Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ First Life. Then Death. ❯ The Beginning (Or Rather, the End) ( Chapter 1 )

Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or anything that has to do with Fullmetal Alchemist. I do own pens and papers a computer and a keyboard though.

 

A/N: Okay, I was going to explain what made me write this story, but that gives stuff away. So there will be one after too. Okay? (P.S. Sorry I have this strange obsession with hurting Ed!)

 

First Life. Then Death.

 

The Beginning

 

Surely, with this amount of air pressure, my lungs will explode soon.

What a relief that would be.

They say that when you are moments away from your death that your entire life flashes before your eyes. Honestly, I didn't ever think that there would be enough time for that. Some soldiers say you don't even hear the gunshot that blows through your skin and embeds itself in your flesh. If one blows through your brains and you don't even have a millisecond to react before you're dead, would your life flash before your eyes? I'd always been logical, reasonable, and I knew my life wouldn't be flashing before mine. I'll tell you now that death comes without warning. It sneaks up behind you and grabs you with its grasping claws of hands and pulls you away from your life. It doesn't stop to ask you if you'd like a few minutes to reminisce on everything that's ever happened to you.

But, perhaps, I'm being skeptical.

Granted that, it may depend on the manner in which death comes to you. If you know you are going to died and have a few minutes, maybe your life will flash before your eyes. Maybe if you die peacefully in your sleep you dream about your life. Maybe you'll die in some slow, tortuous way and you'll see all your mistakes in your pain. Maybe you'll drown, and after the shock and panic is over and you breathe your first new breath and fill your lungs; maybe you'll see all your happy memories swirling around in those currents. My death came so quickly that I thought not a single thing except for the one thing I said earlier. You know, that first thing, about my lungs exploding. Yeah, that one.

Yes, I will tell you my death was quick and only lasted one fleeting moment. I was alive, and then I was dead.

That tends to happen when you fall from the top floors of a military headquarters to the hard pavement walkway below. Life, and then death.

They say that some people die before they hit the bottom. They say this is mercy. I can't remember exactly when it was that I died. One moment I was alive, and the next I was dead. I don't think dieing in the air would be merciful, no, because do you really think you have time to conceive the pain of hitting the ground beneath that air. Death is the mercy in itself, either way it happens. And that, you see, is irony, because death is in no way merciful, and yet somehow it is when compared o pain that would be followed by death. Pain and rescue, now that's the ideal situation, but it's not so easy to be rescued when you fall out of a window. Now is it?

I wouldn't mind the fact that I'm dead so much if it weren't for the people who are still living. I show up at the gate and the Truth says, welcome back, here to stay? And I say, I'm pretty sure I am this time. He chuckles and the gate takes me, and oddly enough I'm not that scared. Somehow I've still got my sanity, I suppose, to an extent, my consciousness at least, maybe. I'm sure that will be gone soon too... Maybe. Things happen slowly here, it's like the Truth is taking me apart cell by cell, and taking me over at the same time. That's why I know it didn't turn out okay after I left. I blame myself. But it's hard to be angry or sad here. I know everything now. So I know about how Alphonse killed himself after I died.

I'm not sure if what I see is happening or hasn't happened yet. It's hard to tell when everything's the truth and there are no lies to build upon. Nothing has structure here.

I'm pretty sure the only reason I lived was for Al. He was my brother. I don't understand why he couldn't just see that I wanted him to keep living. I guess he didn't know what to do. He'd always followed my lead, he'd had no goals to accomplish, none he could accomplish without me. He also had no killer to find and to seek out vengeance upon for his fallen brother. Fallen quite literally actually. No friends to vent to. Guess that was my fault too. I could have screamed, cried, sobbed. I think. He figured breaking his blood seal would be a quick and painless death. A snap of metal and he wouldn't have to be this empty brother-less vessel anymore, just a soul leaving a piece or scrap that someone would probably throw out afterward. One second you're alive, and then you're dead. This was my fault. But maybe, after the Truth took me, after the Truth took him, maybe we could be together again. Maybe in all this knowledge that seemed so tangible we could exist again as two souls. We wouldn't need names or purposes. It would be beautiful. We could just be brothers. Together. Maybe.

I hope so. I think.

But sometimes with thoughts like these I feel like I'm just being pointlessly optimistic.

My senses of what I'm hoping for and what is are getting all mixed up. If that makes any sense. I'm feeling more and more confused and yet more and more intelligent every moment. Intelligence is your ability and capacity to learn. Maybe my head had grown a few sizes but some of my brains had fallen out. Just because I felt more of a capacity to learn didn't mean anything was any less puzzling right now. Intelligence wasn't really a solid thing, it was just a promise. But I did know a lot of things that were, or are, or are going to be, or is. I think.

I think that maybe if I take a deep breath I can get my thoughts straight. But then I realize that I don't have lungs. I don't have breath. It wouldn't have mattered if they exploded or not, you see, because I wouldn't have ended up having any in the end, and either way I'd be dead. So would Alphonse. And he wouldn't have any lungs either. We'd be dead though. I can't remember if that's a good thing or a bad thing. I remember it's my fault though.

Now I'm thinking, who am I? Where am I? I remember all the sudden that I'm Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist. That's right, I'm dead, and I'm here. That's all I can remember about where I am right now. Here. Here I am. The Fullmetal Alchemist. Oh, yeah, I think, wait, Roy, that's right. Roy, and Riza and Jean and Kain and Breda and... what was Falman's first name? It doesn't matter. Riza, she's keeping a level head. She always has, and I know she always will. I guess I didn't remember who I am. I guess I know who I am. Riza may very well have always been the strongest out of all of us. She was certainly stronger than I was. Now, Roy, he's falling. I know it'll stop but for a while he'll fall, and he'll fall fast. I mean, I fell faster, but he'll give me run for my money, that's for sure. Don't worry though, I win, since I'm dead. But there's irony again, I think, since death is included again. Life. Death. That's how it goes. He should thank Riza though. Because at the bottom of all that self-hatred and blame and depression that's in towers around him Riza will catch him before he gets crushed. One second you're alive, and then the next you're in the arms of a beautiful, strong woman, who's going to help you. Because she wants to help you. There it is, I've won the falling contest. I fell and died. He'll have to help her eventually, but she'll help him first. I wish my scenario had been a little more like that. First you're alive, and then you're dead.

There was no mention of beauty in my description. I want a refund.

He's playing a game that I played from the time I was young up until the day I died. When was that again? It could have been years ago or it could have been yesterday. The fact that it was May 1st doesn't mean anything to me anymore. I know this, but at the same time I don't really remember. It's not a memory anymore, it's a fact. It seems I have a sort of mechanism now. I don't remember much of anything, but I know. I think about something and all the sudden I know. And Roy's been playing a game I played from the time I was young up until the day I died. It starts with blame and it ends with yourself. Even in this place, here, not knowing and all knowing, I still know that most of this is my fault. Maybe that's because it's a fact. Or maybe it's one of the memories I'm still holding onto. Blame is a strong thing. That's a fact. Roy knows that now, and he'll know it even more later, after it's all over with, after Riza's saved him and he's saved Riza and he comes to terms with what happened to me. Yes, this is my fault. Roy's thinking the same thing about himself right now. As if just because he was drunk and having fun and forced me to go to that stupid office get together thing it was his fault I fell out that seventh-story window. Maybe because he opened the window in the first place. Maybe because he argued and pushed until I came up there. Maybe because he was too drunk to notice my call for help. But everyone was. Sure, there was a moment in which my hand held tight onto the windowsill and I screamed out his name for, well, who knows what reason, and Riza screamed and ran for me from her spot across the room. A moment in which Roy stood beside that window and gazed with confusion at the screaming Riza. But he had to understand that no one but Riza had even noticed. It hadn't been just him. He'd been drunk. And it was okay, I didn't blame him. He didn't even realize, and I know that if he did he would have tried to do something. So it's not his fault. Although when he did realize it was quite sobering. First you're joking and laughing, and then your almost like a son to you, fellow state alchemist, one of your best friends, that you've never really told them they mean that much to you because you didn't think you wouldn't ever have another chance to, child prodigy, Edward is lying crushed seven stories down.

Then he thinks it's his fault that Al kills himself. Which is completely ridiculous. We all know that it's my fault for going and dying on him. Roy might have been able to save me but it wasn't his fault that he didn't. It wasn't his fault that I died, it wasn't his fault that Alphonse had nothing left to live for. Riza would tell him that someday, and one of those days he would finally believe her. He'll be fixed.

Riza. That's my fault too. She almost broke, she was so close to breaking. If I hadn't have screamed, hadn't had gotten her attention. Then she wouldn't have believed that it was her fault. Roy blamed himself for noticing, for not seeing me. Alphonse blamed himself for not being there, for agreeing that I should go, for not catching me. Riza, she blames herself for not getting across that room fast enough. But, you see, there was no possible way she could have gotten across. Time and space simply wouldn't have allowed it. It's principle and theory. Basic. Certainly not her fault. One second I'm screaming for help and the next I'm falling to my inevitable death and you didn't run across that room fast enough to grab his reaching hand. It's funny the way everyone tries to take blame, to give blame, for something so blameless. If anything it's my fault for falling out of a window. I know here that it is my fault and I am okay with that, I can accept that. It makes logical sense that I lead myself to my own demise. First you're alive, and then you're flat-as-a-pancake dead.

It's okay though, because I don't remember if it hurt. I don't remember anymore. And I don't want to think about it because I'm afraid I might know there was pain and everything is so calm and wonderful here. Though I doubt if there was pain I could feel it, I don't think I'm even afraid, because it doesn't feel like I can feel afraid, or angry, or sad, or anything really. I don't remember how. I just know. Everything here is so easy to face. Easy to see. I'm not as confused anymore, and I don't remember how I feel about any of this. This is all I know now. Here. Here where we're taking a piece of me and giving a piece of everything else. Equivalent exchange. If that makes any sense. Equivalent exchange, you live your life and then you give it up. Life. Death. Just like that. Everything is empty and full and nothing and anything here. There's no structure and no lies and yet everything is so sound and right. I'm here and that's just what is. I feels the thoughts leaving me now. The knowing. Is it going? Or am I just not thinking about it anymore. I think I still know. I'm here. I know. And this is.

 

A/N: This is a two-shot, okay? So expect the next part soon. See, I heard something about some guy's kid falling out of a window and dying and I was like, Ed seems so invincible all the time. What if he didn't die how we all would expect him to die. What if it was some accidental thing happened to him like that? It wasn't originally going to be from his point of view but I think I did okay with it. Since it ended up being in his point of view I ended up writing about what happened after his death more and I kind of like that part about it. So, tell me what you think. Okay? And I'll have the next chapter up soon.