Note: Do not read if you have no watched the whole series + the movie. This takes place 8 years after the evenmts in Conquerer of Shamballa. Also, this story has a large amount of angst, some of which will seem out of character. Please note that after 8 years in a war torn country, one can be expected to change. Do NOT comment on anything that trails out of character. I'm writing this for myself, not for fans.
The year is 1931. With golden eyes scanning the room, making sure everything was set; one Edward Elric began to cry softly. He wanted this life to end, this feeble existence of another world. He longed to see those he loved again. He wanted to feel their soft skin under his fingertips. To gaze into their eyes and embrace them, telling them he'll never leave them; ever.
But Edward was lost; lost in world that did not belong to him. It has been eight long years now since that day. After being trapped here, alone, thoughts for seeing his brother alive again the only thing to keep him company, Edward had finally worked out a way to see Alphonse again. With his little brother beside him, he and Edward had accomplished so much; they found the Uranium bomb and destroyed it; they helped countless people, who were being spited because of their race, escape to the Americas. After the rumors that a war were to start began to really circulate, Ed and his brother left for their themselves, only to find a deep depression just as terrible as the one in Munich.
Now, after eight years, Al had decided to end the adventuring on the day he turned 21. "I want a normal life now, Edward," he had told him, "I'm tired of thinking of everything as one step closer to getting back home; I'm done with that. I'm ready to start my new life now!"
Another sparkling tear fled from Edward's eyes and onto his cheek. While he may have Alphonse, his beloved brother, Alphonse was now preoccupied with another, one more important than Edward in this world. Alphonse had met a woman when they came to America, and has since married her, gaining citizenship; something Edward has not accomplished. While Alphonse cares for his new wife and dreams of future children, Edward dreads the day he may be deported back amidst war and chaos. More than that, however, he dreads of what is happening in Amestris, and what may have become of those he loved. No, of those he loves.
Alphonse used to always tell him that everything was fine. Despite being so young compared to him, Al was really okay with the distance between his former friends. He was the one who chose to come back with Edward, after all. In the early years, he even would tell Edward to wait; to wait for the day they may stumble upon a way to return home. In those days, Edward wasn't so preoccupied with getting home. Only now, after Noa has departed from their new world, has Edward longed to be home.
While arguing with an officer, who was trying to punish a family of Jews for breaking so kind of law, she was shot; accused of starting a riot in an attempt to cause mischief. Ed and Al knew better. They mourned over her grave in silence, with no tears falling from Ed's eyes. Not much unlike the way they once stood over their mother's grave. It was this event that truly pushed them into escaping; and bringing as many others with them as they could. However, while Edward meant escaping from the country to another, inside his heart, he still half-hoped that he could escape from this world.
Now, so many years have passed. He once lived with Alphonse, but decided he was in the way of Al's relationship with his wife, and so he silently left to find an apartment in the slums of town. Edward had never seen it until now: he was truly alone. He was alone, and sad, and couldn't take it anymore!
The room was slowly filling with water. He turned on the tub and allowed the murky, vile water fill the greasy tub until it began to overflow. He stared down as the water and clapped is hands together. He set those hands on the rim of the tub, as if to transmute it bigger to catch the falling water. He gripped the porcelain, and wept.
"This… life…" He mumbled to himself, "This life… no… I don't want it to go on like this… like this…!" He stole out a blade from his automail arm and shoved it again his flesh skin. He stopped, a small trail of blood leaking down his arm. He eyed the precious metal arm; his final memento from Winry, an old childhood friend. A friend he can never see again because of this accursed world.
He took some blood in his fingers and opened his shirt, where a scar in the form of a transmutation circle was carved into the flesh. He drew a ring of blood around that circle, and once again clapped his hands, touching it to his chest.
He sat there in a daze. What was he hoping would happen? That his anguish would send him back home? He dropped his arms and fell to his knees. No more tears fell form those goldenrod eyes, but one look would tell you that tears still fell from his heart.
To be continued...