Same Souls, Different Souls

By Fae Elric, the Steel Alchemist

A/N: Oh, my God, the summary sucks! This idea was inspired by a thought I had after hearing about what Lina of BlackMercifulFaerie and her sister said while watching Narnia one day. (Everyone smile and wave at Lina! Quack, damn you! XP) I can't tell you much more than that, seeing as how it would give away too much at this point… (grins cheekily) Nyah nyah!

Disclaimer: If I'm lying, I'm dying, people, and I'm still here so I must be telling the truth when I say that I don't own any of this! (Except for the story itself.)


The Gate of Truth, in all its terrible power and elegance, loomed before him. The "him" in question was a blonde eleven-year-old boy who was rather short for his age. Normally such comments would bother this blonde wunderkind.

But not on this night.

This was the night Edward and Alphonse Elric had planned for nearly a year and a half. This was the night when wrongs would be undone, the forbidden would be committed, the dead would become living.

Their plan failed.

The equation was perfect; the array had been painstakingly drawn over a period of two days. It was they who made the mistake. They had offered nothing to sacrifice. There was nothing to trade their mother's soul for.

And humankind cannot gain anything without first giving something in return.

The doors of the Gate flung themselves open. Little black hands made of shadow reached out to grab him. He could feel them on his skin, whisper-soft and cold as ice-- but then he felt them slide into him. He gasped as the shadow-hands clutched at his center, ripping the soul from his body like the vicious talons of a raptor tearing its prey in two.

When he next opened his eyes, he knew, he felt, that something was off. This room, the one that was familiar but not familiar, was not his room. The bed he lay in was not his bed. These clothes were not his.

Slowly, he pushed back the quilt that covered him and padded over to the window. He saw his reflection.

Or rather, the reflection that was his but not his.

Edward knew that this could not be his body. This boy-- whoever he was-- had not golden hair, but dark brown hair that was currently mussed from sleep. His eyes were a deep chocolate color, not aureate. This was not Edward. It couldn't be.

But it was. Edward lifted his right hand and saw the reflection do the same.

This isn't happening, Edward told himself. It can't be.

Hey! What's going on here! A fearful voice cut like a razor into his thoughts.

Even at such a young age, it didn't take Edward long to figure out that his soul had, somehow, invaded someone else's body and that this voice belonged to the soul whose body this really was.

I wish I could tell you, Edward said to the rightful owner of the body. I don't really want to be here, either.

Then leave! The boy's voice, tinged with an accent that Edward had difficulty placing, couldn't have been much younger than his own. Edward judged it to be about two or three years younger. Despite his attempts to sound brave, the boy's voice was obviously laced with terror.

Edward sighed. I don't know how. I don't even know if I can go back.

The voice was silent. Then, hesitantly, Who are you?

My name is Edward Elric, he said. I'm from Resembool.


Yeah. It's a small village in the Eastern region of Amestris.

There isn't any place called Amestris, the boy said. Where are you really from?

Hey, I answered your question, now you answer mine: who are you?

The boy, who did seem awfully accepting of another soul inhabiting his body despite being completely terrified, said, I'm Edmund Pevensie. I live here in Finchley with my family.

There was something about hearing the boy say his own name that made Edward visualize a younger boy, the same boy whose body his soul now inhabited, playing in a backyard somewhere with another boy and a girl, both older than him. While the older boy sported a head of strawberry-blonde, the girl was a brunette like Edmund. Names came unconsciously to Edward's mind: Peter and Susan. A toddler waddled out into the backyard with a huge smile plastered onto her face. Another name: Lucy. A man and a woman, undoubtedly Edmund's parents, walked out after Lucy into the sunshine. Lucy padded over to Edmund and held out her arms, signaling that she wanted to be picked up; Edmund happily did so while beaming widely. Their father put his arm around their mother's shoulder as they watched all four children playing together. You didn't even have to be there to know that these children had a good life. They lived in a nice home, didn't want for anything.

You didn't have to be there to know that these children were loved.

And Edward couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy for it. His own father had abandoned them, leaving behind a loving wife who died of a broken heart.

Hohenheim had left behind two sons: one who was too small to understand what had happened… and one who had loved him more than anything in this world.

"Ed?" Edward jumped at the voice that came from behind him. He turned to see Edmund's older brother, Peter (who now looked to be about twelve or thirteen), sitting up in his bed and rubbing his eyes sleepily. Edward panicked for a moment, thinking that Peter somehow knew of his invasion of Edmund's body. But he had panicked too soon, for Peter then asked, "Are you all right, Edmund?"

Edward heaved an internal sigh of relief before answering, "Yeah, I'm fine. I couldn't sleep, is all." He thought it strange to speak and hear another's voice. At his reassurance Peter laid back down to go back to sleep.

Edward turned his attention back to Edmund. Look, I don't know why, but my soul was drawn towards your body. I'm thinking that we--

But he was never able to finish that thought, because the Gate was already pulling him back to his own world. He passed through the Gate once more, looking upon its horrible and beautiful form before opening his eyes and seeing a thick cloud of smoke in the middle of the small basement. He felt a pain worse than any other he had ever experienced before. Edward bit back a scream of agony when he realized that his left leg was gone and that Alphonse, his only family left, had been taken from him.

He lifted his gaze hopefully to the clearing smoke. If his mother was there, then maybe everything would be all right--

It wasn't human. It hadn't worked.

They had failed.

This time, Edward really did scream.


Edmund Pevensie woke the next morning with a slight ache in the middle of his chest. He remembered bits and pieces of the strangest dream: he had been sleeping when, all of a sudden, he felt him be pushed to the side of his own mind. He had heard another voice speak to him from inside of himself. Someone named Edward…

He yawned and stretched his arms behind his head before ambling sleepily into the kitchen, where he knew his mother, father, Peter, and Susan would be.


A/N: So… can anyone tell me (besides you, Lina) what exactly Edward and Edmund's "special connection" is? I know you guys are really smart! Come on, just humor me and guess!