Set three years after the end of "Conqueror of Shamballa."

FULL SUMMARY: After Al is accepted into an American college, Ed accompanies him to the US, leaving Noa behind. He feels as if he has lost home a second time, but he can't face being separated from his brother again. It doesn't take long for several counterparts from his own world to show up, and as Winry Rockbell (who prefers to be called Winnie), Roy Mustang (who is married, with a son), and others turn his life upside-down, Al acts strangely out of the ordinary with a girl named Rebecca... With tensions and tempers running high, who knows what will happen?

Dead

Chapter One: America

A kiss on the cheek.

That's all she left me with. A kiss on the cheek.

We're going to be a thousand miles away from each other, and all I have from her is the memory of her soft lips brushing against my face. Now how is that equivalent exchange?

I stood on the deck of the ship, the wind flinging my hair all over the place, thinking about what a stupid idea this was. In the distance, I saw the lights of America's shores, as far north and south as the eye can see. It was enticing and terrifying all in the same moment. I left all I knew. But now I can live again.

Live. What kind of stupid word is that? I'm dead in at least one world. My brother should be dead several times over already. This world I'm in right now, it is death. It is hell. But where do you go when you die here?

I leaned against the top rails of the ship, wondering how long it would take me to drown, when my brother suddenly appeared beside me.

"Don't do that, Al," I told him. "You scared me."

"Oh, Brother," he said. "Don't look so unhappy. Can't you at least pretend to be excited?"

"I am excited," I replied. "It's just…" I trailed off, shaking my head.

"Oh," said Al. That familiar spark of realization appeared on his face and he nodded, staring at his hands on the rails. "That."

"Yes, that," I said, walking away from the edge of the ship. It's not like I was actually going to drown myself, so why even pretend? I walked back to our cabin. It's small and cramped, but we wanted to save as much money as possible, so now here we were, stuck in this tiny room where there is barely enough room to get dressed in the morning.

Al had all our money locked up in a secure safe. I don't know the combination. If I did, I would probably steal it all and use it to buy some sort of alcoholic beverage. I'm not very picky. As long as it'll get me drunk, I'll take it.

Al told me that that's illegal in the States. I could care less. Like hell everyone in America stays away from the drink.

I lay down on my bed and stared at the ceiling. I put my left arm behind my head. My other arm's been acting up lately. I wished my dad had still been around to fix it.

Al lingered at the doorway. "You know," he said quietly. "You can't just be live the rest of your life like this-"

"Who said anything about the rest of my life?" I said loudly. He said nothing. I sat up. "We're leaving our home-" He looked at me. "-I mean, what has been our home for the last two years. Isn't it rational for me to miss it?"

"You don't miss it. You miss her."

I lay back down. "What's the difference? It wouldn't've been home without her."

He sighed. "We're landing in a few hours. Are you sure everything's ready?"

"We haven't even unpacked anything, Al. Of course everything's ready."

There were a few moments of silent. "Get some sleep," said Al, finally. "We want to be well rested when we land."

"Yeah."

"Well…okay…I'll be out on deck."

"You do that."

There was silence. After a few seconds, I lifted my head to check that he was gone. He was.

I turned over so I was facing the dark wall of the ship's cabin.

Even though I tried thinking about something else, anything else, I couldn't get her off my brain. I saw her face every time I closed my eyes, and the feel of her hand holding mine was torturing me.

… "Edward."

I smiled, my face buried deep in her neck. She was stroking my hair softly. I kissed her again.

"Edward, stop."

I paused and pulled away from her. "What is it, Noa?"

She wouldn't look at me. "Don't do this."

"Why not?" I asked, pulling her closer to me. "I love you." She pulled away. Then she pressed her forehead against mine. I closed my eyes. "What do you see?"

"You are going to be happy," she replied, barely above a whisper. "You will love again."

I opened my eyes. With more force than I should have used, I pulled her down so we were eye-to-eye again. "What do you mean?" I asked. "Again?"

She would not open her eyes to look at me. Instead, she gently put her arms around me. Her lips brushing against my ear, she, "Al needs to speak with you." She kissed my cheek softly, then let go of me and left.

"Noa – wait – what are you talking ab–"

"Ed! Guess what? I just got a letter – they've accepted me! We're going to America!...are you okay? Brother?"

… "Brother?"

I opened my eyes. The light filtering in from our tiny porthole was dimmer than it had been earlier. Al was sitting concernedly on his bed, looking at me. There was a pregnant pause, then I wiped my eyes and said, "I'm fine."

"We're about to dock," he said quietly. "Be ready."

He left the room then. I stared at the ceiling for a second, then got up. Getting dressed into our best clothes, so we didn't look as poor as we were, I sighed.

Every time I tried to sleep. Every time, that same damn dream comes back. The last thing she said to me. The last thing she will have ever said to me.

Dammit. It's not supposed to be this way. I'm supposed to be happy here…

It didn't take me long to get ready. Al was waiting outside. He looked at me once, then we went up to the poop deck together. Everyone was gathered around the edges, pressed against the railings, waving to people on the shore. Most of the people on this ship were American, returning from some sort of journey. We were the only foreigners.

"Give me your tired, your poor," said Al, grinning at the horizon. "Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me. I lift my lamp beside the golden door."

I looked at him.

"What?" he asked. "That's the inscription on the Statue of Liberty." He pointed behind me, and when I looked, sure enough, there was Lady Liberty, waving her great torch our way. I rolled my eyes.

"We are not wretched refuse. Nor were our shores teeming."

Al laughed. "But we are homeless, aren't we?"

"Nah," I replied. "The University promised to house the both of us."

"That's not what I meant. We have a place to live…but we don't have a home."

"Anymore," I added. He smiled and nodded.

Moments later, we were standing on American soil. It should have been exhilarating – Al certainly seemed to think it was – and even I have to admit that the ecstatic attitude was catching.

But I kept thinking about what Al said. About us being homeless…

She was homeless when I met her.

She was there, always there! It was driving me crazy. I shook my head again, and followed Al as he weaved in and out around the crowded dock, trying to do something that I could care less about.

Suddenly, he stopped abruptly. So abruptly, in fact, that I ran straight into him.

"What the hell was that, Al?" I asked, as he offered a hand to help me up. Once I was on my feet again, I noticed he wasn't paying any attention to me. I waved a hand in front of his face. "Hello? Al? Anyone home?"

"Ed," he said, still staring at something. "Look."

I rolled my eyes, then followed his gaze. It took me a moment of searching, my eyes roving across the people on the far side of the dock, then –

A familiar face was leaning against the wall, smiling and talking to someone. It was like a beacon of light – I wondered vaguely how Al and I were the only people staring at her. Her golden hair shone in the setting sun, and when she threw her head back and laughed, I thought I could hear a choir of angels singing.

I took a step toward Winry, but Al put out a hand to stop me. "She doesn't know who we are, remember?" he whispered. "We don't even know who she is."

"She's Winry!"

"You can't know that. Now come on, we need to get to the University."

"I'm going to ask her for directions."

"But I have directions right here – "

I grabbed the piece of paper he was holding and chucked it into the water.

"No, you don't. Now come on, I'm going to see if she can tell us the way."

Al groaned at this, but followed me all the same.

A long, black cigarette holder was protruding from her mouth, and now and then she would release a small puff from the corner of her mouth. She was talking to another young woman, with dark, short hair and a voice that sounded familiar, but I couldn't place it.

With a confident smile, I stepped up to them. "Excuse me," I said, trying my best to be charming. "But would either of you ladies know the way to New York's University?"

"What's it to you?" asked Winry, narrowing her eyes. The other woman nudged her in the ribs, then turned to us.

"NYU's that big building right there," said the dark-haired woman, pointing to a huge structure. "It's just down the street from here."

"Why thank you," I replied. I didn't want to relinquish my chance, so I held out a hand and said, "Edward Elric, by the way. And this is my brother, Alphonse." He nodded politely at them.

She shook my hand. "I'm Rebecca," she said. "And this is Winry."

"It's Winnie, Becca, how many times do I have to tell you that?" said Winry, taking a long drag.

"Nice to meet you."

"Where you from?" asked Winry. "You sound…German, maybe?"

"Oh, we don't stay in one place too long," I said. "We're from…all over."

"Winry," said Al. "That's an uncommon name."

"So's Alphonse," replied Winry without batting an eyelash. "And I already said, it's Winnie."

"Do you two have a place to stay?" asked Rebecca.

"Please say you do," said Winry. "We have enough homeless on the streets as is."

"We do," I said. "My brother's part of NYU's international exchange program. They read his book and-"

"You wrote a book?" asked Rebecca, suddenly interested. "What's it called? Maybe I've heard of it."

"Amestris," said Al. "It's not very popular."

"Amestris, Amestris…" murmured Rebecca. "Nope, never read it. Interesting name, though. I'll look it up."

"Thanks," said Al. "We should get going, Brother."

"Right. I hope to see you around."

"You too," said Rebecca. "I'll look you up if I ever find your book."

Winry only grunted.

I tipped my hat gracefully at them, then I walked away, smiling faintly.

We were pretty quiet on our way to the university. I started to think about Winry. Winry Winry Winry. I remember the last time I saw her. It wasn't exactly under what you would call good conditions…our world was under attack. She fixed me up with some automail and then I was on my way. I miss her. I miss the automail she used to make for me. But I especially miss her. Even if she did hit me with a wrench now and then.

And now, to finally see her the same. I would bet anything that she's exactly the same. She could probably even set me up with some new automail if I asked.

As if he was reading my thoughts, Al said, "You do know that she's not actually Winry, right? The way that Noa isn't Rose?"

I stiffened. "Of course I know that. But they're bound to be alike."

"But that doesn't mean she'll like you."

"Why would you think I expect her to like me?"

"Because you want to be with Winry again. But not that Winry."

I sighed. "I don't care."

"Ed, don't do this! Didn't you see the way she acted back there? She didn't like you at all. Besides, she probably already has a boyfriend. With your luck, Brother, she's probably married. So please don't chase after her."

"Al, come on. None of that matters. I mean, we don't know anything until we find out. And if it turns out she does turn out tolike me…well, that would be nice."

Al shook his head and walked into the University building. When Al walked up to the desk, the man sitting there said, "Hello and welcome to New York University, how can I help you?"

"Yes, my name's Alphonse Elric, I'm here through the International Literature Exchange program…"

"Ah, yes, Mr. Elric, so glad to meet you, the pleasure is all mine, all mine…" The man went on to show Al where we would be staying, and tell him that he was invited to a luncheon with NYU's International Literature Committee tomorrow. After ten minutes, I followed Al back out into the sunshine.

"Alright, so this map says we now officially live…just down here…" I followed him to a row of small apartments. He led me to one on the ground floor, and, with a key the receptionist guy had given him, he opened it and entered.

It was pretty big, actually. There was one bedroom with two beds, one bathroom, a living room, a tiny office, and a dining room attached to a kitchen. I went to the bedroom to put my things away, while Al ran his finger over all the books in the small office.

"I can't believe we're actually here," sighed Al, coming into our room and sitting down on his bed.

"Me neither," I said under my breath.

"Are you tired?" he asked.

"Of course not," I said. I actually kind of was tired, but I didn't want to have to go through that dream again. Especially not right after seeing Winry.

Winry.

Noa.

I felt sort of guilty. I shouldn't have ever been with Noa. I knew Winry had a counterpart in this world, and I should have waited for her. Because I knew we were going to meet each other one day. I gave her up, and I will get her back. Equivalent exchange.

Really? asked a voice in the back of my head. Is it equivalent?

Shut up, I thought. I don't have the time to argue with myself.

Al nodded and said, "I think I'm going to try and get some sleep. So I can get up early for the luncheon tomorrow."

"It's only six o'clock."

"That's midnight, according to our time zone."

"Oh come on Al. Adapt."

"Tomorrow."

I smiled as he lay down and closed his eyes. Once I finished unpacking everything of mine, I put away some of Al's stuff.

It was a little funny. I had packed as little as possible – clothes, any type of paperwork I needed, and a photograph of Al and I from a year ago. Al, however, had packed what seemed to be anything and everything that would fit in his suitcases. As well as clothes, he had letters, journals, sketchbooks, and several little trinkets that he had collected since he got to this world.

His journals, as usual, were indecipherable. When I tried to read them, I could only catch a few words – my name, a couple times, and America, at least once, and a couple other names I recognizes. And a sentence that started, I wish…

I wondered what he did wish. I glanced toward him. He was drooling onto his pillow, spread-eagle on the bed. He still looked like such a kid when he slept. He was a kid. Physically, he was five years younger than me, instead of one. But he remembered all those years that were lost, and that's what counted.

I put a stack of journals into the drawer of the small dresser between our beds, in the same drawer as a copy of the Bible. That seemed fitting.

Then I pulled out one of his sketchbooks. I knew he was a talented artist; he doodled whenever he could. At first, he hadn't been that good, but after a while, he got the hang of it. The sketchbook I had in my hands was one of his older ones.

I opened it, vaguely curious.

I froze, still on the first page.

It wasn't very pretty, the proportions were way off, and it was a little sideways. It wasn't exactly a good picture… but it was our mom.

It was just her face, smiling up at me, her eyes looking in two different directions, but it was so much morethan that. I flipped through the rest of the drawings quickly. Dad. Winry. Our house. Izumi. Mom, again – or was it Sloth? It didn't matter… The homunculi. Rose. Her baby. And me.

None of them were what you would call amazing, but they were all pretty good likenesses.

It was weird, though. I always thought that I was the one stuck in the past. Living according to what I learned there. Al seemed to have picked up the pace of this world immediately. He liked it here.

I mean, yeah, he published that book about us – even though no one would ever guess it was about us, he changed all the names for some reason – but after that, it seemed like he sort of forgot about everything.

I had no idea what he had been drawing in these sketchbooks. Finding out that it had been us…our past, our history. It was a little too strange.

I put the book back into his suitcase and lay down on my bed. I just stared at the ceiling. I wasn't really thinking; no, my head hurt too much to think. I needed a drink.

I got up again and looked around. There was a tiny refrigerator in the kitchen. I opened it. There was a bottle of something in the back. I pulled it out and examined it.

There was a small note attached to it. On us, it said. I popped the cap off and took a swig. It was alcohol all right. With a sigh, I plopped down on the couch and took another drink. I vaguely remembered Al warning me that drinking was illegal here, but I didn't care. If the University was kind enough to give us a gift, who were we to refuse?

Part of me thought that I might want to offer some to Al, but I remembered that he didn't like to drink, so I shrugged it off. He wouldn't mind.

I fell asleep on the couch. It was very dark out by the time my eyes finally closed. I wasn't sure what time it was, but it was late enough that when I did fall asleep, it was a dreamless sleep, and I didn't have to be plagued by memories.

It felt like one minute later when Al was shaking me awake. "Brother! Brother, wake up!"

I groaned and opened my eyes. I still had the empty bottle in my hands. Once he saw that I was awake, Al scurried to a mirror and began fixing the tie around his neck. "I have to be at that luncheon in fifteen minutes. Promise me you won't get into trouble while I'm gone."

"My head hurts."

"That would make sense," said Al, screwing up his tie and starting over again. "You drank about a liter of liquor last night."

"Nah…wasn't that much."

He grabbed the bottle out of my hands and pointed to it. Now that I was fully awake, it was kind of big…

He threw it at the coffee table and went back to the mirror to attempt to wrangle his tie again. I sighed, stood up, then pulled Al around so he was facing me. His arms fell limp at his sides as I tied his tie slowly and surely, then tucked it beneath his vest.

"Thanks," he said, his voice cracking. "I should get going."

He grabbed his coat and suitcase and headed for the door. One hand still on my head, I said, "Hey, Al."

He stopped and turned around to face me. His face was weirdly white.

"You'll do great," I said. "You're a natural at this."

A big smile cracked his face, and he nodded once. "Thanks, Ed."

"Any time."

He pulled his coat on and left.

I clutched my head and fell back down on the couch.

Then I remembered what Gracia had told me about having a hangover. Once upon a time, at some kind of party, I had drunken a little too much, and Al pretty much dragged me home. The day after that, I could barely move, it hurt so much. Gracia looked me over once, then filled a glass full of cold water and gave it to me. Noa made sure I drank the whole thing. After that and a little sleep, I felt a lot better.

So I managed to get myself to stand up and go into the kitchen, where I poured myself some water and slowly drank it. After that, I went over and closed the blinds, then I went into our bedroom and closed my eyes.

I'm not really sure whether or not I slept at all, but when I felt well enough to stand up, I could hear the sound of a radio in the next room. My headache was almost all gone.

Sure enough, Al was sitting in the living room, his eyes closed, leaning his head back against the wall. I turned off the radio, and, without lifting his head, he said, "I was listening to that."

"How'd it go?" I asked him.

He opened his eyes, but otherwise did not move. "They called me a child," he said sadly. I sat down next to him.

"You are a kid, Al," I said.

"But they were mean about it," he continued, finally lifting his head to look at me. "They said I was inexperienced."

"Did they like your book?"

He nodded.

"Then why would you care what else they say about you?"

"They're all esteemed authors," he mumbled. "The public loves their books. And I'm just some little kid."

"Don't be so pessimistic. Your book'll catch on any time now."

"You're only saying that to make me feel better."

"So what if I am? It's true, Al."

He groaned. "They hate me!"

I felt a flash of panic. "They didn't kick you out, did they?"

He shook his head gravely. "No," he said, his voice hoarse. "They invited me back next week."

I couldn't understand why he was so depressed by this. Instead of trying to comprehend, however, I sighed and turned the radio back on, even though I wasn't really listening. It was better than silence, and I didn't want to hear Al complaining anymore.

I should be the one complaining. Al was accepted into this great University's exchange program, and I'm just here as the brother who tagged along. He had no right to complain.

But I was happy for him. Of course I was happy for him. After everything we'd been through together, it was impossible to not be happy for him. Believe me. I'd tried.

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There you go. I have about sixteen chapters of this done already, but I'm going to post them very slowly. I was inspired to write this after watching "Conqueror of Shamballa" around one MILLION times, and finding that I was unsatisfied with the end. Yay.

As my sister said, typical Edward. Going on about equivalent exchange in, like, the third paragraph. Oh man I love him.

As usual, review and tell me whether or not I should just quit writing now and go live on the streets as a hobo in shame.

(Seriously, some constructive criticism would be nice).