Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ The Rebirth ❯ Chapter 1

(*Author's note: Hi all! This is my first Fullmetal Alchemist story (a phrase that does not engender confidence, I know). Before we get down to the fic, I have to mention that there is a slight spoiler for Volume Six - nothing major but I did base this fic on two pages of the manga from that volume.

I ask your indulgence for this one - the story just came to me after reading through that volume and since I've never seen one quite like it, I figured that I was safe. I hope you enjoy and, whether you did or not, review!

But before that, a disclaimer: **Fullmetal Alchemist belongs to Hiromu Arakawa and not me** That is all*)

The Rebirth

There was light. Bright, harsh. There was pain too, horrible pain. Sharp, stabbing. I was on my back, my heart pounding, my breath ragged and moist. My eyes were open but my vision was blurry. I tried to close them to try and clear it but I found that I couldn't. It was as if I no longer had any eye lids.

It was distressing but not as distressing as the fact that I had no idea what had happened. I knew that something was very wrong but I wasn't sure what. Everything was confusing and I couldn't think of what I was doing here or where I was or why I was in so much pain.

I could hear yelling. It was hard to tell with the blood rushing through my ears but I thought it sounded like Edward. I turned my blurry gaze as best as I could to the source of the sound. He was there, my Edward, crying out and calling me. My son, one of my sons. He needed me.

He'd collapsed on to his belly, his hand stretched in front of him. "Mom?" His voice was so full of hope and pain. What had happened to him?

I wanted to say something, I wanted to go to him but I found that I could do nothing more than lay there, gasping.

He looked at me and back pedaled away, his face twisted in horror. I wondered what had frightened him so - Edward had always been so brave. Then I saw the blood. So much blood. His leg was gone. He needed help. He needed me.

Summoning up my strength, I tried to reach out to him. My arm moved sluggishly, flopping like a dying fish, and I realized that I was not close enough to touch him. I was not strong enough to move.

I tried to speak and I felt something break in my throat. I could taste blood as I coughed. I could feel it stream out of my mouth, covering my cheeks and forehead. Running into my eyes. What was wrong with me? What was -?

My energy sapped, my arm fell back to the floor. My heart slowed it's fierce pounding and it throbbed dully. My son covered his ears, tears welling in his eyes. He was saying something but I could not understand the words, they were spoken so softly. Then he covered his mouth before bending over and throwing up.

My poor Edward. I wanted to cry at being so helpless. What was happening here? And where was Alphonse? I realized that I had yet to see my other son. Why wasn't he here? My boys were always so inseparable. More wetness dripped down my face but I wasn't sure if I was crying or bleeding.

The world started getting darker while my heartbeat grew weak and the pain slowly ebbed away. It seemed as though this had happened before, this floating feeling. If only I could think of where. As my vision failed completely, I remembered.

The last time I had felt this way, I'd been on my death bed. Alphonse and Edward each holding a hand. Pinako and her grandchild Winry had been there too. I had fought for a long time and I had failed. But at least I had known then that my boys would be okay. They were strong enough to make it without me.

How could I leave them now? Now when I didn't know? Unfortunately, I knew that it was not my choice to make: I could feel my body dying around me and nothing I could do would stop it. I wished that I could have seen both of my sons one more time. That I could have seen one more smile on their faces.

As sensation disappeared and I felt the coldness of death surround me for a second time, I allowed one tear for myself. Though Edward was still in the same room I was (I could still hear his voice shouting something indistinct), I knew that he would not be holding my hand this time. This time I would be dying alone.

(*End note: Well, that was depressing. Here's hoping it wasn't too goopy.*)