Unlocked

In the aftermath of Promised Day, two worlds collided in a way that no one expected. Now the people of Amestris are divided and in this world, the ultimate taboo is not human transmutation but the intentional unlocking of another person's memories – for, once they remember, they can never go back.

A.N. Once more I find myself toying with memory. What can I say – it's fun! This story diverges from Brotherhood during the final battle and I hope I can find a way to make it all make sense. There will be some Parental!Roy leanings at times (mostly in this chapter) but this will be far more action packed than ABNE has been so far. No, ABNE is not over – far from it and I will keep working on it. But sometimes inspiration strikes and a story just begs to be written.

Disclaimer: Ed, Al, and all their friends are the property of Hiromu Arakawa. I do not own them, but am grateful for the opportunity to use them in the unleashing of my own imagination.

Rating: This story is rated T

Chapter 1, Another Sunset

Between the deepening of twilight in the east and the still orange glow in the west, a portion of the sky remained blue. It wasn't the bright blue of mid-afternoon or even the deep blue of morning, but something more… turquoise, bordering on greenish while still remaining so obviously blue. Were he an artist, Allen Richart might have tried to duplicate that color on canvas although, he wasn't quite sure that was possible. Perhaps a camera could capture it, if the resolution was good enough. But Allen wasn't much into photography either. No… it was far better for him to simply admire the color in its natural state for however long it would last before fading into darkness.

Fleeting.

The color was fleeting, just as the sunset was fleeting. There had never been a sunset like this one and there never would be again, because every sunset was different and one could only enjoy them for a short time before they were gone forever. Even a painting, or a photograph, could not capture it completely. Those were limited to only what the eyes could see. But what of the cool breeze tousling his hair? What of the scent of summer blossoms carried by that same wind? What of the cicadas adding their steady hum to music of the birds busy settling in their nests? What of the dew already dampening the grass between his fingers as the humidity of the early summer day settled with the coming of the night? What painting, what photograph, could ever capture those?

"And yet… so often we focus only on what we can see." Allen whispered into the evening as a troop of teenagers walked by on the sidewalk below the hill on which he was sitting. Already, the street lights were coming on and they'd all be due home soon for supper. Nevertheless they bid their time carelessly, laughing and joking without any mind to the world around them. They paused at odd moments to make faces at their phones, texting and sharing selfies with whichever friends were not presently in their company.

"They take so much for granted – always snapping photos, so sure that those will be enough to remember the most precious moments; so busy taking pictures that they fail to truly experience the world with all of their senses… am I so strange?" Allen closed his eyes with a sad smile.

Strange, indeed. He had learned long ago not to take those small things for granted. He'd lived without them, for so long. Now he was grateful for every moment. But then, that was another lifetime entirely.

"Alphonse."

The teenage boy was startled out of his musings by an unexpected voice – or maybe, not so unexpected. After all, this wasn't the first time he'd been discovered here. Leaning back on his hands he tilted his head over one shoulder to smile at man behind him. "Hello, Colonel."

The "Colonel" stepped closer and then settled himself in the grass beside Allen with a heavy groan before reaching over to smack the boy lightly on the back of his head. "Don't call me that out here."

Allen just grinned in response. "Don't call me Alphonse."

"Touché." They settled into a comfortable silence while the sun continued its journey down towards the horizon.

Not long now. Allen kept his thoughts to himself this time, not wanting to disturb his colleague. He'd watched for long enough now that he could almost set his watch by the moment he was waiting for. Five more minutes. He could afford to let his gaze wander a bit.

He looked to his friend, a man at least ten years older than his own sixteen years, though he'd never thought to ask – he could be older, or younger. Roland Mustard wore his dark hair in a more controlled state than Allen had ever seen it when he'd known the man he was before, often slicked back with ample use of gel or mousse, leaving only a few unruly strands to hang down in the front. His eyes were the same though; narrow – bespeaking of what would, here, be considered Asian descent – and black, yet somehow capable of expressing great emotion whenever he bothered to let down that impenetrable mask.

It still startled Allen sometimes, to see the man dressed in something other than military blue, despite the fact that those uniforms didn't exist on this side. These days, Roland usually just wore jeans and t-shirts, though he threw on slacks and a polo if he was going into town. Really, it wasn't so different from Allen's own dressing preference – whenever he was allowed to choose anyway. If he thought he could get away with it, he would donate all of his labels and high price tags to the nearby homeless shelter. Surely there were kids there who needed nice clothes more than he did. It was hard for him to imagine that there had actually been a time when he enjoyed having twelve designer suits in one of his closets.

But then, at least he could wear clothes now. He had to admit, he'd had fun coordinating colors for a little while – trying to find a style that was just him. His hair had been so short then. He thought they might have shaved it after the accident but all of the old pictures showed him with shorter hair too. He'd managed to grow it out closer to what it had once been – just enough to feel it tickle the tops of his ears when the wind blew – and he was much more comfortable with the look of his face with bangs than without. The press liked it two – apparently his blond locks brought out the color of his eyes – not that he'd done it for them or anything. He'd been more than happy to finally drop off of their radar when all of the drama died down.

There were still two minutes left on Allen's silent count when Roland turned to look at him with a sigh. "Why are you out here, Al." Roland used his nickname, glad that it worked for both since the "Colonel" couldn't seem to get used to calling him Allen. Some of their names were like that – able to find an interchangeable middle-ground. Roland was… close enough to Roy that it wasn't too bad if someone slipped in public. But some of names were just so far off – there wasn't a very good way to bridge Harold with Heymans.

Allen's sigh echoed his friend's. "You know why." He set his mouth halfway between a smile and a grimace. They'd had this talk before. It was always the same and Roland's attempts had never made a difference. Once Al was there, he wasn't going to leave, no matter how much he knew it would hurt. But he supposed that Roland had to try – the same way Allen tried to stop him from going to the café on Tenth Street. That was just how their friendship worked, back and forth, each trying to save the other from a little bit of heartache and failing… every time.

"C'mon, let's go do something – get some pizza, maybe." Roland made the suggestion but he didn't move to get up. He already knew what Al's answer would be.

"Sure – in a few minutes."

Roland stared at him for a moment longer before leaning back on his hands to gaze at the darkening sky. "We're a couple of masochists, you know that right?"

"Yup." It wasn't really that though – as much as they like to joke that it was. They didn't enjoy the pain. They didn't want to hurt. But they went anyway, knowing that the pain would come, because… it was worth it. Even far apart, never touching, never speaking – it was worth it just to know that they were there and that maybe… maybe someday they could actually meet again.

It was a foolish hope of course, given the code they had chosen to live by – a code designed to protect those within their ranks as well as those without – but Allen couldn't stop himself from hoping. Some days it felt like hope was the only thing he had left.

Time was up. As if by instinct, Allen turned and fixed his eyes on the little house across the street at the base of the hill. It was a modest home, two stories but narrow with a small yard. The walls were painted a pale blue, not unlike the sky Al had been admiring earlier, while the front door and shutters were white. The defining feature of this house, however – the one thing which set it apart from all of its neighbors – was the stargazing deck built off of the roof, with a ladder extending down into the backyard. It wasn't very large – just big enough for three – but it suited their needs.

On cue, Al saw a familiar face appear over the far edge of the deck. He smiled this was what he'd been waiting for.

The blond teenager pulled himself onto the deck with practiced ease and immediately dashed to where his telescope stood waiting. He pulled the cap off the lens and made some adjustments to various knobs, all the while looking about the skies for whatever celestial bodies he was hoping to see this evening.

Allen still couldn't figure out just what the other boy was looking for or at every evening. It didn't matter. The only thing that really mattered was that he was there – so real, so close… but still so far away.

Jarred Hohens Jr. was seventeen and just one week from completing his junior year in high school. Healthy, strong, and handsome, with golden hair and eyes, he played sports – track and soccer mostly – and participated in several school clubs. He made excellent grades, was a member of the National Honors Society, and was already slated for Valedictorian when he graduated if he kept it up. He'd be guaranteed scholarships and entrance into any school he wanted – a good thing considering that his parents could never afford to put him through school otherwise.

The Hohens weren't poor but they weren't particularly well-off either. They struggled financially at times but did all right considering. Jarred Sr. and his wife, Patricia had tried for many years to have a child before finally conceiving. The pregnancy was difficult and complications during birth had ultimately left them unable to have any more. They doted on their only child, providing him with all of the love and support a child could want. Theirs was a good family – so very good.

Allen was glad. The one time in the past year that he'd bothered to use his family name to get him anything had been in this – gathering information on Jarred Hohens Jr. and his family. He had to be sure that he was safe, that he was happy. If anything had been wrong, anything at all, Al would not have hesitated to unlock Jarred's mind – it wouldn't have been the first taboo he'd committed.

But he'd found out everything he could and everything… was good. So he couldn't do it. He couldn't bring himself to tear Jarred Hohens away from his home and loving parents. It wouldn't be right.

Jarred bent down to peer through his telescope, looking at… something. Whatever it was, his face lit up at the sight and he dashed back to the ladder. "Mom! Dad! Get up here! You're gonna miss it!" He called out, his excited voice just loud enough to carry over to where Allen and Roland were seated on the hill. Another voice responded and, a moment later, Patricia Hohens climbed onto the deck, followed swiftly by her husband. Conversation followed, though none of it was loud enough to be overheard on the hillside, and the small family took turns looking through the telescope and discussing what they had seen. They were all so happy.

Allen smiled. It was easy – at first. There were so many reasons to be happy for the other boy – a boy with four, functioning limbs and a smiling face; a boy with a father who would never leave him and a mother who wasn't in danger of dying; a boy who's most terrifying nightmares likely involved showing up naked to a school presentation; a boy who was and yet… could never be the brother Alphonse had once loved so dearly.

His smile slipped, as it always did, and a dark hand tightened somewhere inside of his chest. The pain was just as familiar as anything else – a terrible pressure on his heart making it hard to breathe. It would probably be easier to just let go, let it roll over him like a wave until it passed. And yet, some natural instinct urged him to fight it – to will back the tears and keep on smiling. There was so much good here, so many reasons to smile. His brother had everything Al had ever wanted for him. Even if they couldn't be together, it was enough that his brother was happy.

But it still hurt.

Allen didn't know when his body had started shaking but he did notice the strong hand on his shoulder and that was all it took to break through the last of his barriers. He turned and buried his face into Roland's side, grateful for the warm arms which wrapped around his frame automatically. In some ways, he felt like a fool. At sixteen, he shouldn't be so overcome by emotion; he should have more control than this. But then… he'd gone so long without the ability to cry and now… it was just so easy.

It only took him a few minutes to regain his composure – he was used to it by now, having come to this spot and cried at least once a week for the past five months. He didn't extract himself from Roland's soothing embrace, instead, merely turning to face the little house at the base of the hill once again. He was glad that Roland was there – the man had been his saving grace, after waking up in this world of confusion and chaos. He didn't know what he would have done if the Colonel hadn't found him. And still, the man was looking after him. Al wasn't sure he could ever thank him enough.

Allen wiped the tears from his eyes and let himself smile again at the boy who could never be his brother. Jarred was sitting next to his father now, while Patricia took her turn at the telescope – a sweet, quiet moment. And it was enough for Al to know that Ed was happy.

He sighed heavily and leaned back against the man who had somehow become almost like a father to him. "I miss him, Roy. So much."

The Colonel gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Me too, Al."