The Dawn

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA

Part 3 of ? in a series of oneshots that are all connected from differing view points, all averaging about 1000 words more or less. Previous parts can be found on my profile or at my LiveJournal.

Spell checked, proof read, un-beat'd.

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The Dawn

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There was nothing for so long the when there was something; it was almost too much to bear. For the longest of moments he could only absorb the sound of someone's ragged breathing; panting with an echoing quality that made him listen closely with a detached curiosity. He could hear faint sounds of scratching that made him think of rats or mice. He could even hear the faint murmurs of conversation as if coming from far away. Sound had become so rich, taking a more reverberating quality then he could ever remember—and touch—touch was sublime.

Below him there was hardness, above him coolness. Everywhere tingled with sensation, but he remained apart from it; watching as though from a distance as he vaguely processed these changes and sensations. But as the moments passed quickly, he began to feel more…harsh sensations. The hardness below him, which had seemed to be holding him firmly, now seemed to be digging small needles into his body. And the coolness above him, where it had been curiously intriguing, now seemed to burn and caused him to shudder uncontrollably.

When Al finally became conscious of himself and not just floating in a haze of sensation as he had been, he became so overwhelmed with feeling that he couldn't stand it. Whimpering because it was too much for his body to process, he blinked open his eyes at the unfamiliar, vaulted ceiling and quaked with confusion. The last thing he could remember with any certainty was standing in The Light—so warm, so welcoming and calming, that it made him wish to go back.

He found it so hard to focus on the objects surrounding him. He knew the names of everything he saw—wooden benches, dead leaves, moldy books—but they were blurry and danced queasily as he tried to focus on each item. Turning his head was a new type of agony that was unexpected. His head felt heavy and throbbed. Colors unimaginable painted the floor. It came down from large windows filled with swaths of color in wide bands of light. Though Al knew that those colors were part of a window and represented a picture of some kind, he couldn't make out what it was.

The confusion of it all quickly overwhelmed him. He couldn't do this. It was too hard—too painful. He wanted to die. Where was Ed—his brother was supposed to be with him? Where was his mother? Had the transmutation worked? Why did he hurt so much?

His arms jerked with his misery; every nerve ending was alive and sending signals to a brain that was unused to handling large amount of information. Imperceptible shifts across the floor—for he couldn't be anywhere else but the floor—only heightened his growing unease and wretchedness. Al cried out when loud, clamorous sound took over as his chief complaint. Weak limbs, slow and shaky with disuse, trailed along the rough gound to fumble with finding his ears in order to block out the sound.

"Over here! I saw a light in the window." Sound over lapping with sound; approaching him.

Those words tore through Al like poisonous barbs rending his flesh. Screams of agony, coming from his own throat, only caused him more suffering. But he couldn't stop himself. Suddenly there were faces everywhere, bending over him and touching him; adding to his misery. His eyesight was too blurry to make out individual faces. He could see only indistinct bodies, all dressed in blue; vague facial features that consisted of dark holes where the eyes should be, and blobs of color for skin and hair.

"The area was clear! How did this boy get here!"

Al whimpered. He wanted to turn on his side and curl up, hide. But his body wasn't moving like he thought it should, in fact he could hardly move at all. He was sure that it shouldn't be as hard as this to move. He could almost remember a dim memory of running with someone beside him, about his size with a wide grin and bright golden hair.

"I confirmed the area was clear, sir. I don't know how this happened."

"We will have a talk about this later."

"Yes, sir."

A blurry woman's face leaned over his. "We'll take care of you now; please relax," she murmured, wiping away his tears.

The sound of her voice triggered a memory. She was someone he knew, he was sure of it. But the exact nature of his acquaintance eluded him. He'd looked to her many times…but what was her name. He hiccupped and sniffled as he tried to find a name to go with the vague memory.

"Please get me a blanket," she said, looking over her shoulder and speaking to someone behind her. "There, no need to be upset. What's your name?" she asked, holding his shoulder gently. The warmth of her hand was so tender…like mom's…

"Alphonse," he croaked back to the wavering face. Could this be mother?

"Elric?" the woman asked.

"Uh-huh. Where am I? I think I know you. What's your name? Are you my mother?"

The woman gasped; a sharp inhale of breath that startled Al. "No, I'm not your mother. My name's Riza…don't you remember me?" As she spoke, a rough, scratchy blanket was placed over him. It felt awful.

"Bear with it for now. I'll see what I can do about getting something softer for you, Alphonse. I'm sending you to the hospital to make sure nothing's injured—"

"Don't leave me!" pleaded Al, reaching out and fumbling for the woman's hand. He didn't know her, but she knew him and that was enough for now.

What do you think? Is this good enough for the ending? Or do you want to know more about if Ed survives?

Cast your vote with a reveiw XD!