A Beach Trip With Elrics, part 6/6 [Completed]
Title: A Beach Trip With Elrics, part 6/6
Rating: PG
Genre: AU, crack, fluff
Pairing: Hei + Ed
Length: 1774 words
Author: kalikamaxwell
Artist: ketita
Summary: Edward is sent in search of a mad alchemist and encounters the mad alchemist's fishy victims.
Note: Entirely ketitas's fault. The original picture was posted here.
Early morning brought them a new discovery.
“Pst, Brother.”
“Mmm?” Edward cracked an eye open. Alphonse was bent over the bed and speaking low.
“Can the chimeras read?”
“Dunno. Why?”
“Someone stole my book,” Alphonse said.
Edward looked past his brother and found Winry inspecting one of Alphonse’s study books on the floor. She was frowning and her lips moved silently as she struggled with the text.
“Miles did write they were as smart as normal children,” he whispered. “I was wondering how he’d tested that.”
Alphonse nodded and stepped away from the bed to join Winry on the floor. “There might be some rare words in there,” he told her, which Edward knew was an understatement: a book meant for medical students would be full of difficult words. “Need any help?”
By the time Edward had convinced himself to get up and eat a handful of oat cookies for breakfast, Alphonse had already been turned into a human dictionary, obligingly providing an explanation for every word Winry pointed out.
The original cabin had been enlarged once to allow a bigger bed and a proper workspace after Alphonse’s arrival, and a second time the previous night for Alfons’ benefit. A short corridor connected the new recovery room to the rest.
“Morning, Alfons,” Edward greeted as he came in. “I suppose Al’s already checked up on you?”
Chirp.
“Are you feeling alright?”
Chirp…
“What’s that about?”
Alfons pointed at the wall. It took Edward a moment to figure out it wasn’t about the wall, but the sea beyond it.
“Ah, well, you can’t swim with your injury. It’ll take a few days…” He sat down on the sand floor, searching for something uplifting to say. “Thanks for not letting the shark eat me.”
Alfons nodded but didn’t seem especially cheered.
Alphonse’s voice served as background noise until Edward tried again. “Winry is practicing reading with Al. It makes me wonder, did you ever learn how to write?”
The answer was no. The chimeras had obviously been taught to recognize letters and words, but they probably hadn’t had any hand coordination practice with the writing. Edward decided it was as good a distraction as any other.
The chimeras proved eager to learn and absorbed an amazing quantity of knowledge in a few days. They both displayed an ease of learning that seemed to hint at intelligence above average but it could simply have been because their brains were starved. Living in the sea visibly didn’t give their minds enough stimulation.
Alfons’ forced immobility also made him entirely available for study. Edward took to explaining what he was trying to assess and how, but, privately, his optimism about the feasibility of his goal diminished. Nothing was impossible, but the risks… It would take much more research before he could even attempt it, and where would he find such time? Was he supposed to tell the Colonel he meant to become a hermit on this island?
There was one piece of good news. The chimeras’ inability to speak was not designed in their DNA: it was a modification Miles had done after their birth. The reason for this seemed clear: Miles wanted the chimeras quiet while he used them as test subjects, but wished the species to be able to carry on with speech at some point in the future. Speech would not be of much use underwater and the chimeras seemed perfectly able to communicate in other ways, but since they spent quite a bit of time out of the water too, speech would be useful-especially to communicate with non-chimera humans. Edward didn’t know what had caused Miles’ death, but it must have been quick and unexpected. A heart attack seemed a good bet. Regardless of the reason, the fact remained that the modification to the chimeras’ vocal cords could be undone.
Alfons might have been unsure about being human, but not about recovering speech. When asked about it, he made a point of writing down a shaky yes with the pen.
“I’m sorry I can’t do better,” Edward told him guiltily. “I’d love to be able to remove the fish parts right away, but I can’t be sure it’s safe. I don’t know if I can ever figure it out.” He’d done some research on chimeras over the last few years but it was a subject shunned by respectable alchemists. He had no one to help him on this.
Alfons picked up pen and pad, carefully inscribing a few words. Risk okay. Not scared. He looked up and his eyes were full of trust.
Edward turned and walked away. He couldn’t help the feeling Alfons only wanted to be human because of him. If that was so, he couldn’t do it. He’d grown enough to accept he couldn’t take responsibility for someone else’s happiness.
He went to sit with Miles’ skeleton, gazing the white skull and wondering what had been going on in that head. What was the point of all this? Was there a point to or only a madman’s fancy? Why did alchemy fascinate madmen so?
Footsteps joined him. There was only one other person with feet on the island. “I don’t know what to do, Al. I can’t let those bastards in Central take them, but if the Colonel realized they exist, others might too. They’re not safe.”
“Don’t be overly dramatic, Brother. It’s not like it used to be. There’s no 5th Laboratory anymore. Remember, parliament passed a motion to forbid experiments on humans once and for all.”
“That might not stop them. Beside, what about Creta? They might want to claim them too. Their grand-parents were probably Cretans.”
Settling down on the ground with him, Alphonse joined him in meditation. Eventually, he offered, “Did it occur to you that if you don’t want other alchemists to study them in evil ways, you just have to study them yourself? You just need a laboratory. The island already belongs to Amestris and it has room for a small laboratory, doesn’t it? I know you like wandering but maybe staying here would be good for you. You’d have peace and quiet and nobody to get on your nerves. You could take your time and research things properly. With time, maybe you’ll be able to turn them back safely.”
Edward was silent a long moment, reviewing his options. “Wouldn’t you hate it? You’re always saying I need to come and live with you in Central. This is pretty far from Central.”
“No, I keep saying you need to stop getting in trouble and worrying me,” Alphonse corrected, bumping his shoulder. “I don’t mind where you settle down as long as it’s safe. This place looks safe enough to me. I could visit.”
A deep, defeated sigh escaped him. “I don’t have any choice left then. I’ll have to do it. I’ll…ask Mustang for a favor.”
The one thing he hadn’t put on the list but which the ship had brought anyway was a radio. They were much too far to reach Amestris, but they could reach Creta’s coast and have them relay the message. Edward spent some time crafting a message obscure enough not to reveal anything to the men who would relay the message but clear enough for the Colonel to understand exactly what he wanted. Once the message was on its way to Central, he walked away to find a distraction, finding it under the form of a bored Alfons demanding attention.
He soon found himself trying to explain what Amestris culture was like. Explaining things such as education, employment, government and money was hard enough, but Alfons’ questions, written in the sand, forced him to find new ways to explain such concepts as politics or cooking. It was a long and slow conversation, sometime requiring spelling corrections, but they were not in a hurry.
Weird place, Alfons eventually wrote. He paused, added, Books know all?
“Pretty much, yeah. Anything can be studied and written about so there are books about everything.”
I want to see a libary.
“A library, with a r,” Edward corrected absently. “No. I told you, it’s too risky. Maybe eventually, but right now I don’t want to try and mess up.” Messing up would be Alfons’ death. “Beside, if you didn’t know me, would you still want to try to be human?”
You will leave.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do.” He wasn’t going to give Alfons false hope by telling him about the message he’d just sent. Whether Creta would let them build a laboratory here remained to be seen. Sure, the island had been ‘given’ to them, but that had been fifty years ago. It was up to the Colonel to work this out.
Alfons abandoned the conversation in favor of playing with Edward’s toes. Edward had yet to figure out whether Alfons was developing a fixation on feet or was just continuing with his established habit of touching him whenever he had the chance. Edward had a vague notion he should say something already but he ignored it, like usual. Hours drifted by lazily, spent in idle conversation and an embarrassing lot of cuddling. It was…nice.
Alphonse called through the open window. “Brother, the radio’s buzzing.”
Was a quick reply a good sign or bad sign? He returned to the radio, which he’d left outside in the woods so Alfons wouldn’t hear, and listened to the poor Cretan radio operator fight his way through the return message.
“Fucking bastard!” was Edward’s reaction to the message.
Alphonse, loitering nearby, looked up sharply. “He said no?”
Struggling not to throw the radio in the sea, he hissed out an answer. “He ‘guessed’ that I might find something of interest here and ‘prepared the way’ in case we wished to take ‘official possession’ of the place. It’s like he arranged the whole thing before I even got here and never bothered to ask my opinion! Filthy, manipulative bastard.”
Alphonse laughed and went inside: Edward heard him tell Winry the good news.
Edward’s anger dwindled to nothing when he returned to the beach and was greeted by Alfons’ curious chirp: being manipulated by Roy Mustang drove him up the walls, but this time it ended in such a way that he got exactly what he wanted.
He breathed deeply and found himself smiling at the shimmering sea. “Al! Bring your medical training over here. We’ve got vocal cords to fix.”
Dear Roy Mustang,
This isn’t quite what I had in mind when I asked you to help me convince my brother to settle down, but it seems to be working out very well. Thank you.
-Alphonse Elric
The end.
Happy holidays, y'all. <3
Rating: PG
Genre: AU, crack, fluff
Pairing: Hei + Ed
Length: 1774 words
Author: kalikamaxwell
Artist: ketita
Summary: Edward is sent in search of a mad alchemist and encounters the mad alchemist's fishy victims.
Note: Entirely ketitas's fault. The original picture was posted here.
Early morning brought them a new discovery.
“Pst, Brother.”
“Mmm?” Edward cracked an eye open. Alphonse was bent over the bed and speaking low.
“Can the chimeras read?”
“Dunno. Why?”
“Someone stole my book,” Alphonse said.
Edward looked past his brother and found Winry inspecting one of Alphonse’s study books on the floor. She was frowning and her lips moved silently as she struggled with the text.
“Miles did write they were as smart as normal children,” he whispered. “I was wondering how he’d tested that.”
Alphonse nodded and stepped away from the bed to join Winry on the floor. “There might be some rare words in there,” he told her, which Edward knew was an understatement: a book meant for medical students would be full of difficult words. “Need any help?”
By the time Edward had convinced himself to get up and eat a handful of oat cookies for breakfast, Alphonse had already been turned into a human dictionary, obligingly providing an explanation for every word Winry pointed out.
The original cabin had been enlarged once to allow a bigger bed and a proper workspace after Alphonse’s arrival, and a second time the previous night for Alfons’ benefit. A short corridor connected the new recovery room to the rest.
“Morning, Alfons,” Edward greeted as he came in. “I suppose Al’s already checked up on you?”
Chirp.
“Are you feeling alright?”
Chirp…
“What’s that about?”
Alfons pointed at the wall. It took Edward a moment to figure out it wasn’t about the wall, but the sea beyond it.
“Ah, well, you can’t swim with your injury. It’ll take a few days…” He sat down on the sand floor, searching for something uplifting to say. “Thanks for not letting the shark eat me.”
Alfons nodded but didn’t seem especially cheered.
Alphonse’s voice served as background noise until Edward tried again. “Winry is practicing reading with Al. It makes me wonder, did you ever learn how to write?”
The answer was no. The chimeras had obviously been taught to recognize letters and words, but they probably hadn’t had any hand coordination practice with the writing. Edward decided it was as good a distraction as any other.
The chimeras proved eager to learn and absorbed an amazing quantity of knowledge in a few days. They both displayed an ease of learning that seemed to hint at intelligence above average but it could simply have been because their brains were starved. Living in the sea visibly didn’t give their minds enough stimulation.
Alfons’ forced immobility also made him entirely available for study. Edward took to explaining what he was trying to assess and how, but, privately, his optimism about the feasibility of his goal diminished. Nothing was impossible, but the risks… It would take much more research before he could even attempt it, and where would he find such time? Was he supposed to tell the Colonel he meant to become a hermit on this island?
There was one piece of good news. The chimeras’ inability to speak was not designed in their DNA: it was a modification Miles had done after their birth. The reason for this seemed clear: Miles wanted the chimeras quiet while he used them as test subjects, but wished the species to be able to carry on with speech at some point in the future. Speech would not be of much use underwater and the chimeras seemed perfectly able to communicate in other ways, but since they spent quite a bit of time out of the water too, speech would be useful-especially to communicate with non-chimera humans. Edward didn’t know what had caused Miles’ death, but it must have been quick and unexpected. A heart attack seemed a good bet. Regardless of the reason, the fact remained that the modification to the chimeras’ vocal cords could be undone.
Alfons might have been unsure about being human, but not about recovering speech. When asked about it, he made a point of writing down a shaky yes with the pen.
“I’m sorry I can’t do better,” Edward told him guiltily. “I’d love to be able to remove the fish parts right away, but I can’t be sure it’s safe. I don’t know if I can ever figure it out.” He’d done some research on chimeras over the last few years but it was a subject shunned by respectable alchemists. He had no one to help him on this.
Alfons picked up pen and pad, carefully inscribing a few words. Risk okay. Not scared. He looked up and his eyes were full of trust.
Edward turned and walked away. He couldn’t help the feeling Alfons only wanted to be human because of him. If that was so, he couldn’t do it. He’d grown enough to accept he couldn’t take responsibility for someone else’s happiness.
He went to sit with Miles’ skeleton, gazing the white skull and wondering what had been going on in that head. What was the point of all this? Was there a point to or only a madman’s fancy? Why did alchemy fascinate madmen so?
Footsteps joined him. There was only one other person with feet on the island. “I don’t know what to do, Al. I can’t let those bastards in Central take them, but if the Colonel realized they exist, others might too. They’re not safe.”
“Don’t be overly dramatic, Brother. It’s not like it used to be. There’s no 5th Laboratory anymore. Remember, parliament passed a motion to forbid experiments on humans once and for all.”
“That might not stop them. Beside, what about Creta? They might want to claim them too. Their grand-parents were probably Cretans.”
Settling down on the ground with him, Alphonse joined him in meditation. Eventually, he offered, “Did it occur to you that if you don’t want other alchemists to study them in evil ways, you just have to study them yourself? You just need a laboratory. The island already belongs to Amestris and it has room for a small laboratory, doesn’t it? I know you like wandering but maybe staying here would be good for you. You’d have peace and quiet and nobody to get on your nerves. You could take your time and research things properly. With time, maybe you’ll be able to turn them back safely.”
Edward was silent a long moment, reviewing his options. “Wouldn’t you hate it? You’re always saying I need to come and live with you in Central. This is pretty far from Central.”
“No, I keep saying you need to stop getting in trouble and worrying me,” Alphonse corrected, bumping his shoulder. “I don’t mind where you settle down as long as it’s safe. This place looks safe enough to me. I could visit.”
A deep, defeated sigh escaped him. “I don’t have any choice left then. I’ll have to do it. I’ll…ask Mustang for a favor.”
The one thing he hadn’t put on the list but which the ship had brought anyway was a radio. They were much too far to reach Amestris, but they could reach Creta’s coast and have them relay the message. Edward spent some time crafting a message obscure enough not to reveal anything to the men who would relay the message but clear enough for the Colonel to understand exactly what he wanted. Once the message was on its way to Central, he walked away to find a distraction, finding it under the form of a bored Alfons demanding attention.
He soon found himself trying to explain what Amestris culture was like. Explaining things such as education, employment, government and money was hard enough, but Alfons’ questions, written in the sand, forced him to find new ways to explain such concepts as politics or cooking. It was a long and slow conversation, sometime requiring spelling corrections, but they were not in a hurry.
Weird place, Alfons eventually wrote. He paused, added, Books know all?
“Pretty much, yeah. Anything can be studied and written about so there are books about everything.”
I want to see a libary.
“A library, with a r,” Edward corrected absently. “No. I told you, it’s too risky. Maybe eventually, but right now I don’t want to try and mess up.” Messing up would be Alfons’ death. “Beside, if you didn’t know me, would you still want to try to be human?”
You will leave.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do.” He wasn’t going to give Alfons false hope by telling him about the message he’d just sent. Whether Creta would let them build a laboratory here remained to be seen. Sure, the island had been ‘given’ to them, but that had been fifty years ago. It was up to the Colonel to work this out.
Alfons abandoned the conversation in favor of playing with Edward’s toes. Edward had yet to figure out whether Alfons was developing a fixation on feet or was just continuing with his established habit of touching him whenever he had the chance. Edward had a vague notion he should say something already but he ignored it, like usual. Hours drifted by lazily, spent in idle conversation and an embarrassing lot of cuddling. It was…nice.
Alphonse called through the open window. “Brother, the radio’s buzzing.”
Was a quick reply a good sign or bad sign? He returned to the radio, which he’d left outside in the woods so Alfons wouldn’t hear, and listened to the poor Cretan radio operator fight his way through the return message.
“Fucking bastard!” was Edward’s reaction to the message.
Alphonse, loitering nearby, looked up sharply. “He said no?”
Struggling not to throw the radio in the sea, he hissed out an answer. “He ‘guessed’ that I might find something of interest here and ‘prepared the way’ in case we wished to take ‘official possession’ of the place. It’s like he arranged the whole thing before I even got here and never bothered to ask my opinion! Filthy, manipulative bastard.”
Alphonse laughed and went inside: Edward heard him tell Winry the good news.
Edward’s anger dwindled to nothing when he returned to the beach and was greeted by Alfons’ curious chirp: being manipulated by Roy Mustang drove him up the walls, but this time it ended in such a way that he got exactly what he wanted.
He breathed deeply and found himself smiling at the shimmering sea. “Al! Bring your medical training over here. We’ve got vocal cords to fix.”
Dear Roy Mustang,
This isn’t quite what I had in mind when I asked you to help me convince my brother to settle down, but it seems to be working out very well. Thank you.
-Alphonse Elric
The end.
Happy holidays, y'all. <3