Same Direction

An FMA AU fic

Chapter I: Here Lies . . .

Author's Note: Ah, this is the brain child of avoiding gardening while talking to a sober younger brother. I love the concept and would like feedback. If there is a fic like this already out there, please please let me know because I would really want this idea to be written by someone else.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hagaren and the likeliness that I ever will is disturbingly tiny.

WARNING! There is swearing and later on, as the story progresses there will be spoilers! If you squint you can see pairings, shounen-ai, straight, Elricest or what-not, but there is no intention to set a definite pairing. (:cough:lie:cough:)

"Push one more time!"

A deafening scream alerted all of Lizenbuel that a new baby was born into their town. It came from the Rockbell's automail shop just a little ways from the Elric residence.

"There you are dear," Sara Rockbell handed the cleaned baby to Trisha. "A bouncing baby boy."

The woman had tears in her eyes as she held the child, cradling him in her arms as one would hold a treasure made of fragile glass. "Ah, you took a long time, darling," she breathed. The infant scrunched its nose up and started bawling again. She smiled and rocked him back and forth, patting him as she did so and murmuring a lullaby.

Mark Rockbell had a towel in his hands as he went out of the sterilized room they helped patients in to the living room, where a one-year-old Edwad was sitting on his father's knee, a blue pacifier in his mouth. "It went smoothly, a little longer than we thought, but Trisha's going to be fine," he said, a grin on his face. "Cute kid, too. I hope Sara will deliver well." Mark noted that their rubber stamper was missing.

"So do I, Mark," Hohenheim said, matching the younger man's expression. Edward blinked at the two, his bright hair reflecting off of the lights in the room. "I bet Ed wants to see his little brother now. Is it all right?"

Rockbell shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. But you might want to wait till the place is cleaned up. There's plenty of blood." Seeing the flicker of worry on the Elric he added, "But, like I said, it's all fine."

Hohenheim forced a smile. "Of course." He patted Ed on the head. The blond giggled and wrapped his tiny fingers around Hohenheim's thumb, pulling it up and down like a lever.

It took half an hour, but Mark came out again, the perpetual grin on his face as he directed son and father to a small furnished room with a comfortable looking bed and a cradle. Engraved at the foot of the crib it said, 'Alphonse' and a sleeping cat with a bird perched on its head was carved under it. "Trisha, are you feeling all right?" Hohenheim asked, as he sat down and put a hand on his wife's, holding his son in the other. The newborn was on her chest, being cradled just as protectively.

"Yes, dear," she said. "Look, Alphonse." The baby was fast asleep, probably worn from the exit.

The man's hand crept from his wife's to his little son, stroking the tiny arms. "He certainly is something," he chuckled. "Just like his brother."

Ed seemed to perk up, like he knew they were talking about him. "Da! Ma!" he cried in a high voice, clapping his hands.

"Aww," Trisha said, reaching out her hand for Ed. One of her arms around Ed's small shoulders and one holding Alphonse, she said, "Now look you two, please get along with each other. Ed, this is your little brother Al."

"Ah?" Ed squeaked.

She giggled. "Al."

"Llllll . . . " he drawled.

"Right! Now put them together."

"Ah . . . Llllll . . ."

Her soft smile seemed to brighten at hearing Ed talk. "Al! That's right. What a smart boy!" Ed giggled and clapped again, pleased that his mother was pleased. "I'll see you tomorrow, dear," she said, pecking his cheek. "Bye Bye Ed!"

"Bye, Trisha," Hohenheim said, kissing her forehead. "Don't work so hard, and take a rest."

"Of course, darling," the brunette replied, waving.

Hohenheim walked down the road home, infant Ed on his shoulder. "Today you met Al, Ed! He's such a beautiful boy, he has your mother's radiance, and you do too. Both of you will grow up just fine without me," he said. Edward looked down at him, curious as to why Papa had such a serious tone.

- Two years Later -

"Perfect! Beautiful! Now, just stay right there . . . gotcha!" A flash and whooshing sound and the camera man lifted the black veil around the contraption. "You make a nice family, Mr. Elric."

"Thank you," Hohenheim replied, Ed balanced on his shoulders as Al held onto his mother's shirt and sucked the pacifier his father transmuted for him. "When will it be developed?"

"Ahh, give me a week or so. I'll have it to you by then," he said, folding the tripod and such complicated doo-flickeys into the carrying case again.

"Of course," Hohenheim said. "In a week, then."

"Sure, bye Mr. E!" The young man hurried down the hill and got into the car. Waving he drove off, probably late for another job.

Trisha smiled faintly as she cuddled Al in her arms. "It's nice, isn't it?" she asked, staring at the endless blue sky.

Hohenheim watched her, entranced by her pure spirit. The brown hair rolling down her shoulders, streaming around her fine face and gentle olive eyes. The conservative clothing teased the imagination, not revealing her magnificent figure but hinting that it certainly was there. Taken. "Yes, it most certainly is."

"Papa," Ed said, pulling his shirt shoulder. "Papa."

He looked up, feeling a bit off-balanced with his son there. "Yes, Ed?"

"We done?" he asked, his voice innocently childish, but his face a charming mix of omni-present glee and curiosity.

"Yes, Ed, we're done," he said, smiling. "Now you're going to stay with Mama while I go to get some things." He lifted the boy off him and placed him gently on the ground, where Ed walked/hobbled to his mother.

There was a farm nearby owned by a man from the East, his dark complexion revealing his home land. None the less, he was honest and did good business with anyone. As long as they were nice enough. The farm had a modest but good plantation, so he traded anything for the food. The Elric paid off his debts by fixing things and making new tools. "Hello John, I'm picking up some things for Trisha and heading back, I'm sorry I won't have enough time to fix anything for you." He picked a basket and headed toward the fields, which were sparated from each other and thieves with a long wooden fence.

"It's all right, Elric, I don't need any fixing," he replied, walking out to join Hohenheim. "So, how's Trisha and the kids? I hear the poor woman is feeling under the weather lately."

Hohenheim's face was grave. "Yes, I think it's some sort of illness, but she won't admit it and doesn't want to go to the doctor's."

John tapped his chin while he watched Hohenheim transmute a stick end to something more claw-like so he could get some high up apples. "You could use alchemy to heal it. Aren't there medical uses for alchemy? Something 'bout another country studying it to make herbal medicine."

"Xing," Hohenheim replied. "And I don't know the nature of the sickness. Treating it would be like experimenting on how to put a fire out. If you don't know how, you could guess that water or earth might do it, but you don't know how much or how little and you may just pick up kerosene instead. All the factors could make it better or worse, or just stave it off for a while to have it resurface later on. I can't take that risk with Trisha."

"So bring a doctor to you. Wouldn't Mark take a look?" he asked.

"I suppose, but she'd be upset," he said, a small fake smile on his face.

"It's worth her life," John pointed out. "Please, Elric, I thought alchemists were smart people."

Hohenheim laughed good-naturedly. "So did I."

They fare-welled and Hikari no Hohenheim trotted up the path. His arms full of vegetables and fruits. He and Ed could go fishing while Trisha looked after Al and cooked. He was just a little too young to go out in a boat. A train whistle blew and the locomotive whizzed past him, blowing his unruly dark blond hair in front of his face. As he watched the train leave, he thought how much longer he could stand to stay, the skin beginning to rot and the smell everyone mistook for perfume was starting to become sickening.

He couldn't just abandon them, could he? Just leave them and make Trisha raise the two boys on her own with that sickness. That was cruel. It was heart-breaking to think what would happen to Trisha and Edward and Alphonse if his wife died after he left. Pinako would take care of them, but they'd grow up without a true mother's love and Trisha . . . He wouldn't do that to his sons, his loving wife. He'd rather kill himself than do that.

Al's wail had been going on for several minutes. Edward did that when he was little, crying and crying for no reason and they couldn't quiet him down. What a pair of lungs that child had, Hohenheim mused fondly. It was Al, he knew. It sounded just like him. There was only one other baby and that was Winry, but she had a much higher pitched voice. Ed had stopped his bawling fits not too long ago, being more physical in his demands.

Unlocking the door, he felt a dark emotion and pushed the wooden door open. Ed had his arms around the still crying Al and looked at his father, a look of confusion on his face. "Mama," he said. Hohenheim dropped the basket and ran to Trisha. He carefully turned her over from her face-down position on the floor. She was sweating and her hair clung to her face, breathing deeply as if there were something sitting on her chest.

"Dear," she murmured. He took her hand and kissed it, then kissed her cheek, where a tear was falling. "Dear, please, make me a corsage. Please . . . like you always do."

"You won't die, Trisha," Hohenheim said, squeezing her hand. He picked her up and carried her over to the Rockbell's, listening to Ed's pattering footsteps as the little boy tried to keep up with him. He went back for the child and his brother as soon as he gave the dying woman to Mark. "Mommy's going to be all right," he said to the two in his arms. "She'll be just fine."

But she wasn't. Trisha Elric died soon after, a corsage of white roses on her chest. Hohenheim sat at the grave for three weeks, tears rolling down his face as he carressed the gray rock and continually put flowers at the head stone. He sat there. Sorrowful and alone. He wouldn't eat or sleep. The picture of her smiling face still imprinted in his mind. Engraved in the place where he would always go back and wonder why it had come out like this. Why she died. Why this felt so wrong.

Pinako left food for him, Sara brought Edward to see his father. That was always a comfort. The little boy would hug his father's arm and they would sit there, staring at her tomb, a silent conversation between father and son. Al was sometimes with his older brother, and he'd have this look that saddened him. That resemblance to Trisha. Mark and John would stay and chat with Hohenheim, they would sit and drink. Sometimes sharing the quiet and other times talking about the local news or how this and that would change around.

A month more of mourning at her grave, and finally he left. On his legs for the first time and trotting to Pinako's, taking in the air that was so fresh and crisp and light, unlike the cemetery's dark gloom.

"Take care of Ed and Al. Do this last thing for me, dear."

Purity, she died as perfect as when Hohenheim first met her.

- Nine Years Later -

"I want Mom back as much as you, old man, just don't get in my way," Edward said, glaring at his father. He crossed his arms and poured in the water. A mound of gray sat in the basin. Hohenheim watched his determined son as he threw his life away to bring back a woman he barely remembered.

"Ed, don't," he said. "Nothing can come of this. If I can not convince you - you may have to learn this the hard way." His grave face did not show his eyes, which were cast downwards. His glasses reflected the light of the lamp on the table. Hohenheim's shoulders sunk.

"What hard way? This is equivalent exchange!" the young Elric cried. His anger at his father was never hidden, nor was it any sharper than before.

"Niisan . . ." Al said, glancing at his brother. "Niisan, don't fight with Dad now. Please?" Inside, he felt no drive to go along with his brother, so stood at the sidelines beside his father. Leaning towards his father, he whispered, "Daddy, why are you doing this? Mom isn't coming back, human alchemisation is forbidden!"

"Al, you wouldn't remember because she died when you were still a baby but . . . your mother was a wonderful, beautiful person and you are her exact reflection," Hohenheim answered in a low voice. "I can make this work, Al. All you have to do is trust me and I'll bring your mother back." He was dying. Hohenheim was dying, in a few more years he'd be nothing more than ashes and his cursed soul could rest in peace. But leaving the boys now, leaving them without a guardian, they would do something that would inflict damage on them, more damage than could ever happen to his sons. "Al, just promise me that you'll stay here."

The youngest Elric nodded. His father had told him and warned him over and over not to step within five feet of the matrix, ever. No matter what. Alphonse felt rejected, like he wasn't a good enough alchemist to know what to do, but Edward grudgingly agreed with his father it was too dangerous for Al and told him in the kindest way he could that Al shouldn't cross the boundary. He loved his only family and did as they told him. He couldn't do anything else.

Hohenheim stood at the very edge, his shoes touching the carefully drawn white chalk circle. "Edward, I can do this on my own."

"No. I'm going to get mom back, with or without you," Ed answered, looking like he could spit on his father.

"Fine, then."

Edward grabbed a knife from the table and cut his finger, droplets of blood anded in th basin, to complete the transaction. He shook the blade at his father, but Hohenheim merely shook his head. "Suit yourself," Ed grumbled, letting a few extra drops go in.

The two laid their hands on the circle and a bright yellow light swirled around them. Al and Ed looked at it with wonder, both taking in gasps of surprise and excitement. Their father was waiting for it. The yellow light, as quickly as it sprung up, turned purple. A dark purple that swirled together and caused the tornado of light to be black. Al bit his lip and gripped the wall to keep himself from running in. Edward screamed. A long trailing wail as Hohenheim shouted to him somethin indistinct. Al couldn't help himself. He ran into the circle. "Niisan!"

His brother's arm was breaking down and disappearing, being taken. Taken somewhere. And his father's legs and arm, going. The twin shocks, coming one after the other, did not prepare him for the black thing that wrapped around his head.

-To Be Continued-

End Notes: Feedback please! I am one needy bitch! XD No, really, all I need is one nice review and I'm all happy and belting out a song. Along with a few pages of work. Ain't that great? Imagine two? Or three? I could finish a novel with ten reviews.

Aaah, I kept it short because short chapters seem to attract more attention than long ones, unless they're well-written or have an interesting plot. Or both, which is always a plus. I think the plot is so-so, the writing is awful. T.T Any critique on style most certainly welcome!

Next; Chapter Two: City in Sand

Alphonse: Lies are always layered with a thin cover of truth. The dead can come back. But not always the way we want them.