I needed a writing project this summer and, being lazy (while also watching FMA: Brotherhood on Netflix), I decided to take a shot at rewriting this old fic. Same author, same (similar) plot, seven years after I started it the first time. I debated just replacing chapters but I'm starting it as a new story so 1) I (and you) don't lose the old one, and 2) for organizational purposes. Since this is basically rewriting what has already been written, updates should be fairly speedy.

Cheers!

Chapter One
A Not-Entirely-Unexpected Journey

"I'm home," Ed called as he stomped into the large house, his voice echoing off the high ceiling of the entryway. He slammed the door behind him and dumped his bag of books and jacket unceremoniously on the wooden floor. "Oi, bastard! Where are you?"

"He's gone, Ed," said Alphonse, who padded out of the kitchen and down the hall to meet Ed halfway. "Why did you get home so late? You were supposed to be back an hour ago. Did you check your phone?"

"No," Ed grumbled, and added "Sorry," in spite of his bad mood. His phone was still in his bag, along with his classwork and books and long-forgotten detention slips. He'd always been bad about keeping in touch with Al through texts. "What's for dinner? Did that asshole leave us anything in the fridge?" he continued as he clomped down the hall into the kitchen with Al, taller and slightly more graceful, shadowing him.

"It's your turn to make it."

"Fuck!" Ed blurted, feeling secure in cursing because their father wasn't in the house (not that his presence would have given Ed anything but a brief moment of hesitation). He banged his fist against the fridge, producing a dull, metallic 'clunk.' "Fuck," he repeated, ripping off one of his gloves to examine the metallic hand underneath. "...Good, no damage." He flexed the prosthetic experimentally; it responded smoothly.

Al, who had flinched when Ed hit the refrigerator, now watched him closely, trying to discern the cause of his brother's bad mood. "I can make dinner if you want," he said, keeping a good distance from Ed. "You should take a break and calm down for a bit."

"No, it's fine, I'll cook," Ed said, stubborn as always, and opened the fridge, searching around for food. Al watched as he rummaged among the assorted tupperware containers and finally emerged, looking more discontented than ever. "There's no goddamn food!"

Al bit his lip but couldn't resist pointing out, "You were the one who was doing the shopping this week." He hadn't reminded Ed earlier, figuring that he'd remember eventually but had a lot to worry about already. Sometimes, though, Ed could be absentminded about very necessary things.

"Urgh!" Ed exclaimed, pressing both palms to his eyes (the metallic one was cold and hard against his sensitive skin) and then running them through his hair, pulling at his bangs and messing up his braid in his frustration. "Sorry, Al, I completely forgot. I'll go... tomorrow, I guess." It was already past six, and the little grocery in the center of town would be closing.

"It's fine," Al said, grinning a little. He had always been more resourceful with cooking, and there was plenty of usable food in the refrigerator if you knew how to look for it. He leaned against the counter, watching his brother carefully. "What's gotten you so angry anyway? Did something happen at school? Was it Russell?"

"More or less," Ed grumbled, looking away and crossing his arms over his chest. "You know the counselor, Ms. Vanderbilt?"

His brother nodded. Ms. Vanderbilt was known throughout the school not for her skills at counseling, but rather for her eccentric behavior—she would pick four or five students in each grade that she considered 'problematic' (whether or not the other teachers agreed), and force them into regular meetings with her; in the meantime, she would downplay or ignore other students concerns. Al was certain she'd get fired soon. It just hadn't happened yet.

"Well, she called me in after school," Ed continued. "She told me it seemed like something was 'bothering me,' you know, worse than usual." Ed was one of the so-called problematic students that Ms. Vanderbilt had her eye on this year. "She said if I keep acting up, I'd get expelled, which is bullshit, because I don't do anything!"

Al met his eyes and slowly raised his eyebrows.

"Okay, okay, fine, I do some things, but Russell's the one who starts every fight! But he's not a 'problem child,' so he can get away with anything."

Although he was still skeptical, Al let it slide.

"And then she asked me if anything was wrong at home. Started talking shit about us all again—if it were just Dad, I wouldn't care, but she dropped some hints about mom and," Ed clenched his fist. "She thinks I have grief issues, or whatever, as if it hasn't been ages. And she still thinks Dad is abusive, even though I told her, he doesn't do anything, literally, nothing..." Ed heaved a large sigh and slumped down into a chair at the kitchen table. "Anyway, I hate talking to her. So much for the last week of term, right?"

As Ed's story continued, Al's demeanor had become progressively more sympathetic. No one liked Ms. Vanderbilt, except apparently the government and the administrators of their public school; while he had never been one of her 'problem kids,' he could see where Ed was coming from. "Look," he said, moving to the fridge. "I'll make dinner tonight if you promise to go shopping tomorrow afternoon."

Ed looked up at him, about to protest.

"Don't argue, or I'll tell Ms. Vanderbilt that you're being problematic at home, too."

For a moment, Ed looked indignant, but his composure was broken by a large laugh. "Alright, alright, I get the hint." He grinned at Al, his usual cheeriness coming back. "I'll go pick up my stuff, then. And change."

"Good," Al said, grinning back as he opened the door of the fridge and looked around. Characteristically, Ed had passed over the substantial remnants of Sunday's roast beef, the container full of mashed potatoes, and the fresh carrots and radishes in the crisper drawer. As Ed left to change, he began to take out ingredients. They wouldn't have anything fancy for dinner, but they wouldn't starve, and there would be enough for their father, too, if he came home from work before midnight.

As Al began to transfer mashed potatoes into a ceramic bowl, he heard Ed come crashing back down the stairs and nearly dropped his spoon, jumping back as Ed careened into the kitchen, waving a piece of paper.

"Al Al Al Al Al!" he called, practically jumping up and down in his excitement. "Look at this, look at this!" He shoved the paper into Al's hand and hovered nearby, waiting for him to read.

Al unfolded the sheet.

Dear Mr. Elric, it read. We are pleased to announce that you have been accepted into the State Alchemy Exchange Program in the United States. Due to the financial constraints elaborated in your application, we are prepared to offer you...

Al skipped ahead.

...per your request, you will be placed with Pinako Rockbell in Dublith, California, and will attend Central High School. We wish you luck with...

"Granny Pinako!" Ed shouted, evidently unable to hide his excitement any longer. His concentration broken, Al looked up—he had read the important parts already. "We're going to get to stay with Granny Pinako!"

"'We?'" Al repeated. From the moment he had taken the letter, he'd prepared himself for disappointment. "This letter is addressed to you, isn't it?"

"And yours is right here too!" Ed crowed, shoving the envelope into his hands. Al put Ed's letter down carefully and then opened the envelope up, his hands a little shaky, to see another letter, folded up. Maybe Ed hadn't read it, and maybe this one was a rejection, meaning Ed could go spend five months in America but Al would have to stay here, alone with their dad in a house that was too big for all of them...

It took him a while to even work up the courage to open the letter, with Ed vibrating excitedly next to him. Then he took a breath and read: We are pleased to announce that you have been accepted—

"I got in!" he yelled.

"Of course you did!" Ed replied, shouting too, as if it wasn't obvious that Ed had always been the more gifted, out of the two of them. He snatched the letter out of Al's hand and bounced away, waving both papers above his head like victory flags. "Goodbye bastard, goodbye Vanderbilt, goodbye Germany, hello Dublith, hello Granny, hello United States of America!"

Although he wasn't exactly dancing around the kitchen, Al was just as happy. Both of them needed to get away for a while; now, they could practice their English, stay with an old family friend, and not worry too much about money.

It was almost too good to be true.

"It's too good to be true," Russell sneered the next afternoon, his arms crossed over his chest as he looked down at Ed. They were standing in the quad area of the small high school. Class had been dismissed for thirty minutes, but he'd been running around getting his things together; Russell, too, had remained later for some reason. And of course Ed had to brag to him about his upcoming exchange trip.

"Well it's not," Ed said staunchly, crossing his arms over his own chest in an unconscious mimicry of Russell's pose.

Russell scoffed. "So what, you're just going to pack up and leave for America tomorrow or something? People need visas and passports and airplane tickets, they don't just go. Hopefully you didn't waste a ton of money applying for something that's not even going to happen." He snorted.

"I have a passport and they bought us tickets, and they're getting the visa," Ed said, lifting his chin defiantly. "We had to give them all the info when we applied so we could get the visa as soon as possible. Anyway, they're giving us a scholarship! I bet you could never—"

He was cut off by a firm hand on his shoulder, and whirled around to see Ms. Vanderbilt watching him with raised eyebrows. "Mr. Elric."

Ed glared, and bristled even more as Russell snickered behind him. "What?" he asked rudely.

Ms. Vanderbilt didn't appear to notice his rudeness, or she'd just become accustomed to it. "Congratulations on your upcoming study abroad trip. I hope you make the most out of this opportunity."

She smiled; Ed continued to scowl.

"I just wanted to inform you, though, that the State Alchemy program is very strict with its students—stricter, even, than other programs, since you're being funded by a branch of the Ministry of Defense. Any disciplinary infractions—just one fight—and it's over."

Maybe it was just Ed's paranoia, but Ms. Vanderbilt looked way too happy about the possibility that Ed would get kicked out. That way, Ed imagined, she could have her precious 'problem child' all to herself.

"I get it, I get it," he said, sidestepping out of her grip and away from Russell, who was watching the exchange avidly. The bastard was always sticking his nose into Ed's business. "No fighting, I'll be on my best behavior, military discipline, blah blah blah, whatever…" Shouldering his bag with a little more enthusiasm, he gave Russell and Ms. Vanderbilt a mock salute. "See you in three months!"

Without giving anyone a chance to reply, Ed ran away, his red coat flapping behind him and his bag held high on his shoulder. There was no point in saying goodbye to the people he hated—and anyway, Dublith, and the whole U.S.A., was waiting for him.