Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, have never owned Fullmetal Alchemist, and probably will never own Fullmetal Alchemist. Sad, ain't it?

Author's Note: Final Alchemy takes place as a direct sequel to the last episode in the anime series of FMA, but does not take events of the Fullmetal Alchemist movie, Conqueror of Shambala, into account.

Summary: Ed finds a way to return to Amestris after five long years, but the Gate enlists his help in return. As he goes about his task, Edward Elric makes a single, shattering discovery - the Gate is crumbling, and both worlds are on collision course. The search for a solution leads him to the legend of Xerxes, through the diaries of Dante, and finally, to his own father's unfulfilled legacy from four hundred years ago. And in the end, Ed realizes he was the one holding the answers all along.

Final Alchemy

Chapter I: Homeward Bound

'Well, I can only teach you two things – to dig, and to love your home.'

-Badger, 'The Once and Future King' by T. H. White

Earth, 1927

It had rained after all. Oberth squinted through the gray downpour as mechanics and engineers scrambled over, under, and around the flimsy craft, checking their schematic diagrams or tacking equipment to the grass underneath the water-resistant tarp.

The sharp, clear voice of his partner was barking out orders loud enough to be heard over the rumbling storm. Even from a distance, he could see the silhouette of his associate, recognizable by the bold and exaggerated gestures his partner made. He couldn't help but admire the man's raw determination. Alone, Oberth had been powerless, but now –

Now, all of their plans, all of their hard-work and meager funding had become reality. In another ten minutes, five long years of hard work would either come to fruition, or crash in a wreck of so much twisted metal and flames. The rain was not the only thing that chilled him to the bones.

'We're ready, sir!' He heard one of the mechanics yell over the distance. Similar shouts replied in confirmation. Oberth wiped the matted brown hair out of his eyes and stared intently towards the massive craft in case he missed the signal flare.

His partner was already out of sight, settled into the cockpit of their functional flying machine. In theory. The engineer standing near him began to pray as the craft roared to life, but he did not. He knew it would work; it had to work - he may not have trusted God, but he trusted his partner.

The craft took off with dozens of eyes following its cumbersome ascent. He watched the craft wordlessly as it rose higher and higher, almost out of sight –

Flash. A bolt of white lightning blinded him, and he stumbled backwards in surprise.

When he could see and hear again, the craft – and its pilot – were gone.

Risembool was barely town and mostly countryside, where the nearest house was a fifteen-minute trek through a wheat field away. No one locked their doors simply because no thief was dumb enough to look for anything of value here. News traveled in the blink of an eye, partially because everyone knew everyone else and partially because voices traveled really well over the quiet countryside.

That was also why he could hear Winry shouting at him even when he was all the way across the river.

"Al! Get over here, now!"

Thirteen-year-old Alphonse Elric let out a sigh, closed the book he was reading, and dusted himself off before pushing himself onto his feet. He hadn't been planning on staying by the river much longer – the sun was setting, and soon there wouldn't be enough light to read by anyway. He set off for the Rockbell house at a brisk jog with the thick alchemy book tucked under his arm and with a warm autumn breeze at his back. A short five minutes later, he could see the homely glow of lamplight through the porch windows of home.

Winry Rockbell was waiting for him. With a wrench. She didn't look especially pleased to see him.

Al cringed inwardly, but was relieved to see the oil stains on Winry's clothes. She had been working on automail, which explained the wrench in a non-violent way. Still, she looked extremely impatient, and annoyance was written clearly all over her face.

He gulped and upped his pace. "Hey, Winry."

"Al," She frowned and gestured towards the house with her chin. "An official came to see you."

Al's heart missed a beat. He had sent off his registration for the State Alchemist exams weeks ago – never mind the fact that he was still too young. If they had sent an official to interview him, then he must have passed the first round of selection, which meant that he had a shot at the exam, which meant he was one step closer to finding his brother. Al's thoughts whirled into a jumbled mess of possibilities as he tried to swallow his excitement and calmly open the door.

Aunt Pinako was waiting for him in the hall, still wearing her dinner apron and oven mitts. Next to her stood his one-time teacher – Izumi Curtis – wearing an extremely displeased expression that promised a long and painful interrogation afterwards. But before Al could begin imagining the unusual tortures that Izumi would inflict, he glimpsed a telltale flash of military blue around the corner.

A man with jet black hair and an equally black eye-patch stepped into view, and Al felt his jaw drop.

"G-General Mustang!" Al squeaked, trying his best to keep from outright goggling at the military officer. What in the world was such an important person doing here? In Risembool, in this house, here? Al had only ever seen the man in the newspapers or on a podium during military exercises.

The man, however, seemed perfectly at ease leaning against the wall in the tiny hallway of the Rockbell home. "Alphonse Elric. You applied for the State Alchemist Exam after all."

Al immediately straightened unconsciously and raised his chin. "Yes, sir."

"Despite knowing that you are five years below the minimum age?" There was something sharp in General Mustang's eyes, but Al couldn't make out exactly what. Instead, he steeled himself, then nodded, once, and met the General's piercing gaze with all the determination he could muster.

"My brother proved that the Exam accepts exceptions to the minimum age requirement." His voice shook, but only a little.

To his surprise, the General chuckled and gingerly rubbed his eye patch before his expression settled into a knowing smirk. "You really are your brother's brother." Then the smirk faded and was replaced by an unreadable expression. "Fullmetal was one of the most talented alchemists this nation has ever seen. That's a lot to live up to. Not only that, but once the military gets its leash around your neck, you're signing away your freedom for as long as we keep you."

"Al…" Winry murmured, placing a hand on his shoulder. Al wasn't sure if she was trying to reassure him or stop him, but either way, he had made up his mind ages ago. From the moment he woke up and found his brother gone without a trace.

The boy swallowed. "I don't care, as long as it means I can find my brother."

General Mustang smirked again, though this time, it was a little closer to a smile. Winry's grasp on his shoulder tightened and Izumi snorted in disgust. Al's erstwhile alchemy teacher fixed her student with a glare (was that a hint of gentleness, or was he imagining it?) and growled, "Don't come running back to us crying."

Mustang straightened his coat, then reached inside and pulled out a crisp, sealed envelope stamped with the military emblem. "I'll see you in Central in a week, then, Alphonse."

"Will you stay for dinner?" asked Aunt Pinako.

The man shook his head and politely refused. "I appreciate the sentiment, but I'm afraid that duty calls. Perhaps some other time." He bowed and tossed a wink in Izumi's direction on his way out.

"Don't come back," Izumi replied with a dangerous glint in her eye and an even more dangerous forced smile on her face that promised slow death. He flashed another smirk and disappeared down the dirt road in his shiny military boots and crisp blue uniform. The sky was darkening – it looked like it was about to rain.

Alphonse was still standing in the hall, clutching the envelope tightly in his hands like a lifeline.

Everything hurt.

His arms hurt (even though he was missing one), his legs hurt (he was missing one of those too), and his head felt like it was being crammed into a screaming tea kettle. Hell, even his goddamn hair felt horrible, and hair shouldn't be able to feel anything at all. Crash-landing after an inter-dimensional flight sucked. The fake glasses weren't helping his headache either.

(Keep to yourself.)

'Damn this,' He thought to himself, but refrained from cursing aloud – there were enough people in the room staring at his odd style of dress and his bedraggled appearance; he didn't need to attract anymore strange stares for suddenly swearing at nothing and no one in particular.

(Tell no one of your task. Do not let them know who you are.)

He hadn't meant for it to happen; he hadn't even known it was supposed to happen. Stupid Gate, stupid Guardian, stupid self for agreeing to this like a fucking idiot. How was he supposed to keep them from recognizing him? Why the hell did he even come back, if he wasn't even allowed to tell them who he was?

(You have no choice. You have no freedom. You are bound to your duty and your world.)

Well, at least six years of the war's aftermath and economic poverty on the other side had perfected his poker face. Even as he mentally cursed in four different languages, his face remained perfectly stoic. His stride was steady and controlled even when, in truth, every single step sent needles of fire through his veins.

(You are the Equalizer now. The previous one will help you and pass on the task when the time comes.)

His head throbbed from the sheer amount of information that had been crammed into it, and his inner scientist was still screaming and frothing over how none of it made any sense. It wasn't fair – it wasn't even logical for the Gate (whatever he, she, it was) to send him on this wild goose chase without telling him what exactly he was supposed to do, or how to do it.

"May I help you, sir?" The lady at the desk asked him meekly and blinked at him expectantly through her thick glasses. The moment she made eye contact, she immediately felt the intimidation settle over her like a heavy coat; he looked altogether too serious with his black hair pulled back into a ponytail and his stance too rigid to be natural. His face looked young, but there was a grim set to his jaw, like someone who had been to hell and back. But most of all – it was his eyes. Despite his glasses, they were unsettling, unnatural gold eyes that burned her and turned her gaze away.

(Their lives, their futures, the weight of the world rest on your shoulders now. Failure will not be forgiven. You are no longer your own.)

"I need to register for the State Alchemist Exams." 'Great. I get to become a dog of the military. Again.'

She blinked at him again, this time in realization. Well, that explained his strange appearance and his intense eyes. Alchemists were always a queer bunch. "Your name and identification please. Please fill out this form and come this way for a photo when you are finished."

He picked up a pen and began by filling in. Lies spilled across the paper as smoothly as the wet ink. Five minutes later, he was done, his picture was taken, and he left the same way he came. And that was that.

Just one more thing he had to do. Even if he couldn't reveal himself, if he never saw them again, he had to make sure they were safe, and not even the end of the world would stop him. Maybe they couldn't see him, but the Gate (she, he, it) never said anything about whether or not he could see them. Any risk involved could be damned for all he cared.

The tickets to Risembool crinkled quietly in his pocket.

CURRENTLY SEEKING A BETA.

If anyone spotted a mistake, or if there are any questions about the timeline, the characterization, or anything else, either review or drop me a PM, and I'll answer it.

~The Quiller