Chapter 1
[Disclaimer: I don't own FMA. Is this the first story I've written with Selim after canon? No. But technically most of the ideas in this one were ones I had first. I just couldn't figure out what to do with them. I arguably never did. I'm not a particularly good writer. I will make decisions you don't like. You've been warned. You don't have to read the fic.]
He was disintegrating. It was hard to believe this was happening, but impossible to deny. His container was breaking, flaking away at a steadily increasing pace, and he couldn't seem to hold his real body together as it did so. He was falling out, falling apart. It was hard to focus on anything other than his imminent death, as he tried to avoid it.
And then he'd been pulled into his Philosopher's Stone, in a way. He usually just ignored the Stone, but it was impossible now. Souls swirled around, but there was one in particular he was focused on, and more concerning was focused on him. Souls in a Stone weren't supposed to be this aware.
The soul was Kimblee. He was saying something. He wasn't sure what, but being a dream, he didn't need to hear for this to make sense.
He himself was saying something as well.
Then, another being burst into the Stone. Was that . . . Edward Elric?
Edward was very angry. He was still falling apart. In fact, he was pretty sure it was happening even faster now. Edward was going to kill him.
Selim bolted up with a scream. He sat in the dark for a second, heart pounding in his ears, not understanding.
Then the world slowly came back. Even in the dark, he could still see his room by the light of the moon and stars out the window. He could feel his bed beneath him. And he was certainly still in one piece. He'd been having a dream.
Selim sighed and dropped back onto his pillow. Just a dream. It was a good thing the house was big, or that would've woken his mother for sure.
His breath and heart beat were slowing back down. Now that he was calm, he'd noticed that had been odd. He'd had plenty of dreams before, and that one felt . . . decidedly not dream like.
He frowned. About two years ago, Mrs. Bradley had told him he wasn't entirely human. She clearly hadn't wanted this conversation, but it had been hard to avoid. Selim's shadows had been coming to life for even longer than that. He could sort of wake them up and move them around. He just hadn't had great control, and then hadn't shown Mrs. Bradley right away. Then there was the uncanny physical similarity between him and the first Selim that had been particularly obvious around the same time his shadows got active. When Mrs. Bradley first saw his shadows come to life, she'd asked him not to use them. When that hadn't been enough, she'd pulled him aside and told him a bit about why.
He got the feeling she'd been sugar coating. All she'd really said was that he wasn't entirely human and that he was older than he remembered. That still should've been a lot to take in, and it had been, but it was hard to process. It was like hearing a story about when you were a baby that you couldn't possibly remember. If she said that was him, than it was, but he couldn't remember, and felt no connection to the information. In his fourteen years of being alive, he couldn't remember anything about a previous life.
But that? Had that been a memory? It was still hard to tell without any wider context, but it certainly hadn't felt like a dream. It was less surreal and easier to remember. It was just a small snippet, but everything in it followed a certain consistent logic, instead of whatever hodgepodge dreams usually were. And, even now that he was back in reality, he still felt a bit on edge from that.
So, something was definitely off. The question was, what should he do about it?
Selim sat back up, sighing. So much for getting to sleep.
He could pretend this hadn't happened, write it off as a dream or at least not something to look into further. After all, he hadn't minded the missing life when Mrs. Bradley told him he had one. He had a new life now. He was the person named Selim. Mrs. Bradley and he had, once again, sort of touched on that when they had their talk. If he was happy as Selim, there was no reason to waste time wondering about another life.
But something told him it was different now. Most people wouldn't ignore this, and doing so felt a bit like sticking his head in the sand to an insulting degree. And then there was. . .
Oh no. Damn it.
There were two holes cleanly sliced into the floor by his bed, and a tear in his curtain. None of them were big, but he'd noticed them even while distracted at night. The only explanation he could think of, was that he'd used his shadows in his sleep. He hadn't done that in a while.
How was he supposed to hide this? He was sure he could find an alchemist who would fix it without asking too many questions, but not immediately. Maybe he could toss a rug over the floor. He could fix the curtain himself.
Well, no matter what he did, that was a strong incentive. He sighed softly. If he was going to start tearing up the floor, he should definitely look into this. He'd look into amnesia in general, and see if he could find any context for that dream. His memory didn't leave much to go on. Edward Elric, Kimblee, and the mythical Philosopher's Stone. And he certainly wasn't bringing this up with Edward Elric. So, just who was Kimblee?