mikkeneko | end of chimera fic, now with title

Title: Ignis Fatuus
Warning: gore, angst, alchemical philosophy
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: None

Notes: Set in the universe inhabited by

pellaz's Imus Domum and Break Apart, and

kaltia's L'univers, c'est toujours toi.

chi·me·ra also chi·mae·ra (k-mîr-ǝ)
n.

1. An organism, organ, or part consisting of two or more tissues of different genetic composition, produced as a result of organ transplant, grafting, or genetic engineering.
2. A fanciful mental illusion or fabrication.
e.g, "chasing a chimera," any futile endeavor towards an impossible goal.
Synonyms: delusion, fool's paradise, ignis fatuus, illusion, monster, monstrosity

It was done.

The noise subsided into a low crackling, a faint rumbling, and then died. The light went out all at once, like a candle, and he blinked his eyes open. Sparks still danced before his eyes, although he couldn't tell for certain whether it was afterimages or the last sparks of energy, clinging to matter before dying away.

Ed was shaking all over now, and he took a careful breath as he sat back on his heels, lifting his hands from the edge of the array. He wiped one gloved hand over his face, and it came away purple-stained.

Well.

Time to see what he'd done this time.

With difficulty, Ed managed to force himself to his shaking feet. Smoke -- or steam -- hazed the room, and he waved it irritably aside as he stepped forward. There was nothing on earth he wanted to little as to look, but not to look on the results of his work would be the worse kind of cowardice, far worse than never starting at all.

The blood -- and more clotted material -- lay in a neat, dark spiral pattern leading in towards the array. Clenching his teeth, preparing to swallow back bile, Ed stepped forward again and looked at the center.

There, lying on the little platform at the center of the spiral, was a boy, curled into a posture of innocent sleep. Ed's breath left him, explosively. He nearly slipped in a puddle of -- lizard blood, was it? in his haste to get to the center, and his gloves left a red smudge on pale shoulders as he rolled the boy onto his back, eyes darting hurriedly up and down his body as he looked for the bad news.

Keep looking, he looked fine, he looked fine, whole and healthy. He breathed, and a steady pulse flickered under his skin -- was that paler than it should be, or just the terrible light in here? He had his mother's dark hair, slightly curly, with long eyelashes that fluttered against his cheek, as though he were dreaming.

Ed choked back on rising elation. Not yet. Just because the body's sound, doesn't mean the mind is. He clenched his hand in a fist for a moment, trying to still the shaking, then took hold of the boy's shoulder and shook it once, twice. "Hey," he whispered, voice raspy. "Wake up, boy."

A mumble, and a shift, and then the boy's eyes opened -- halfway at first, revealing dark eyes clouded with uncertainty, then all the way, confusion growing as he became more aware of his surroundings. Ed surreptitiously tried to keep his blood-stained hands out of sight, and tried for what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "Hey there," he said, feeling inane -- okay, so he'd never planned this far ahead. Well, it couldn't be too hard. Basic cognitive tests. "What's your name, boy?"

The boy shifted, glancing around, and then back at Ed. He didn't answer for a long moment, and Ed's hopes plummeted, but then -- "Kurt," he offered, in a tiny voice.

Was that correct? Damn, Ed couldn't remember. He'd just have to assume it was, and anyway, it meant that he'd understood the question, and yes, comprehension and response, this was a good sign! His smile grew a little warmer, he hoped. "You like baseball, Kurt?"

Confusion, but then, a tiny nod. Better and better. "What's the last thing you remember?" he continued, keeping his voice gentle and low.

The boy swallowed, face clouding as he concentrated. "I was..." he said, and trailed off. "There was a man... he... where are my mama and papa?" he whimpered, diverting away from the question. "Who are you?"

Memory functioning, recognition of surroundings, request for the familiar, display of complex emotions. That was better than Ed had dared let himself hope, and the exultation came rushing back, making him dizzy. "They're not far away," he reassured the kid, giving him an awkward pat on the shoulder with his left hand. "You've been... sick, but you're going to be all right now. You wait here, and I'll go get them, okay?"

At times like this, he missed his old red coat; the jacket he shrugged off now to lend the boy (and why had this problem never occurred to him? Not thinking things through, clearly) wasn't really warm enough for the chilly basement. Well, it only had to suffice for a moment.

He picked his way through the splatter of blood on the floor, and a part of his mind picked apart the reason for it. Every element of his Array had been aimed at preserving the human element, and he had barely given a thought to the animal. Apparently, when the two were separated, the human matter had been reconstructed and the animal matter... rejected, it seemed. Well, it was a theoretical flaw, but practically -- he didn't think anyone would really be grieving for the lizard. In the future he could, he could...

It began to dawn on him that he'd done it, he'd really succeeded, and he hardly even felt the concrete under his feet as he half-walked, half-floated out into the corridor.

He almost ran into one of the black-clad men, hovering outside of the doorway; it surprised him, since he wouldn't have thought anyone would willingly hang around this close to a reaction that might rebound at any moment. Ah, the bliss of ignorance. "Sir?" the man said, rather plaintively; he glanced quickly at Ed's blood-spattered clothes, and grew pale.

Ed just gave the man a dreamy nod and pushed past him, heading for the outer chamber. It didn't occur to him until after he'd reached the end of the hall that he ought to clean up the blood first, and then it was too late. Everyone looked up when he entered the room, soldiers and civilians alike; the woman uttered a little cry when she saw him, and clutched at the arm of her chair.

"Sir!" Major Barton hurried over to him. "What happened? Can you give me your report?"

Ah, yes, the start in an endless round of reports. Not just yet. He waved the major away (the joys of seniority, that he could do that) and headed right for the parents.

They held up bravely, the father drawing himself up with a straight spine and a stiff face. "What..." he started, then lost it. "Is my son..."

Ed smiled at them, reassuringly, and suddenly found he couldn't stop. "Mr. Conner, Mrs. Conner," he said, "please go and see your son. He's asking for you."

There was a moment of shocked silence, and then the room burst into tumult. Mrs. Conner leapt up from her seat and rushed for the back room, her husband following closely in her wake; the officer in charge seemed torn between preserving good security, and obeying Ed's implicit orders to let them pass. Ed didn't particularly care. He just walked on past, shaking his head briefly when one of the men asked if he wanted an escort, and headed for the door. He needed a bit of air.

More gray corridors, steel doors, and he was outside, in an ugly little alley that had concealed the lab's entrance. The sky overhead was still overcast, and the inner-city air didn't smell particularly fresh, but it was all sunshine and roses to Ed.

As soon as he stopped moving, it hit him again, the relief and triumph bubbling up in his chest and over until he bounced on his feet, giving a victory-punch to the air and letting vent to an exulted whoop that echoed off the nearby alleyways in an extremely unprofessional way. "I did it! Yeah! I did it!"

He couldn't stop smiling, grinning from ear to ear, and then he was laughing with relief, jumping around in the dingy alleyway like a ten-year-old, feeling the bleak hopelessness that had crusted his heart beginning to crack and give way. It was possible, it was possible, and he'd finally managed to prove it, to accomplish what everyone said was hopeless. To finally save someone whom all the greatest minds of this century insisted couldn't be saved. To reverse the damage done, and take a small step at least towards atonement.

He laughed and laughed, until he felt a couple of tears spilling over from his eyes, and decided he'd better calm himself down before someone got the wrong idea. He heaved a breath, setting his back against the brick wall and sliding down it until he was sitting.

He could already draft in his head the triumphant letter to Al: "Dear Al. Went shopping yesterday. Bought a new notebook and two dozen eggs, oh yeah, and I deconstructed a perfect chimera at 2'oclock." Al would hear about this, he had to hear about this, because if there was anyone in the world who could understand how he'd done it, why he'd done it, it would be his brother.

"Nina," he sighed aloud, the last of his giddy hysteria draining away, leaving him with an odd combination of satisfied relief and wistful melancholy. "I did it. I couldn't save you, but I can save others like you."

Okay, so it wasn't perfect yet. A thirteen-to-one track record still wasn't the best odds in the world to boast about. He needed to analyze this process in excruciating detail, search for the elements that had rendered this transmutation successful when all the others had failed. He'd have to keep observing the boy, if not in person then in reports, to make sure that the recovery was as complete as he could be. He had to prepare for the likelihood that there would be future failures, all the more painful for the knowledge that'd he'd done it right this once.

But he was on his way now, his feet set firmly on the road. No more stumbling blindly around in the dark, chasing a phantom that all sources insisted couldn't exist. He was done with that, and well done. He might not have all the pieces yet, but he had the most important one; hope again.

~end

Point out errors, please!
Also, first one to catch the joke gets a ficlet.

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