Hi all! Surprisingly enough, I haven't fallen off the face of the planet! This seems to happen a lot, though, doesn't it – I start working on something that seems really fun, and then completely lose interest in it for a while. You can be sure I'll be sticking with this one, though (and that's not just an empty promise… I'm too busy right now to come up with a lot of new ideas). Anyway, this was originally posted in the "miscellaneous" section, but it really belongs over here (contrary to what you may think by the end of this chapter).
This story was inspired by a picture drawn by a good friend of mine from school. I suppose I should attribute the idea to her… and by the way, I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or Detective Conan.
This story takes place after the end of the FMA series, instead of its movie (I have seen the movie, and I know this conflicts with it).
On with the show!
Chapter 1: Where to Fall From
Edward looked down at the papers in front of him. The plans were perfect, and now he just needed to find a place to carry them out. After two years of hard work and complicated calculations, he decided it was finally time to test his theories. The only problem was that there was nowhere close by that he could use to set up the apparatus. He turned around in his chair and looked for something that might tell him where a good place would be. His eyes fell on a stack of periodicals sitting in the corner of the room. He rolled the chair over, pulled the top newspaper off of the pile, and started reading.
Half way through the fourth newspaper, he found a story. It was common at the time for newspapers to include works of fiction in their publications, since it allowed for greater exposure for the authors. Normally, Ed would have just skipped over it and gone on to the next thing, but he decided that it might provide a welcome, although short, break from the task at hand. "The Final Problem, by Arthur Conan Doyle…" he mumbled. As he scanned the pages, his patience waned. 'This detective character sure thinks a lot of himself,' he thought. He found one line to be of particular interest, though – if Mr Sherlock Holmes were assured of Professor Moriarty's death, he would have cheerfully accepted his own. (1) It was as if Holmes knew what would happen, simply from meeting the other man.
"Well, that was depressing," he blurted out at the conclusion of the short story. "That waterfall gave me a good idea, though. If I can't get off the ground just by the power of my machine, I still have another way to do it." He smiled. "I can just drive over the top of some high place, and let physics take over."
Now he dug through the stack with a more refined purpose; anything even remotely similar to what he had read about in the story would work. After a little while longer, he found an article about Reichenbach Falls, and his eyes widened. "You mean to tell me this is a real place?" He read the full article, and discovered that the Falls were in fact a real place… in Switzerland. He considered the possibility. "That story seemed pretty ominous, but then again, I've never been one to back down from a challenge, and this is no time to start!" He looked up at the ceiling and smiled. "Al, I think I've finally found it. I'm coming home."
Hoenheim approached his son as the younger man finished loading up the cart. "If I don't come back, you'll know that I made it away from this world," Edward said without looking up from his checklist.
"Where are you going to do it?"
"That information is classified, on a need-to-know basis," he replied with a smirk. He finished re-checking his supplies, and moved toward the cab of the motorcar. The older man attempted to intercept him.
"I have a right to know, I'm your father!"
"Oh, really? I have no father… unless maybe we count Colonel Mustang, and I'd give my wisdom teeth before admitting that. The man who provided half of my genes disappeared when I was little. He didn't even show up for my mother's funeral. Tell me, dad, how was your relationship with your father?" When the other man couldn't provide an answer, Ed pulled the door shut and started the motor.
'In all this time, I thought he would have gotten over it…' Hoenheim thought. 'Well, I suppose I can't exercise any form of control over him… and life is still about learning from mistakes.' He was startled when the other man started speaking again.
"Well, I'm off."
"Don't forget to concentrate as hard as you can on the Gate."
"I know, I know! I've gone over the procedure several times, it has to work!"
"Good luck," Hoenheim muttered solemnly as his son drove away.
Edward gulped as he looked over the edge of the Reichenbach waterfall. "Heh, long way down…" He turned back to the motorcar and began to unload and assemble the trailer's precious cargo. It was so late when he finally finished putting all the parts together, that he decided it would be better to wait until morning before proceeding with his plan. He built a fire to cook his dinner and looked over his notes again before falling asleep.
Several hours later, the sun started to peek above the horizon, throwing bursts of color onto the few fluffy cumulus clouds hovering in the sky. Ed rubbed his eyes and sat up when the gold-colored sphere was high enough to shine on his face. After a quick breakfast, he pushed the prepared vehicle as far away from the waterfall as he could get – almost to the tree line. He clambered into the cockpit and pulled a box of matches from his pocket.
He looked out over the wings of his craft. At the tip of each one was drawn a circle with many lines inscribed in it. Had anyone else seen them, they might have thought he was trying to perform some kind of witchcraft. He wasn't using the transmutation circles to transform something, though – they were meant as a way to help him reach the Gate. His alchemic ability had waned to about nil since the last time he'd passed through it, and he figured he could use all the help he could get.
Before he had a chance to turn back, he lit a match. If his calculations were correct, the power from the explosion would be able to propel him forward fast enough to get some lift under the wings. The flame from the match made contact with the fuse from the explosives. He barely had enough time to turn back around before the entire apparatus lurched forward. The wheels bounced on the ground a few times, and the wings only caught some lift just as the machine reached the edge of the waterfall.
Ed found it difficult to control his vehicle and concentrate on the Gate at the same time. He pulled the joystick to try to make it go higher, but his fuel had burned off so quickly that his efforts were to no avail. He started to panic as the machine started falling with him still in it.
Suddenly, the transmutation circles began to glow. Even though he was concentrating more on getting back in control, he knew something had happened when the Gate began to materialize in front of him. The machine suddenly vanished out of under him and he tumbled across a stark white floor as he tried to regain control of his body. He stood up slowly and tried to push the Gate open, but the doors would not budge.
"What do you want this time," he asked, still amazed that it even showed up for him in the first place. When he didn't receive an answer, he turned back around and prepared to accept his fate, even if it was a bloody death at the bottom of the waterfall. However, just because he didn't hear the answer didn't mean that there wasn't one. He fell with a thud onto a patch of grass, and lay there unconscious.
When Ed finally woke, he sat up with a dazed expression and rubbed the back of his head. "I'm still alive?" He looked at his surroundings.
He could tell that he was in a park, because there were grass and trees and flowers, and he could see some buildings off in the distance. It certainly wasn't the world he had come from, though, and it didn't look like anything he remembered from his home world either.
He looked down at his hands. He still had the broken metal right arm, and could feel that he still had the metal left leg. His eyes widened when he noticed what he was wearing – he had on his black pants and the shirt with the clasp at the collar, and his red coat!
'Well, apparently I got my old clothes back,' he thought, looking around again. "But where the hell am I?"
End Chapter 1
(1): paraphrased from Holmes' conversation with Moriarty in Conan Doyle's story "The Final Problem"