The Fall – Chapter One

Again with the late night inspirations. This is my rewrite of Found, Helpless, though the plot has been almost completely changed.

Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist doesn't belong to me.

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-[ Tenacity ]-

We can do some wrecking here

'Til a little color comes into your face

We can do some wrecking here

And find something to love

In this broken place, this broken place

That day had been miserable, Ed decided, as he crouched over his meager dinner of table scraps. He padded around the food carefully, inspecting it from every angle before leaning in to sniff it.

His feline tail twitched upwards as he smelled no poison or rot on the potential food. His stomach growled, voicing it's complaints about his recent meal schedule.

"Yeah, yeah, shut up. That restaurant that had the tasty Xingese chicken started closing their dumpsters last week, I'm workin' with what I got here." He said.

Though he might have been concerned about being heard talking to his stomach when things were normal, he currently had no qualms about it now.

After all, even if anyone were to hear him, all they would find was a small, gold and black cat, communicating his sorrows in quiet meows.

It was damn embarrassing, being a cat.

He settled down to scarf down the soggy bread crust and beef scraps in front of him, making sure that he was hidden in the shadow of a trash bin. He had checked the alley earlier for any other cats, but found it devoid of any life, and thus, safe to eat in.

It would have been a tremendous pain to carry the sorry excuse for food a couple blocks in the drizzle of a rainstorm, trying to go unnoticed by other hungry cats in the area, made especially hard by his obvious limp.

He swallowed the first bite of bread, gagging at the feel of it sliding down his throat. But hey, it would have to do.

He finished the rest of the crust quickly, looking forward to the couple slivers of beef he had managed to find. The fact that the meal existed was a miracle in itself. Someone had unwittingly thrown away broken chopsticks with their food scraps, resulting in a broken bag (if you think it's easy to tear garbage bags with your claws, you are terribly mistaken). Combine that with a lucky raccoon tipping over the trash can, and you've got yourself a food source. If Ed's reach had just gone a little farther, he would've snagged a larger hunk of meat, but the scraps would have to do for now.

He bit into the first, savoring the rich, if cold, flavors in the beef.

He hadn't gotten more than a few bites before he heard a noise further down the alley. He jumped, slamming his hind left leg into the tipped bin, the deafening bang echoing in the crowded little alley.

He gasped as an amplified jolt of pain shot through the limb he wasn't used to having, making him collapse to the ground with a small whimper.

Ed heard pawsteps from further down the alley as he tried to pull his quaking legs underneath him. A familiar ache was starting in his limbs, he knew he had to finish this quickly.

A large cat was standing above him, blue eyes glaring for all they were worth. He glared back, finally regaining his balance.

"What're you doing in my alley?" her meows were feminine, but had a rough edge to them, as if they were constantly overused.

Ed kept his mouth shut, trying to hold back the snarky comment that would come out if he tried to speak. The cat glanced at the unfinished scraps of meat.

"Stealing food, huh? Is that how low you tomcats will fall these days?"

His claws slid out, kneading the pavement in irritation.

"Then again, I doubt you could do anything anyways, what with how tinyyou are."

He snapped.

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SMALL HE'D BE MORE SUITED TO BE AN UNDERDEVELOPED BACTERIA?!" He screeched.

Before he knew it, his claws were in her back and two paws were sending painful jolts of sensory information to his unprepared brain.

She threw him off easily, slamming him into the wet pavement and out of the shelter of the building.

He bared his teeth and lunged for her exposed neck, trying to get her to back up more than anything. She reared back, letting him slither out from underneath her. They both circled, hissing wordless threats back and forth, but neither making the first move.

A painful spasm ran through Ed's leg as he leapt for her. He winced, falling short and slipping on the wet pavement. A pained groan escaped him as he struggled to his feet.

He was interrupted by the claws digging into his side, pulling him back to the ground. His shoulder landed hard on the pavement, making him gag from the intensified agony.

"This is what you get for breaking the rules, shrimp." she hissed, diving for his throat.

Suddenly, his world went blindingly white, and the sound of screeching tires filled his ears. The she-cat disappeared, but he couldn't get up.

Something shoved him to the side, and the car disappeared in to the streets.

He cracked an eye open to see the blurry outlines of two cats standing above him, arguing.

"That was dangerous, you know you're not supposed to risk yourself like that!"

"But Brother-!"

Alphonse...?

A stream of hot, sticky blood pooled on the pavement, and black consumed his vision.

It wasn't the terrible aching that woke him. No, it wasn't that at all. Though, he realized later, it had definitely become much more noticeable than before.

It was the prodding finger digging into his side.

He twitched, disrupting the many papers strewn across the small desk and sending his pen over the edge.

"Brother? ...Brother!" Alphonse's concerned voice broke into his drowsy mind.

Wait... Alphonse?

"Whazzit...?" he asked, voice slurred with sleep. There was a weird taste in his mouth, but he couldn't quite place it.

"I couldn't get you to wake up at first, I was worried that... Never mind," Alphonse answered, looking down at his still half-asleep brother.

"Dammit Al, 'm gonna have a bruise..." Ed grumbled, shifting slightly and bending the page his cheek was resting on. He half-heartedly brought his left hand down to rub at his sore side.

"Brother, if you're gonna sleep, you should at least move to your bed. Slumping like that's bad for your back."

"Shuddup Al, 'm not an old man-" he broke off with a yawn, finally pulling his head off of the thick tome he was using as a pillow and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Good, you're awake." Al sighed, "I'm going to the store, you're running out of food."

Ed sat there for a minute or two, not really comprehending anything other than that one spot on the wall his blurry eyes were pointed towards.

"But we're leaving on a mission tomorrow..." Ed protested, forgetting that Al had already left.

"Damn it..." he rubbed his eyes again, almost poking one out with his automail.

Right, automail. He had automail.

"Why am I so tired...?" Ed mumbled, standing up with minimal help from the chair.

How long had he slept?

He tried to pull up his most recent memories, but only found some bizarre glimpses of life from the view of an alley cat, of all things. A dream maybe?

He coughed lightly, trying to relieve the itching feeling in his throat.

At least it hadn't been a nightmare.

A shiver ran through his small frame, strengthening the ache in his chest. He glanced at the windows, finding them all shut tightly against the cool fall air. He shivered again, realizing that he wasn't wearing his normal black jacket. His hands hit the back of his chair, searching for the missing item of clothing.

When he felt fabric under his fingers, he pulled it around his shoulders, holding it closed around his chest with a shaking fist. As it fell around him, he found it to be his red traveling cloak.

...That would work too.

His thoughts felt like they were moving at a snail's pace as he considered what exactly he should do.

He ran through his options twice before stumbling towards the tiny bathroom, tracing his hand along the wall as he went.

Gripping the edge of the sink, he bent over it, panting.

Slowly, he turned on the cold water and splashed it onto his face, letting it run down his neck and onto the collar of his shirt.

He looked up at the mirror.

The cloak fell off his shoulders as he flinched away from the glass.

His face was pale, accenting the dark bags hanging under his eyes. His lips were chapped and dry, bits of dead skin hanging off. Mussed, greasy hair framed his face, and sweat dripped down his neck.

"Wh-what...?"

His voice came out raspy, and tickled his throat in the worst way possible, sending him into a coughing fit.

One hand was covering his mouth, the other was clutching at his chest, trying to ward off the unbearable pressure as he doubled over.

His throat spasmed, and stomach acid escaped into his waiting hand.

His eyes were fixated on the floor as a small amount of the warm liquid dripped from between his fingers.

The only sound was the still running water.

Edward shoved his hand under the cold stream, jolted awake.

Shaking with cold, he washed his mouth out and turned off the tap water. His wide eyes raked over the entirety of the bathroom, making sure that everything was hidden.

Alphonse couldn't know.

There, a spot on the floor.

Paper towels were in the kitchen, he remembered. He took off at a run.

Dizziness overtook him, and his left shoulder slammed into the wall.

No, Alphonse...!

His fingernails scratched at the wall as he grasped at the last threads of consciousness.