Chronology

by Lady Norbert

Chronology: A form of time measurement consisting of studying the past.

A/N: Oh hey, an update. My apologies for the delay. As you may know if you read the author's notes on something else I wrote in more recent days, I fell into a really terrible case of writer's block after finishing the previous chapter. Between the holidays working retail and just a general state of being incapable of creativity, this story languished on my hard drive. And then my computer died and had to be replaced, which helped nothing. So I wandered away to a much older fandom, and that broke the block, and now here we are - months later than I intended. Thank you for your patience.

The updates are still going to be slow, because my brain is a bit swamped. Ideally, I would like to have this finished before this year's holiday season, but I'm not promising anything. Quite honestly, this is a difficult story to write.

Chapter Three: Chronology Protection Conjecture

Chronology Protection Conjecture: Stephen Hawking's conjecture that the laws of physics do not allow time machines.

Fond as he is of Xing, Alphonse is of the opinion that nothing quite compares to the air of Resembool.

The desert crossing, though much more comfortable now thanks to the Trans-Xerxesian Railroad which joins Amestris to Xing, is still long. His children are always impatient to arrive; admittedly, so is he. And once they do arrive, once his eyes drink in the familiar green fields and his hair is ruffled by a Resembool breeze, he feels the years peel away from his soul. For a moment, at least, he is fourteen again.

He breathes deeply during his return visits, as if he can somehow store that air within himself and carry it home with him. It's the same sun, the same wind, and yet not the same at all. Home is a thoroughly indefinable concept, but the body knows when it's been reached and something deep inside tries desperately to hold onto it.

For a time after their arrival, he simply observes his family (the extended nature of which defies measurement). The Fuhrer is aging well, as might be expected of the handsome young man Al once knew; his twins are nearly fully grown now, and the head of black hair is silvered with both the passage of time and the weight of responsibility. But his laugh is just as Al remembers it, and the etchings of age seem to melt from his face as he follows Ed and most of the younger children into a giant hide-and-seek game.

Al might have joined them, but Luke and Brendan intercept him before he can even begin to plot a hiding space.

"Uncle Al, we need to talk to you!"

He chuckles. Brendan has a serious, almost studious expression which strongly reminds Al of the boy's mother. Luke, on the other hand, is so much like Ed that Al occasionally has to remind himself that he isn't. "What's going on, boys?"

"We've had a major breakthrough," Luke says fervently.

"Well, he has," Brendan corrects. "I'm not the alchemist he is. I don't even understand half of what he's told me about this."

"It's in the genes," Luke insists, with a modesty that Al knows he didn't get from his father. He stifles a laugh.

"What's all the excitement, then?"

They each seize one of his hands and all but drag him out to the old barn behind the house. Briefly he's distracted by a memory; the building hasn't seen much use since the days leading up to Ed and Winry's wedding, when it had helped to provide shelter for the various military personnel who had come as part of Fuhrer Grumman's entourage. He tries to keep his chuckling to a minimum as he recalls the bachelor party and the increasingly ludicrous gambling stakes which had accompanied the card games. The boys release him in order to run ahead and pull open the heavy double doors, letting sunlight flood into the shadowed interior.

Immediately Alphonse discerns a transmutation circle, painstakingly mapped out in the dirt floor. They release him and scuttle around to stand on opposite sides, beaming at him. "Well? What do you think?"

Frowning, he scrutinizes the circle, one hand lifting to scratch amid his own thinning hair. He doesn't recognize the pattern. A lot of the symbols are familiar, but he's never seen them laid out in such an array, nor are they usually seen in alchemic circles with one another. Lines intersect across the center of the circle in a remarkably intricate crisscross formation, suggesting some sort of limitless merging of... what, exactly?

"Just what does this circle do, boys?" he asks finally.

The way they look at each other and smile causes his stomach to shift in a rather unpleasant fashion, although he isn't sure why.

"Let me see if I understand this," Alphonse finds himself saying, several minutes later. "You believe you've unlocked the secret of using alchemy for time travel?"

"Well, it's just a theory at the moment," says Luke, "but the basic principles are very sound."

"Explain this middle section to me, please." He points at the lines that he finds particularly confusing.

"The intersection of realities," says his nephew. Brendan is merely nodding; Al suspects that he wasn't exaggerating when he said that he only understands part of the whole. "There's a very prominent theory regarding the time stream which suggests that there are infinite universes and infinite possibilities within those universes. In our reality, Uncle Al, you're an alchemist; but by that theory, there's also a universe where you're a baker. Where you're an automail mechanic. Where you married Mom instead of Dad. Where Brendan's dad never became the Flame Alchemist."

"And the theory suggests that what we regard as time travel would really just be moving from one reality to another," Brendan continues.

"Have you..." Al is almost afraid to ask this. "Have you actually tested your array?"

"On a small scale. It's tricky," Luke muses. "I can send something forward in time, but not back. At least, as far as I can tell - it's tough to know if a thing actually went into the past or if I'm remembering something that never actually happened."

"Or if, as the theory suggests, you sent it to an alternate reality," Brendan reminds him.

"Or that."

"Can you show me?" Al hates to put any sort of damper on their enthusiasm, but he also knows all too well that alchemy - and certain kinds of alchemy in particular - should never be treated as a toy.

Obligingly, Luke removes his wristwatch and sets it down in the middle of the array. His movements are careful, precise; he's afraid to disturb the lines drawn in the dirt. Al understands this. With a confidence that's more than a little familiar, he presses his hands to the ground at the edge of the array. The circle lights up, and sure enough, the watch vanishes.

"How far did you send it?"

"This particular array is meant to send something forward in time precisely five minutes," Luke explains. "To reach a different point in the time stream, the array has to be drawn differently. This is the part, here along the edges, that really makes the specifics."

"Well, it's fascinating, no question," says Al. "But I have to ask... what is it that you hope to accomplish by doing this?"

"Eh... about that," says Brendan slowly. Luke shoots him a look, clearly hoping that Alphonse won't notice it.

"We don't have any definite plans as yet," he says. "But I have a few working theories... mostly with regard to past events. There's so much pain in our country's history - in your personal history, and my dad's. It would be great if we could go back and just... wipe it out."

"Oh, no," says Al, shaking his head. "I appreciate the notion, Luke, I really do. But I think that changing the past just... it opens up too many possibilities for trouble. Plus, you yourself said you're having difficulty sending anything back."

"Well, that's why they're working theories," Luke counters. "I can't very well put them into practice just yet."

"It's not a taboo," Brendan ventures. "It's not forbidden."

"That's true," concedes Al. "But if the best thing you can say about a course of action is that it's not technically against the law, that may mean that it's not the smartest thing to do."

"Oh, come on, Uncle Al," Luke protests, and he's showing a faint bit of Elric temper now. "You're not gonna lecture us, are you?"

He shakes his head. "No. I trust you boys to be smart about this. And I'm glad you showed me. Really, this is very impressive and you have a right to be proud. I didn't know anyone had even considered using alchemy for time travel."

"We -" Luke is briefly interrupted by a flash of light. The five minutes are up, and his watch is once again lying in the middle of the transmutation circle. Al compares the time on its face to that of his own watch; sure enough, Luke's watch is now running five minutes behind. "You see," he says, holding it out, "as far as the watch is concerned, it's still five minutes ago."

"This begs the question," says Al, thoughtfully, "of where it goes when it's between then and now."

"That's something I haven't figured out. I mean, it must be somewhere - matter can't be created or destroyed - but I also think it has to be somewhen. There must be a sort of limbo that exists in between the various realities, where time doesn't move."

"Or maybe it just sits at the gate of Truth for the duration," Brendan offers.

"There's a thought," Al agrees. "I never saw anything like that when I was there, but that doesn't mean it didn't happen at someone else's gate. Or it could also just mean that no one was attempting time alchemy while I was Truth's houseguest."

Luke has put his watch back on his wrist and is diligently winding it, making the hands line up with the numbers just so. "We can discuss this more while I'm here, all right? I'd like to hear the details about your theories, Luke, I really would."

His nephew seems appeased; the tenseness loosens from his shoulders, his wary eyes relax. "I'll show you my notes."

"After supper? I'd like to have a full stomach before I sit down to any real alchemy discussion."

The young alchemists both crack a smile. "Yeah, sure. But - just us, okay? We don't want anyone else to know about it yet."

"I'm the first one you've told? I'm flattered." And he is, he really is. But he's also a little suspicious. Luke has never come to him about an alchemy theory that he hasn't first shared with his father. It's always been a bonding factor between Ed and Luke, and the notion that Luke now wants to hide his research from Ed is, at the very least, peculiar.

Al decides that he will honor their request for secrecy, at least for now. But all the same, something is screaming in his ear that he needs to keep a close eye on the situation.

They rejoin the others and promptly lose themselves in the hide-and-seek game which is still in progress. The afternoon slides away in a haze of sunshine and laughter. But Alphonse can't help thinking about what Luke said, about what he'd really like to do with the time alchemy if he only could.

Wipe out our pain, he thinks. He's a good boy. I know he only means well. But... if you change the past... who do we become in the present? Our pain - our mom dying, the human transmutation, the hunt for the stone and the battle against the Homunculi - all those things have made us who we are today. If you take that away from us, if we don't have those memories, then who are we?

He isn't sure he wants to know.