I worked really hard on this one- please tell me what you think!
The first thing he felt was wet, followed quickly by cold. Unwilling to open his eyes quite yet, he listened to the rain beat down, the tall grass muffling the noise of each individual drop making impact with the world. He could connect with the raindrops, he too had fallen from the sky in such a manner; the only thing he remembered before hitting the ground and blacking out was the feeling of absolute free fall-
-wait, wait. Feeling?
His eyes opened immediately and he bolted upright, though his entire body groaned in protest. He was suddenly aware of his empty stomach not-so-subtley begging for food- a fact that obviously did nothing to make the world stop spinning before his eyes. He felt seasick, briefly wondering what he would throw up if his stomach had nothing left to give.
He focused on the only thing around him that wasn't grass or trees- an indistinguishable lump a few feet over- and eventually the sickness ceased, though the hunger did not. Breathing a sigh of relief, he looked down, and a beigeish tinge on the edge of his peripheral vision caught his eye. Bile threatened to rise in his throat once again as he slowly turned his head.
His eyes were seeing it but his brain was unable to process the fact that where his right hand should be there lie... well, a hand. Five fingers, complete with fingernails and attached to the back of what he presumed was a- his- palm. There was true, warm flesh, replacing the metal that had been there for years. As a test, he barely twitched his fingers, curling them the tiniest bit. And they responded.
He didn't realize his mouth was hanging open until the rain made its way in, not nearly enough to quench his bone-dry tongue but enough that he could taste it. It was cool and refreshing, and before he himself could register it, his mouth was open wide an his tongue was lolling to the side in an attempt to drink the drops as they hurtled towards him. It was so... so.. he couldn't think of the word, but he hadn't tasted anything like this since before the accident all those years ago.
Then again, he hadn't really tasted- no. He put the memories behind him as he focused on the sheer joy that he was alive after all. The thought made him laugh out loud in spite of himself, and though his voice was scratchy and the like, it really sounded like him. There was no remorse, no bitterness, nothing concealed. Was this really what he sounded like when he was happy? No one- least of all himself- had heard that tone coming from his mouth in a long, long time.
His thoughts were interrupted by a loud groan, and he jolted back to reality, clamping his teeth shut so fast he accidentally bit his tongue. He was unused to the sharp pain, but it was a more than welcome misery, especially when compared to the alternative.
The groan sounded again, and he was quite sure he'd heard that noise before, but for the life of him (because he actually had a real life again!) he couldn't place where he'd first heard it. The lump he'd mistaken for a small rock or discarded piece of rubbish suddenly rolled over. It was alive? Cautiously, he crept closer to get a better look. His eyes were still adjusting, after all.
He realized with a start that it was his brother. His long hair was matted with something that looked sickeningly like blood, and he was shivering almost involuntarily as the rain soaked through his thin clothes. Truth must've been feeling humorous, as his brother was dressed in the same clothes he'd worn on the night of the transmutation- every scorch mark, tear, and blood splatter was still there, as though it were only yesterday. He looked down and realized he was wearing the same attire as well- the clothes themselves had never crossed into the Gate, but the memory was vivid enough to easily recreate exact, if slightly larger, replicas.
A second pair of eyes blinked open slowly, and they locked with his already wide ones; gold meeting hazel for the first time in years. They'd been together nearly every day since the younger's birth, but as they continued to stare at each other, it was like laying eyes on an entirely new brother altogether.
"B-brother?"
"Alphonse..." Both voices were equally scratchy, clouded with emotion. Tears mixed freely with unrelenting rain, each type of drop so frequent that the boys couldn't tell which was which anymore.
The world seemed to stop, a perfect moment of peace and silence. The older Elric had never really been one for hugs- too touchy-feely and all- but he wrapped his younger brother in his arms. Neither boy had the words, but they didn't seem to need them.
Thunder rumbled in the distance- the storm was obviously going to get worse before it became better. Alphonse was terrified of storms when he was younger; Tricia's embrace seemed to be the only safe zone in the world from such a terrifying demonstration of nature.
Of course, Al had matured since then, but right about now, Ed's arms were just as comforting.
A little food for thought here- whose POV do you think I was writing from in the beginning? It could easily be either brother, so I want to see what you guys thought. Thanks for reading!