FIDES INTREPIDA
Intrepid Faith
Subject given by Qoheleth
Written by Fye Kurokawa
Fullmetal Alchemist in its entirety does not belong to me. It is Hiromu Arakawa's sole possession; she's a damn lucky woman to have the imagination and talent to put down something that amazing. Thanks to her, I can write this fanfiction. :)
Summary: Being far from home was never a simple thing. It was like standing in front of a mirror. It was horrible, hard to bear. And when the reflection started talking back, things got even harder. Is that even possible? EdxOC, hints of shounen-ai, if you squint really really hard.
Prologue: The Gates are Closed
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The window was open wider than it had been in a long while. Summer had just recently rolled in and knocked spring out of the way. The wind was warm and the sun was brighter. Translucent curtains billowed in the breeze, casting ghost-like shadows on the hardwood floor. The room was empty save for an old, unmade, dusty bed and a nightstand, on which rested an old rusty gun. The door groaned on its hinges as it was slowly pushed open.
The young bolnde heaved and coughed and hacked. The dust was everywhere, in his hair, lungs, skin, on the ground, in the air... It was a wonder that it had been left untouched for such a long time. He carefully covered his mouth with his sleeve and pushed the door further into the room, and took a few careful steps. The floorboards whined and creaked, small plumes of dust rising from beneath his feet. He turned around, shot strand of hair hanging in front of his ears, blown by the wind.
« Is it really okay for me to stay here, brother? » he asked quietly, aware that this room had more than just one meaning. And had had more than just a single purpose.
« It's fine, Al. It just needs a little cleaning... » the aforementioned brother answered in a reassuring tone, stepping in the room as well. He took a careful look around and quietly reminisced the times he'd spen in there. He gaze lingered on the gun for a moment. Questions arose upon beholding it, question he knew he would never have answers to. Maybe that was what frustrated him most.
« I'll get to it tomorrow morning. You can sleep in my room for now. I'll just sleep on the couch. »
« But... » Al began to protest, but ceased speaking when his brother waved a gloved hand in front of his face. He gave a quick smile, as to say dont' bother trying to change my mind and turned to leave the room. Alphonse stayed behind for a while, staring out the window.
The sky was clear for the first time in several days, during which they had been under torrential rain. It was horrible, and there was flooding everywhere. They had been forced to stay in a small refuge center until their apartment building was declared a safe environment.
The buildings all around were dark and seemed dusty, and dark smoke rose from various new factories. It wasn't something that Al would have described as disgusting or ugly, or anything remotely disgraceful to the country. If anything, he thought it pertained this beauty, this strange, other-worldly quality that he knew he never would've found back home.
The thought made him smile.
And to himself, as a harsh wind blew through the window, whispered to himself, « This really isn't like Amestris at all. »