If you've never read Treasure Island, you should be ashamed; you shouldn't however, disregarded this fic. Read it anyway, you don't need previous experience with pirates to laugh if you think text is funny. Or shake your head in disgust if you are less than impressed with what you see. Either way; Plz Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Someone told me I don't own FMA. Understandably, I was disappointed. I got over it. Someone else told me I don't own Treasure Island and that it was written by a man named Robert Lewis Stevenson. Damn him.

The idea for this fic, however, is mine. (Unless it's been done before… sorrysorrysorry… I didn't know!)

The Map

In a very small town that probably doesn't exist anymore, in a comfortably sized inn that definitely does not exist anymore, on a door that held little credibility in the first place, someone knocked. A few moments passed before the shuffle of feet were to be heard behind the solid oak barrier, and finally, the door opened to reveal a short and underfed young boy with a bright white name tag, as only appropriate for someone working in the hospitality industry.

The man who had knocked on the door beamed down at the young boy, "Well hello there," He leaned down and squinted at the child's shirt, "Edward." He nodded before continuing once more.

"Do you have a room, perchance?"

The boy named Edward looked rather bored, this was because nothingever happened that even emanated 'interesting' in the small inn his mother ran, and briefly nodded before standing back to let the man past him and take in the wonders of the inside of the door.

The place had a distinctly musty and pathetic look about it, and Ed let his eyes glaze over the usual patrons hiding in their corners surrounded by clouds of smoke with a look of disinterest, while he led the new customer up the stairs to the nearest available room.

"Here." He said in a manner that reflected the slow way he raised his arm to indicate which room the newcomer should settle in. "20p a night." He added as an afterthought.

Static opposite of the young boy, the man smiled brilliantly down upon him; "Thankyou! Would you mind helping me carry my bags in?"

Ed did mind, very much. And he would have told this man too, if he hadn't suddenly received a small chest in the face. "Uhhh…" came his voice from behind it.

"That's the spirit!" The man said cheerily, stepping through into the small room. "Put it on the table there's a good lad."

Ed followed the order for lack of anywhere convenient to break the object on at present, and once he had set it down had a better look at it. The small chest was locked tight, and he soon realised he would be able to stop calling the man variations of 'the man' inside his head.

The words: 'Hughes' Chest. Nothing Important Inside. Hands Off!' were scribbled on a piece of paper and sticky-taped to the outside of the chest as a label.

Ed couldn't help himself, "So, what's in the chest?" He asked.

Two seconds later he regretted it. "You want to know what's in the chest?" Hughes said, with much more enthusiasm than his warning note would imply.

Ed wasn't sure whether to agree, disagree, or run away. He noticed Hughes was standing in the doorway. "Uh… yes?" It was worth a shot, anyway.

Hughes' smile never faltered, and he rushed forward with enthusiasm, drawing a key from a chain around his neck and inserting it into the lock gracefully and without a pause in his dash. It was almost like he'd done this before. Many times.

Ed was now afraid to find out what the contents of the not-so-mysterious box were. He stepped backwards just a little.

"Here!" Hughes said proudly, picking a bunch of papers from the top of a rather large and dishevelled pile that probably became so dishevelled by frequent rearranging of the contents of the chest. Such as if Hughes often withdrew the contents to look at them, or force other people to look at them, whichever the case may be.

They were a series of charcoal drawings, probably not made by Hughes, if Ed was any guess of the artistic ability of people older than three. Although, because Hughes didn't say anything, just held them infront of Ed's nose, so that the ends of the older mans grin stuck out behind them, Ed could only assume:

"You're… a very good artist, Mr. Hughes." He said, hesitantly.

This seemed to be a hilarious assumption to have made, however, as the man before him promptly burst into a short cackle of laughter. "No no no. These are the wonderful drawings of my precious daughter Elysia!"

They looked more like an extremely un-coordinated person had decided to try writing with their bad hand, then dipped the paper in water, then tried again, then slept on it. The hypothetical person would probably have woken up wondering when he had been punched in the face, and how on earth he could have missed it.

"She's… a very good artist too." The huge smile of the proud father didn't leave Ed with much heart to criticise the poor girl.

"That she is!" Hughes nodded and his eyes became mistily reminiscent; he was probably thinking of his little bundle of inept joy.

This prompted Ed's eyes to wander, and they wandered over to the only interesting part of the room; the opened chest. The stack of paper was smeared thoroughly with charcoal, and Ed could accurately guess what was on the flip side of the papers. Laying next to them, however, was a small parcel held together with little more than flimsy string. In-between the ties a small folded piece of paper was tucked.

"What's that one?" Ed asked, pointing towards the bundle.

"Hmmm?" Hughes tore his eyes away from the smudges to connect the hand signals. The same eyes widened in recognition.

"Oh? That? Not important. Got to unpack." He abandoned the pictures, placing them back onto the stack of countless ones with probably very similar characteristics, and went to attend his other luggage. Ed, however, wasn't to be distracted.

While Hughes heaved a second suitcase onto the thin bed on the other side of the room, Ed trespassed into the man's chest. He picked up the parcel, and withdrew the trapped scrap of paper, opening it between his fingers.

A small and round black spot stood out not only because it was the only thing on the piece of paper, but because it was a pleasant change to see something that had been drawn by someone much older than three, that was sure.

Ed's eyes widened and he almost dropped what he was holding.

Well, not really.

"You're a pirate?"

Hughes turned around and didn't miss a beat. "No, my daughter is an aspiring artist, I thought we covered this?"

Ed raised his eyebrow.

"Ok ok. I'm a pirate. Happy?"

Ed grinned. Yes, indeed.

"You've been given the Black Spot!" Ed was still grinning, which would have deceived any observer into thinking that being issued such a slip of paper was a good thing.

"It would imply, yes…"

Ed indicated to the package in his other hand; "This anything important?"

Hughes frowned, "My, you're quite inquisitive, aren't you?"

Other people had used the terms 'Nosey little git', 'Prying Pint-Sized Midget', 'Curious little snot', and 'Get yer eyes away from thar yer filthy bastard!'

"Yes." Ed said innocently.

Hughes looked like he was doing some serious thinking for a few moments, then seemed to reach a conclusion.

"Edward," he took the opportunity to refer to the name badge once again before flowing into his speech; "There is something very important in that little bundle. I'm… probably not going to be around much longer to take care of it… so I want you to take over the job."

"You know, I'm probably not the best person to be trusting with this…" Ed said hesitantly… wouldn't the discovery of something secret and possibly valuable send him on a dangerous and hazardous quest in which he would encounter many strange and unusual people, possibly even needing to face life or death situations daily?

"But what am I saying?" Ed continued hurriedly, "Of course I'm the best person to be trusting with this!"

Hughes frowned for less than a second, then brightened considerably, "Right then, take good care if it, mind! And here, some pictures for the road." Hughes shoved some random charcoal stains into Ed's unwilling hands, and finally ushered him out the door.

The door closed heavily behind the young boy, and Ed stood staring at the sealed and important package, so suddenly bestowed upon him. He wondered at its contents, and whether the title of the chapter could possibly hold any clues?

He would find out soon enough.

Well, I'd love to know what you thought of it! You can flame if you want, I'm asking for opinions, after all… But constructive criticism is always more appropriate. And comments on the general idea of it are welcome too! …It's just something that sorta popped into my head… just now… randomly… let me know if you want more!