Author's Notes

I thought I'd finally get around to starting a multi-chaptered Fullmetal Alchemist fic, seeing as my usual Digimon fics have me a little dampened lately. But it's my first one, so hopefully I've got the technicalities and the characters correct.

Just a brief technical note, for senses drowning, it is first taste, then feeling, then smelling, then seeing, then finally hearing. It's rather fascinating when one things about it; he could have heard the gunshot but not felt it, or the pain…

Okay, Edward is eighteen. Alfons is seventeen. I actually didn't know that. Thanks Bob'sCookie.

Enjoy, and please tell me what you think. I know it's not much yet, but I can pretty safely promise it'll get better.

In the Midst of a Dream World

Alfons Heiderich is shot in Munich. When he wakes up in the middle of what looks like a war, the first thing he thinks is that he's failed. In fact, that's the second thing he thinks too. Post CoS/Slightly AU on tech.

Alfons H & Roy M

Prologue

When he lowered the final leaver, there was a final sense of accomplishment. He was somewhat sad to see Edward go, but it was a different sort of sadness than that he had struggled with for the years the other had spent with him. He was sure that Edward understood, that somewhere in his heart he had, perhaps, always understood that they, and their entire world, was more than just a dream he was living through. The distance he put between himself and others sometimes suggested otherwise. It could have been a defence mechanism though. What didn't touch your heart couldn't hurt it.

In some ways he, Alfons, understood as well. He had never really believed the other's stories about the "other side" as he called it, until he saw inexplicable proof, the massive hole opening up above them…but it didn't really matter whether he believed it or not. Germany was his home, and he was going to die in Germany, succumbing to the sickness that had been born and bred from his love for rockets and science; the fumes the fuels exhibited coupled with the pollution of the age had taken its toll on his lungs. Or so he had thought ever since the Doctor had dropped the bombshell. There had been no avoiding it, no letting it stew in fresh air and wild expanse. Not in the condition Germany was in. He could have left, but he made his choice by staying put and chasing the scientific dream that had finally come to life. He hadn't really cared what was out there in the galaxy. That was Edward's fascination. He just wanted to realise his dream and prove his country's scientific worth. He just wanted to build rockets.

Speaking of, the eighteen year old was pounding on the windows even as the rocket began to rise. Luckily, they'd taken the force of the aircraft, wind-power and atmospheric pressure into account and ordered the glass accordingly. Whatever he was screaming, the other couldn't make it out over the roar of the engine and the machinery surrounding them.

Far above, there was a glimmer of yellow light. More than a glimmer actually; from his view it looked like a perfect square, shimmering and shining like the sun. It reminded him of the story of Icarus, and the moral it taught. How those who got too close to the sun got burnt.

Somehow, he didn't think that would stop Edward. Edward, who in his manner and the trouble he managed to attract, resembled the personification of that giant ball of flame. But it wasn't as intense. Unlike the sun which caused his eyes to water and blur if he stared too long at it, the yellow square, the Gate Edward had always talked about, ticked at the edge of his peripheral vision as Edward and the one-seater rocket he was seated in became just that little bit smaller.

He would be able to watch both their dreams be fulfilled. Edward return home, to his brother, and him the rocket he had always wanted to build and watch in action…

His hearing drowned. His vision blurred. It suddenly felt like something punched through his chest, but he was still staring upwards, at Edward, who had become one of his closest friends despite all that had stood between them, and at the yellow, no, golden hue that he was heading towards as the rocket picked up enough speed to punch through the pressure barrier. The smile seemed permanently edged on his face as the rocket disappeared into a blur of gentle gold, a melting medal more than a moulting flame. It drowned out everything, so he didn't notice the hole through his heart, or the said organ thumping frantically to make up for the gap in its function and failing. He didn't notice the blood seeping out and staining his shirt. And even if he had, it was highly unlikely he would have cared all too much. After all, he had been dying anyway. Slowly. Painfully. Better for it to be quick and painless.

He realised that much, in a brief moment of clarity that punched through the yellow haze. He had heard the gun go off. He had heard the shout.

But he didn't feel himself fall backwards. The golden blanket still consumed his vision. It seemed to almost bathe him in its brilliance; it was certainly expanding, coming closer to him…

As the yellow started to fade into white, he could swear he saw someone smiling at him. Or maybe it was his own smile being reflected. The smile of a dying man who had hit his prime and then toppled straight off the mountain peak.

It was almost like falling asleep after a hard day's work.