Hello, Everybody! This story idea has been in my head for a while, so I'm finally glad to start posting chapters. Unlike my other FMA fic, this one is set in the Brotherhood universe, though the idea that the Gate can lead to separate worlds still applies.

Devon, Southwest England: October 13, 1997

"Some friends I have!" Ron Weasley grumbled as he made his way through the densely-vegetated forest.

The rain was coming down hard. It caused his bangs to cling to his forehead, blocking his vision. Ron had given up pushing them out of the way at this point, knowing that within a few seconds he'd have to do the same thing over again.

"So, Ronald," the teenager muttered, "What are you going to do now? Can't exactly apparate in this condition and the closest settlements are miles away. Damn it, why didn't you think this out further?"

It took a few more minutes of talking to himself before he reached his reluctant conclusion: he was spending the night in the rainy woods. With some wandwork at least he was able to create a makeshift shelter that actually didn't collapse on the third try. Sighing and gripping his aching arm, Ron took refuge underneath his little canopy.

What was he going to do now? There was no way he could return to his friends after his outburst, even if he was sorry—which he wasn't, because he had simply stated what he and Hermione had been thinking to themselves the entire time. Ron didn't regret his actions, not in the least. Was it his fault that he was a bit disappointed by their complete and total lack of progress? That the only thing they had even remotely resembling a plan was to collect horcruxes? That they were just chasing one dead end after another? It was useless. Why couldn't the others see that?

Ron glanced up at his rather pitiful canopy. He would need a more permanent place of residence. He supposed he could seek refuge at Bill and Fleur's house in Tinworth. Ron wasn't really in the mood to go back to the Burrow and face his family. He'd think more about it in the morning.

Ron paused his mental rant when he heard a rustling in the bushes behind him.

"Lumos," he whispered, pointing his wand at the brush. "Who's there? Harry? Hermione? You better not have followed me. I said I wanted to be alone!" There was no response. Ron's heart rate began to accelerate. "Who are you?" he shouted again in his most threatening voice. "I-I'm warning you! Stay away!" To the readhead's surprise, the rustling ceased and the woods were silent once again.

The night was long and, much to Ron's annoyance, the rain stubbornly refused to light up. He didn't so much sleep as he did slip in and out of consciousness periodically. Still, he refused to turn back. He had a made a decision and he was going to stick with it. And no, the irony of that statement was not lost on him.

The bushes would rustle periodically from what Ron assumed was some animal scurrying around. Damn, he was starting to get really hungry. Maybe he could hunt down whatever was rustling was and make some dinner. No…no that wouldn't work. His wand work wasn't precise enough to catch anything so small and quick, and there was no way he could hunt with just one hand. Besides, he couldn't really see himself cooking up some wild hare's body to eat, no matter how starving he was.

Sighing, he reached into his bag. There were a few stale cauldron cakes at the bottom, which Ron supposed was better than nothing. Trying not to grimace, he bit into the hard pastry and chewed. Ugh. The thing tasted older than his Aunt Muriel. Who knew how long it had been lying there? Ron gagged and coughed.

A little gasp came from the bushes. "Are you okay?" It was the voice of a small child.

With his sympathetic nervous system on full alert, Ron shakily got to his to his feet and drew his wand. "Who said that? Where are you hiding?"

"Over here. You can put the stick down, I'll come out." Stick? Ron raised an eyebrow, but lowered his wand. "Please don't be scared."

Why would he be—WHAT THE HELL?! A giant suit of armor stepped out from behind a tree. It had been so dark that Ron had assumed the figure was just part of the trunk. The thing was enormous! Not quite Hagrid's height, but still a good seven feet at least.

Ron was unable to hide the high-pitched shriek that escaped from his mouth.

The armored man giggled. "Sorry about that. I didn't mean to startle you. I just saw you coughing and thought…"

"How long have you been watching me?"

"A while," the man (boy?) sounded embarrassed. "How did you make the fort? I've never seen alchemy like that before." Alchemy? The word sounded vaguely familiar to Ron, like something he should have been paying attention to in a lesson. "Anyway, I'm Alphonse Elric. What's your name?"

Ron supposed it was possible that the armored boy was employed by You-Know-Who. Merlin, how young were the Death Eaters recruiting kids these days? The boy didn't sound older than twelve, though his height certainly implied otherwise. And where was his wand? Ron looked over the figure to make sure that he hadn't missed it before but it seemed that the armor held no weapons on his body at all. What kind of idiot would forget his…? Then it made sense: the boy was a muggle. That would explain why he didn't recognize what Ron was doing before.

"What's your name?" Alphonse repeated.

In a rare moment of caution, Ron decided not to use his real name. Even if the boy wasn't with You-Know-Who, he would be in real danger if the Death Eaters knew he'd been hanging out with a Ron Weasley. "My name is Jack…Jackson." Damn his lack of creativity!

Alphonse seemed unperturbed. "Oh. Nice to meet you, Jack!" the enthusiasm in the child's voice was almost contagious, though it died down significantly with the next sentence. "Um…could you by any chance tell me where we are?"

What an odd question. "We're in Devon. Near Cornwall, I think."

"And where is that in relation to Central?" Ron thought he detected a hint of nervousness in Alphonse's voice.

"Central what?" Ron asked dumbly. "We're in the Southwest of the country."

"…So we're near Creta and Aerugo?"

Ron shook his head. It was like the boy was speaking a different language entirely. Was he using muggle terms that he was unfamiliar with? The redhead shrugged. "Sorry, mate. I've never heard of either of those places before."

"Oh." The armor seemed to slouch in disappointment. "That's so strange. The last thing I remember, I was…oh no. Briggs! The snowstorm! I have to warn the others!"

"Riiight." Ron was beyond lost at this point. "Um, Alphonse, how old are you exactly?"

"Fourteen. Why?"

"Damn, you're tall. Never mind. You said fourteen? Where are your parents, then?"

There was a long pause before Alphonse answered. "My mom is dead. My dad left us when I was little."

Oops. "I'm sorry," he said, sounding genuinely apologetic. Alphonse nodded in acknowledgment and Ron awkwardly continued because he was sure this kid must have some sort of guardian to return to. "Who do you live with, then?"

"My brother, Ed. He's a year older than me."

Was this standard practice for muggles? To leave children in charge of other children if their parents were killed? That sounded like a terrible idea. Ron couldn't imagine ever becoming Ginny's guardian. Actually, he could imagine it in several different scenarios. All of them ended in explosions.

"'Ey you!" someone called out in a strong cockney accent. A figure with long, straggly hair stepped out of the bushes. His robes were probably once glamorous, but now they looked so worn that Ron doubted that even his mum's best hand-me-down laundry charms would have much of an effect on them. "Yeah, you, with the red 'air. Drop yer wand. Same goes for you, Mr. Armor."

Alphonse let out a little squeak of surprise. "But…but I don't have a…"

"Not cooperatin', eh? Well, boys, I fink we're gonna 'avta teach these blokes a lesson." Two more men stepped out from the bushes.

"Who are they?" Alphonse whispered.

"Snatchers."

Ron was beginning to panic once again. He was confident that even with his arm in a sling, he could fight off one snatcher. But three? There was no way in hell he could take them all down.

Ron turned to Alphonse. The poor kid didn't even have a wand to defend himself and he imagined that it couldn't be very easy to make quick movements while stuck in that suit. Ron was basically screwed, but Alphonse had no chance. Besides, if the snatchers got him, there was a possibility—however slim—that he could talk his way into freedom. Alphonse, on the other hand…Ron didn't even want to think about what they would do to the kid. He made a split second decision right there and then.

"Run away," Ron hissed. "I'll deal with them."

"But—"

"Just go." Ron charged the snatchers.

Jets of light flew out in all directions. Ron was still a good three yards away from them when a stupefy spell knocked him off his feet. This was followed by a sharp expelliarmus that left him wandless. The snatchers surrounded him. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Since Ron was now unarmed, they no longer saw him as an immediate threat and were able to take their sweet time closing in. Their leader reached him first and decided to amuse himself by twisting Ron's injured arm out of its sling. The others soon joined in and took turns twisting it until a distinct popping sound was heard. Ron screamed.

The next few seconds were a blur. And then suddenly, the three fiends were running away in terror while Alphonse helped Ron to his feet. Why had he come back? And more importantly, did that kid just scare off three snatchers without so much as a wand? Ron wasn't sure if he was more impressed or humiliated by the boy's actions.

"Is this yours?" Alphonse handed Ron the stick of cherry wood. He accepted without comment, still feeling pretty shaken up. That had been close. Too close. With his arm in its stupid sling, Ron was basically helpless. Maybe he shouldn't have left the others so quickly…

Alphonse, meanwhile, was hovering over him like an overprotective parent. "How's your arm?" the boy asked.

Ron grunted, unable to conjure the energy to speak.

Picking up on this, Alphonse led him over to a tree to lean against. A few seconds later, Ron was nearly unconscious.

He was pulled out of his stupor when Alphonse spoke. "Um…Mr. Jackson?"

Who? Oh yeah. That was him. "Mmm?"

"I don't want to bother you or anything, but…" Alphonse shifted the weight on his feet. "When you're feeling up to it, would you mind taking me to the nearest phone line? Or even just the edge of town. I can probably find a phone line on my own."

"Phone? You mean, like, a telephone?"

Ron got the feeling that Alphonse was giving in him a well, duh look under his helmet.

"I guess," he agreed. "Once I'm rested up and stuff. But the closest town's at least four miles away. Will you be able to drag that armor with you the whole way?"

"Don't worry about me. I'll be fine." Ron thought he detected a hint of bitterness in the boy's voice. Oh well, not his problem. When morning came, he'd be able to return Alphonse to wherever he came from and then he'd be his brother's (what was his name? Ned?) responsibility.

Now he just had to make it through the night without screwing things up.

"Hey, Jack," Alphonse asked. "What was it you and those people were doing before? You know, with the sticks they called wands."

Damn it.

A bit of a slow beginning, but I promise it gets better.

Reviews are always welcome. I would love to know what people think of this.