Loveless Fan Fiction / Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ Soulless ❯ The Other Side of the Gate ( Chapter 1 )

Series: Fullmetal Alchemist, Loveless (spoilers for all series episodes)
Pairing: Alphonse x alt!Winry
Disclaimer: Not-for-profit fan work. No copyright infringement intended. Loveless created by Kouga Yun; Fullmetal Alchemist created by Hiromu Arakawa.

A/N: This is a side-story written for the FMA Faithless crossover community on LiveJournal.

Some background information about the premise of Faithless (courtesy of Sockren and priestess grrrl, the mods of the FMA Faithless community): The Faithless crossover arc is the love-child of Sockren and priestess grrrl. In this universe, when Edward attempted to return Alphonse from the gate during the final acts of Fullmetal Alchemist, Roy intervened and they both ended up in the Gate. From the Gate, they found themselves in the world of Loveless with no knowledge of whether or not the Gate had granted Al's resurrection.

On the other side of the Gate, Roy and Ed find themselves immersed in a realm of 'spell battles' where everything you have is based on how strong of a bond you can form with the person who shares your destined name. Ed and Roy, both named Faithless by destiny, are forced to redefine their relationship and alchemy as they know it in a world which uses powers that are foreign to them.

Beta: priestess grrrl (thank you!)

Chapter One: The Other Side of the Gate

Alphonse Elric is dreaming a strange and terrible dream.

He sees his beloved brother on the floor of an antique theater, a hole torn in his chest. Golden eyes stare sightlessly at a baroque frescoed ceiling. His hair soaks in a spreading pool of blood.

But Brother can't be dead! He's still warm!

He has to save Brother. It isn't right, isn't fair, that Brother should be the one to suffer, to die.

Alphonse suddenly realizes what he's destined for: why he's survived, his soul bound to this empty suit of armor, when worthier men and women have died. Why else he was he chosen to become the Philosopher's Stone, carrying the concentrated lives of seven thousand soldiers of Amestris and the majority of the lost souls of Ishbal within his hollow chest?

He kneels over Brother's body. He knows what to do. What he has to do.

Equivalent exchange. It was the law of alchemy. And the law of love.

As the fierce golden glow of transmutation surrounds them, Alphonse makes his wish: Brother, live and be happy. For my sake.

0 0 0 0

Alphonse Elric is dreaming a strange and wonderful dream.

He dreams he can feel again: the slide of smooth fabric against naked skin; a burning ache in the back of his right hand, a cool breeze against his cheeks; even a headache pounding through his temples. He dreams he can smell again: toast and gravy and something chemical he doesn't recognize.

He dreams he feels the brush of warm lips against his forehead, a kiss surrounded by a waft of delicate perfume that reminds him of springtime, of plum blossom.

"Kazuo, please wake up." A girl's voice. It sounds familiar.

"Brother...where?" he whispers. Where is my brother? His mouth feels dry.

Then it hits him: he has a mouth again.

All around him, he hears the murmur of voices, but he's too caught up in the sheer bliss of touch and smell and taste to pay much attention.

"...swear he said something!"

"Kazuo, can you hear me?"

"...moved just now! Is he waking up?"

It's a wonderful dream.

0 0 0 0

Alphonse Elric is dreaming a strange - and strangely noisy - dream.

"Kazuo! Wake up!" The scent of plum blossoms comes again. When the voice turns angry, he finally recognizes it: Winry. When did she start wearing perfume? "Kazuo, dammit. Open your eyes - I know you can!"

He wants to answer her, but everything is heavy, too heavy. His eyelids won't open. His mouth won't move.

There's a hand on his shoulder, warm and insistent through the slight roughness of fabric, and he wants to moan at the sheer pleasure of that touch. How many hours had he spent these past few years, trying to recall exactly how his mother's arms felt when they hugged him, how an apple tasted, what new-mown hay smelled like, or how Den's fur felt under his hand when he scratched the dog's ears?

"Katashiki-san, can you hear me?" a woman's voice asked urgently.

"Kazuo-kun!" A man's voice this time.

Alphonse doesn't want to wake up just yet, doesn't want to return to the prison of his armor, cut off from everything except sight and sound and pressure.

But despite the insistent voices, the sensations of touch, of smell, don't seem to be fading away. He can still feel fabric - clothing - against his skin, and a mattress pressing against his back, his shoulders, his buttocks.

Alphonse smiles. Maybe, at some point in this dream, he'll remember exactly how a ripe apple tastes, how the smooth peel feels against his lips just before biting in, recall the crunch between his teeth and the burst of juice releasing onto his tongue.

He opens his eyes and realizes that this isn't a dream.

ooOoo

Alphonse squinted a little in the wash of bright light and realized that he was in a hospital room.

Even through blurry eyes, it looked somewhat different from the hospitals he knew - there was more machinery, for one thing, all of it equipped with blinking lights and most of it beeping or humming - but it was definitely a hospital. He had spent enough time in them, waiting for the doctors to bandage up his brother after one misadventure or another, to recognize one when he saw it.

His hand still hurt. And so did his head. And he could still feel all of the sensations from his dream.

Slowly, not daring to hope, he concentrated on focusing his eyes, and raised his hand.

It was real. He had a real hand again, not just an empty leather gauntlet sewn with armor plate. It was flesh, pale and long-fingered, a dark bruise on the back surrounding an IV needle. He wriggled his fingers experimentally, and it hurt, but it was a good hurt.

And it wasn't just the hand. There was an entire body stretched out under the pale blue blanket and white sheets of his hospital bed.

Alphonse wasn't sure if he wanted to cry or laugh. He had a body again! How had Brother managed it?

"Kazuo?"

With an effort, he focused his gaze on the three people standing around his bedside.

His heart gave an odd jump as he recognized the girl standing nearest to his head. She looked older than he remembered, her hair hanging loose around her face, and was she actually wearing makeup? Her right arm was encased in a cast from the palm of her hand to her bicep.

"Winry." His throat felt raw, scraped on the inside. "Where's Brother?"

She looked startled at his hoarse whisper, her blue eyes going wide.

Before Winry could reply, a woman dressed in a doctor's white coat bent over him. In swift succession, she shone a light in his eyes, took his pulse, pressed the cold circle of a stethoscope to his chest, and tapped his knees, elbows, and ankles in turn, making them twitch.

He lay there unresisting as she pulled back the blanket, letting the onslaught of sensation flow over him.

God, he loved being touched again. Loved it. Even if it was just the coolly professional tap of a small rubber hammer against his kneecap.

Apparently satisfied, the doctor straightened up. Raising a hand to forestall Winry's attempts to ask questions, the doctor peered down at Alphonse. She had dark reddish-brown hair, friendly brown eyes, and pierced ears. Two diamonds glittered in her lobes as she moved.

"Can you tell me your name?" she asked.

Alphonse swallowed, trying to force more than a whisper. "Alphonse. Alphonse Elric."

The doctor frowned. "I see. How old are you?"

"Fifteen. Nearly sixteen," he amended hastily.

Winry gasped, and pressed a hand to her mouth when the doctor glared sternly at her.

"Do you remember how you ended up in the hospital?" the doctor asked, gently.

Alphonse shook his head, minutely. Something must be very wrong. Winry looked like she was about to cry.

"Tell me what you do remember."

Alphonse thought for a long minute, trying to separate dreams from real memories. "There was a city, underground. I was in a theater, or maybe a ballroom. This woman - these people - wanted me to do... something, but I didn't want to. Then Brother came to rescue me, but he got - " killed " - hurt badly. I tried to help him. And then..."

He stopped under the weight of the stares leveled on him: Winry's open horror, the doctor's veiled concern, and a third person, a handsome man with wire-rimmed spectacles and long light-brown hair, who studied Alphonse as if he were a new species of butterfly under glass.

"...and then I woke up here." Alphonse finished, uncertainly.

"Interesting. This is a form of traumatic amnesia I've never encountered before." The doctor sighed. "I think we'll need to run some more tests, perhaps an MRI."

"Amnesia?" Alphonse blinked. "But I remember everything… well, almost everything."

"Do you?" The long-haired man stepped forward. "Doctor, if I may?" She nodded, and he continued. "Your name is Katashiki Kazuo. You're twenty years old, and a mechanical engineering major at Western Tokyo Polytechnic. You do not have a brother."

"But--but--" Of course I have a brother! His name is Edward Elric, and he's the youngest State Alchemist in history. He's brash and rude and has a bad temper. He's short, but he hates it when people notice. He's a genius at alchemy and an utter retard when it comes to girls. When he smiles, his whole face glows. And he gave his arm for me. I most definitely have a brother.

The man continued, relentlessly. "You and this young lady here-" he indicated Winry, "were riding on a motorcycle five days ago when a car ran a red light and hit you. She was wearing a helmet and broke her arm when she was thrown off the bike. You, on the other hand, were not wearing a helmet -- very foolish of you, Kazuo, and I'm very disappointed." He pursed his lips and gave Alphonse a long, severe look over the top of his glasses before continuing. "You suffered severe head injuries. In fact, you were declared brain-dead shortly after being admitted. Imagine our surprise - and joy - when the EEG showed revived activity a day later."

Alphonse blinked. "Wh-what?" I died? Alien memories whirled madly in his brain, competing with Ed's husky laugh and his scowl when thwarted. Cold rain and darkness. Laughing. "It's only a couple of blocks to the store, Yoko. Don't be such an old lady!" The glare of headlights --

More disturbingly, some of his not-memories included kissing Winry, fighting her for a fair share of the bedcovers, and arguing over what kind of food to order for dinner. And then there was the memory that started with unzipping the back of her dress, and the wicked smile that she threw him over her shoulder...

His face grew instantly hot. Flailing for distraction, he asked, "What's an EEG? And who, exactly, are you? "

"That's Ritsu-sensei," Winry replied. "He was our head teacher from the sixth grade until our graduation from the Seven Moons Academy."

"But - but," Once again, Alphonse was flailing for coherent speech. It was all too much, and why did he keep remembering what it felt like to kiss the nape of Winry's neck, her soft hair tickling his lips? "What's going on, Winry? And where's Brother?"

"You really don't remember, do you?" The Winry that Alphonse had known would have been reaching for a wrench by now, determined to pound sense into his head. This Winry simply looked at him sadly. "Do you even know my name?"

Of course I do! Heat rising in his cheeks, he shook his head. "I'm sorry."

She raised her chin. "I'm Katashiki Yoko," she said. "Your Sacrifice. And your wife."

Sacrifice? Then the second thing she had said penetrated his consciousness.

"My wife?" He was married? To Winry? Why was she calling herself Yoko?

What was going on?

He pushed himself up to a sitting position, which made the pounding in his head escalate until it felt like a blacksmith was using his skull for an anvil.

Dark speckles swirled in his field of vision. He tried to draw breath to speak, though he had no idea what to say, and then everything went black.