. "I didn't catch your name?"

"I'm Carter. Carter Wayde," he said a little too formally, and she chuckled. He couldn't stop his mouth from twitching up. "Marie, right?"

"Mariella," she corrected, holding her hand out. He took it gently, though her hands were even more calloused than his.

"I thought that girl—"

"Nessa," she quickly corrected. He nodded apologetically, stuttering into his sentence.

"Nessa, yes, right, she, uh— called you Marie?" he questioned. They were still shaking hands.

"Kids and their nicknames," she shrugged. They hadn't yet let go, and they both seemed to realize it, glancing at their entangled and sweaty palms before breaking apart. Carter shifted, glancing around as Mariella's eyes found a particularly interesting spec on the floor. "You, uh, traveled pretty far, right? Are you hungry?"

The question startled Carter, but he answered with an enthusiastic yes; though, the meal was painfully awkward between the two. But somehow, they didn't seem to care. In fact, they seemed to quite enjoy themselves. So much so that when Carter left, she'd stopped him to ask if he'd be willing to assist with burying Nessa's parents. They traveled back together to the encampment, but what Carter had left had burned to nothing but ash.

"Oh, no," Carter said, looking over the remains. Mariella dropped to her knees, dipping her hands into the remains, allowing it to sift through her fingers. The granules of ash mixed into the sand, painting it black.

"They're really gone," she said, a tear streaking down her cheek. Carter bent, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I didn't even get to repay them."

"What do you mean?" Carter questioned her lamentation as she folded her hands into her lap, her palms tainted.

"Nessa's parents took Elias and me in after we... lost our parents," she explained, and Carter's chest tightened, as did his grip over her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he extended his condolences as her hand rested over his. His heart leaped to his throat, not expecting the contact, welcomed as it was.

"I'm just so glad Nessa's alright," she said, wiping her face. She sniffled up the remnants of her tears, bowing her head, her hands clasped together in prayer. Carter removed his hand, feeling it a private moment, and moved to step back as she began chanting, but she tugged at the sleeve of his uniform, still focused on her prayer. Carter sat back on his knees, bowing his head, offering a silent prayer to whoever would listen. He'd been long done by the time she finished, lost in the enchanting way she spoke a language he barely understood, and she lifted her head to address him. "Thank you for all your help. I— should go back." She stood, and Carter panicked, grasping her wrist. She looked at him a bit threateningly, and he let go.

"Sorry, I, uh—well, uh," he sputtered, his mind empty. The perk of being an observer in this state meant I knew exactly what he was thinking, and the poor sap had not a thought in that head of his.

"Spit it out," she commanded, and he gulped.

"Can I come back?" he asked finally, swallowing on a dry throat. Mariella recoiled a moment, furrowing her brows at him.

"What for?" she countered, and he was even more lost than before.

"To, to... to check on Nessa!" he settled on, shaking his head enthusiastically. "See how she's holding up and all." She tapped her finger to her chin in thought.

"I... suppose," she agreed.

Carter's visits rarely involved Nessa, and they involved her even less as Mariella got her settled with a family that took in orphans. And suddenly, time moved swiftly, reeling the countless times Carter returned to their village over the course of a month— no matter how bad the punishment for sneaking off was or how far his battalion had camped out. Carter enjoyed his visits with Mariella, the two growing ever closer. Elias seemed to maintain his reservations, but in understanding what happened to Mariella's parents, Carter couldn't blame the child for mistrusting him. Plain-clothed visits seemed to help, just a bit. He'd execute his duties during the day, exhausted from the effort of war and the stench of blood, scolded for his shoddy contributions, and travel the sands until he found himself sat around a homey table for a warm meal with a woman who thought him handsome. He wanted it to last forever, but his battalion inched closer and closer to Mariella, to her village on their raids, making seeing her easier, but also setting the village's fate in stone. One day, a few weeks before their scheduled raid, he issued her a warning.

"You need to leave this place," he urged her. She was cooking something sweet, poking at the mixture.

"We don't have anywhere else to go," she said solemnly, her back to him.

"If you stay, you'll die," Carter argued. She stopped stirring, her shoulders stiff.

"And if we leave, we'll die. Don't you get it?" Mariella asked, turning to him. Tears burned in her eyes but did not fall. "We're not welcome here, and we'd sooner collapse in the desert before we reach a new land."

An idea crossed his mind, and he set it into motion the following day. With his plan came risk. If he'd been caught, or anyone had remembered the constitution of the original map, he'd be as good as dead. He switched the maps out, erasing her village from their warpath, but if someone had caught him, they'd accuse him of treason— because he'd done something treasonous. He was committing treason for an Ishvalen woman he barely knew and yet, couldn't deny he had fallen for. And he'd never felt better about something. He somehow managed to accomplish his mission without getting caught and returned to her to deliver the good news.

"The village is safe," he said, grasping her shoulders.

"What did you do?" Mariella questioned.

"I've exchanged the maps. They don't suspect a thing," Carter promised her.

Her hands were shaking, but her face bloomed into a smile. She laughed, a bit in shock, before crashing into him, wrapping her arms tightly around his torso. A blush burned at Carter's cheeks as she attempted to lift him to spin him around, and to his surprise, she managed to do so. He laughed along with her, tilting his head back, enjoying the rush. She eventually set him down but didn't let go as she nestled into his chest.

"I never imagined an Amestrian soldier would be our savior," she said quietly. But her face fell, and he furrowed his brow, grasping her shoulders. "But that means another village will take the fall... right?" He swallowed hard, pulling her toward his chest. It was a necessary sacrifice, but Mariella detested the violence that ravaged the land. He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, stroking her hair.

"I'll protect you," he tried to assure her, but she sighed into him, and Carter knew she'd bear their strife. He deflated a bit as Elias entered the kitchen. He rubbed his eyes, and to Carter's disappointment, Mariella released him to hoist the child over her hip.

"Elias, guess what? We can stay," she said, plastering a smile to her face and putting some pep into her voice.

"We can?" he asked, yawning.

She nodded, tickling him to wake him up. He laughed, and she laughed, and Carter's chest swelled watching them. He'd never had something to protect before. It felt good. While the men in his battalion belittled him and called him a coward, she'd called him her savior. He felt important. Like he was doing some good. But he could do more good. So much more. If they wouldn't be welcomed here, maybe there was a place beyond this war-ridden land they could find that would accept them.

Carter began pursuing Mariella seriously, becoming a regular at the village. She taught him the word of Ishvala, and he taught her the principles of alchemy. Their views were drastically opposed, but they came to understand one another better through their teachings. Carter even picked up on the language, speaking it clumsily with the neighbors to Mariella's entertainment. He wasn't particularly good at expressing his emotions or conveying how he felt about her, but she somehow understood him. Though, she couldn't understand why he wouldn't leave the military. It was a point of contention for them, his reluctance to lead a peaceful life with her, but he had bigger plans, plans she was only made vaguely aware of later on.

A year passed, following this routine, but something had shifted in Carter. He'd convinced Marcoh to assist in some new research he was developing, working with the Crimson Alchemist, Solf J. Kimblee as well. In Carter's eyes, Kimblee was eccentric but brilliant, and in that same breath, not one to be trusted. He assisted in the initial theorization of the possibility of an alternate world, but much of the work was Carters. He only filled Kimblee in on a need's-to-know basis, encrypting the bulk of his studies and research in books published under a false name, a combination of his middle name and some of Kimblee's, becoming Mira Kim. He had just finished his research when Mariella revealed that she was pregnant with his child.

"Really?" he questioned in disbelief. Mariella bit her lip, nodding timidly. He knelt, right there and then, and, transmuting the floor, crafted a meager ring, presenting it to her. She gasped, covering her mouth.

"Are you serious?"

"Mariella, I love you," he said, reaching for her left hand, which she presented to him eagerly. Tears ran down her face, and while that made him nervous, the smile spread wide across her cheeks was reassuring. "Marry me."

They were never married. It seemed the war would rage on for some time, and Mariella wished to wait for its end. She wanted to return to be married where her parents had been wed, to feel them there. In the meantime, Carter had been taken off active duty, pursuing a new venture with Dr. Marcoh. Dreaming of an alternate world was one thing. Having the means of getting there was entirely another. He needed a powerful enough energy source to manage a safe passage, and Dr. Marcoh's research promised just that. They worked closely together developing the Philosopher's Stone, utilizing a new technique Carter had mastered, called 'manipulation'. They began with red water, developing a strong prototype, but something was still missing. There was more to be done. It wasn't long until his research and his alchemy put him on the Homunculi's radar, and it wasn't long before he met with Father.

"Your research has a great deal of potential," Father said, the books he'd written under the pseudonym scattered across the table. Father held up the final book in the series, the children's book. "You've hidden it quite cleverly."

"Thank you, sir," Carter bowed, still a bit nervous.

"The Key Exists Among Truth, But Is Returned As One With God," he said, setting the book down. "Tell me, why include such a code?"

"Uh, well, as I'm sure you know, I've theorized that not only are there alternate universes, but a higher being who controls them. There are some fascinating accounts of alchemists of old committing the taboo and meeting this God, and I believe that upon such a meeting, the transmutation I've designed would open the gates between worlds, the truth of all things. I believe an individual could become one with this God and unlock the secrets of endless universes. Of course, it's simply a hypothesis now, but—"

"I've heard enough," the man said, his voice even more commanding than Fuhrer Bradley's. "We shall use it."

Carter learned quite a few of Amestris's secrets in that meeting and in meetings to follow, cataloging his and Dr. Marcoh's progress. So many of his ideas of his country had been flipped on their head since agreeing to the man's invitation. The biggest upset, however, was eventually learning that his research would be the catalyst of what the man had called the Promised Day. The objective of the endeavor was to obtain and become one with God, utilizing a country-wide transmutation circle and Carter's research to do just as Carter had hypothesized. Carter protested, citing the possible tragedies such a plan would bring about; his growing family in danger if this plan moved forward. He was dismissed, and sworn to secrecy, instructed to continue working with Dr. Marcoh, who was becoming more and more desperate. Not long after that, they regrettably created a successful Philosopher's Stone at the cost of human lives. Ishvalen lives. He never told Mariella. But it had to be done. It had to work because Carter needed an out to save them all.

Dr. Marcoh granted him two stones soon after, one for him and one to take to Kimblee, already on the battlefield, Order 3066 written into effect: the extermination order. All available state alchemists were to return to active duty and annihilate the enemy. But Carter never left the lab. He scrambled to gather his most important findings, though one of his pages was missing. Kimblee must have taken it, being the last in the lab, but decided it wasn't much consequence. What he never detailed in his findings was that he'd used two circles to create one. Even though Kimblee had assisted in one circle's creation, he'd never informed Kimblee of the other. Even if the Homunculi had the other, so long as they were kept separated, they'd be safe. He continued, taking the two stones which he'd fitted into unbreakable jewelry, and fled to the refugee village, untouched by the hands of war. Soon after he deserted, the baby came. A beautiful baby boy named Leto, after Mariella's deceased father. He had freckled skin – just like me – but it was a darker hue, and his white hair was full and wavy. His cheeks were chubby, and both parents were over the moon.

They lived happily and peacefully for a while, managing to stay off the radar as the war came to its conclusion, most of Mariella's homeland deserted and destroyed— a wasteland, not suitable for a wedding. Nessa wanted to venture out and follow in her parent's footsteps, leaving to establish her own refugee camp, gathering up any survivors she could, studying hard to become a nurse. Elias joined her, still at odds with Carter for who he was and what he represented to their family. Soon after they left, Mariella realized she was pregnant again, and I came a few months later. I was a little shocked at my appearance. My skin was still freckled but darker. What little hair there was on my head was a bright white. My eyes hadn't yet taken color, but Mariella looked so happy, holding me in her arms. I wished I could watch her just a little longer, but I wasn't in control of what he presented.

They'd decided to keep me a surprise from Elias, his return just around the corner. Carter was walking back from town with supplies gathered for Elias's arrival in his arms when gunshots rang out in the direction of the village. Carter dropped the groceries and ran in a sprint, noticing the billowing clouds of smoke rising from the village. The war was over. They were supposed to be safe. When he reached the village he noticed that while some homes burned to the ground, others were occupied by familiar faces, soldiers he'd met in another life.

"Our objective is to capture the war criminal, Carter Wayde!" a soldier shouted, and his heart raced.

He'd been so careful not to be sighted or followed, and yet, here they were. All this chaos and destruction just to smoke him out. Carter did his best to hide from them, rushing to his home. He slammed the door open, heart pounding, his stomach dropping at the blood-splattered walls in the front room. He gagged on the smell, pushing past it.

"Mariella!" he called frantically into the home. He heard the cry of a baby. He rushed into their bedroom – the source of the sound – and walked in. Mariella held tight to her son, hunched over the bassinet of their baby girl, her shoulder bleeding profusely, explaining the bloodied walls. A man in blue uniform raised the barrel of his gun at her back. Before Carter could react, barely taking in the scene, there was a horrible banging sound, followed by the distinct smell of gunpowder. Mariella's body went limp over the bassinet. "Mariella!" A fluster of emotions filled his chest as he dove forward, tackling the man in uniform to the ground. He wrestled with the man for a few seconds, but the struggle felt like it lasted eons.

"You traitorous bastard!" their attacker cried out, catching Carter in the temple with the butt of the gun. Carter faltered and fell to the side, and his previous Major cocked the gun aimed between Carter's eyebrows. "Die, just like your whore wife!"

Carter managed to grab the gun away through blurred vision, the shell clinking to the ground. Without a second thought, he shot his former Major in the chest. He breathed heavily as the man gushed blood onto him, collapsing to the floor. Carter grunted, shoving the man from himself, wiggling out from underneath him. Blood rushed in his ears as his attention turned back to what was most important. He stumbled forward to her as her body slipped to the floor, his son still clutched in her arm tightly. He didn't move, didn't wail— blood dripping down his chubby cheek. Mariella was still breathing, and Carter was quick to help her to her back, cradling her head in his lap, assessing her injuries. There was blood all down her front, spilling from her chin, and she coughed. Carter held his breath.

"I'm sorry, my love," she whispered, and he shushed her.

"No, no, it's all my fault," he cried, tears trickling down his cheeks. "You should have never been with me."

"Don't say that," she scolded, eyes fluttering. He patted her cheek, urging her to keep awake. "I wouldn't have my two beautiful children without you. Take it back."

"I should have been here sooner," he said, his jaw set, unable to comply with her request. If he hadn't gotten involved with her, she could continue on happily. She was so young, so vibrant— it should have been him. The infant in her arms coughed, and they both looked to him.

"Leto?" she asked, and he pressed a shaky hand to his son's chest. Only a faint heartbeat remained, and it was growing ever slower. Carter grit his teeth, slamming a fist to the ground, unable to stop his body from trembling. A cry resounded through the room, bringing him back to his senses, and Mariella grasped his wrist weakly. Carter laid her head back to the floor gently, standing to inspect the bassinet. Tears sprung to his eyes anew as he looked at their baby, crying her eyes out, kicking and throwing her tiny fists every which way. Carter scooped her up, cradling her gently in his arms, bringing her down to Mariella. Her eyes were glassy, dulling the beautiful and fiery red he knew them to be as she gazed upon her newborn, her white hair having barely even grown in. He laid her to Mariella's chest beside her fading brother, and he cried over all three as Mariella held them close. "My dear Marina."

"I have to get you to a doctor," Carter said, though he knew. He knew there wasn't a doctor for miles. He knew she'd lost too much blood. He knew there was nothing he could do. He knew.

"My love," Mariella coughed, reaching for Carter. He squeezed her hand gently. "Promise me something."

"Anything," he vowed, though he hadn't expected her to request what she did.

"Take our girl and run, far, far away. Your alchemy, it can do that, yes?" she asked, her breathing shallowed out. He furrowed his brow, shaking his head.

"No, I won't leave you," he said, but she shook her head, her gaze fixed to the ceiling.

"I don't wish for her to grow up in a world like this. I want you both to find peace," she said, her gaze finding his. "You promised me that one day, we'd flee to a world like that. Keep your promise to me, for her."

"Mariella," he pleaded, pressing her hand to his forehead.

"Please," she asked softly. "One last request." Carter's face twisted in agony, the veins in his neck straining.

"Yes," he choked out. "Of course, my love."

I could feel every bit of his heartache as he watched her take her last breath. I could feel just how cold her hand was. I could feel the shattering of his very soul as he laid her eyes to rest, gazing into the muted red one final time. I could barely think over the way he cried over her, his wails stronger and louder than his child's as he mourned. I could feel it all, and it felt like we were just as close to the brink of death as she had been.

***

"Did it work?" Ed asked nervously, watching the panting figure before them carefully. Just seconds ago, a vortex of red, screeching visions erupted from Father, red energy crackling all around him as they swarmed to the sky. He hunched over his throne, steam sizzling from his skin, sparks of red energy creating an electrified force around him. He had just threatened them with a small sun, and now, he was gasping for air.

"Yes, the people of Amestris have had their souls returned to their own bodies— and with nothing more than the souls of the Xerxsians he already had, I doubt he can continue to control that which he calls God," Hohenheim confirmed. Hohenheim's gaze flickered down, and Ed followed it to Marina, still lying unconscious but seemingly unharmed from Father's writhing. "It seems she too was successful in stopping him from opening the gate beyond this world."

Ed looked up to Izumi, who managed to maneuver around the throne with Mustang, giving her a curt nod, understanding her intentions by the focused look in her eyes. While Father struggled, Izumi dashed forward, grabbing Marina, tucking her over her hip before retrieving Mustang, rushing to Al's side. Ed let out a small sigh of relief as Izumi set her down but kept his focus on Father as he crushed the edge of his throne with his bare hand.

"I can always create another stone. I am not through," Father cried out, lunging forward, his eyes crazed. "There are more. A billion humans I can draw energy from! A billion universes I can unlock with the key! I won't be stopped a second time!"

A ball of purple, sinister energy materialized at Father's forehead, and Ed barely blinked before the mass headed toward them. Hohenheim managed to fend it off, redirecting its destructive path upward, smashing the ceiling to bits, dust and debris falling from the crumbling, gaping hole left in its wake. Father cried out again, red energy surging as he sent a powerful wave of attack at them. Before the attack hit, blue illuminated the ground beneath them, and they turned to the small Xingese girl responsible for the protective barrier they found themselves within.

"Mei!" Al cried gratefully.

"Detecting and using the power that flows within the ground is what we alkahestrist's do! What's more, the greater the power the other side has, the greater the power I can use becomes!" Mei yelled over the rush of wind, Father's first attack dying down. Her eyes widened. "Look out! Behind you!" They turned to another wave of dark energy, smashing up rubble and dirt as it drilled toward them. Hohenheim held his arms out, reinforcing the protective barrier, keeping the darkness at bay. But it was easy to tell that he was faltering.

"Damn! I don't have what it takes to fight his energy," Hohenheim griped. The kunai Mei had placed in the base of the transmutation began to wobble.

"Try as hard as you can, Sir! I can't hold on much longer!" she cried.

"It's no use!" Hohenheim fell back a step, his hands turning black as the force of the wave tore his skin away. Ed and Al looked to one another briefly, desperately, before lunging forward.

"C'mon, dad! Hang on!" Al said, holding their father steady. Ed leaned all his weight against Hohenheim's back.

"Can't you even do this?" he shouted. "Stay focused!" Ed pushed harder. He'd be damned if he'd let Hohenheim give up so easily.

"I can only do so much, boys. I'm just a decrepit old man," he admitted. "But I'll give it everything these old bones can do!"

"This has to end soon, or dad's Philosopher's Stone will burn out!" Al yelled above Hohenheim's battle cry. Ed looked up, knowing that somewhere in the building was their saving grace.

"Done yet, Scar?" he cried into the ether, hoping that maybe the damn Ishvalen would hear his irritation and move things along. There was a low rumble, and Ed felt a jolt of energy rush his body. He wasn't exactly expecting that to work, but he'd take any win he could get.

"It's coming!" Hohenheim called, and without a second thought, Ed clapped his hands together, feeling that familiar tingle of energy course through him.

He pressed his hands to the ground, officially beginning their full counter. Spikes of earth went reeling for Pride and Father, knocking them from their balance, demolishing the lair layer by layer, starting with his throne. As the dust settled, Father and Pride stood within the rubble, gazing upon their undoing.

"How do you like that? Your little throne has been reduced to rubble. Now I think it's time someone put an end to all your damn posturing. So, I am gonna take you down, and the Truth along with you!" Ed flung off his tattered coat, brandishing his fist before clapping his hands together. He pressed them to the ground, erecting small cannons, aiming his shots at Father, who didn't so much as flinch. "How do you like this, huh?" Ed and Al kept firing, kept attacking, but nothing was reaching him. He looked almost bored as flying projectiles bounced from his protective barrier. He shot a glare at Ed, destroying the cannons, red energy flying every which way. Hohenheim jumped before Ed, redirecting the shockwave.

"Keep it coming with all you've got! Make him use his Philosopher's Stone! He'll run out of energy!" Hohenheim yelled back to Ed. Ed made a dissatisfied grunt.

"Yeah? And when will that be?" he asked annoyedly.

"I'm not sure, but we have to keep on trying!" Hohenheim cried.

"Here, take this!" Izumi propelled a massive pipe at Father, only to have it ricochet from him and end up in the ceiling. Chains creaked as Greedling worked, a vat of molten lava emerging from a pit in the ground, bubbling over and increasing the room's temperature to an uncomfortable degree.

"Miss Marina, please wake up," Ed heard Mei call, and he looked back briefly, watching as the girl performed her alkahestry on Marina, attempting to revive her.

"I asked Mei to look after her," Hohenheim said, and Ed snapped his head forward. He gave Hohenheim a nod in thanks. "She's likely still trying to destroy the gate."

"I thought you said she stopped him?" Ed griped.

"She stopped him, but she hasn't yet destroyed the gate. I could still feel the key's presence. My guess is she's doing all she can to destroy it within herself. Even now, she's fighting," Hohenheim surmised. Ed grit his teeth, his brows knit together. "Have faith in her, Edward." Ed took a breath.

"Yeah, right," he said, grounding himself. Hohenheim was right. This was Marina, stubborn enough to push through whatever stood in her way. She'd succeed. He let out an outcry, continuing his assault.

"The sweet memories! That's exactly the tub I took a bath in!" Greedling grinned devilishly, the vat having emerged completely. Carting a steel bar, Greedling rushed up behind Father. "Now it's your turn, Daddy!" He swung the bar, trying to bat Father into the melting pot, but the bar snapped upon impact, and Greedling jumped back.

"Get out of the way, Greed!" Ed called, an idea springing to mind. He clapped his hands to the floor, pouring the molten lava over Father, dousing him in it. The spillage bubbled and steamed, spreading slowly and thickly over the floor. It bubbled at its center, and a vortex of lava opened up, revealing Father, unscathed as he began ascending to the surface propelled by the magma. He looked down, extending his hand, and black spires shot from his hand toward their camp. Ed's breath caught as they spiraled toward Marina and Mei. Mei jumped in front of Marina, poised to defend, but was swatted away like a simple pest, sent tumbling across the terrain. Ed's eyes widened as the black spires wrapped around Marina's torso. "No, Marina!" Ed stumbled after her, but she was yanked up and within Father's grasp in a matter of seconds. Father didn't acknowledge them as he continued up to the surface, Marina hanging limply from his side.

"That bastard. He's going to try to make another Philosopher's Stone and escape to Marina's world before she destroys the gateway," Hohenheim said, and Ed's jaw set in frustration. Greedling wasted no time climbing up after his father, and Hohenheim was already headed toward the surface, the ground beneath him propelling him up.

"Damnit!" Ed cried, motioning to clap his hands to follow when something like a whip wrapped around his flesh arm, nearly dragging him from his feet.

"Brother!" Al gasped as Ed acknowledged the source. Pride hadn't yet given up, though half of his face had nearly been eroded, barely held together by his hand. Ed frowned, pulling back against the arms wrapped around his own.

"Al, go on ahead. Seems our friend here still wants me to stick around," Ed griped. Though it wasn't what his mind was on, he knew he had to do something to take care of Pride before he could move forward. Al made a move to help Ed, but their teacher stopped him.

"Come on, Al, let's go," Izumi encouraged his brother, who seemed to agree though hesitantly. He joined their teacher, and she gave Ed a stern look. "Don't let that thing beat you, Ed."

"Right!" he yelled back as they too sprung to the surface. He'd be right behind them. Once he finished here, he was going to bring Marina back.

***

I opened my eyes as Carter released me, finding myself back in my own body but unable to shake everything I'd witnessed. My breath hitched as I let out a sob, my body reacting before I could. My cheeks were cold and wet, and I realized I must have been crying for some time before I came to. I looked up at Carter, who didn't meet my gaze.

"You didn't..." I couldn't bring myself to say it— not after seeing it for myself. I wondered by the look on his face if he relieved it too.

"No," he said, his voice wrought. "I didn't." I nodded numbly, letting out a trembling breath. But Elias had been so sure, had all the conviction in the world that Carter had done it.

There was nothing I could do. When I arrived, they were both gone, and Carter was nowhere to be found. I still see the walls of our hut splattered in their blood when I close my eyes at night.

"Elias, he told me that you committed the taboo," I said. Carter shifted uncomfortably.

"I'd say he's half right," Carter admitted, and my stomach dropped. "Shortly after what you saw, I opened the gate with my transmutation and brought us here. Your mother, she— she and your brother sufficed as our tolls to the other side." My eyes went wide, my heart stopping. A tear traced down my cheek.

"They were our tolls?" I choked out, barely finding my voice. He nodded. I curled in on myself, wrapping my arms around my legs, hiccupping a sob. I buried my face in my knees, even more confused and lost than I was before.

"I'm... sorry I had to show you that," he said.

"Why?" I questioned, my heart aching. Why had I survived? Why did they have to die for me to have the life I did? I didn't deserve it. It wasn't equivalent. A hand fell over my shoulder, and I jolted. He retracted his hand as I looked up to him, his face serious.

"Your mother and I wanted nothing more than for you to live," he said somewhat sternly, his gaze intent. "It's my fault they didn't make it, not yours. So don't say nonsense like that." I blinked through tears, a little confused as to what he meant until I realized I must have voiced my internal monologue. Just when I was getting used to keeping all my thoughts in my head, it seemed they spilled out of me without my even knowing. I slammed my eyes shut, damning the tears.

"It's not fair," I said.

"I know. I would change it if I could," Carter said quietly, regretfully. He let the silence linger as I tried to stifle my sobs. He didn't try to hug me or consoled me further, which I appreciated. I didn't think anything he could do or say would fix this, and a part of me felt he knew that all too well. He was just there, patiently waiting for me to process. I calmed a bit, wiping my face as I swallowed hard, looking up at the man before me, somehow everything and nothing of what I imagined him to be. But I couldn't tell if he was good or bad. He hadn't killed them, yet he was cowardly. He didn't want the Homunculi to go through with their plan, yet he killed countless Ishvalens without ever telling Mariella. He was a walking contradiction, and I was too upset to distinguish what it was I felt toward him. Anger? Pity? Resentment? Gratitude? The answer to that had become even more complicated, and I wondered if Ed had been just as confused as I was, though, in a way, I was lucky. I got to see the truth for myself. If I hadn't felt it for myself, experienced it through him, I might not have believed him. If we hadn't shared body and mind, remorse evident in his actions, I know I wouldn't have. Anyone can fake an outward reaction. But inside? That was honest to a fault. And Carter shared it with me willingly. I couldn't help but wonder if maybe, he, too, had found at least some comfort in sharing the truth with me. I think I did. Carter sighed, drawing my attention. "I know that was a lot to witness, but I'm afraid we don't have much time."

"What do you mean?" I asked. He glanced over my shoulder, his gaze directed to the structure behind me. I steeled myself, turning to the structure.

"You see, I began to grow paranoid over on the other side of the gate," Carter began, and I looked up at him as he found his way to my side. "I knew if both circles existed on this side, even if they were apart, that man would find a way to bring them together, to find a way here."

"You mean Father," I realized. His lips pursed into a tight line, his distaste evident in his reaction.

"I thought they would come after me, just like they had in Ishval. If it happened once, it could happen again. I'd already lost one family; I wasn't ready to lose another," he said, his gaze affixed steadily at the door. I inhaled sharply, their images still lingering in my mind. I was both gifted and burdened with their ghosts. I carried them with me in a surer way than I ever had before. "So, I set out to close the gate permanently. The only issue is that didn't happen. The transmutation wasn't strong enough, and I ended up getting stuck here, between worlds."

"So, that's the gateway, then," I surmised. He nodded. "And I managed to get stuck here, too."

"Not quite," he said, and I quirked a brow at him. He finally broke his gaze, turning to me. "As I said, not all is lost." I sucked in a breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"But I messed up the transmutation," I said, casting my gaze downward.

"You can't mess up what has yet to be done, Marina," he said, and I looked at him quizzically. He quirked a smile, gesturing to the door. "Getting here was half the battle. The other half is waiting ahead of you."

I walked to it a bit apprehensive, worried it would open suddenly or disappear before I knew what to do with it. But my hand found its way to the surface, not wood but still grainy against my palm as I took it in. I looked to my other palm, suddenly aware that consequences came with transmutations of any kind. I turned and looked to Carter nervously, doubt clouding my mind.

"What will happen?" I asked though I had a decent idea.

"I'm assuming that the gate will dissolve, and so will any connection to the other world. That was what I had hoped to accomplish, at least, though it backfired," he shrugged. I bit my lips together, my heart rate picking up in pace. He bent to look me in the eye. "Hey, I know it sound's scary, but you're going to be fine. You did what I couldn't; you created a circle that could very well destroy the door for good. You're undoing my worst mistake. You won't be losing your means back to Amestris. Just to the other world. Unless, of course, you've decided to return there?" I pondered his question a moment.

"No, I made my choice and paid the price. I'm content with my decision," I said assuredly. "But... what about you? What happens to you?" If there's no between... where would he end up? The question seemed to catch him off guard by the way his eyes widened. He sucked in a breath, clasping his hands behind his back.

"I'm not sure," he said. I fixed my gaze on the door before us, its presence looming. "I suppose I, too, will cease to exist."

"What?" I asked, my breath hitching. "Why?" I didn't quite understand the desperation in my tone or the way something tore inside of me just thinking about sending my father to the afterlife.

"I entered this pathway through the other world; it's where my body – or, perhaps, what's left of it – resides. I have no home to return to in Amestris. But you do. You have a body waiting for your soul's return," he said, and I blinked at him. This whole time, I thought I was in my body. Was that why I could talk? Because I had moved beyond my physicality? I shook my head.

"But, if your body is still on our side, isn't there still a chance for you?" I asked, wracking my brain for some solution.

"A slim one, maybe," he said.

"And you're not going to take it?" I asked exasperatedly. "The door is right here!"

"You cannot open a locked door," he said, stopping me in my tracks. "I no longer have a key. Truth took it as payment for my failed transmutation." I frowned, slamming a hand to my chest.

"But I do," I declared, a wave of silence following as he processed. He didn't move, didn't speak, and I couldn't contain myself. "My mom waited for you, you know." I heard myself blurt. He seemed a bit stunned, but I didn't move to explain. He let out a huff.

"It's a shame, what I did," he said, running a hand through his hair with a deep exhale. His eyes looked forlorn as he spoke. "Promising I'd return."

"Then keep your promise," I said.

"It's not that simple," he said with a snort.

"Why not?" I asked. Why wasn't it simple? Why couldn't it be? If there was still a chance, why not take it. Why couldn't there be another way? "Don't you still love her?"

"Of course I do, but I doubt she's reserved her affections for me after all these years," he said, scratching his cheek with a self-deprecating tone. His eyes softened a bit as his hand fell back to his side. "Besides, I've been here so long— I don't even think I'd understand what living on would mean."

"Well, don't you want to find out?" I asked, stepping in front of him, gesturing wildly at the door. "If she still loves you— to remember what living is like? Isn't that what you fought so hard for? To live?" He hung his head.

"I fought to ensure you'd survive. I don't deserve another chance after the things I've done."

"That's such bullshit!"

"Excuse me?" he asked, a parental tone in his voice. I didn't correct myself.

"You were just lecturing me a moment ago over the same thing! It sounds to me you don't want to try because it's going to be difficult to face the reality of your situation— but the reality is you'll die just as unfulfilled as you lived!" I yelled exasperatedly. He began to protest, but I cut him off. "I get why you may be hesitant to go back. Reality is brutal, and it doesn't pull any punches. Trust me, I know. But that doesn't mean you can't learn and grow and try to be better than your worst mistakes. It doesn't mean you can't make a life worthy of living."

"Rina—"

"Don't Rina me, right now! Listen! Just because you didn't expect to live doesn't mean you can't! You escaped to our world for a better life, so live it, damnit!" I exclaimed, not realizing tears were cascading over my cheeks.

I hiccupped a sob, wiping my face wildly. I couldn't tell why I was crying. Maybe I felt sorry for my mom, that we both left her, and neither of us would return. Or, maybe, I was angry that he'd forfeit his life before he made his amends. Maybe, I was feeling sorry for myself, knowing the truth, and being able to do nothing to change what was already done. Maybe all of it. His face softened, and he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me to his chest. I let him, too tired to push him away, too frustrated to not find some solace in his embrace. There was still a part of me that recognized him as my father, a part of me that longed for that connection. A part of me that wished I could imagine that family, whole and happy. I choked on another sob, burying my face into his chest like a child.

"You never outgrew crying, did you?" he teased.

"I can't help who I am!" I cried, too tired to continue exerting my energy to argue. I clutched the fabric of his shirt, my eyes screwed shut. "Just promise me that you'll try..."

"Alright," he conceded, pulling me closer, rubbing my back. "I'll go back."

"Good," I sighed, relief washing over me. Eventually, I had calmed myself down enough to tackle the task at hand. I pulled away, facing the door. I clapped my hands, feeling that familiar shockwave race through my body, my eyes trained on the door in front of me. It was almost over. I pressed my palms to the cool of the stone, setting it alight with a flash of blue. I stepped back as the doors creaked inward, afraid little hands would shoot out at me at any moment. But they didn't. I turned to Carter, who came to stand beside me. "Ready?"

"Yeah," he said. He looked down at me. "Marina, is it... do you ever think you could forgive me?" I bit my lips together. I had never had much issue speaking my mind before, and it was unnerving just how unable I was to articulate to him what it was I was feeling. I managed to push past it, my eyes fixed on the door dead ahead.

"I am grateful for your help, but... I don't think I can forgive you," I admitted, the words feeling grainy on my tongue. I knew I wouldn't be able to say it to his face, however cowardly that was, but I felt braver staring at the door. I couldn't forgive him for murdering hundreds of thousands of innocent people, innocent Ishvalens. Wiping out a race of people his beloved belonged to just to advance his own goals, his ambitions. I couldn't forgive him for being unable to protect the only family I had, though that was a complicated situation, even more complicated as a feeling. "I just... I can't. I'm sorry."

"It's alright. I know," Carter acknowledged softly. "No need to apologize. I wouldn't forgive me, either."

"But that doesn't that I won't someday. And it doesn't mean she won't forgive you," I added quickly. "So, you'd better do whatever you can to earn mom's forgiveness, alright?" He grinned, a chuckle in his chest, and I found myself smiling, just slightly.

"Right," he agreed as he pat my head. "You said you paid a toll to return?" I blinked, having forgotten for a moment that I no longer had a voice. My shoulders slumped a little.

"My voice," I explained quietly, and his lip quirked up as he looked down at me, a gleam in his eye.

"Maybe now, my word will be worth something," he said, ruffling my hair. I furrowed my brow, but he didn't explain himself as he walked into the open gateway. The doors began to close on his receding back, and I stood there, a lump in my throat, hoping and praying that somehow, he'd make it back. That somehow, I would too. There was plenty I had yet to face. He turned as the doors nearly shut. "Goodbye, Rina."

"Goodbye, Dad," I said.

His eyes widened a moment before his face softened into one last smile. I stood there watching as his visage disappeared beyond the clang of the doors. I clapped my hands together, remembering the feeling of the circle ingrained in my back, feeling the tips of my fingers buzz with its inscription. I swallowed hard, my heart racing as I moved to touch the door.

"Well, you've decided to close the gateway, then?" a familiar voice mused, and I halted. I turned ever-so-slowly to the familiar figure, a wide grin over their face. It was fitting that Truth used my own voice to address me, unsettling as it was. Another door lingered beyond them, and I recognized it well. "You do understand that any trace of your father's research on it will be wiped away forever, right?" I turned to the door, looming as a reminder of all my father had done, good and bad alike.

"I'd like to think it would be worth it," I answered.

"You'll never be able to return to that side again," they pressed. I shook my head, staring down into my palms.

"That wasn't where I belonged," I said quietly, picking my head up. I turned to them. "That was the point of all this, wasn't it? To remind me where I came from?"

"Does this mean you understand my riddle?" they asked coyly, leaning forward. I smiled.

"I do," I assured them. As soon as I sent my father back, urging him to live on, I had realized it. "You challenge wasn't a singular task to fulfill. It's a lifetime commitment to righting the errors of my predecessors, to create a future worth living. But I couldn't do that without understanding where I came from and how I got here. Isn't that right?" Truth's grin grew wider.

"Interesting," they said, trying to tame the excitement in their cadence. "Tell me, what will you do now that you've been enlightened?"

"I'm going to try to right the wrongs of the past," I said, mirroring their riddle back to them. I couldn't change the fact that I was the daughter of a man who participated in the atrocities of genocide. And I couldn't very well understand the plight of my people, having escaped it long ago. But the history was still mine, and though I couldn't rewrite what was done, I could learn from it and keep moving forward. To ensure a world where justice was served, and such atrocities were prevented from ever happening again. I looked up to the door, my hands small and insignificant against it. "Closing the gate between worlds is just the beginning."

"Are you sure you're equipped for the task?" Truth questioned. "It's going to be difficult. You're just one person."

"That's true," I said, clenching my fists. When I had first come to Amestris, I was alone, and afraid, and unsure of myself. But then I met Ed and Al, and Isabelle and Elias and so many others who helped me find my way. I reflected on all that I had learned, all that I had been through; the mistakes and triumphs, and the things left unfinished. "I may be one person, and I can't say I won't make mistakes from time to time, but I know now who I am now, and who I want to be. I know what it is that I could do. Besides, I've got people I want to see again." I turned to the door decisively, the electricity still stinging in my hands, and slammed them to the door. Blue energy crackled up the middle like a flash of lightning, and I took a few good steps back, watching with a smile as the door cracked and dissolved into nothing.

"You've figured it out! Well done!" Truth clapped, standing. They gestured to the door beyond them. "Go, fulfill your purpose, Marina Wayde!" I set off, hitting my stride feeling lighter than ever as I walked by them, the doors before me opening. I took a deep breath as I stepped through my gate and into the warmth of the light.

***

He opened his eyes to the blue of the chamber, a freeze taking hold of him immediately. It was what it was designed to do, so he was glad of that, but he shivered as faces flooded the glass, the clicking of keypads racing to release him. To his surprise, he wasn't as feeble as he imagined he'd be after spending so many years in a cryo-chamber. He was surprised he'd even woken up at all, and apparently, so were the team of scientists still analyzing him. His vitals had dipped so low they began to investigate ending the experiment. But there he was, alive and in decent health in the basement of the lab he had worked in. He still couldn't believe he had managed to convince the higher-ups to engage in this experimentation with him to preserve his body on this side.

He was quickly flocked by scientists and doctors, all either confused or pleasantly surprised or utterly terrified. A few hours later, and about a billion questions asked and answered, Carter resigned from his former position. He gave them only the necessary information for their research into cryo-chambers in hopes that no one would ever pursue the science of alternate universes again. A few NDA's were given to him, though it seemed a bit redundant upon what they discovered after he'd awoken. He was required to sign them anyway. When he was released, he was given his old possessions; a small Toyota in the parking lot – dusty and barely running – the keys to said Toyota, and his wallet, a picture tucked into its sleeve, otherwise empty save for his expired I.D. He plucked it from the corroding vinal sheet as he sat in the stalling car, rubbing his thumb over the face of the woman he left behind in this world. He shifted the car into gear and was off, hoping by some stroke of luck she hadn't moved in all this time. He approached the door with the photo in hand, clutching it for dear life, his daughter's words echoing in the back of his mind.

You'd better do whatever you can to earn mom's forgiveness, alright?

He knocked, once, twice, then a third time, the same knock he'd always used when he'd forgotten his keys at the office. There was a shuffling beyond the door, and it suddenly swung open, startling him. He took a step back, nearly falling down the stair behind him, but he caught himself on the railing and looked up at the woman at the door, somehow untouched by age and just as beautiful as he remembered her.

"Carter?" she whispered, her hand over her heart. He nodded with a smile, hoping to God she wouldn't beat him with the baseball bat in her other hand. But her face scrunched, and the bat fell from her hand as she tore down the landing, embracing him. He could feel tears against his neck, her arms tightly wound around him, and he returned the embrace, breathing her in, the sweet smell of cherry invading his senses. She pulled back, facing him, nose to nose, as she let out a delighted and sincere chuckle. "Welcome home."

***

Woo! Hello everyone, I'm alive! Let me start by saying thank you for your patience; it's greatly appreciated. I know two weeks is a pretty long time to be prepared for, and going an extra week without an update, I'm sure rose some questions that I'm here to answer. Firstly, I got to enjoy a nice, no-writing vacation for an entire week, which I haven't done in a year. I usually keep writing when I take breaks like this, so to have a whole week off to just shut my mind down was really refreshing. And that brings us to the second week, where I was ready to get back to the grind and get this chapter done and out, and life decided to hit me over the head with this thing called responsibilities that sadly, as an adult, I have to comply with. A lot of medical stuff, job prospect stuff, school stuff; you know, the usual 23-year-old business. Those issues made it a lot harder for me to focus on my writing, and while I had an overview and a decent chapter written, it didn't feel finished. Especially since we're coming to the end of this journey, I couldn't produce and publish a chapter I didn't absolutely love. It just didn't feel right. I hope you understand, and I thank you for giving me a little bit of grace since I know you guys are probably dying to figure out what's going on. And I hope this chapter answers some of your questions!

We finally get to meet Carter and get some insight into his life, into his motivations and choices, the reasons Marina is the way she is now. It was so fun devising how they would interact and how Marina would react to all of this being thrust at her at breakneck speed. It's been a long time coming, and I wanted it to be as satisfying as possible, so I hope I accomplished that. I definitely feel good about it and good about how this story will inevitably end. With that being said, there are going to be about two more chapters— and that's it. It'll be done. So, I wanted to prepare you for that because even I keep forgetting that it's so close to being over. I also think that if this chapter gave me as much trouble as it did, the next two are bound to do the same, so I'll likely take another two, maybe three weeks to publish again. I'm going to shoot for two, but I don't want you to be alarmed if it's three like it had to be this go-round. The good news is I will finish it before school starts at the beginning of next month, officially closing this chapter (heh) in my journey. Maybe not forever, but for now. Alright, I think that's all I had to say, so I hope you enjoy it and I look forward to finishing strong. See you soon.