The Waters of Lethe
Disclaimer: I don't own FMA, I just like to play around in it's world and torture Ed for awhile.
Author's note: Post-series and very AU, these drabbles are rated for violence, blood, death, probably bad language, and maybe sex. Some movie events will happen, just not the same way they did in the movie
Warning: may contain movie spoilers
Summary: It's been less than 24 hours since Edward found his father dying on the sofa in their Munich home. After he gave his ticket on the Calais Express to an American cowboy, Edward successfully slipped away to Vienna, but the Thule Society is back on the scent...
Beta: Kittygirl109
20. A change of direction (Eine anderung der Richtung)
After an interval of wakefulness, Edward had managed to fall asleep on the train, but his slumber had been troubled by a vivid dream of a dark-skinned man. Edward dreamed he was walking through a long corridor which was fitfully lit by flaring torches, towards a man sitting upon a huge throne. The man's face was obscured by a golden mask and he held a golden staff in one hand. As Edward drew closer, the man held out his other hand. Nestled on its palm was a softly glowing red object - the Philosopher's Stone.
The man seemed to be offering him the stone, and Edward reached out to take it. But the instant their fingers touched, a spark leapt between them and he was suddenly paralyzed. Pictures raced through his mind, the images coming so fast and furious Edward's mind couldn't process them. It reminded him of the night of the failed transmutation when the Gate had crammed his head with so much information he thought it would burst. Then to his horror, the golden mask began to dissolve and the molten gold ran down like tears to reveal a staring purple eye floating in a sea of blackness.
Edward jerked back when the eye suddenly rushed towards him and he felt himself falling...falling...
He cried out wildly and came to just as he rolled off the compartment seat and hit the floor with a bone-jarring thud. Trembling and gasping, Edward sat up in the near darkness with sweat pouring down his face. Gradually the waking world became clearer to him - the rocking of the train car, the clickity-clack of the wheels, and the forlorn cry of the locomotive's whistle - as the dream images began to fade.
At his table in the cafe, Edward stared into his cooling coffee as he tried to recall the dream. The images were no longer clear, but the disturbing feeling they had given him was. Dreams were merely messages from the subconscious mind and weren't meant to be taken literally, but maybe...just maybe this one was trying to tell him something. He lifted the mug to his lips and sipped, the coffee slipped down his throat and warmed his insides. It tasted so good, he dipped his croissant into the steaming liquid before he ate.
Don't go to Turkey, take...another direction...
Just after seven, Edward re-crossed the road to the station and entered. He didn't notice the two men following him until he'd paused to consult the departure board for the platform number his train would be leaving from. Edward repeated the number, softly under his breath a few times till he memorized it and he'd just turned away when a hand clamped tightly around his left arm.
"Edward Elric?" His mind still on the next stage of his flight, Edward blinked and looked up. What he saw gave him a cold, sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.