Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ For The Worst ❯ Prologue ( Prologue )

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Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with Hiromu Arakawa or any producing company responsible for Fullmetal Alchemist. I receive no monetary gain for posting this.

Author's Note: This story took first place in a fanfiction contest onNoviceWriters.net,which I co-administrate. Check it out if you like; great site. Anyway, please enjoy the fic! If you don't like it, don't flame! Bad vibes give me stomach aches.

Quick overview: This story takes place during the manga timeline. I've changed it a tiny bit, accidentally but please forgive me. It's just after Hohenheim left Trisha and the boys. If you would like my references to the timeline, email or PM me and I'd be glad to share. And if you have any questions, address me about them and I'll answer best I can!

Prologue

This is a story of tragedy, not one for the faint of heart. It is a tale of sorrow, loss, pain, sacrifice, and distrust. Many other aspects make up this story, but they would be too long to list here. Some are lighter, though some are most definitely not, sinking into the darker tones of life. Untouched areas of that darkness will be recognized.

It is the year 1905. The season is spring, only midway through. The last dredges of winter have finally receded. Flowers are in full bloom in the small town of Risembool. Everything is beautiful along the hilly countryside. Birds are nesting in trees, settling in for the summer ahead. Farmers are planting their crops in hopes for a good harvest to come in the fall. There are smiling faces everywhere.

Everywhere except one household.

- - -

A six year old Edward Elric walked slowly into the living room, rubbing his eyes. It was still early in the morning, but recently he'd made it habitual to wake himself ahead of the old schedule, to signify the change he was setting upon at least himself. He wanted things to be different, at least a little, to show that life would go on, even after what had happened the previous winter. He wanted to show his mother that he could take care of himself so she wouldn't have to work so hard to take care of herself and two sons. That was why he was awake, even before his mother. He wanted to make breakfast for their almost broken family.

Edward remembered watching his mother making pancakes for them. It didn't look too hard. He'd just need to find a stool or something to stand on since he was still a little…short for his age. So, as quietly as he could, Ed pushed a chair over to the counter. He needed a bowl. He always remembered seeing his mother pulling bowls from that cabinet. As he was pushing the chair across the room, it made a noisy scrape that made him flinch. Hopefully it wouldn't be loud enough to wake anyone.

After a lot of clambering, some mutters, and a bit of noise, Edward had managed to pull the bowl down from under many other dishes. A few of them had almost broken, but he'd somehow managed to save them. Now just to find the things to make the pancakes.

He was tempted to go ask his mother, though that would defeat the purpose of trying to prove he could take care of himself. So, with a new resolve to do this, Edward squared his little chin and began searching in all the cabinets, cupboards, jars, tins, and whatever else looked like it might hold things used to make pancakes. Within about ten minutes, he had managed to make the biggest mess in the kitchen. There was something in the bowl, though, that somewhat resembled pancake batter. He was just about to find something to cook the pancakes in when he heard a voice from the doorway.

“Edward!” It was his mother. She didn't sound pleased, like he had hoped she would.

Slowly, Ed turned around to look at his mother. He smiled at her, despite the angry look on her face. “I was…going to make us breakfast. Since Dad left, I don't want you to—”

He quieted when his mother began waving her hands in the air. “Edward, look at this mess you made. Now Mommy has to clean it up, and make breakfast for you and Al.” She was slowly walking toward him, weaving a bit. There was a strange look in her eye, one Edward had never seen before.

“But…” Edward frowned as he slid off the countertop. “I was going to make breakfast for us. And I'm sorry for the mess, Mom. I'll clean it up, I promise!” Or at least, Edward was going to say, “I promise.” Before he could finish those last two words, he felt a strange impact on his cheek, unlike anything else before. It stung, burned a bit. It reminded him almost of when he and Al were in fist fights and Al smacked him one on his face. This was different, though. Much different.

When Edward looked up at his mother, she was looking past him, at the mess, expressionless. She smelled funny. There seemed to be no guilt in her eyes of what she'd just done. Even as Edward lifted his hand to his cheek, hoping she would see, hoping it had been an accident that she hadn't realized had hurt him, she didn't look. Tears began to well in Edward's eyes, though he fought them back; he couldn't cry. He was supposed to be strong for her! For Al, for himself. He couldn't cry.

“Mom,” he whispered, looking up at her. He couldn't help the hurt that mixed in his voice, welled with his tears. “Why did you…?”

“Go back to bed, Edward,” she said, voice void of much expression besides sternness. “Go back to bed and think of the work you made for Mommy so early in the morning.”

Edward didn't say anything. With his hand still over his cheek, he ran past his mother and out of the kitchen, through the living room, up the stairs, and into his and Al's bedroom. Al was still asleep soundly. It only took a moment of thought for Edward to decide he wasn't going to wake his brother for this, not yet.

Maybe it had been an accident? Maybe his mother hadn't realized what she'd done? Maybe she was having a bad day? Excuses ran through Edward's head as he went quietly down the stairs once more. He needed an excuse for himself, so he could believe it when his friends asked what had happened. Ed could hear his mother in the kitchen, cleaning up the mess he'd made. That made him hurry to reach the door. He didn't want to see her right now. Even though it had possibly been an accident, he didn't want to chance another one.

Edward had wanted change. He had it. For the worst.