Disclaimer: I do not own FMA or…huh, I don't have to say anything else, do I? Woohoo! It's a crossover-free story:)
Author's Note: This is just the beginning, but I'm not sure if anyone will actually like this, so I'm just posting chapter one for now. Please enjoy:)
Silence. That's all the young boy heard as he awoke to a peaceful early winter morning. He slowly pealed his eyes open, squinting through the light reflected from the snow outside that filled the room. The boy moved his hand to his forehead, pushing away his bangs to clear his vision. He slowly sat up, groggy and sore all over, though he wasn't sure why. He glanced over at the nightstand to right of his bed, and saw on it a silver pocket watch glimmering in a beam of sunlight that filtered through the curtains. As he reached out to grab the watch, he noticed that he was wearing a long, loose, white cotton nightshirt, and again, he wasn't sure why. He saw that over on a chair sitting beside a dresser were black clothes and a long red jacket; each with bright red blood stains soaked into them.
He moved his gaze from the chair up to the dresser where a tall mirror sat, reaching up to the ceiling. He stared at himself and a young man, no older than seventeen, with golden hair and eyes stared right back. He continued gazing at his reflection, as if he didn't know the person that he saw. When he thought about it, the boy wasn't sure about his pains, clothes, or reflection, because at the moment, he wasn't sure of anything; like he had no life before that morning with no recollection of where he'd been previous to that bed in this warm and cozy little house.
He heard foot steps beyond his door. He determined it was two people; one was very large, making small tremors in the house with every step they took. And the other was small; probably someone old and tired, for with every light tap of their slipper-ed feet on the wooden floor, the small click of a cane accompanied it.
The boy ran his hands through his long bangs, trying to recall everything he wasn't sure of. He guessed that he must've been drunk last night and was having a hangover now. That would explain the soreness and memory loss, so he was pretty sure that everything would come back to him in a few minutes, especially if those people he heard entered his room. He thought that a familiar face or two would jumpstart his brain. He smiled a little as the door softly squeaked open, letting an elderly woman and someone in a suit of armor enter the room.
"Good morning, Edward." said the old woman in her gritty voice, folding her hands behind her back, holding her cane firmly. "Are you feeling any better?" she asked, looking over at the boy, but her good morning smile faded with his.
The boy stared at her and the person in armor, his eyes had widened slightly and he asked in a hollow voice that he doubted was his own "Who are you?"
End Note: So? It wasn't very good, was it? Please tell me what 'ya think, and if enough people want me to, I will continue to write this story. Please R&R:)