Mossmask: There will be three chapters.
One of my earlier oneshots, Familiar Faces, left me with some serious implications that I couldn't just ignore.
~Dash
Familiar Strangers: Part 1
Fullmetal Alchemist fanfiction
by The Cinderninja
Perhaps one of the reasons Alfons was most surprised when he first met Ed was because he was supposed to be dead. So when the face of his very much dead brother found his in a crowd, and the older boy froze on the spot, Alfons followed suit. But then he shook his head and continued on. Because he knew that his brother was dead, and it wouldn't do to go around seeing his face places it didn't belong. Like Munich.
Even if his brother had somehow – miraculously – survived, he definitely wouldn't be walking around Munich, of all places, fit and healthy and fine. Alfons put the strange event out of his mind for the rest of the day and by that night he had gone so far as to have completely forgotten it.
Until a knock came on his door while he was eating and studying his books. He paused and frowned, because he wasn't expecting company. And he never got knocks on his door. He paused and waited, as if to see if he was imagining things. When the knock came again, he placed his book on the table, stood, and answered the door. The same boy from earlier stood on the other side, and stared at him.
Alfons closed the door. And stood there. He didn't walk away or sit back down. There was another knock on the door. Alfons opened it again. He was still there.
The two boys stood and stared at each other for a while, taking in every little detail of the others' face, and hair, and clothes – and in one case, height. Again, neither spoke. They just looked. When they were done looking, Alfons shut the door again.
The knock was longer in coming this time, but come it did.
Alfons opened it. "Did you follow me home?" He asked.
The other boy beamed when he spoke. "Al." He announced. His tone of voice didn't suit his face. He seemed happy about something or other, but at the same time troubled. He sounded glad to be here, but at the same time, disappointed in being glad. Like he thought he oughtn't be so happy.
It was a very odd tone, and therefor it was was very difficult to describe.
"Ed." Alfons admitted, and shut the door again. Because he was having a very hard time figuring out what Edward was doing on the other side of his door. But there was absolutely no denying that it was him. His eyes seemed strange, and his hair was much longer then Alfons ever remembered seeing it, but it was still certainly his older brother. His recently deceased older brother.
He opened the door first this time, before Ed had another chance to knock.
"How did you get here?"
"I walked."
Alfons narrowed his eyes, annoyed. He didn't remember Edward being that cheeky. London must have been a terrible influence on him.
"No, I mean, how did you get to Munich? You're supposed to be studying in London." He decided not to add 'you're supposed to be dead', as he supposed that wasn't the most polite thing to say to one's older brother. Also, it might seem like he was being ungrateful.
Ed frowned in confusion before a sort of understanding dawned in his eyes. "London..." He muttered under his breath, so quietly Alfons almost didn't hear it. It sounded like he was hearing the word for the first time, and committing it to memory.
"London." He repeated a bit louder. "Right... where is that?"
Alfons stared at him. "...Are you alright?" Perhaps not the best question to ask someone who minutes previous you were certain was dead.
There was a pregnant pause, filled with two brothers staring at each other awkwardly.
"... Are you going to let me in?"
Alfons had a feeling this was going to be a long night.
Alfons didn't want to be the one to bring it up. It appeared Ed didn't either, as he never did explain how he'd gotten from a blimp crash in London to following Al home and asking into his house. He also didn't seem to intend to leave the house.
Al had made no formal invitation for Ed to stay, but it seemed like Ed had made that decision regardless. He made no mention of his studies in London, nor did he seem to have any intentions of returning to them. Some days Al wondered if maybe Ed had gotten into some serious trouble in London and had in fact faked his death in order to escape, but always wrote it off as too fantastic. That was the sort of thing that only happened to characters in novels, he was sure.
So, neither of them spoke of London. The day when Ed showed up on the doorstep was the last time the word was exchanged between the two. Alfons quickly realized that Ed had come to him with nothing more then the clothes on his back. He had no money, and even his papers he'd lost, it seemed.
Once, he mentioned that he'd been travelling with his father. He'd stopped speaking when he saw the look Alfons had given him. Al had been perplexed and slightly annoyed by the statement, and Ed had bowed his head and finished the rest of his meal in silence, before going off to read. Alfons hadn't wanted to upset him like that, but it wasn't the first time that Ed had said strange things.
Alfons was noticing many things different about his brother recently. For one, he only called him 'Alfons'. As children, they had always called each other by Ed, and Al. But when he questioned him about it, Ed had only stared at the floor for a moment before responding that it 'felt too strange'.
He also knew that his brother had been right handed for all of his life. But now he hardly used his right hand for anything. And when he did, his movements always seemed slow, and awkward, and clumsy.
Every day, Al would look at his brother and try to ask about London, and what had happened to him from then to now. How had he gotten here, really? And what had happened that he couldn't go back? That he would abandon his studies so suddenly? Ed was a rash and impulsive person, but even he was not so irresponsible as to walk away from all of that without a reason.
And why, why had Alfons been told that his brother had died, if he was fine all this time? Why couldn't he properly look Al in the eye, and why did he seem so subdued – almost ashamed? What could possibly have happened? And when did he reach a point where he felt he couldn't tell his brother about it? There were all things that Alfons wondered, and all things that he wanted to know the answers to.
But every time he opened his mouth to ask, he'd see the look on Ed's face and the words would never make it out. Because something had broken his brother in the time they'd been apart, and he no longer felt it was his place to pry. Not if Ed's constant but subtle avoidance of him was anything to go by. Ed was more then just uncomfortable around him, and Al hadn't the slightest clue what he might have done wrong.
But this was all just part of the growing enigma that was Edward Heiderich.
