Yup. I should totally leave my three APH fanfics to rot in the dark and start an entirely different story in an entirely different fandom. Great move. Because I'm a weak-minded authoress who can't even stand up to a couple of plot bunnies.

BUT, eventually I'll be able to satisfy them and get back to my old stories. I just need some time to think about what direction those are headed. So no worries, my lovely readers!

About this story. It's an OC fic, because right now I just love those. Currently I have no idea where this one is going to lead, but I'm pretty excited about it. Flame and da Colonel will flame you back! :) Haha sorry, I just love this joke (got it from YouTube). I'm okay with any comments, positive or negative. Anyway, thanks for choosing this story and enjoy!

Prologue: 2011

Today is February 8th, 2011. I've prepared everything but myself. Sometimes I wonder if this is all a crazy dream, and I'll wake up suddenly at the time I least expect, with my dog Jabberwocky still alive and all of this alchemy insanity just a figment of my imagination. And then I tell myself I'm not yet ready for this.

But then again, will I ever be ready?

Where do lost things go? A question I have never been able to answer. It comes to mind on lonely days, days when the city is quiet and the sky weeps soft, steady tears. Of course, these don't come along very often, since I live right in the heart of Manhattan.

I opened my eyes to a monochrome world, last night's dream already fading. You know how when you've just woken up from a long sleep, for a heartbeat you have no idea where you are, who you are or what year it is? That was exactly how I felt at the moment. I just laid in my bed and stared up at the ceiling wondering what my name was and what the hell I was doing in this room.

The phone suddenly gave a loud shriek and I screamed, sitting up. I grabbed it and was about to hurl it across the room…then decided answering was a better choice.

Click. "Uh…hello? Crosswell residence, Jaime speaking."

"HAPPY THIRTEENTH BIRTHDAY!"

"AAAHHH!" I held the phone away from my poor ear. "Don't yell, idiot!"

"Well, that's not very nice," he said. "Considering I remembered your birthday before you did."

"I just woke up! And seriously, why'd you call me so early in the morning? It's only—" I checked my alarm clock and my voice faltered, "—eleven…"

"Jaime, it's a very special day! How could you?" he scolded.

"I stayed up kinda late last night." I thought about all the things I had found out yesterday and my stomach twisted. "Listen, Oliver..."

Oliver cut me off. "Nuh uh, don't get all sad and serious with me. Today's important and you should stay happy."

"But it's…"

"I know." He sighed, then said brightly, "Anyway, I'm coming over to your place in a few minutes for your party!"

"What? No! I haven't even dressed yet—"

"See ya later, birthday girl!"

He hung up.

I groaned and slammed the receiver down, running a hand through my short brown hair. That's Oliver for you. He's always so upbeat and sees the bright side of everything. I've known him since I was five, when I first moved to Manhattan and learned he was my new neighbor. He is completely in love with his guitar and I'm sure he'll marry it someday.

And, of course, a little bit about me. My name is Jaime Crosswell. I have light gray eyes, not a particularly exciting color, and short-cropped dark brown hair. I also happen to be slightly on the short side. Okay, more than slightly. My parents died in an unexplained accident when I was 4, so I moved to New York with my uncle. I'm a year younger than Oliver and he always, alwaysuses that fact against me in arguments, which is honestly kind of annoying. I hate alarm clocks with a passion, and like any writer, I have an unhealthy obsession of chocolate and coffee.

I quickly dressed and washed up. As Oliver had promised, minutes later the doorbell rang.

"Coming!" I raced to the living room and opened the front door. "Sorry, it's a bit messy in h—OLIVER! Who are these people?"

Behind a grinning Oliver, a crowd of people filled the hallway outside my apartment, buzzing with excitement. Some looked bored, some eager, some tired. All of them were around my age. I gaped at the sight.

"Happy birthday Jaime!" they cheered in unison, then entered my house, all at once.I was trampled a couple of times by several pairs of feet before I managed to escape to the safety of the kitchen.

"At least five or six people brought cake," Oliver said as he entered, a large pizza box in his arms. "And all of them got you presents! I think this is gonna be an awesome party." He set down the box, opened it and took out a slice of pepperoni pizza, offering it to me. "Pizza?"

"Thanks," I said, and accepted it. "So…who are they, exactly?"

Oliver removed another slice and took a bite. He swallowed and answered, "Oh, just a few friends of mine from the music club."

"A few?"

"Yeah…eighteen, nineteen? Wow, this is pretty good." He finished the slice and opened the refrigerator. "Man, what does your uncle feed you? There's like, zilch in here! Okay, some peanut butter, which shouldn't even be in the fridge."

"He just has a liking for Chinese takeout food," I explained. "And I put the peanut butter there, for your information. I don't want it to rot."

"Peanut butter doesn't need to be refrigerated, you know. That's common sense." He closed the fridge, turned and gave me a smile. "Well. Shall we go entertain your guests now?"

xXx

Five hours later, the last of my visitors had finally left. I let out a weary sigh and sunk into the sofa, closing my eyes. I was stuffed to the brim with cake and soda, and some of it was threatening to go the wrong direction. On the dining table was a mountain of gifts, only half of them opened. I'd gotten plenty of fancy violin tuners, books about the lives of Mozart and Beethoven, and countless guitar picks.

"Wow," Oliver said as he surveyed the pile of gifts. "You sure are the popular one. Look at this stuff! I'm so jealous."

"Don't be stupid. You're the one that got them to come." I opened my eyes and sat up, suddenly afraid. "I…I need to tell you something."

"What is it?" He faced me, green eyes concerned.

"Last night I did some research and figured out a lot of important things," I began, then hesitated. "And…"

He nodded. "Go on…?"

I took a deep breath. "I'm going to find my brother."

Oliver stared at me. "T-That's crazy! How are you planning to do that? The police searched for months!"

"Don't you understand? I have to. He's my only family besides my uncle, and he…he might be able to tell me what had happened to our parents."

He was silent for a few moments, his eyes locked with mine. Then he sighed. "Alright. I know I can't stop you. But at least tell me where you plan to start."

I bit my lip. This was it. If I couldn't tell him, I could tell no one. "Wait here." I ran to my room and lifted the left corner of my mattress. The leather bound journal was there where I'd left it, tucked snugly in one of the spaces in the bedframe. I tugged it free and returned to the living room, where my best friend was waiting on the sofa.

I sat down next to him and flipped to the page I had dog-eared the previous night, where a sketch of a red circular design lay. Oliver looked it over and his eyes grew wide. "Oh no, don't tell me this is..."

"It is," I said firmly, "and I'm using this to get there. To Amestris."

Today is February 8th, 2011. It has been exactly three years since my brother disappeared.

Whoa. That was not how I expected this to turn out. I had a slightly less serious fanfic in mind. You know, more like my other OC story, where the main character is half a crazed fangirl. But I guess surprises are always around the corner.

I'm not sure about the romance part, so I'm going to ask you guys. Should I write Ed x OC (since this one's pretty popular around here), OC x OC (got a good idea for this one), or just no romance? Please help me decide!

And that's it. Thanks for reading, and see y'all next time! :)

...x Whitlinger x...