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Hohenheim would never know for sure what got him up that night.
His time with Trisha had been relatively short, compared to the time he’d been in this world, but it had apparently been long enough to form a habit. He didn’t sleep, but she did, and he knew she liked having him beside her.
He found he liked it, too. He liked watching her breathe, slowly and gently, and he liked the way she murmured something unintelligible every so often, rolled onto her other side, and sighed, deeply, as though returning from a long journey.
Most of all, he liked watching her wake up, a couple of hours after the sun, when she’d touch a hand to her face and blink open her eyes. He was the first thing she’d look to, and she always greeted him with a smile.
Now, with Trisha gone almost two years, Hohenheim still went to bed after his sons fell asleep. He still lay on his side, all night, and waited for the sun. If he shut his eyes, he could listen to the sound of his own breathing and pretend it was hers, next to him, where she’d promised to always be.
This night, however, something drove him to leave the bed at one o’clock and take a walk downstairs. He told himself his legs were cramped and he needed to stretch, but when he thought about it later, it couldn’t have been something so benign.
As he headed down the hall to the stairs, he was surprised to see a soft light from under the spare room door. He could hear two hushed voices on the other side, but he couldn’t make out their words.
He frowned and knocked on the door. “Boys? It’s after midnight. What are you doing?”
The voices stopped. Then one of the voices whispered something low and quick—that was Ed, in charge, as usual, of whatever mischief they were up to.
Hohenheim tried the door. It was locked.
Something sounded in the back of his head. An alarm.
He gave the door a sharper rap. “Edward, Alphonse! Open this door right now!”
They ignored him flatly.
That was silly of them. Two fingers on the knob, an arc of red light, and the lock slid easily open inside the door. Hohenheim went inside.
“Enough fooling around. It’s the middle of the—”
They were kneeling side-by-side at the edge of a huge chalk circle. It took Hohenheim a second to decipher the pattern, and then his eyes flew open.
“That’s—! Get away from there!”
Al jumped to his feet. He looked uncertainly from Hohenheim to Ed, who hadn’t reacted.
“Edward, I said get away!”
Ed turned his head and met his father’s eye. The boy’s expression was grim, and his eyes were wide with some intense emotion.
Defiance.
He set his jaw and spun back to the circle. He placed his palms at its edge.
Hohenheim was seized with panic, seized so fiercely that a part of his brain switched off, and he passed the next few minutes in a state of blurred, automated frenzy.
Al made a noise and took a step toward his brother, but Hohenheim was faster. He was across the room in a heartbeat. He hooked his big hands under Ed’s arms and, as if he weighed nothing, plucked him into the air and away from the circle.
Ed howled and flailed his legs. “Let go! Let me go! Don’t you understand? Don’t you even care?”
But Hohenheim wasn’t finished. He dropped to one knee and threw his son over the other, and before anyone had time to register what was happening, he began to lay into him.
Ed cried out in surprise and rage, and he kicked, writhed, and pounded the ground with his fists, but at eleven years old and a fraction of his father’s weight, he was no match for the strong arm wrapped around his midsection, pinning his backside firmly in place.
Hohenheim whacked him five times—ten times—it happened too quickly and too unexpectedly to keep track—before practically pushing him off and letting him clamber ungracefully to his feet. Ed’s face was a mess, red and splotchy and wet with tears, and he rubbed at his eyes furiously with both hands. Hohenheim took him by the scruff of the neck and dragged him to the door.
“Get in your room,” he thundered. “Both of you. Now.”
He pushed Ed into the hallway. As an ashen-faced Al passed in front of him, Hohenheim followed him with a well placed swat. Al yelped and did a little hop-step before scrambling after his brother.
Hohenheim listened to them scurry down the hall. As soon as he heard their bedroom door click shut, his knees turned to rubber, and he sank slowly to the floor. He found he was trembling, and he was suddenly aware of how heavily he was breathing. He shut his eyes and made himself calm down. He took three very deep breaths through his nose.
The house was still, and Hohenheim’s mind began to clear. His heart was racing with—was that fear?
It was. He was out of his mind with terror. But the danger was past. Ed and Al were safe. They wouldn’t be transmuting any humans today, and he had given Ed a spanking—
He had spanked Ed—
Oh, dear, he had, hadn’t he? Oh, dear. How hard had he hit him? He hoped he hadn’t hurt the boy—he’d only been trying to get his attention. He’d lost himself for a moment. Trisha would not have been happy. No, sir, she would not.
“But did you see what he was about to do?” Hohenheim murmured, studying the scene now more closely. A tub at the center of the chalk circle held a muddy pile of elements. Hohenheim could smell the sulfur and ammonia, and he recognized the carbon, silicon, phosphorous… Everything was in perfect order, and it made him queasy. If he had been another twenty seconds…
The anger surged inside him again. Didn’t those boys know better? What were they trying to do? Create a human?
And then—just like that—Hohenheim understood.
The boys hadn’t spoken or moved a muscle in several minutes. They sat together on Ed’s bed, staring at the floor before them.
Neither knew what to expect. Hohenheim was usually the definition of patience. He rarely raised his voice to them, and where even Trisha had been known to throw a deterring swat now and then, Hohenheim had never, ever struck them. So to see him like this, the way he moved so fast, to hear him bellow in a voice so loud it shook the walls… it was, frankly, terrifying, and Al was fairly trembling where he sat.
Ed, for his part, was more composed. His lower extremity was begging him to stand up off the bed, but he refused to give his father the satisfaction of seeing his discomfort. He sat still with his hands clasped between his knees, scowling at the floor.
The doorknob turned, and both boys’ pulses started going double-time. Neither dared to look up.
The door opened, and Hohenheim’s footsteps approached slowly. There was a creak of mattress springs, and he was sitting on Al’s bed opposite them. It wasn’t until he heaved a sigh, sounding more weary than anything, that Ed dared to lift his eyes, and Al, a moment later, did the same.
Hohenheim was looking at them. All the anger was gone from his eyes, replaced with a tenderness that was almost forlorn. The expression was much more familiar on his face, and the boys relaxed. He was back to normal.
“Human transmutation,” said Hohenheim in a low voice. “You scared me absolutely to death, do you know that? I’m still shaking inside.”
“We’re sorry,” said Al. His voice was hoarse.
Hohenheim rubbed his temple. Softly, even though he knew the answer, he asked, “What were you trying to do?”
There was a pause, and then Al burst into tears. “We’re sorry,” he said again. “Dad, we’re so sorry.”
Beside him, Ed didn’t look sorry in the least. He was glaring at the floorboards, still wearing that same expression of defiance…
No. Now that his mind had cleared, Hohenheim took a closer look. It wasn’t defiance at all. It was abject terror. He felt foolish for mistaking it before.
“I’m sorry I lost my temper,” said Hohenheim. “I was so afraid… I didn’t know what to do. I had to get you away, to stop you, and I didn’t think it through… I didn’t have time… Ah, I shouldn’t make excuses.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Boys… I miss her, too. I miss her more than anything. If I could bring her back, I’d do it in a heartbeat. You must believe me.”
“Then why don’t you?” growled Ed. His fists were balled up on the bed sheet, and he glowered fiercely at the floor.
Hohenheim looked at him. “It’s forbidden.”
“So what?” Ed tightened his fists. “You said you’d bring her back if you could, so so what if it’s forbidden?”
“It’s not possible,” said Hohenheim.
“But you didn’t even try! You didn’t even try, so me and Al had to try. We had everything right, it would have worked if you hadn’t stopped us…”
“Yes, that’s what worries me,” said Hohenheim. Ed opened his mouth again, but Hohenheim held up a hand. “Please, Ed, just let me explain a minute. If you had gone through with the transmutation, even if everything had gone perfectly, you still wouldn’t have brought back Mom.”
“How do you know—”
“Because life is more complicated than that, Edward. A human life is more than just a pack of genetic data mixed up with some muscles and bones. You need a soul. A mind, a personality. That’s just not something alchemy can create.”
Ed blinked tears out of his eyes, still staring angrily at the floor. After a moment, he muttered, “You could’ve at least let us try.”
“Edward. What is the first Law of Equivalent Exchange?”
Ed’s expression soured at the lesson, but never wanting to appear ignorant, he parroted, “To obtain, something of equal value must be lost.”
“What was your equivalent exchange?”
“We had all the components,” said Ed. “Everything in a human body. And… and Al and I added a few drops of our blood. For the soul.”
Hohenheim nodded. “A good thought, but that’s where you went wrong. Your blood contains your DNA information, but what does it say about Mom’s personality? Her thoughts? Her memories? What does it say about a human’s capacity for thought? You weren’t just asking for a dummy of a human. You were asking for a walking, talking, sentient animal. You were asking to create life, and an order like that requires a much bigger toll than simply a few drops of blood.”
Al looked up, wide-eyed. “Toll? Like what?”
“I don’t know,” said Hohenheim. “For one live human? I don’t think anyone knows. What I do know is that people have lost a great deal—arms, legs, eyes, organs, even their very lives—just to create a breathing human for a couple of seconds. To make one that could sustain itself for a lifetime would take an immeasurable toll. And that’s only to create a human. To create your human, your mother, my Trisha, with all her experiences and her kindness and her love… that’s what’s not possible. I just don’t think there’s a way.”
He paused to gauge their reactions. Al, as suspected, was riveted on him, looking horrified. Ed was still watching the ground, but his expression had neutralized, and he was clearly listening.
“Do you understand why I got so mad?” asked Hohenheim. “If I’d been a minute longer, you two might have sacrificed your whole bodies to give a very short life to a zombie. What would I have done, then? I’d have been all alone.”
The boys were quiet. Even Ed looked like something had gotten through. He seemed abashed.
“We’re sorry,” said Al. “We didn’t know.”
“I’m sorry, too,” said Hohenheim. “I would have told you all this sooner. I wish you had come to me, first, when you were planning to do this.”
“We thought you might be mad,” said Al.
“I’ll never be mad at you for asking a question,” said Hohenheim. “You need to ask questions to master alchemy. I am angry that you did something you knew you weren’t supposed to, and it scares me sick to think of what might have happened.”
Al’s lip trembled. “We’re sorry, Dad,” he whispered.
“I know you are, Al.” Hohenheim looked at his older son, who was still watching the floorboards determinedly. “Ed?”
Ed didn’t respond.
“I shouldn’t have spanked you. I’m sorry.”
Ed’s face reddened, and he hunched over his knees.
“Did you hear me?”
In a low, surly voice, Ed said, “Yes.”
“Do you understand why I was upset?”
Ed shrugged.
Hohenheim heaved a sigh. “Edward, look at me. This is important.”
Ed lifted his head. Slowly, he rolled his eyes to a spot in the air beside his father’s arm.
Hohenheim got off the bed and stood in front of his son. He took Ed by the shoulders and leaned down until their faces were level. “Ed, I need you to promise me you won’t try that again. You too, Alphonse. The next time you think something might be dangerous, talk to me about it. I won’t be angry if you only ask.”
“We promise,” Al said quickly, eager as always to be forgiven and forget.
Ed’s gaze still lolled to the side. Hohenheim moved his own head to intercept it. Reluctantly, Ed allowed their eyes to meet.
“I want to hear you say it, Ed,” said Hohenheim. “Promise me you’ll make the right decision, next time.”
Ed’s jaw twitched. “There’s really no way?” he murmured. “Do you promise… that you’d tell us if there were a way?”
Hohenheim tightened his grip on the boy’s shoulders. “Edward, I swear to you that if I knew how to bring back your mother, and I knew how to do it without risking the lives of my children, she would be here already. I’ve studied alchemy for a long time, and as far as I’ve determined, it’s impossible.”
Ed swallowed. His expression turned gentler, and he dropped his eyes. “Then I promise,” he said softly. “I won’t do it again. And I’ll… I’ll talk to you if I don’t understand something.”
Hohenheim nodded. Then he pulled Ed toward him, smothering him in a secure hug. Al edged closer, and Hohenheim pulled him in, too. He held them both for a long moment. “You boys are all I have,” he told them. “This is our little family, and we need to do everything we can to preserve it. I’ll never let anything happen to you. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” said Al.
Hohenheim gave them an extra-tight squeeze and released them. “Now,” he said, getting to his feet. “Go to sleep. It’s the middle of the night, and growing boys need their rest.”
Al clambered off of Ed’s bed and into his own. Hohenheim tucked each of them in with a stroke of their hair and a kiss on the forehead, just as Trisha had always done.
He stood in the doorway. “Good night, boys.”
“Night, Dad,” they chorused.
Hohenheim switched off the light. He stepped into the hallway and shut the door.
He breathed out a long, slow breath, and he put a hand over his eyes.
“Oh, Trisha,” he whispered. “Thanks for waking me.”
Then he returned to his room, lay down in his bed, and conjured the memory of sleep once more.