-I do not own FMA/FMAB or it's characters-
Chapter 2 -The Elrics
I run the entire way to my cousin's house. I knock hard on his window where I can plainly see him if I stand on my tiptoes. He raises his dark gold eyes slowly, meeting mine. I wait impatiently for him to come over and raise the window.
"What's up, Natiya?" he asks.
I ignore him as I struggle to climb up. Huffing in irritation at my shortness, I use alchemy to boost the ground up so I get my legs over the sill. Once inside, I plop down on the floor and pout.
Marcel closes the window and kneels next to me, "What happened?"
The tears I held up pour over my cheeks as I babble out how much of a jerk my brother is. Marcel is the one I usually go to when I feel the need to rant. Most would think he was the older one not only because he's way taller, he's quieter and more calm than I am in most situations.
"It's okay, Natiya. I'm sure he was just mad when he said you were a freak."
I open my mouth to say something, but my tummy talks instead as it growls.
Marcel stands and pulls me with him, "Mama just made cookies. If we don't get some now, Papa will be home and he'll eat all of them."
Down the hall, in the living room, the youngest Elric, Arthur, is sitting in front of the television watching some cartoon. He glances up at us with a cookie hanging from his mouth. He looks mostly like his mom, dark hair, big, dark eyes and rounder features. Marcel also has black hair but his face is sharper and his eyes are like his fathers, a dark gold. Unlike Charlie who looks just like Dad, thick gold hair, bright gold eyes and darker skin. I'm like the carbon copy of Mom, feathery blonde hair, fiery blue eyes and pale skin.
Marcel suddenly changes the channel, "I don't like this show!"
Art gasps and opens his mouth, probably to scream, when the front door opens.
Both boys exclaim "Papa!" and rush to their dad. Art clings to his leg as Marcel tugs on his sleeve, telling him what he read today.
"Welcome home, Al!" Aunt Mei comes to kiss his cheek.
All I can think of is that if Dad thinks I'm a freak than so must Uncle Al, because they think alike. And if I'm a freak then so is Marcel because our alchemy is the same.
When Uncle Al finally sees me, he smiles, "Oh, so Natiya is here as well!"
Aunt Mei takes notice of me as well, "Natiya? I didn't see you come in!"
"I came through the window," I admit.
"The window, huh? Our windows are pretty tall," Uncle Al muses.
I narrow my eyes at him, "I used alchemy."
With no change in expression, he says, "Well, you are Brother's daughter."
Before I can wonder what he means, he sniffs the air, "Are those cookies I smell?"
Marcel suddenly drags both me and Art into the kitchen, yelling, "Quick! Before Papa gets in here and eats them ALL!"
Later in the living room, Marcel and Art are fighting over the remote which Aunt Mei is now getting involved in. Uncle Al is reading the paper in his big chair.
"Uncle Al?"
He puts his paper down and smiles at me, "Hello, Natiya."
"Uncle Al. I... Am I a freak?" I ask, staring hard at my feet, glancing up at him from beneath my lashes.
His smile fades as he his brows furrow in confusion, "Freak? Who said you were a freak?"
"No one in particular," I say quickly.
He rubs his chin in thought, "Hm. Well, why would you say you were a freak?"
"My alchemy is strange."
He laughs, "Marc and I both use the same the same alchemy as you! So did your dad. Are you saying we're freaks, too?"
"No!"
"Then why would you be?"
I smile, "I wouldn't. Thanks, Uncle Al!"
"Naaaaaatiya!" Aunt Mei calls from the kitchen, "Your papa is on the phone!"
I cringe, "Oh, jeez... I forgot to let them know I was here... He's gonna be mad!"
Uncle Al stood and passed me, ruffling my hair as he did, "I'll talk to him. He is my brother after all, I know how to deal with him."
I breath a sigh of relief. A cool hand takes mine and I look up to see Marcel. I squeeze his fingers is so good to have.
"Dad?" I ask from his back. I was piggy-backing as usual.
"Hm?"
"You're not mad? For me running off?"
"No. Your mom was just a little worried is all. It's almost dinnertime."
I thought for a sec before I asked, "Dad? Am I a freak?"
"Not at all." He chuckles, "At least, not anymore than the rest of your family."
I thought hard for a minute, "Am I as freaky as Mister Armstrong?"
Dad laughs out loud, "No way! No one is as freaky as him."
As we get home and get inside, we both smell it and grin at each other.
"Pie."
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-NAtwing642-
