Katu (fullmetalkatu) wrote in fm_alchemist,
Katu
fullmetalkatu
fm_alchemist

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This Time Around

Title: This Time Around
Chapter: 2- "Square One"
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: Kittens and little brothers have a way of convincing you to do the things you dread most.
Warnings: Um. I'm just gonna say spoilers for, like, chapter 40 and up. Just because of a certain person who was introduced.
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. In this short installment, we find another fork in the road. In the original Fullmetal Alchemist story, Edward left, with his brother, to find a way to bring his dead mother back. Here, he searches for his father, instead. He has the answer in his hands. This is a different journey that I think would have been interesting if he could have done. None of these songs belong to me, nor does Elizabethtown or Fullmetal Alchemist.
Word Count, Chapter 2: 838
Previous Chapters: 1-"Long Walk Home"


“The world is round and the place which may seem like the end may also be the beginning.” – Ivy Baker Priest

This Time Around
”Square One”

This winter was the first that I hated. Winter already seems like a cruel and unusual punishment, and loss just makes it worse.

Mom died in September. Mom’s death began the coldest winter in history…

…for me and my brother.

How do you pick up the pieces after something like that happens? Your mother creates you, you live within her, and you feel like dying without her…!!

And what about that bastard, my father? My father was never around… supposedly, he was this wonderful man, whom mom practically worshipped…

He wasn’t around for her. What kind of man is that?


Also, in these winter months, I have discovered something:

My brother is an angel, or a saint, or something. He has not only survived, but survived with minor trauma. Alphonse is just….resilient, I guess. He seems to have taken it well. He can still laugh and smile, unlike me. He’s such a sweet kid, you know?

However, against my wishes, Alphonse has done one agitating thing:

He has rescued a cat.

He has named this cat Trisha.

I do not need this little kitten licking my nose in the morning. I do not want this little kitten every morning nuzzling me as I wake up, remembering what’s crappy in my life, and realizing that back in bed everything’s happy and yay and mom’s not dead and Dad, what the hell, dad’s around and I’m smiling again and…

I’m tired of those dreams.

One of those Sunday mornings I was awoken by that kitten, and about ten minutes later Alphonse was handing me a bus ticket.

It’s one of those really surreal moments that you’ll remember for the rest of your life. You won’t remember it for what was around you, nor will you remember it for what was going on. Oh, no. You’ll remember it for your stupidity.

“Buh?” This being all I could manage at this point, my morning lethargy and amnesia getting the better of me. I realized that what my little brother was holding out for me was a bus ticket, and a little white piece of paper with an address.

“Will you go, brother?” Alphonse murmured. He was holding Trisha with his other arm, who was looking at me with the same brown eyes that Al had. They both were giving me what I like to call “The Face”. The Face is capitalized because it is a capital threat. The Face is “Look-Here-Buddy-I’m-Being-All-Cute-For-A-Reason-And-That-Reason-Is-I-Do-Not-Have-Anything-Decent-To-Blackmail-You-With-And/Or-Bribe-You-With-So-Please-Do-This-For-Me-Because-You-Love-Me-Okay-Thanks-Bye.”

“Will I go where?” I ask, ignoring the ticket for a moment to poor myself some coffee. I take a sip and wince. It’s too hot and too strong. I pour it back into the pot.

“Will you go find him?”

“Find who? Alphonse, you’re being too vague this early.” I pour some orange juice instead. I take a sip.

“Dad.”

Orange juice sprays everywhere. “Say that one more time, Al?” I stare at him like a deer in the headlights.

“I want you to find Dad. We need him.” He looks like he’s about to cry now.

“We don’t need him, we’re fine!”

“Edward,” Alphonse never calls me Edward. I know he’s serious. “Mom’s gone…it’s not like we can live by ourselves!”

“Al, look, we’re practically adults, we don’t need-“

“Brother, I want to know my father before he dies, too!!

So, the truth comes out. It’s not the truth that I wanted to hear. I wanted to hear an excuse like, “Oh, brother, we’re hurting for money, go find dad, okay?”

Al never really got to know Dad. Dad ran off before Al could really know him.

He’s crying now. I’m about to cry, too. Trisha begins licking at Al’s tears from her shoulder perch.

“W-will you go, brother?”

“Yeah, Al. I’ll go.”


It kind of felt like the beginning of the end, for me. The ending would be the apocalyptic meeting with my father.

Winry and Al both saw me off at the bus stop. They waved until the bus was out of sight.


The bus was empty, save for me, the bus driver and two different guys. One had a ponytail and a brown leather jacket covering him- but that’s all I could see. He had a book on his face. I couldn’t read the cover, they were written in some strange characters I didn’t recognize. The other guy was asleep, too. He had short, dark hair and a lot of stubble; it looked like he’d been on this bus for a long time. He had pale, ivory skin, which kind of blended into his white shirt.

For the first time, I looked at the address.

Hohenheim Elric
665 South Mountain Dr.
West City, Amestris


Amazing, how simple that is.

Those three lines of letters tell me exactly where my father lives.

I stare out the window and watch telephone lines go rushing past.

This is just square one.
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