A/N: Okay, the explanation for this is kind of complicated. I am a horrible crossover addict, especially NarutoHP and FMAHP. A while back, I was thinking about the scenes in OoTP where Snape has to teach Harry to block mind-reading attempts (basically, right), by looking into memories. That led off into this really odd train of thought about what Snape would see if he looked into Ed's mind. Okay, make sense so far? Well, then a few weeks ago I read a bunch of fics for the Naruto 20Truths LiveJournal Community (which are very addicting). For anyone who hasn't read these (and you should, they rock, and there is also a similar community for HP and Bleach), essentially they are lists of twenty random facts having to do with a character, group of characters, pairing, etc, that show the writer's view of that character (group, pairing, etc). And so this was born. And, yes, Virginia, there is yaoiness.

Disclaimer: If this list has a twenty-one saying Hiromu Arakawa sold the rights to FMA to NinjaSquirls, finally allowing Ed and Roy to openly declare their love, I have succeeded in my plot to bend reality as we know it. If this list stops at twenty, I have failed.

Twenty Things Ed Will Always Remember

1. Ed's first memory is of his brother. It is only a fragment of a memory, consisting of damp sandy hair and round blue eyes that stared at him like he was the most incredible person in the world. He remembers the sound of Al's laughter, warm and happy, and the feeling that there was something precious in having a person who trusted him so much.

2. Most of Ed's memories of Winry are of Winry the Automail Mechanic, and he doesn't like those because they make him think of pain and steel and sins that are better left forgotten. But he also remembers a day the three of them went to see the ocean, and she stood on the shore and danced, and threw rocks into the sea, and swore she would stay there forever. That was the first time he realized how beautiful she was; it was also the first day he knew Al was in love with her.

3. Ed doesn't remember his mother as well as he wishes he did; he was so young when she died, after all. That is why he treasures more than anything a memory of a day when he fought with Al and then ran away from home. He didn't intend to go very far or stay out very long, but he got lost, it got dark, and it started raining. Just when he'd given up and started wailing in fear and despair, he saw the light of a lantern. His mother carried him all the way home, over a mile, and he could never forget the feeling of her arms wrapped safely around him.

4. Ed hates that his most vivid memory of his father consists of writing letters to him. When he thinks of that, he can still feel the way his hand cramped and see the ink that stained his fingers as he and Al scrawled out letter after letter in childish handwriting – "Hoenheim or anyone who knows where he is, mother is sick. We need you. She needs you. Please come back." They ran outside to check every day, often more than once, but they only ever got one response, and that came far too late, and it wasn't even him.

5. It would surprise no one that the memory that wakes Ed up screaming in the middle of the night is of the day they tried to bring her back. Most of that night has been reduced in his mind to an incoherent jumble of agony and grief – stretching out for Al's hand, the reek of blood, the indescribable pain of having his leg torn away from his body. One moment stands out sharply from the rest, though. As he stood in that dark room reeling from the loss of his brother, he saw something move, and for a brief instant he thought he had succeeded, and that would have been worth it. Then the bitter, sour tang of blood reached him, making him gag, and he heard the sound of limbs and rotting flesh scraping against the wood and the dull thud of a beating heart. Then the darkness cleared enough that he could see their creation, and he still cannot forget it, is still haunted by the sight of tangled limbs and exposed flesh and blood, so much blood. He heard the harsh, discordant sound of a breath being drawn and he screamed in terror at what he had done. His last coherent thought was that he had made a monster from the body of a woman who asked for flowers as she died.

6. Ed finds it rather absurd that he can remember the first time he fed himself, but he was eleven, after all. Winry and Pinako told him how painful the surgery would be, how long the recovery would take, how there would be infections and adjustments and how much it would all hurt. He was ready for that. They hadn't warned him about how damned difficult everything would be when he had to adjust it for automail. He found to his frustration that he couldn't walk because he no longer knew how to balance. He couldn't touch people because he didn't know how much pressure to use without hurting them. And he couldn't feed himself, because he didn't know how to coordinate the signals to his arm well enough to pick up a spoon and put it where he wanted it. Al fed him, mostly, for the first six weeks he could eat food again. The first meal he fed himself was stew, his favorite, thick with chunks of beef and carrot. His hand shook badly and a lot of it ended up on his blankets and shirt. It still felt like a major victory.

7. Ed doesn't remember any of his Alchemy Exam. Looking back, he can't believe how frightened he was of a simple exam, but back then, it seemed like the most impossible thing he would ever undertake. For three days he was soaked in sweat, pale and trembling, and couldn't look at food without getting sick. His mind wasn't even clear at the time; he just ran on instinct. What he does remember is Colonel Mustang handing him his State Alchemist pocket-watch. He expected there to be a ceremony of some sort; this was the most important thing that had ever happened to him, and he rather wanted it to be acknowledged. Instead, he got Mustang, who acted as if 12-year-old Alchemists were an everyday occurrence and barely even looked up from his paperwork as he handed over the watch. However, he did look up, just for a second, and his expression was unmistakable. At that moment he knew that it wasn't that Roy Mustang didn't care about what he'd done; it was that the man couldn't bring himself to congratulate him for making this mistake. He didn't understand it at the time, though he did within the week.

8. Ed tries very hard not to remember Nina, but he mostly fails at that. She was his first failure as a State Alchemist, and that sort of thing is hard to forget. Days after she died, he found the picture she had drawn, crumbled in the bottom of his coat pocket. He considered burning it in the hopes of banishing the nightmares that plagued him, but he just couldn't. She deserved to be remembered. Nina was the last person Ed let himself get close to for a very long time. Her death made it clear to him that the people he loved always got hurt. He couldn't forget that.

9. Since he's the older brother, Ed likes to think that he is the responsible and mature one, that it is his job to look after Al and protect him from everything. Most of the time he does that. However, one of his fondest memories of his brother is from a day that they got off a train near a small town as night was falling. Ed wasn't feeling well, but he didn't want to mention it and make Al worry about him, especially as they had to walk a good distance before they reached the town. He didn't intend to say anything, but suddenly his vision went blurry, his legs felt weak, and he crumpled in a heap on the ground. Al turned to see what the source of the soft thump was. He didn't say a word at the sight, just picked Ed up and arranged him so his arms were draped over Al's shoulders and his legs rested on Al's hips. They walked all the way to the town that way, a half-asleep Ed resting his head against Al's while Al told him stories remembered from their childhood.

10. When Roy forced him to report on Xenotime, he asked if Ed remembered what Russell had said in his letter. Ed said that he didn't. That was a lie. The truth was that he had also lied to Al about what the letter said, and he couldn't remember anymore what he had made up to tell his brother, and Al would have noticed if his story changed. The truth was that every word in the letter was burned into his brain, because of two things that Russell had told him. One was that he was a year younger than Ed was; the injustice of that still bothered him. The other was that he thought Ed was beautiful, and if he ever wanted to come back to Xenotime, that would be okay with him. Ed didn't want Al or Mustang to ever know that. He especially didn't want Al to know that, for a brief moment, he seriously considered running away from the military, the homunculi, and the Philosopher's Stone, and moving to Xenotime to live with Russell in a farmhouse, grow lemons, and live a simple and uncomplicated life.

11. Ed maintains to this day that he was looking for Colonel Mustang in the lockers to complain about the amount of paperwork the man was making him do, rather than spying on Havoc, Fuery, Breda, and Falman. Regardless, he stumbled on them playing poker, an act strictly forbidden by Lieutenant Hawkeye, which was why they were doing it in one of the only rooms she couldn't enter. They offered to let him play, mostly so he wouldn't tell Hawkeye what they were doing. He found that it was a lot harder when he wasn't playing against Al and couldn't cheat. By the time Hawkeye finally found them and threatened to shoot them all if they didn't get back to work immediately, he had lost a week's pay. He had also been invited to the next game. He remembers that as the first time he truly felt like he was becoming part of this group, the first time he saw them as friends, rather than coworkers. It was a nice feeling.

12. If anyone were to ask him to describe his father, not that anyone ever has, Ed would not offer them the handful of memories he has of a man who looked – damnably- like him and walked away and never came back and left only a dead wife and a boy who hated him more than anything. He would tell them about a man with black hair and green eyes and glasses and an obnoxious way of bragging constantly about his wife and daughter. He would tell them, more specifically, about a day a soldier dragged him into a corner and started making suggestions…and threats. When Ed mentioned it, very casually, at dinner, the man said nothing, but two days later, the soldier was being court martialed. Ed has never told Hughes he thinks of him as a father, but then, Hughes has never told him he thinks of him as a son.

13. For a long time Ed remembered Lior as his first real success. A false prophet had deluded the people there, he exposed him and deposed him, and the little town lived happily ever after. It was reassuring, after so many years of failure and deaths and people who refused to let State Alchemists even buy a meal, to think he was capable of being a hero and changing the world, even a tiny bit. When they told him Lior was a time bomb about to erupt into the next Ishbal, he felt something in him shatter. Whatever anyone else might have told him, he knew the fate of the town was entirely his fault. He handed those people a death sentence the day he walked into Lior. Ed doesn't trust his memories of Lior anymore; he has run over them, again and again in his mind, trying to figure out where he went wrong and what he could have differently to save Rose and all the others, searching desperately for signs that could have told him what the future held, if only he had known back then. He hates that his memories of Lior, once so bright, are now tainted by his guilt.

14. Greed wasn't human; Ed knows that. He was a homunculus, a creature without a soul; far from being human, he couldn't even be considered alive, really. Ed knows that, too. However, he also knows that he will never be able to think of Greed without remembering that he is a murderer. Greed was the first person he ever killed, even if he wasn't a person. Ed wishes it weren't so, but even now he can't think of anything else to call it. Until that moment, he honestly didn't believe himself to be capable of murder; he threatened, he lied, he pretended he could if someone would push him far enough, but he never thought he could stand over someone else and just end them forever. Now he knows better. He didn't even hate Greed, particularly; the man was kind to the Lab 5 escapees, he never hurt Al, and he didn't want to kill Ed all that much. Ed wishes that the first person he killed had been Scar, or Envy, or Dante; he would have felt justified in that, would have been able to remember it with, if not pride, at least satisfaction. When he remembers Greed, he sees the man telling him to kill him, and he feels blood on his hands, and hates himself for being a murderer.

15. Ed still has his doubts about the face that Envy showed him. The man was a shape-shifter, after all; he could look like anyone he wanted, and his specialty was throwing his opponents off guard by showing them a familiar face. How hard would it have been, really, for him to make himself into someone resembling an older version of Ed and a younger version of Hoenheim mixed together, just to shock Ed enough to lower his guard? But then he remembers the face he saw, in those last seconds before he died, and Ed is certain that for once in his life Envy showed him the truth. It is not the features that he remembers then, but the expression he wore. It was far too familiar to Ed; it was the mix of bitterness and sorrow he felt whenever he saw himself in a mirror. It came from realizing that he looked exactly like the person he most hated; from knowing that his father had left him his appearance, and nothing else; from wondering what in him was so hateful that his father couldn't love him. Ed likes to think he remembers tears in Envy's eyes – in William's eyes. He likes to think he didn't imagine the slight hesitation before his brother killed him.

16. Ed doesn't believe in God, but if he did, he would pray very hard that Al never finds out that he tailed him on his first date with Winry. He considered it part of his duties as an older brother to ensure that Al didn't hurt Winry, that Winry didn't hurt Al, and that Al didn't embarrass himself. It wasn't a fancy date; both boys knew that expensive restaurants and romantic getaways wouldn't make much impression on Winry. Instead, he walked her through the most interesting parts of Central, including several tool shops, and ended at a small restaurant close to the brothers' apartment. Ed was never more than a dozen feet behind the couple. It still makes him smile to remember how awkward Al was, his human body still unfamiliar to him, and how he stumbled and staggered over every word as if Winry were a complete stranger instead of a childhood friend. He thought he would be jealous; he'd had a secret crush on Winry for many years. Instead, all he felt was proud of his brother. He remembers the light in Winry's eyes when she looked at Al, and how he knew, at that moment, that they would be together for the rest of their lives.

17. Ed thought he understood death after a month on Yock Island. He thought he knew that his life was small and insignificant, that the world would continue as it was even if he ceased to go along with it. He thought death no longer held any fear for him, that he could accept his death easily if it came. Five minutes in a warehouse running from Barry the Chopper and he knew how self-deluded he had been. He didn't passively accept his death, even when he was tied to a chair with one arm missing and no hope of escape. Even when he was certain he was going to die, he continued to scream and struggle and try desperately to break loose; the only thought in his head was that he could not die, he just couldn't. He was terrified, and he wanted to live. He remembers that day as the day he knew his life was worth something, no matter how small, and that he was willing to fight to keep it, just as he remembers his fight with Scar as the day he knew that some things were worth dying for.

18. Ed seriously considered letting Sloth live, even though she would have killed him. It wasn't because he believed her to be his mother; he knew better than that, knew that she was a creature he had created, a monster without a soul. He knew she didn't love Al or him, even if she wanted to pretend that she could. He knew she would kill him without a second thought. But she looked just like his mother used to look, and the expressions on her face were achingly familiar, and her voice, even though it said different things, was her voice. Standing before her brought back every memory of his mother flashing before his eyes, every moment of a life that had been filled with her presence. But it was more than that that made him want to let her live. It was because, when he saw Sloth, he no longer had to rely on memory to supply his mother's face and voice; no longer had to fear that she would fade away from his mind, because she was standing right in front of him, she was real. That was also why he killed her; he decided he would rather have his memories, as frail and fragile as they were, be of the mother who loved him, rather than the homunculus who hated him.

19. Ed is not willing to admit that his temper sometimes gets him into trouble. He likes to believe he would get into trouble no matter what, and that his rants when someone insults his height are entirely justified and excusable. However, he does have one memory that is a constant source of embarrassment whenever Mustang brings it up, usually at parties. In retrospect, before he responded violently to the comment, Ed should have noticed that the man walking beside Mustang had the three stars of a general on his uniform. And he really should have taken the time to realize that the silver chain looped from his belt to his pocket was the sign of a State Alchemist. All Ed can be thankful for was that Hughes was not around to take pictures of him, his clothes transmuted into a pile of threads, being dragged off by two enlisted soldiers for a night in a cell. The memory of this humiliation is enough to give him pause before he lunches himself into another foolhardy fight, although usually it isn't enough to stop him.

20. Ed has one memory that is completely and utterly flawless. He intends to hold that memory forever, crystal-perfect in his mind, something to take out and treasure when the weight of all his other memories threatens to crush him. It is his memory of his first kiss, with the only person he has ever loved more than life itself. Like so many things in their relationship, it began with a fight. They stood in his office, screaming at each other across his desk, and Ed raised one hand and punched him in the face. Or at least, he tried to; before his hand could connect, he felt Roy's grab him tightly by the wrist. They stood like that for a long time without moving, until they both did the only thing that seemed possible or reasonable; they leaned forward and kissed. Ed remembers every second of that kiss; the darkness of Roy's eyes, the soft press of his lips, the way his hair felt as Ed ran his fingers through it and pulled him closer. Ed remembers the strange burning he felt in his chest, the feelings he couldn't understand, except that when he looked at Roy he knew he felt them too. Ed remembers his surprise that they seemed to fit together perfectly. He remembers the tears in their eyes. The memory of that kiss has been joined, now, by the memory of many more kisses, and more than kisses, but it is still the one most precious to him. It was the first time they said they were in love, and it was perfect, and he remembers that.

A/N: I didn't notice it until I was almost done, but they just kept getting longer and longer, huh? This thing kind of mutated, I think. I like the end result, though. Do you have an opinion? I know you do! So review!