The Cycle of Pain and Hope
By Teenangel
Summary: a different ending to FMA, from Alphonse getting his body back to far into the future. Mostly following the life of Ed's daughter. Not what you expect at all! Blood, violence. Future fic. edxwinry alxelysia. Envy spoilers.
Author's note: some things may not be accurate to the anime, bear with me. And I swear this story has a happy ending!
Disclaimer: Got bored the day after finals, college student, so broke, wouldn't even bother.
1933-Risembool
Little Allison Elric woke up to a vibrating purr on head and warm fur pressed against her nose. She petted her brown Kitten Cocoa, a present from her Uncle Al for her seventh birthday. Sitting up and blinking at the morning, she scooped Cocoa up into her arms, then placed her gently on the floor where she stretched and pranced off into the hall.
A little red dress, little red shoes, and a little red hair band to keep Ali's gold hair out of her face—except the pesky bangs that curtained her cheeks, just like her dad. Downstairs, she found her mother in the workshop, swearing and throwing tools.
"Mommy, where's daddy, he promised to teach me stuff today."
"Oh," she whacked some automail with a hammer, and Ali suspected not in a fixing way, "he went to pick some apples from Aunt Elysia's orchard."
"Can I go to Aunt Elysia's and Uncle Al's?" she asked, pouting.
"Yes, just be careful," but Ali had already dashed out the door, leaving it creaking on its hinges.
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"To Elysia's and Al's I go, lalalalalaa," she singed, skipping down the path from the "Elrics': Alchemy and Automechanic Workshops", to the "Home of Elric-Hughes" as the mail box said in front of a green and white trimmed house. She heard noise through the kitchen window, but went around and headed straight to the orchard.
"Daddy," she giggled, creeping amongst the apple trees, "oh Dadd—DADDY!"
Edward Elric lay face first in the grass, a basket of red and golden delicious apples scattered on the ground beside him. Ali shook him as vigorously as little hands could shake, great dewy tears welled up and pattered down onto her dad's brown vest and white shirt. He groaned, and shifted his automail arm to flip himself over, so he could wearily stare into the blues eyes that seemed like the sky, raining on him.
"Daddy," she said. His eyes glazed over, skin warm, but clammy with sweat. She took in a deep breath and let out a milk curdling scream, "UNCLE ALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!"
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Ali crouched, hidden behind the closet door in her parent's room. A doctor had been sent from town to check on her father. Al had carried him back here; her strong, brave daddy needing to be carried. His skin was so pale and his eyes dull as he and the others listened to the doctor's prognosis.
"It's what my mother had, isn't it," Ed said, getting straight to the point.
"Yes," the doc nodded, "it's genetic and chronic."
Uncle Al's eyes looked to the left of the room; Ali remembered Aunt Elysia teaching her how to read people, that looking to the left meant they were remembering something (and to the right meant they were fabricating).
"The symptoms will waver in and out, but they will get progressively worse and—"
"Thanks, doc," said Ed, recalling times when his mother had gotten sick, before they knew; she'd always told them it was just a cold, nothing to worry about. "I get the idea. Only a few years left."
The doctor knew he'd brought sorrow; it lay over them like a thick layer of sickly sweet icing that you couldn't stomach. Winry tried to snuggle into her husband, but he clamped shut, and didn't acknowledge her kiss on his cheek or the sweet words in his ear.
"Get some rest, brother," Al tried to smile, but his big child eyes only amplified the sadness—and a hint of anger.
Ed lay their, trying to listen to the words floating up from downstairs. A sob in the room caught his attention. He rolled over slowly using his automail arm, because it didn't get weary like the rest of him. The closet door was cracked open, and there was a small shaking form hunched up against the molding.
"Ali, Allison," he pleaded, "come here."
She came out of the closet, whipping her eyes with the hem of her dress, and crawled onto the bed, snuggling up against her daddy. Wrapping her small arms around him, she could feel the sickness, feel the weakness as his arm tried to hug in return, but merely lay over her.
"I love you, daddy, please don't leave me," she smothered her face into his shirt.
"Ali, I want you to promise something," he said in a low serious tone, like when he talked to her about throwing now tools like mommy did, "I want you to promise, that you won't do anything stupid."
"Like when I drove my bike into the water," she asked.
"No, I mean something really really stupid, something you really shouldn't do, ever, NEVER!"
Ali was startled by his tone and pulled away, "Daddy, do you mean human transmutation?"
Ed's eyes widened, "Uh, where, did, you, hear, about that?"
Her face began to contort and rivers of tears were soaking into Ed's sleeves, "I'm sorry, I know I'm not meant to go into you workshop; I'm sorry I read your notes…Don't be angry with me…"
"Shhh, I'm not angry," he strained to hug her back into him, god he was so tired, "just promise, you'll never do it."
"I promise, I promise, daddy," she gave him a kiss and pulled the blanket over herself, "now Uncle Al said rest, I make sure you sleep."
"Oh, of course, I knew you'd be there little lapdog—"
"Sleep, daddy," she scolded. Her kitten steathily sneaking onto the bed, and curling up her hair.
"Ok, ok, sleeping," he said, and glared at Cocoa the fur ball before shutting his eyes.
Winry came up to bed a couple hours later, and curled up around her child and husband. And the kitten.