Written by: HV Twitchy

Edited by: Moonlit Water Sunny River

Summary: Pride was dragged into another world far from the one he has come to know in his short life. How will he deal with this?

Characters: Pride!Ed and Alfons Heiderich, Edward and Alphonse may come in later.

Warnings: May be slight Yaoi later, maybe not, if there is it will be mild.

A/N: This has come from a little drabble I read not long ago, and I liked the idea of the two characters meeting. To sum it up, Edward and Alphonse came to live on Earth and search for the uranium bomb with Noah, Alfons survived the bullet and got surgery, and Ed and Al left him to recover. Pride was made by someone, and while the person tried to send him back into the gate, he got spit right out the other side. So basically someone cared about Edward enough to try and bring him back.

I HAVE NOT PLAYED BLUEBIRD'S ILLUSION YET, SO SOME FACTS MIGHT BE OFF, DON'T BLAME ME, I ONLY READ THE SCRIPT.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist, Conqueror of Shamballa, or Bluebird's Illusion, nor any of the characters.

There was a flash of white light, blinding to any onlooker, and then silence filled the empty space of a white illumination. The only object in the void space was a door: big and haunting, holding so many secrets and so many possibilities and sometimes – most of the time, really – even death. But to a select few, it held a pitiful revival from the grave of the lost and never to be found. That life was filled with hatred toward the makers and to anyone who tried to stop the creations from obtaining their goal of hate. The Gate was something to be feared by all who knew about it and its contents, and the fear was used to its advantage.

But there stood Pride in all of his arrogance in front of this very door of "Truth."This very Gate that had taken the happiness of so many people in all of its existence. He wasn't afraid of this thing at all, far from it actually. He was very much calm in this area of nothingness, for he had been here before, from this life and his last from what he could tell. Plus, the Gate of Truth wouldn't kill him – couldn't kill him – because of what he was.

The least this pitiful Gate could do was make him become one with it and devour his mind and body, for he didn't even have a soul to begin with.

The wide doors with the future inside creaked and moaned on their hinges, opening to a vast space of eyes of multicolored eyes and ominous giggles of the creatures inside. Black hands reached out, pulling Pride's limp body in along with them - and he let them, for what good would it do to struggle? Those persistent creatures and their bloodthirsty Gate would only pull on him until he had no choice but to go along with their wishes. Pitiful . . . creatures . . . And so with that last thought in his head, he was taken and his mind succumbed to the darkness, taking everything else along with it . . .

[PITIFUL]

They had left him for himself, gone without a trace with only him as a witness to their departure and their motives. He had been persistent in asking – begging, really – about coming, going up to them with every chance after his recovery of surgery of the injuries he took. Edward had also been persistent, but for a totally different reason: he had feared for Alfons's wellbeing. Having just recovered from surgery, he could see why. It had been the highest quality in the world and it had been paid for by the team he had worked with and by the only semblance of family he had left. It had worked in warding off his sickness, but in return he had been told to stay behind to recover, and it annoyed him.

The hardest thing came after Edward had returned: the presence of his double. The worst part was that his double had seemingly taken his place and gone with Edward instead of himself. Of course, Alfons had liked Edward, maybe a little more than he should. It was a crime, really, and even more so for someone as tradition as him.

So now here Alfons was, taking his lovely daily stroll around the neighborhood. It felt good to finally breathe fresh air again. It had felt strange for the first couple of weeks to take a big breath of air and not wheeze felt like he had been reborn, and for that he was grateful to all of the people who had pitched in and even cared enough to save him, even if it still meant that Edward had left him behind. But, that little voice in his head spoke, he did it to protect you and keep you from getting hurt. He's just trying to keep you safe.

A loud and clear noise split through the air. It was almost night time now, 10 o'clock by the looks of it, so that only meant that either someone was just out late at night, or it was some creep stalking the alleyways. Probably the latter. Curious, Alfons followed the sound. He knew it was wrong and would probably cause him harm in some way, butmaybe it was someone like Edward: a person far away from home with nowhere to stay and in need of help.

The alleyway where the noise had come from was dark, closing in on Alfons and almost suffocating him. The street lights didn't create a path for him at all, which made him worrisome and wary of what was shrouded in this blanket of darkness.

"Go . . . away." The voice made Alfons jump back a bit in surprise; he hadn't been expecting someone to speak to him.

When Alfons didn't respond, the voice spoke again. "I . . . said go . . . away." The person in the dark sounded like he was having speech problems, and the voice sounded familiar in a way, like Alfons had heard it before but couldn't pin it to any one person. "Are you . . . even listening . . . to me?"

"Uh, hello." How pathetic, the person asks a simple question and tells you to go away and you reply with a simple hello? "Um, do you need help?"

"Why . . . would I . . . need help from . . . a human?" Yep, definitely speech problems. "I'll never . . . receive help . . . from you."

Alfons blinked at the unexpected comment, taken aback. This guy, whoever he was, definitely needed some mental help.

Just like Edward.

"Well, OK then," Alfons had answered, finally deciding on what to say. "If you want to be left alone then I'll leave."

Turning, he sped out of the alley, walking extra fast to get away. He stepped out into the light of the sidewalk, letting the person get a good view of his face. He hadn't meant to do it on purpose; it just so happened that he was now standing under a streetlight.

Biggest mistake of his life, Alfons would later reckon. The stranger seemed to jump by the sound he made by doing so and glared at his face with piercing gold eyes illuminated by the darkness surrounding him. A split second later, the stranger was out of the alley and standing before Alfons. Out of nowhere, a scythe appeared in his hands, and he swung it a few times, the look in his eyes akin to a death sentence. Alfons's eyes widened, taking in the appearance of this stranger. He looked just like . . . He shook his head, eyes still on the strange person, waiting frozen in fear for the final strike. However, instead of striking, the stranger hissed one word in a sharp, yet undeniably shocked tone. "You . . ."

Ok, I would like for you to review. Flames are taken and interpreted into helpful advice. Thanks a lot.