The Shambala Chronicle

I do not own Conquerors of Shambala. And, by the way Emily's been hogging the DVD and going on about how Ed should be with Winry instead of that… what was that gypsy chick's name? Eh, whatever. Point is, I probably won't get to see it.

Welcome back, Alchemy202. Glad to hear from you again. I have the whole story pretty much rough drafted, so an actual beta isn't really necessary. But I do appreciate spell checks and stuff, any you notice. Or just hints or ideas that I could somehow work in there would be pretty cool.

Anyhoo, on with the show:


Entry 3:

OK, that was a really bad idea. Terrible mistake. Probably one of the worst ones I ever made. And not only that, now I have a splitting headache. Damn mechanics…

Guess you're wondering, huh? Well, what happened was…

I just paid a visit to Al.

This morning, I woke up, went to my window, and saw smoke coming from the Rockbell house, signaling that someone or more than one person were awake. Then I remembered; Al was back, and chances were, he was probably living with the Rockbells.

Then, the thought came to my mind- I would ask Al if he knew anything about Ed.

I knew right off the bat that the chances of me walking away with anything more than a massive bruise on my head, courtesy of a wrench, were very slim. Last I heard, he didn't know anything, didn't remember anything. That was when I was still hospitalized. Who's to say anything's changed since then?

But, then I thought: Well, maybe I could force some memories out. And not in a physical way, just a mental coaxing. This doc I've been seeing says that the best way to confront the past is to talk it out with someone. Just talk for the hell of talking, and have it be with someone or something like that.

So, I said to myself, "Alright, what the hell?"

The walk there seemed slow, which was odd, seeing as how I lived right down the street from them. I guess I took my time, trying to figure out exactly what I was gonna say. Knowing me, I would've probably rushed in and said something entirely stupid that would've got me transmuted into a friggin side-drawer or something like that. Planning is the key to everything. How many times could a soldier be taught that?

Once I got to the stairs, however, I panicked. I was about to come face to face with Al, for the first time in over a year, or five, since he didn't remember the last four. Only God knew the true horror that I was about to face.

Climbing the stairs felt like climbing a mountain, despite the fact there were only three of them. My hand was shaking as it turned into a fist and hammered away at the door. My heart was pounding so loudly, I could hear it going off in my head like a jackhammer.

Just turn around and go the other way, was all that went through my mind at the moment, but before the message could compute and send it to my feet, the door opened and Winry Rockbell stood before me. I gulped. Not good.

Before I go any further, I guess I should explain now that Winry and I do not have the best relationship going. True, I've known her since she was a baby and vice versa. Through high school, I always had the distinct impression that she was one of my many female admirers, but that changed when she found out I was joining up. Out last real meeting played through my mind as I ran my hand over the spot where that wrench had made contact. I just hoped it wouldn't meet metal a second time.

"Oh…Sergeant Rodyle," she said, kinda sullenly, kinda coldly. I know full well how that works. I was like that for about three months after I got back from Central. I'm pretty sure I reminded her of stuff she didn't want to remember.

I told her not to call me "sergeant", as I wasn't a soldier and hadn't been one in over a year.

"I came to talk to Al. Is he home?"

For a minute, I thought she'd either tell me to go away, or she'd pull out the wrench and send me to the land of the comas. But she didn't do either. She bit her lip, probably contemplating the best course of action. Whatever it was, I prayed it would be me stepping through the door and trying to find some answers.

Finally, she sighed, stepped sideways, and allowed the passage to become available to me. Inwardly, I grinned.

I was in.

I found Al sitting in the living room, reading a book and looking just dandy. It was still weird, seeing him as a boy and not as a metal can, but I suppose this was better. He looked up as I walked into the room and put a big smile on his face.

"Hey, Scotty," he greeted cheerfully. He knew who I was. When he was little, I'd baby-sit for him sometimes. Ed too, though he never seemed happy about it when I did.

I greeted him as cheerfully as I could, and I asked what he was reading. He explained, and even though he went into a whole forty-five minute conversation on the thing, I still didn't know what it was.

"It's an alchemy book," was all I really got out of it.

Let me take the time before I say anything else to explain something again: I know nothing about alchemy. Well, I know stuff, but I don't know stuff, y'know what I'm saying? Like, I know what the transmutation circle thing is, but I'll be damned if I'm asked what exactly it does or how it works. The way I see it, it gets us stuff, it makes life a hell of a lot easier, so why question it? That's for guys like Shadow to figure out. I just live with it. So, when Al went into this whole alchemic talk, I just zoned out, not comprehending any of that mumbo-jumbo.

The rest of the conversation flowed away from that stuff. The only mention he made to alchemy was his teacher, who had passed away not long ago, God rest her soul. In turn, I told him that I had recently got a job working at my dad's drug store. True; started yesterday, and I get a pretty good deal out of it, seeing as how my dad runs the place. And we talked about this and that, nothing really, just passing the time.

It was when he mentioned how much he missed his brother that I finally stuck in the question I had been meaning to ask for a while:

"Al…do you remember anything? About…about what happened?"

Just like that, the smile that had been glued to Al's face the entire time faded and he came up with a sad one that was accompanied with a sigh.

"Everyone keeps asking me that," he told me, "But I just… try as hard as I can… I can't remember anything."

He stuck to that, even when I started pressing a little harder. I didn't mean to be hard on the kid, that was the last thing I wanted. But I needed answers, hell, we all needed answers. So pressing was what I did. Hell, Archer used to press me harder than this, so considering that, I was small-fry.

I guess the pressure was a bit too much, though, because for a minute, he looked like he was about to cry. That was when Winry came in. I guess she had been eavesdropping on the conversation, as though expecting me to pull something like this off.

"That's enough," she stated firmly, "He doesn't remember anything, and your pressing isn't going to help matters. Just leave him alone."

I told her that I knew she was trying to protect him, and that was just fine, but Ed was missing, and if she didn't give a rat's ass about it, fine by me, but the rest of us actually cared about him, and want to know what happened.

That was the last thing I remember saying. When I woke up, I had a splitting headache, and I think my ears were ringing. I was back in my bed, an ice pack melting away on my head. Right away, I knew what had happened.

Goddam mechanics, I swear to God…


Yeah, that's all.

Chapter Summery: Scotty tells of the nightmares he's suffered every night since Central and how for him, life can never go back to normal.

Review please.