Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist is still not mine and it is unlikely that it will ever be.

A/N: First - if you were one of the brave few who slogged through The Death of Truth, hello again! How've you been? If you're new...you might want to go to my profile and read that monster of a fic first. The following will make more sense. Although...I think most people will pick up the vague outlines of what has happened.

Anyway, I said there would be a sequel and, by Timothy, there shall be! It has and will remain very much delayed by real life but I am a postgrad now and I have horrible 5000 word essays, so there's nothing we can do about that. As for this story, it is, well, different in style. Rather than 2000 word chapters focusing on multiple goings on, there will be ~4000 word chapters following individuals on their respective journeys. And...updates will depend. I may write a lot of this over the next couple of weeks while I try to save my sanity from the Philosophy of Science but...I'll make no promises. That never ends well.

You will note immediately that this is not very action orientated. The title says everything, really. I hope I can make three long journeys entertaining and interesting but that is entirely in your hands. We' rejoin our story with Ed, because this is his show, after all. But first - because I'm like that - an ambiguous prologue. Enjoy!

Prologue: The Professor, the Visitor and the Story

"'As far as history is concerned, the Edward Elric who reappeared five years after the downfall of Fuhrer Bradley may as well have been an entirely different person. There is no record of what became of the 'People's Alchemist' during that turbulent period, even among the recently declassified State papers. In light of this and numerous other inconsistencies, I cannot help but conclude that the 'resurrection' of the then-Major Elric was nothing more than an exercise in propaganda, albeit one with beneficial consequences. There is no doubt that the second Fullmetal Alchemist would go on to do great things. Nonetheless, I feel that if history is to be the true account of the past that we all wish it to be, we must acknowledge certain facts that we might wish were otherwise.'"

The Professor lowered the paper and smoothed it across his knees. He leaned back in his armchair and for a few moments, the only sound in the study was the crackling of the fire.

"Why do they bother?" his visitor asked, breaking their silence, "It can't change anything now."

"That's why they bother," the Professor replied calmly, "They like arguing about the past because it can't stand up and tell them they're wrong."

"You could," the visitor pointed out, "Tell them they're wrong, I mean. You were there."

"And who would believe me? If Ed was a fake, what does that say about me?"

"He wasn't though, was he?"

"How do you expect me to prove that? Tell them the truth?" The Professor chuckled. "If I told them that, they would be able to tell me that I had gone senile."

The other man shrugged.

"Why? Gate mechanics is an accepted part of modern alchemy."

"Possibly, but very few people interpret it as if it were an actual object. It's a metaphor for explaining the mathematics. Not a real bridge between worlds. Like soul theory. I've sailed close to that wind and been accused of getting too metaphysical too many times over the years. Besides," the Professor finished, "I'm too old to be parading myself about, defending one version of history over another."

The visitor scowled.

"How can you stand to stay silent, though? 'If history is to be the true account of the past we wish it to be.' What a joke. They don't care if it's true or not so long as it gets them published. It's an insult to Ed's memory."

The Professor raised an eyebrow.

"If you feel so passionately about it, why don't you correct them, hmm?"

"Because no one would listen to me," came the exasperated reply, "I'm...well..."

"Too involved?"

"Something like that." The visitor thumped the arm of his chair. "They'd probably say I was in on the conspiracy."

"In a way, you are," the Professor pointed out, "If you can call keeping on believing the truth a 'conspiracy'."

"They would!"

"Whoever 'they' are..."

Anther silence fell. The two men stared into the fire, each searching through his memories.

"He was a good man," the visitor murmured.

"The best," the Professor agreed, closing his eyes.

"I miss him."

"That was always very easy. Ed was...you always knew when he was there. Even when he was trying to hide." He laughed. "You know about the night before his wedding?"

"I've heard the story, I think. Where was he trying to hide?"

"The metal store. He managed to ruin an entire week's supply and had to go with Mustang before Winry found out and beat him to death. I think the only thing that stopped her when she did was having a reason to keep him alive...and in one piece..."

The visitor raised an eyebrow.

"Well, she needed the workshop extended," the Professor clarified, "and he wasn't a bad cook."

The other man laughed and relaxed back into his chair. He shook his head, smiling.

"For some people, that would be the most interesting story about their lives, you know."

"Oh, I know. Fletcher always says I should write his biography."

"You should! Even if no one would believe it..." The visitor's smile faded. "You're the only one who knows what really happened – when you're..."

"Gone?"

"Yes. We can't keep the truth alive if we don't know what it was."

The Professor did not answer immediately. He crossed his legs and glanced at his desk.

"Hmm...possibly."

The visitor followed his gaze.

"You...you haven't taken Doctor Tringham up on his suggestion, have you?"

"I...might have."

"Really?" He perked up. "How much have you written?"

"Steady on! Don't go rushing out to the type-setters just yet." The Professor tugged at his collar. "I started at the beginning, you know. And there's a lot to get through. I've just finished all the other-world to-ings and fro-ings...that took me a long time..."

"It would," the visitor said, nodding, "So...you're writing about what happened after everyone came back through the Gate – after the world nearly ended?"

"Yes..."

A small frown crossed the Professor's face. He pressed his fingertips together.

"I'm trying to get everything in the right order. So much happened – so much had happened that it all gets muddled up in my head." His frown lifted. "Would you mind if I...well, if I talked it at you? That might help. You don't have to do it right now but Fletcher's out of town and the Mustangs are busy, as you know...and if I asked anyone in the university to listen to me, they'd end up convinced I've gone off my rocker."

The visitor laughed again and clapped his hands together.

"I'll listen to whatever you have to say! Of course I will!" He bounded upright. "Just let me go and brew up some more coffee. No sense going on a trip down memory lane without the right supplies!"