Disclaimer: I neither own the rights to the Fullmetal Alchemist or Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood universes, nor any of their associated media, derivatives or products. I do not profit from this work.

Set in the FMAB Anime universe.

The parlor was silent for the first time in hours. The aging woman looked with sorrow and something like deep regret on her son, who had dropped his head into his shaking hands, fingers curled into the strands of black hair.

"...So it's all true?" Selim whispered at last. "All of it? The things I've been seeing, I did all those things?"

His mother lowered her head. "Yes. It's all true."

Selim took several deep breaths. He wanted to leave, but he knew he couldn't until he'd finished what he'd started. He'd come this far. Lowering his hands he gripped at the starched blue cloth of his uniform and forced his voice to steady.

"So am I a homunculus then?"

"We don't think so," his mother replied gently. "We wondered at first, but when you never showed any signs of being anything more than human…Edward Elric believed that your true form, what he gave to me, was a very small, underdeveloped infant. Since you were returned to me you've grown at a normal rate."

"But how– then where did I come from?"

His mother shook her head. "I don't know and I shudder to imagine. How the homunculus called Father got his hands on you…who your true parents were, I doubt we'll ever know."

The young man nodded, lips parched and half-opened. His mouth was dry. "Then… these memories. The nightmares. If I'm not… not… then why…?"

"The Emperor told me long ago that a similar thing happened to the homunculus called Greed, when they shared the same body. We always wondered if…but when you never said anything, we just assumed…"

The Emperor. Selim knew who Emperor Ling was, though he had only met him and the Empress a few times before; the famed unifier of Xing after the untimely death of the former Emperor, who had wilfully destroyed a philosopher's stone and ended nearly a decade of internal civil war with the help of the Chang clan, was said to be on excellent terms with President Mustang. So he was a homunculus once too? Yes…he thought he remembered a few flashes like that, remembered seeing the young Emperor fighting against Pride…no, against Selim…

And of course he had never said anything, the young man thought bitterly to himself. The nightmares which had tormented him his entire life had terrified him into silence, first in his childish inability to describe them and then in the conviction that if he had tried to explain that he would be considered crazy or, worse, sociopathic. Only recently, when they had become a near nightly occurrence, preventing him or his dorm-mates from getting any rest and leaving the young alchemical student exhausted and terrified had he finally begun putting the answers together. They were not dreams, and could not be dreams, for how could dreams tell him things he could not possibly know? And it fit, it fit all too well: the gaps in the military's story of that strange day when the entire country had collapsed as one under the darkness of the solar eclipse and a coup had been staged against Central Command. The reason his mother had named him after an older brother he had never met—a brother whose looks were nearly identical despite them purportedly sharing no blood. The death of his father. The philosopher's stone. The reason the entire country was shaped—how could he have been so blind!—in the form of a transmutation circle.

It was all true. All of it. And that meant…that meant…

Mrs. Bradley watched her son with fretful concern; the young man had not spoken for nearly a minute, staring down at the carpet with inscrutable dark eyes. "Selim?" she said tentatively.

After a beat, her son at last raised his head. His face was unreadable.

"I need to speak with the Fullmetal Alchemist."

The train thundered with its soothing rhythmic roar under his seat as the countryside of Amestris sped by, a woven pastoral tapestry of rustic farmsteads and verdant emerald fields. The sky was a dazzling azure, studded here and there by white woolly clouds like the sheep for which this region's farmers were so proud.

Selim leaned back against the upholstered seat of the carriage's bench and checked his pocketwatch; it was nearly half-noon, and he'd be arriving in Resembool within the hour.

He wasn't sure why he had to speak with the Fullmetal Alchemist so desperately; maybe it was because it was Edward Elric who had "killed" him that first time—had dragged his inchoate form out of that swirling abyss of screams which still haunted his nightmares most frequently, even after twenty years.

He let out an exhale through his nose and closed his eyes. It was true, all of it was true, he had been that selfish little boy, had hurt so many people, used so many people. It felt like a distant dream, a story he had read that had happened to someone else—that other Selim, the one he had always called his elder brother, or Pride, that word that ricocheted around his mind in the dark hours of the night. Selim Bradley, the Selim Bradley sitting in this seat on this train, was only twenty years old, had lived only a tenth of the time as that other self. So why did this feel so real and that feel so far away? Who was he, if all of that was true?

A vision, a memory of one of his nightmares flashed through his mind and he winced: Gluttony. Pride had devoured the other homunculus like a calf for slaughter, fit merely to transfer his energy to a higher, more evolved, more perfect being. Without a shred of guilt he had consumed him. It left Selim feeling sick. Pride…was that who he was? It felt impossible; Selim knew himself, had lived his life until now so certain of himself, of his identity and being. Of his love for his mother, of his care for his friends, his delight in music and in learning, devotedly studying alchemy to be like his heroes, those brave men and women who had risked all on that day to save so many innocent Amestrian lives. To give one's life, one's very being to save others…Selim could think of no higher honor. Who was he if he didn't believe that? If he hadn't always believed that?

"Excuse me, Private Bradley." Selim opened his eyes and looked up; it was the ticket-punch man, who smiled kindly at him. "I noticed you'd fallen asleep! We'll be at Resembool soon; wouldn't want you to miss your stop!"

"Thank you." Selim tried to smile back. It didn't work.

The platform was busy when he stepped off; a few people recognized him and gave him the awed and slightly curious berth he was used to receiving as the late führer's only surviving progeny. "That's King Bradley's son," he heard one mother whisper in a hushed voice, tugging her daughter's hand. "Let him through, dear…" But of course, all these people still thought of his father as a hero, fallen in the line of duty. Just as Selim had believed for so long…had willed himself to believe, despite the horrific flashes of insight, watching the man everyone believed was his father slaughter innocent after innocent person.

He passed through the crowds with his brown leather suitcase and, after asking for directions, headed off in the direction of the Fullmetal's house. It was a lovely day, despite his bleak mood, and it cheered him some to see the candy-bright wildflowers growing along the road and children running and laughing in games through the fields and wide front yards. At one point he made the mistake of drawing the attention of a particularly fierce dog and had to run for several blocks before the dog's owner managed to call it back.

All too soon, however, he found his feet stilling at the bottom of a hill, peering up at a white house with green shutters. It had been freshly painted, he noticed, or rather, was in the process of being painted. At the front of the lawn was a colorful sign reading Elric-Rockbell Automail, and on top of a ladder next to the far left end of the house was a man with a long blonde braid, pasting forest-green paint onto a window lintel.

Selim steeled his will and walked up the rest of the hill, stopping at the base of the ladder. The former state alchemist was so concentrated on his task that he didn't notice his visitor until Selim cleared his throat and clicked his boots together. "Fullmetal Alchemist."

Elric started violently and, predictably, fell backwards off the ladder, landing on the springy grass with a loud thud. "Aaaooww…jeez, who the hell do you think you are, sneaking up on me like that, couldn't you give a guy any w- oh." The blond stopped short up as he sat up and saw his visitor. "Selim Bradley," he said, in a voice that was a mixture between discomfort and surprise. "Uh, hey, how can I help you? Looks like you've still got all your limbs attached," he noted, possibly half-joking, as he stood up. "So I'm not sure what I can do for you." He was acting in that same off-kilter way so many people acted around him—people who had known his father, and who had been so instrumental on that fated day. His heroes. Selim had always noted their strange behavior around him, as if his admiration were a shock and a discomfort to them. Now he understood.

"Please, Fullmetal, leave aside the pretense," he said tiredly; suddenly he could not take the idea of continuing any sort of charade with the man who had ended his previous life. "This isn't exactly the first time we've met."

"Uh-"

"Mother and I had a talk," he said, looking up and meeting that hawkish golden gaze. Elric's mouth opened, and then he shut it again in a grimace.

"Oh."

"Mm."

They stood in silence a long moment. Then Elric gestured to the house. "Would you like to come inside? Winry's left a pie cooling on the counter."

"Yes please, thank you."

It really was good pie. The tea was good, too. Selim took a sip of it and waited for Elric to speak.

"So, you're an alchemy student, right?"

"I was. I just graduated two weeks ago; now I'm a full state alchemist. A private."

"Private eh? Well, good for you."

"Thank you, sir."

Elric waved a hand. "I'm not a 'sir,'" he said grumpily. "Haven't been in the military for a long time."

Selim bit his lip. "Not since the day of judgment," he said quietly, and took another sip of his tea. He set it down on the china saucer, and then stared at it.

Edward paused, and then nodded carefully. "Yeah, not since then."

"You killed me," Selim said, looking up at last. Elric bit the inside of his cheek.

"Yeah. Um, sorry about that."

"Don't be," Selim said instantly. "He– Pride– I–" He broke off, trying desperately to get the names aligned. "I…needed to be stopped."

"Selim-"

"I don't know what to do." The words spilled out of them before he could stop it; he looked across the table desperately. It seemed suddenly absurd that they were sitting in this quiet clean kitchen, with a checked pink tablecloth and Mrs. Rockbell's cut flowers between them. "I don't– I don't know how to handle this. He– I– that can't have been me! I c-couldn't have been the one who did all those things, I…" He stammered off and shook his head futilely.

"-Selim-"

"Don't," he said, voice trembling, tears filling his eyes. "You're still calling me that? You think I can't see you trip over the word? I know the name you think when you see me!" The tears ran down his cheeks as his face twisted into a grimace of horror and grief. "I know what I am, Edward Elric! I know what I was! But I can't have been! That—thing, tell me it couldn't have been me! Tell me I didn't kill all those people, please!"

There were stunned tears in Elric's eyes as well. Selim waited, teeth gritted, hands clutching the tablecloth and forming furrows in the checked cloth.

"...I can't," Elric said at last, very softly.

Selim made a noise and buried his head in his hands again. There was a knife in his lungs; he couldn't breathe or move or have a single heartbeat without feeling its searing pain. "Then lie to me," he sobbed. "Tell me something I can live with. Tell me I'm his reincarnation, his clone, his twin, anything!" He could see the men cowering in the flickering lamplight of the mine shaft, and he shuddered, remembering their tortured screams as the shadows lanced through them from all sides. "I can't live with this!"

There was the squeak of the chair against the floorboards and the sound of footsteps before a hand settled on his shoulder. Selim cried like a child, finally giving into the pain, the pitch-blackness of the all-consuming guilt. He felt the truth of it ring through the hollow emptiness inside him: he had been that thing, Pride, that selfish thing so arrogant as to think he was the only person in the world who mattered.

And in the end it had been this man who had shattered him, had reached into the all-consuming black abyss of Selfishness and had pulled out the Self. That one, Selfless act of mercy had given that horrible monster a chance at redemption, at a happy life. It made Selim sick to his stomach. He was that thing who had taken away the happiness of so many, what did he deserve happiness? Didn't he owe it to them all to die like the wretch he was?

"You have to live with it."

The voice drew him, again, from the black depths of his despair. Selim raised his head. Edward Elric gripped his shoulder tightly. "You have to live with it," he insisted fiercely, shaking the young man slightly. "Don't you understand? You can't give up! It wouldn't be right!"

"How can I justify my life?" Selim choked. "I took the lives of so many people! What right do I have-"

"Don't you get it, it's not about that! You can't go giving up hope!"

"I can't fix what I've done! I can't even remember it! Those people-"

"Those people were people! Just like you, Selim! Don't you understand? There is nothing, nothing worth the price of a single human soul! Not even another soul!" The grip tightened; the golden eyes bored into his fiercely. "Do you think you could be replaced? Do you think your mother would be happy if another boy walked through the front door and said he was taking your place as her son? Well, do you?"

"I-I-"

"Of course not! Every human life is unique, nobody is replaceable! And therefore not even a thousand souls can equal one human life, or the one equal a thousand! You don't want to live with what you've done? Tough! You don't get to take another life, not even your own!"

Selim stared up at him, stunned. He realized he was not sure when exactly he had decided to kill himself if he found out his fears were true, but somewhere along the line he had resolved himself to death, determined to pay back whatever he could of the insurmountable toll he had built up with his own two hands. Yet in one sharp moment it became clear that, far apart from repaying what he had stolen, he would be only adding another debt to the list.

"You have to keep fighting," Edward Elric said, quieter now, yet still forceful, his grip strong and bracing. "To make this world a better place. That's why you became a state alchemist, wasn't it? Well?"

Selim swallowed; his throat felt like sand. "Y-yeah."

"Then you can't give up. You're not helping anyone by throwing your life away."

Heartsick, it was the most he could do to nod dumbly. They fell silent for a long moment, before a faint noise broke through the stillness of the room: laughter. Selim raised his head and looked out the window. It was Mrs. Rockwell, returning up the road from the market with two younger blonde girls and a small blonde boy, all between the ages of five and twelve. Selim knew that the eldest of the Elric-Rockwell girls, a seventeen-year-old girl named Trisha, was away at the military's alchemical academy from which he himself had just graduated, for he had seen her in the halls now and again over the last year. He heard a faint sigh and looked up to see Mr. Elric smiling sadly to himself.

"Come on, Selim. Let's take a walk."

"A walk?"

"Yeah. Not good to stay cooped up inside you know, dusty old house like this!"

Selim stood and followed him uncertainly to the door, stepping back when it opened. "Ed, I thought you were going to finish the painting this afternoon, it's only half-done!" Mrs. Rockbell scolded as she walked inside, followed by the children.

"Calm down Winry, jeez, I'll get it done later today. Besides, we have company."

"Compa– oh!" Mrs. Rockwell stopped dead. "Selim Bradley," she said, startled, that same mask quickly passing over her face. "Oh, um– w-welcome to Resembool."

"Mrs. Rockbell," Selim greeted awkwardly.

"Private Bradley and I were just having a talk," Mr. Elric said calmly. His wife's eyes widened, and she glanced between her husband and the young man.

"A talk?" she repeated carefully.

"Yeah. We thought we'd take a walk around."

There passed a look between them that clearly said not in front of the children, and then Mrs. Rockbell tilted her head and gave Selim a bright smile. "Alright, well, don't keep him out too long, Selim. And please, you must stay for dinner." Selim opened his mouth, startled, but the automail mechanic merely waved her hand. "Please, I insist! Besides, the children love having visitors!"

"Uh- I-"

"Don't worry, Winry, we'll be back in time," Ed said, waving his hand and using the other to unceremoniously push Selim out the door.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, admiring the beautiful countryside. "Nice, isn't it?" Mr. Elric said at last.

"It's lovely here," Selim appreciated, looking around at the pacific scene. "But do you ever miss Central?"

"Eh, sometimes. But Winry and the kids keep me plenty busy. Oh!" He reached out and stopped Selim as a local farmer waved to them, nudging his flock of sheep across the road. They watched the bleating animals make their way across the gravel path, and Selim found himself smiling in spite of everything.

"Ya see, Selim, that's what I like about this place," Ed said as they continued onward. "It's simple here, everyone knows everyone, everyone works together…the whole community depends on each other. It's a good life. Makes you see the goodness in the world, and in people." He looked over at the young man, whose violet eyes were pensive, focused on the rolling green hills and blue sky around them.

"How am I supposed to live my life…knowing what I am, and what I've done." He looked over. "Nobody knows who I really am, or who my father was. And the people who do know can barely stand to be around me. It feels like if I moved forward I'd be living a lie."

"Have you told President Mustang this?"

"Mustang? No. We're not really on close terms or anything…"

"Well, I'm thinking you should. Who knows? He might think it's time for people to finally know the truth." Ed shrugged. "But if he does or doesn't, that's not really the point, is it? You've got to keep living, which means you've got to choose how you're going to live."

"I can't make up for it. Everyone he– I– Pride killed, and all the lives ruined…I don't even know how many people suffered because of what I did." He raised a hand to rub the circular birthmark on his forehead. "This here…it's a sign of having been connected to a philosopher's stone, isn't it? The stone that made Pride was filled with thousands of souls, an ocean of them." That, at least, he could remember clearly. "That's not something I can pay back, even if I spend my whole life trying."

"I'm not saying you can," Mr. Elric replied. Selim blinked in surprise. "Like I said, souls, lives aren't replaceable. People can't be equivalently traded; even if you'd only killed one person, saving a hundred others couldn't pay that debt. So it's no use looking back."

"So what then, I shouldn't try to make up for what I did? Just forget about all the suffering Pride caused?"

"That's not what I'm saying." He stopped, leaning his hands on a fence-post and looking out at the countryside. "Sometimes we can fix our mistakes, sometimes not. And when we can't, the best thing to do is move forward. Do what's right now." He tapped the ground lightly with his foot, the metallic sound of automail clanking in the sunlit birdsong and breeze. "You see what I mean?"

"There's a price for everything," Selim countered. "If you take away then you have to give back in equal measure. That's the law of the universe."

"The law of alchemy," Edward corrected, straightening up. "Not of the universe."

The two looked at each other for a long moment. Mr. Elric was smiling, as if he knew something Selim didn't. "You gave up alchemy to save your brother, didn't you, Mr. Elric?" Selim asked.

The smile grew an inch. "Yeah, I did."

Bewildered, Selim opened his mouth, but was cut off by the sound of a car racing up the road towards them. The old farmer's truck pulled to a halt beside them, sending gravel skittering in all directions, and a man scrambled out. "Thank goodness I found you! You're Selim Bradley, right?"

"Uh-"

"You're a state alchemist! Someone said you'd gone up to Ed's house; we need an alchemist right away! There's been an accident in the town!"

Selim's eyes shot wide. "What!"

"Please, we need your help!"

"Tell me what's happened on the way," Selim said quickly, pulling open the door. "Mr. Elric-"

"I'll come too. What's going on, Gunter?"

As it turned out there had been a construction accident; something had gone wrong while building the new Resembool post office and the whole half-built structure had collapsed, trapping one of the workmen under several heavy steel beams that nobody could lift. When the car screeched to a halt Selim flung open the doors and sprinted forward. "Out of my way, please, let me through!" He found the man almost immediately; he was struggling for breath, his chest and legs weighed down by two beams; blood was spilling in a pool from where his legs were. Selim pulled on his gloves, clapped his hands and pressed them to the ground. With a crackling flash of blue light, the steel beams curved upwards into arches, releasing the man's broken body. Several other workmen rushed forward and pulled him out. "I know a little alkahestry," Selim told them. "Here…"

With another flare of blue light the wound in the man's leg sealed and, with a sickening sort of cracking sound, the crushed ribs re-formed. The man's breathing eased a bit, and the state alchemist looked up. "He'll still need to see a real doctor, but he won't suffocate to death."

"Thank you," the injured man said weakly, smiling up at the young man; Selim looked down in surprise. "You…probably saved…my life…"

"Save your strength; you're still not well," Selim insisted.

"Thank you…"

He moved aside as the town doctor hurried forward and stood up. The crowd surrounding him was looking at him in awe and admiration, and for a moment he felt a flash of hatred and self-loathing—before he caught the look in Mr. Elric's eyes and the grin he was giving the young man, almost smug. I told you so, he said with that grin. Selim looked back over his shoulder to the injured man, beyond the ignorant adoring crowd, and caught himself in a moment of surprise, and then smiled. Maybe that was the answer Mr. Elric had been trying to explain. After all, who was it he'd really be trying to appease with his suicide? His own sense of guilt? And why was it he cared so much whether people knew the truth about him; wasn't it because he couldn't bear the feeling of unearned glory? Because it stung to know he was so woefully pathetic in the face of his sins? Was he really going to sacrifice all the good he could do for the world to try to appease his own wounded self-image?

Perhaps in some ways I really am still Prideful.

He passed back through the crowd to where the mechanic was waiting for him, still grinning. "So," he said as they started to walk, "should we go back? Winry makes a great chicken and dumpling stew."

"You go ahead," Selim said thoughtfully, but there was no denying his heart felt lighter. "There's something I have to do first."

The sun was setting a sanguine crimson over the fields and dales of Resembool when at last Edward Elric, who had been waiting at the door, saw young Selim Bradley come walking up the hill. "Hey," he said, raising a hand as the alchemist approached.

"Hi Mr. Elric. Winry's soup smells good."

"Yeah, I know." He opened the door and let the young man inside. Selim paused in the doorway, drinking in the scent and sight of the humble happy home. Winry Rockbell smiled at him from the doorway to the kitchen, and the youngest boy dashed past him excitedly, only pausing a moment to say hello before chasing after his older sister. Selim chuckled as the door shut behind him and looked up at Mr. Elric, smiling.

"You seem like you found some answers," the older man said quietly, curious but not prying. Selim nodded.

"I did." He took a deep breath. "I saw the church on my way through town this morning. I decided to stop in and…pay my respects."

"Your respects?"

"I asked for forgiveness," Selim said quietly. "From God and from all those people I…I killed." His violet eyes flickered away, but Edward could hear the sincerity in his voice. "It was all I could do, but I think maybe you're right. Maybe some things aren't equivalently exchanged."

Ed's eyes crinkled, and he clapped Selim on the shoulder. "Come on. Soup's almost done."

Selim left the next morning on the outbound train to Central, at almost the same moment the inbound train pulled steaming into the station. "Was it just my imagination," Alphonse said curiously as he handed his suitcase off to his brother, "or was that Selim Bradley I saw on the platform?"

"Eh, the one and only."

"What was he here for? –Wilhelm, stay away from the tracks! Sofia, look after your brother, please, I can't keep an eye on you all at once. Sorry," he apologized, looking back up to his brother. "What were we talking about? Oh, right, Selim. Why was he here?" Ed gave him a look, and Alphonse nearly dropped his suitcase. "Seriously?"

"Uh-huh. Poor kid."

"Jeez…I can't even imagine. And he's such a nice kid, too. Oh, Anna, watch your siblings for me? Ed and I need to talk—I'll explain later. So," he said as they started up the road, keeping a distance behind the children, "tell me what happened."

"Excuse me, President Mustang, but someone is here to see you."

"What?" The president looked up from his mountain of paperwork, confused. "I didn't have a meeting for this hour. Who is it?"

"He says his name is Private Selim Bradley, sir. Say, isn't that the late Führer's son?"

"Selim Bradley?" Roy glanced to the door, startled. "Uh, sure, send him in."

"Seems he and his mom finally had their little talk. Selim didn't take it well."

"I can believe it." Al sighed. "I always liked Selim—even when he was Pride, at least before I knew he was a homunculus."

"Agh, that's just 'cause you're a big softy, everyone knows that." Ed smirked and then fell pensive again. "I think he found some peace, but it's going to be a long road—especially if the President decides to finally explain the coup to everyone."

"So, you're asking for a reassignment?"

"Yes, sir." The president looked up at him, bewildered and, perhaps, almost suspicious.

"But why bring it all the way to me? And why Ishval?"

Selim took a deep breath. "Well, Envy made a real mess of their country, sir. I'd like to do what I can to help finish up the reconstruction."

Mustang dropped his fountain pen.

"Do you think he'll be alright?"

Ed shrugged, leaning against the fencepost. His hands were still flecked green along the nail-beds where he hadn't been able to wash the paint out. "I dunno, Al. Finding that Answer, figuring it out…it's not easy, especially not for an alchemist. You and I know that better than anyone."

His brother nodded pensively, fixing his glasses and looking up at the sky. "Yeah." The white outline of the morning sun glittered diamond-bright. "Prices, trades, equivalent exchanges. That's how alchemists see the world, but it's not the Truth of things."

"Listen, kid, I have to ask: why are you telling me all this? It's going to complicate things, the more people who know you… well, know."

Selim met his eyes steadily. "Well, sir, I figured if anyone understood…it would be you."

"Tell me, Ed…when you gave up your Gateway, what did it feel like?"

Ed shrugged as they climbed the hill to the house. "I can't really explain it. It just felt…right." They paused at the front porch. "We have to live with the choices we make. It took me a long time to learn that lesson…and it took me even longer to learn that the best things, the things worth fighting for, can't be equivalently exchanged. Friendship and forgiveness and…"

"Love," Al said quietly. Ed looked over at him and nodded.

"Yeah."

"I can't repay what I've done, sir, and I know that."

The President gaped at the young man in front of him, standing straight-backed in his blue military uniform, boots polished, face set but violet eyes burning with a zeal to press forward. "I know I can't ever give back what I've taken, and I know now what it must have taken for all of you to give me the life I've had, to look past what I'd done. I can never repay your kindness, either. But I want to do what I can to make this world the kind of place where that sort of kindness can spread and grow. That's the best way forward. I want to be the sort of person all of you have been for me—sir."

Roy Mustang studied him for a long moment, and then lowered his head with a chuckle. "Well, look at that. Looks like Fullmetal was right."

"Sir?"

"You've got your wish, Private. You'll be deployed to Ishval tomorrow morning." He stamped the request and passed it back, grinning. "Good luck."

The door to the house on the hill opened wide, laughter and happiness spilling out into the air, the two brothers welcomed inside.

"Thank you, Sir. I promise…I won't let you down."

Fin.