1
"Al...Al! Where are you!? AL!"
There were screams of terror. Fires; there were fires burning. It was hot, heat wafting in from every direction, stifling the boy. The distinct smell of charred flesh and seared wax made his head swim further -- this was a battlefield. He was literally in a ring of fire, the burning foundations of the great building slowly collapsing, piles of rubble blocking passageways. Smoke filled the air, blurring the room and making his eyes sting horribly. But he had to find him...Had to find his brother.
Someone screamed; an awfully familiar scream. Edward turned quickly, only to see the deep blue uniforms of the heretics, one figure standing out in particular. A snap somehow made its way through the barrage of noise, meeting the young boy's ears as he rushed forward. Black hair. Strange gloves that let the user emit fire into the air. It was the leader of the rebel group -- it had to be. At the man's feet, was Alphonse.
Another scream. Edward barely managed to make out the form of his last blood relative, going down in yellow-red flames. He didn't think, he just moved.
"Damn you! Bastard!" he cried, swinging furiously at the taller, blue-coated man. His unusually small form, combined with his sheer, 9-year-old youth, had little effect on the rebel. The defender deftly blocked, almost without care, as he looked down at the golden-eyed incarnation of fury.
"Really, such a young clergyman uttering obscenities?" he sneered, causing the boy to pause. Ed had just...
In that brief moment of respite, a dull 'thunk' resounded in the air. Abruptly, Edward's world started to spin, leaving only brief glimmers. The Elric felt warm liquid running across his cheek; his clothes were singed, he'd have to get a new robe when he got out of this; a glance, a smug smirk, its owner just above him; his brother, a wall of flames and screams.
He heard another scream above all that. His own voice.
Everything went black.
2
Everything was white. The ceiling was white. The sheets were white. Even his damn shirt was white. The clerics were working carefully on him, and when he looked to his left, on his brother as well.
When Edward tried to move, fire spread across his right arm. It hurt. Correction -- it hurt a lot. The nurses had warned that he shouldn't try to move; said that he may recover; noted that he'd have scars for the rest of his life even if he did. Smiled softly as they re-assured that they were meant to be there, that this was meant to happen. And then, everyone would cross themselves, leaving Ed feeling helpless and spiteful.
If god cared so much, why did he let such pain befall upon the earth?
When they would do that, Edward's normally serene features would curve down into a horrid scowl. Whenever that discontent appeared, however, Alphonse turned slightly to address his brother. Al was worse off, his arms and legs practically covered in bandages, torso and neck marred for life. He was obviously in pain...But still smiling.
"It's...ok, nii-san...It was...Meant to be..." he'd barely make out, and then he'd break into another coughing fit. Blood had seeped into his lungs, and was still in the process of draining out. It never made Ed feel any better. His brother was obviously fine with this, this life-changing accident that most probably ruined their future. Edward wasn't.
He'd fix everything. Then, they could both live happy, normal lives.