Chapter: 1- "Long Walk Home"
Rating: PG for now, maybe PG-13 in later chapters. Who knows. :D
Overall Summary: "Everyone I’ve ever spoken to has said that if you’re reincarnated as the same person, you’re supposed to try again. This time around, I’m gonna try and do this right."
What if you could start over? What if from a pivitol point in your life, you took a different path? Well, Ed does. And maybe, this time, he'll have a happy ending.
Chapter Summary: In the beginning, there was not life, but death. Death reminds you to start living, because you could be next.
Warnings: Um. For episode one? Nothing big yet. :D
Pairings: None yet.
Disclaimer/Explinations: This fanfic is based off of the Elizabethtown soundtrack, and partly off the movie itself. This does not follow the order of the soundtrack. This story is titled after Track Four. Chapter One's title is basically track seven, but I changed it to "Walk" from "Ride". I wrote this story because I wondered "How would Ed have turned out if the circumstances were different?" What, if instead of saying to himself, "I we need mom," he said, "Let's give her a break, and try to survive on our own,"? In this world, there is no alchemy. Ed is probably still in school. I'll go into this in later chapters. I do not own any of the songs mentioned in this fanfic, nor do I own "Fullmetal Alchemist" or "Elizabethtown" or anything associated with the two. Thank you.
Word Count: 931 thusfar.
Please Read and tell me what you think. Feedback would be the only thing that gets me to write another chapter.
Everyone I’ve ever spoken to has said that if you’re reincarnated as the same person, you’re supposed to try again.
This time around, I’m gonna try and do this right.
This Time Around
”Long Walk Home”
I probably heard about reincarnation when I was four or so. Mom was around back then. This little girl in the kindergarten class had a really cute kitten, and he’d died because he got hit by a car. God, we were so young and naïve back then… she had been crying so much lately. So, she asked the teacher if there was any way the kitty would come back.
The teacher sighed, and said, “No, not really. A long time ago, people thought we were reborn, but that’s not really…”
And of course, being young and naïve and curious, we begged her to tell us about it.
That was Winry’s first pet. Her second pet, a dog, was a big, black, three-legged one named Den. He was healthy, she’d built a prosthetic leg for him.
But that was years ago. My little brother is riding in the car behind us with her and Pinako.
I’m in the hearse. Normally there’d be a driver for this thing, but he’s sick. I’m sixteen, I can drive.
Mom’s in the back.
It’s really creepy how quiet the motors in these things are.
I’m thinking now, though. I’ve got some time alone. Al, my little brother, is probably still bawling. I’m happy to have a moment’s reprieve. I love my brother to no end, but I’m trying to keep dry eyes myself.
And I’m just wishing I knew magic or something. Or that I could bring mom back…
What would she be? I wonder, as I pull up to the graveyard. She’d be a bird.
…No, mom was allergic to birds, wasn’t she?
I helped the other pallbearers pull the coffin from the back of the ominous-looking car.
They ask me that stupid, “How’re you doing, Ed?” question.
When you say “I’m okay,” you’re really not. That’s just how you terminate a conversation before it starts.
Al kind of clung to Winry throughout the ceremony, as they lowered the coffin into the ground. I don’t think he could cry anymore. We dropped our roses down, and they filled it in.
“Let’s go home, Al.” I murmured in his ear, before they finished.
“Fine, leave with Winry.” And I turned, walking away. Someone else can drive the hearse. It’s not far to my house, anyway.
The streetlights came on about halfway home. I was still in my suit, tie loosened, hair out of the ponytail that my friends knew well. As I walked, I braided my hair.
This was a time for change, after all.
I was probably two-thirds of the way home when I heard a sweet voice in my head, sugar-coating my thoughts.
Mom’s name was Trisha. Trisha suited her. The rough-sounding name of “Elric” did not. It did not suit Al, either. He was definitely mom’s child. But mom would sing all the time, especially while she was doing the laundry or something. And the one song I could remember, I’d been humming to her on her deathbed.
Neither of us could remember the words.
It was painful how clearly they came now.
Deep in your smile I see the world seeing me, I’m free to be free, to be what I be.
When my heart is heavy and is shallow on love, I look to the doves and I find it above.
It was a short song, but cute.
I stopped, and leaned on the chain-link fence that separated the sidewalk I was on from the park next to me. It was only chest-high, so I put my arms on it, put my head on my arms, and stared at the ground below me for a minute.
When I was little, I asked her what I should call her. She said, “Whatever you want,”
Mom suited her just as well as Trisha did.
The tears that came now did not, luckily, run down my face. Nor did they land on my clothing. They did not come with a runny nose, or the way you wrinkle your forehead and get that stupid headache. It didn’t come with the ragged breathing, or the wailing.
Silent tears fell from my eyes to the weeds in the crack of the sidewalk below me.
Trisha Elric is dead.
Edward Elric and Alphonse Elric are not.
Edward Elric, at least, wishes he was.
It would be selfish to make her come back to life just for our sakes.
When I got home that night, Alphonse was asleep on the couch. Winry was watching some Do-It-Yourself mechanic type of show on television.
“Hey, Ed. Are you doing okay?” She muted the television, brushing the blond hair from her eyes.
“Really, Ed, if you want to talk-“
“I’m okay, and I’m going to bed.”
“Goodnight, Edward. I’m staying the night.”
“Goodnight, Winry, you do that.” My door clicked shut behind me. I locked it.
With a woosh, the blue curtains were closed. Still dressed in black funeral garb, I collapsed onto the bed.
Mom, I realize, would be a butterfly or a flower or….
I stop myself, mid-thought.
A bird. A real pretty one, too. She’s got that pretty voice.
I start laughing when I realize she’d be allergic to herself.
Let’s start living soon. My mind says to me.
“Like, tomorrow, soon.” I tell my mind, and close my eyes.