Phase 6

Winry, Pinako, and Alphonse are all seated in the living room. Silence envelops as the neighbors take their time to digest everything that Alphonse had relayed to them. Grandmother and granddaughter both have grave looks on their faces. Smoke billows into the air from the old woman's pipe.

"A parallel world, huh?" said Winry. "And with people who look just like us."

Alphonse nods. "The people there can't use alchemy, but their science and technology is more advanced than what we have here in Amestris.

Pinako turns to Alphonse. "In all the years I've known your father, he's never exhibited any signs of aging. I never asked, but I knew there was something special about him." She takes a puff from her pipe. "I understand why he's kept it secret from all of us. Imagine the catastrophe over his head if outsiders were to learn of him."

"Thank you, Granny Pinako."

"Silly child, there's no need for that."

"Hmm...but I'm afraid you and Edward are going to be faced with a catastrophe over your heads now, especially Edward," says Winry.

Alphonse blinks in confusion. "Huh?"

Winry closes her eyes and smiles, lost to her own private musings. Her grandmother chuckles, leaving Alphonse to stare blankly between the two.

***

In the dark of the night, Hohenheim tossed and turned in his sleep. The lids of his eyes trembled. Beads of sweat clung to his forehead.

"You lied to me, Dante! You persuaded me use the Philosopher's Stone to bring back our son, but the truth is, you were only thinking of yourself! You used me to sacrifice the entire city all for the sake of your immortality!"

"How did I lie to you, my Dear? The Philosopher's Stone did indeed resurrect our child. Immortality was just a natural outcome of using the stone. Tell me, didn't you desire to be immortal as well -- to be able to transcend the natural lifespan of a human in order to continue your studies in alchemy? Don't try to say that you weren't aware of the consequences of that dream, my Love, for in order to achieve that dream, sacrifices were inevitable."

Hohenheim glowered at his first wife.

"And our son? I want the truth, Dante! Was his death also inevitable?"

The woman falls silent, her head bowed low. Then, the sound of laughter was heard. 

"It appears as though you've come to a conclusion. What took you so long to confront me about it?"

Hohenheim's eyes widen in horror. "So it was you!"

Dante continued to laugh, her voice echoing in her husband's ears.

Hohenheim awoke with a start, gasping for breath. He bolted upright and pressed a hand to his damp forehead, trying to calm his nerves. When his breathing had eased, the golden-haired man put on his glasses and tossed aside the covers.

***

Hohenheim made his way through the hall. He paused in front of Edward's bedroom and took a peek inside. His son was asleep in bed. Winry was resting nearby, her arms folded across the desk to support her head. Relieved at the sight of them, Hohenheim quietly closed the door and proceeded downstairs.

***

The basement was dimly lit -- the gas lamp burning low on the table. Alphonse was asleep in a makeshift bed on the floor, having offered to help keep watch over Envy while Hohenheim got some rest. The elderly man went from feeling at ease at the sight of Alphonse; to having a heart-stopping moment when he looked up.

The bed where Envy was supposed to be resting in was empty.

Hohenheim nearly cried out in his moment of panic, but held himself in check at the last minute. His eyes scanned the entire room -- coming to rest on a dark outline in the far corner of the basement. He slowly made his way across the floor, being careful not to wake Alphonse.

A distant memory works its way into Hohenheim's recollection. His son, William, was still a young child at the time. Whenever he was plagued by bad dreams, Hohenheim would find him cuddled up in a corner of the bedroom, clutching his pillow.

The father crouches in front of his son. He reaches out a hand to tousle the latter's unruly mass of black-green hair. "Did you have a bad dream?"

Melancholy light black eyes meet concerned dark amber-colored ones.

Envy was sitting upright with his knees drawn up to his chest. He had his hands grasping onto some type of fabric that was spilling onto the floor from his lap. Hohenheim noticed that it was the blood-stained coat that he had covered his son with when the former had carried him back home. He thought he had discarded it.

"The coat's very dirty. Here. Let me take it from you."

Hohenheim reaches a hand for the coat -- only to see his son flinch and clutch the fabric closer to his chest. The former drops his hand. The latter says not a word. A brief silence ensues before Hohenheim adjusts his position to sit next to Envy. "There's still a couple of hours before sunrise. Do you want to go back to bed?"

Envy turns his head away to face the wall. Another brief silence follows.

Hohenheim smiles, finding the situation to be slightly amusing. "Well then, I guess I'll be staying here as well."

Minutes tick by. Hohenheim's eyes are closed. The back of his head is leaning against the wall. As he waits for sleep to come, the alchemist feels a sudden weight on him. The man opens his eyes slowly to find his son's head resting on his lap. The latter had curled himself up in a fetal position -- the coat still in his hands. Hohenheim does not move, for fear of startling his son. The former closes his eyes again to welcome sleep.

Phase 5     Phase 7