UNEXPECTED

CHAPTER 2

"Alphonse?"

My eyes slid open slowly, only to instantly snap shut as the bright overhead light caused a stab of pain in my nasal cavity all the way to the base of my spine. I sluggishly brought my arm up to block it out and groaned. My voice rasped pathetically in the room, throat torn open from my screams. I must have blacked out from the shock. Dimly, I noticed I was dry and comfortable save for the pain in my throat and head. Whoever was talking to me now must have pulled me out of the rain. 

For one quiet moment, I allowed myself to deny what I knew to be true, to imagine I was waking up by my lover's side. As he would every morning we woke together, he would gently rub my swollen belly in an achingly sweet fascination that only children and men were capable of and then caress my hair. He would gently kiss my forehead before getting up to shower as I pretended I was still asleep. I would bask in the early morning glow of dawn, not willing to wake just yet. I would smell our scent on the covers that I threw over my head, the familiar scent of home.

But reality was a harsh mistress. What I smelled was not the comfort of home, but the pungent scents of motor oil, metal and antiseptic. I lied not on my soft bed, but a hard cot. It was not the gentle voice of my beloved calling for me to wake, but the rasp of an old crone. 

And I knew without a doubt that if I placed my hand on my stomach, as I had every day for the past five months, I would only feel the flat plane of one who is empty.

Agony washed through me anew. How could this happen? How could I have lost my baby without noticing? It wasn't possible to have a miscarriage without noticing, that was just insane! Was it possible that I had just lost my memories? That was just too far fetched. 

My hand twitched in remembrance of what I felt, what I was feeling. Empty. Tears slipped from underneath my arm and down my face.

"Alphonse!" The raspy voice I heard from earlier called loudly next to me, but I didn’t acknowledge her. "Al, can you hear me? Are you in pain?" I wish this old woman would just go away, couldn't she tell I was grieving? "Alphonse!" Why did this stupid old woman keep calling me that?

Finally, resigned that she would not shut up and leave me to my misery I grunted a response, irritating my injured voice. "That's not my name," I said roughly.

There was a startled gasp and the woman finally, blessedly fell silent. For one hopeful moment I thought she would leave me alone. But alas. "If that's not your name, then what is?"

I pulled my arm from my face, blinked rapidly until my vision cleared of tears and the harsh light, and regarded the woman beside me. She was small, almost ridiculously so, only reaching just above the cot. Her thin lips were pulled back in a tight line and her eyes were wide open in shock behind round spectacles. Hysteria bubbled up in my throat, but I held it back with some effort. I was talking to a midget. Could this day possible get any weirder?

Belatedly I realized the woman had asked a question. "Alexandria," I muttered. I wondered idly if I was hysterical, since no matter how I cleared my throat, it still came out high pitched and breathy. "Are you a doctor?" I continued with some effort. "I feel disoriented. I think I may have a concussion."

For a moment the woman didn’t respond, only continued to stare into my eyes as if I were the strangest thing she had ever seen. Irritation spiked in me again. Was this woman deaf?

Eventually, she answered. "You could say I'm a doctor." She walked to the other side of the room as I struggled to track her movements, body still heavy as lead. Deftly, she dodged around various workbenches covered with wrenches, screwdrivers and other tools and parts of some metal contraptions I couldn’t name. And yet, this seemed out of place as the rest of the room held equipment that could only be medical in nature; some sort of heart monitor, an IV, and–I shuddered–scalpels and tools designed to cut into and stitch together flesh, tucked away and gleaming against the far wall on a rolling table, ready for use. The whole vibe held an unsettling mixture between a hospital and a car garage...I could only dimly hope that none of that would be used on me. But honestly, I couldn’t quite bring myself to care, the irrational but inevitable feeling of failure heavy on my shoulders...

The woman's return to my side pulled me out of my unsettled observations and when I met her eyes again I couldn't help but notice her slight flinch. That was the second time she reacted this way...was there some grievous wound on my face, or was she merely sensitive to my grief?

"My name is Pinako Rockbell," she introduced herself gently, "I am going to examine your head to see if you have any injuries. Is that alright?" I nodded dully and her small fingers began carding through my hair. She hummed to herself. "I don't feel anything. Do you feel any pain?"

"Feels like I got kicked in the head and then thrown off a moving truck." I mumbled. Pinako nodded to herself and pulled out a small flashlight to check my pupils. While she checked my responses she started asking questions. I remembered this was standard procedure for head injuries and cooperated.

"What is your name?"

"Alexandria Hertze."

"What is today's Date?"

"August nineteenth."

Pinako pressed her lips together. "Where do you live?"

"Las Vegas." The questions were coming faster, and I struggled to keep up as she began looking over my body.

"When is your birthday?"

"October first."

"Are you male or female?"

"Female."

"Do you remember what you were doing before you passed out?"

"I went to bed,” I rasped. “I kissed my boyfriend goodnight and made sure the door was locked. Then I went to sleep. The next thing I know I'm in the middle of a field and I can barely move. I made it to this house nearby and then-then-" I couldn't continue. My hand clenched spasmodically over my flat stomach and a fresh wave of tears fell down my face, a nearly inaudible animalistic sound of pain held back by the lump in my throat.

Pinako immediately looked concerned. "What's the matter? Does your stomach hurt?" I shook my head in the negative and clenched my teeth. 

"No," I ground out, "but it should. I should be in utter agony and bleeding to death. I should feel like someone has gutted me, and my organs are missing. I should because she's not there ."

The old woman looked confused, and began forming the word 'who' on her lips before horrible realization overtook her features. "You were pregnant," she whispered.

Were. As in, past tense, as in, no longer. I was pregnant. And now I'm not. A sob passed my lips and I curled into myself, and heart-breaking shudders went through my frame as I tried without success to hold back my cries. Pinako gently patted my hair as I rode out the waves of my grief. Her touch was entirely unwelcome, but I couldn’t bring myself to pull away.

"Oh boys, what have you done?" And she pulled me close, weathered arms wrapping around my shivering frame as if somehow she could protect me from all around me. And I ached. I ached for my home, for my lover to do the same because only he could ever comfort me for this. But it wasn’t meant to be. I was here in this strange place, and there would be no succor for my grief. 

Eventually my cries subsided into choked gasps, coming to their natural end no matter how I wanted them to continue to relieve this horrible pressure in my chest. Pinako never left my side, although it had to have been at least two hours. The pain in my head had only intensified with my sobs, and I found it hard to concentrate. 

But one question kept pounding through my mind, insistent. "What happened to me?" I whispered, voice nearly gone.

The question was abrupt after hours of crying. Pinako paused in her gentle petting and sighed deeply. She looked over me contemplatively before bending over to dig in a box by her feet. Without looking up she said, "I'm not sure." She stood back up and brought a wet cloth to my face, cool fabric soothing my swollen eyes. "A few days ago, Alphonse Elric and Tyler Crowler, two children who live nearby, came to my door in the middle of the night covered in blood. Tyler had been grievously injured, and Alphonse…I managed to save Tyler's life, but neither of them would speak, other than to say 'I'm sorry'." The old woman shuddered and pulled back once my face was clear, her worry evident. "I went to their house to investigate, and what I found was absolute Hell. There was a huge transmutation circle on the floor of their basement and in its center…I can only surmise that they were trying to bring back their deceased mother, but what they created wasn't human. I buried the poor creature in the back yard."

My muddled mind tried to grasp the old woman’s story, but it seemed such an outlandish tale that I had a hard time arranging the words she spoke into sense. Two kids were trying to bring their mother back to life? Like necromancy? What the heck was a transmutation circle? Out of all that, one thing registered clearly. "Alphonse…you called me that when I first woke up."

Pinako nodded. "You see, from what I can tell, the transmutation went horribly wrong. Somehow, Alphonse was ejected from his body and attached to a suit of armor. I don't know much about alchemy, but I can only assume that was Tyler's doing. I figured his body was destroyed in order to fuel the recreation of Trisha Elric's body but…"

"But?" I intoned dully. Most of this was flying right over my head. I had no idea what she meant by alchemy since all I knew about it was vague references in movies. And how could someone be ejected from his own body? What did all of this have to do with me?

Pinako sighed again, her expression pinched. Slowly she brought out a hand mirror and held it to my face. I stopped breathing. Familiar forest green eyes stared back at me, but that was where the similarities ended. A sad boy with wide eyes and short cropped, bright blond hair gazed dully into the mirror. He couldn't have been more than ten years old, eyes red rimmed from crying and small lips swollen from being bitten down to stifle tears. I blinked, and so did he.

"Is that–" I paused as the boy in the reflection spoke as well. I continued with a feeling of unreality. "Is that me?" I reached for the mirror and Pinako relinquished it gently.

"Yes. Somehow, you have been taken from where you were from and placed into Alphonse's body."

"How is this possible?" I choked out. I sat up slowly and began to really look at myself for the first time, weather no longer clouding my vision. I was small, probably no taller than four and a half feet, if this happened to be an adult sized cot. I ran unfamiliarly calloused hands over my arms, finding them thin and soft, but almost built, as if they had gone through rigorous training or hard labor. I lifted my shirt to regard my flat chest and was startled to find abs where baby fat should have been, if I this body was as young as I thought it was. A flush of panic had me moving in an instant as I stood abruptly and tore off the remainder of my clothes–which I now noticed were a pair of blue pajamas rather than the garment in which I arrived–not even bothering with propriety. And stared. Indeed, where there should have been nothing, there was the p***s of a prepubescent child. With a sick fascination, I poked at it and flinched at the feeling. 

Fairly certain that shock was the only thing keeping me from a hysterical fit, I think, this is so wrong. Disregarding the fact that all of this is absolutely impossible , why am I a prepubescent boy?

I turned to Pinako in confusion. "Ok, assuming I am not hallucinating in the worst way, let's say I believe all of this. If I am in Alphonse's body, then what happened to mine?" A surge of realization made me dizzy. Maybe my body was still alive! And that meant–

I looked at the old woman in desperation. "I don't want to give you false hope," she said slowly,"but there is a possibility that your body is alive out there somewhere without a soul." My heart leapt. "But!" Pinako continued quickly when she saw my expression, "there is no way to tell that. It could very well be that your body has died from the extraction of your conscious self. As far as I know, nothing like this has ever happened."

My heart plummeted at her words and I stared down at the floor. That didn't sound too promising, but at least there was a possibility. "Is there any way to get back to normal?"

Pinako shook her head. "I don't know, but you could start by asking the person who brought you here in the first place. Tyler Crowler."

-o0o-

In the end it was Alphonse I met first.

Pinako left me after helping me redress and settle back into the cot. She explained that she would go and inform the boys what was going on, and that I should wait there while she broke the news. While I waited, I contemplated all I had learned.

A couple of ten year olds, assuming they were the same age as my...borrowed body, tried to use some form of necromancy to bring back their dead mother. The spell, or 'transmutation', went wrong and one was chopped in half and the other was ripped out of his body, and some kind of monster was created. And then, the boy's empty body was filled with a random soul. Me.

Crazy laughter bubbled up into my throat and came out in a strangled whine. This is the most insane, ridiculous, nonsensical thing that has ever happened to me. With despair I could only wonder what had happened to my body. Was I still asleep in my bed? Or did I die when I was brutally ripped out of my reality, causing my unborn child to die as well and my lover to find that his budding family was destroyed in one fell swoop. I could almost convince myself that this was all just some twisted dream, but the pain in my head was real, and the sensations when I touched myself were real. I could only hope that my body had survived and they were able to keep me alive, at least until I could find a way back, or until the baby was born. Yes, as long as little Alyssa was born…

Depressing thoughts continued to swirl around my head until I was abruptly interrupted by loud rattles from the hallway, like harsh clashes of pans hitting the floor. Alarmed, I sat up and jumped from the bed, hastily regaining my tenuous balance. Whatever was coming sounded dangerous, and I wanted to be ready for it.

A second later the door brutally slammed open. I recoiled in shock. There, standing in the doorway was the largest man I had ever seen. He stood at least seven feet tall and wore a fierce medieval suit of armor straight from the concept art of fantasy lore. The light gleamed off of sharp spikes and heartless metal, but what terrified me the most was the glowing red eyes that peered at me with malice, shoulders hunched forward in fury as if ready to charge my so much smaller frame. 

Before me was a demon, and I quailed. My heart leapt to choke me and my muscles seized in terror as the demon paced towards me slowly, metal armor banging on the floor like a peals of thunder to my sensitized hearing. Was this what it was like to be stalked by a monster? Was I going to die? A leather hand reached towards me and I flinched badly with a startled cry and pressed against the wall.

"What is going on?" A timid voice identical to what I was starting to recognize as my own rang out of the armor with an odd tinny quality. It sounded so out of place, so young and innocent, that I stopped dead in my attempt to escape. I looked slowly back into the eyes that had so scared me the moment before. "What are you? Why do you look exactly like me?" His words were trembling, choked, as if trying not to cry.

Then it clicked. "Are-" the suit of armor flinched badly at what I realized was the sound of his own voice, "Are you Alphonse?"

Instead of answering, the armoured boy crouched down to inspect me closer. His red eyes seemed to leave glowing tracks across my vision, and my heart continued to pound loudly in my ears as I found myself cornered. "No," he said to himself, "Its eyes are green. How can this be possible?" With a clank he reached forward to touch my face. I flinched away instinctively and he paused. "It's ok," he said gently, but his voice still wavered in disbelief. "I won't hurt you."

He slowly moved his hand closer, and this time I allowed it. His leather gloves scraped softly over the smooth skin of my cheek– 

“Aagh!”

I cried out, staggered as another's emotions invaded my mind in sharp stabs of agony. Like a sledgehammer hitting me in the chest I felt despair, confusion, terror and desperate sadness consume me. Combined with my own grief and fear, the sensations overwhelmed, and I nearly shut down in order to escape it, violent shudders wracking my frame.

A few moments passed by and I wearily opened my eyes as the feelings faded. The pain in my head was back with a vengeance and I found it hard to focus my vision. I blearily looked around the room from where I had fallen to find the real Alphonse on the other side, arms wrapped about his legs and head buried in his knees. Oddly enough, he was trembling, the suit of armor vibrating and clanking together. After a silent moment, he lifted his head and stared at me in return.

It was in that stalemate that Pinako decided to make her appearance. "Alphonse, what–" she took in the scene, both of us staring across the room, my face one of terror and Alphonse inscrutable. "What happened?"

"Aunty, what is that thing?" Alphonse asked. "It looks exactly like me, but it's not." His voice shook, and I could barely make out what he said.

Pinako grimaced, but answered soothingly. "Al, this is Alexandria. Like I was trying to tell you, it looks like she was taken from her own body and somehow filled the space in yours."

"But that's impossible! Ed said it disappeared during the transmutation!" He shouted suddenly, startling us both.

"I know Al, but look at him-er-her! If there is another explanation, I would love to hear it!"

His head snapped over in my direction and I flinched at the sudden movement, half expecting another backlash of foreign emotions. That didn't happen, but what did terrified me more. "If that's the case," he said, tone dangerously sharp, "then give me my body back!" The trapped boy's voice rang loudly through the armor and shattered off the walls. He stalked forward menacingly and I did my best to press myself through the wall, too tired to run and too scared to move. His fist slammed into the space next to my head and I cried out.

"Alphonse!" Pinako barked sharply. Alphonse froze, hovering over me like a statue. I looked up with wide terrified eyes and flinched when I heard a soft whimper. There were no tears, no possible way to tell how his face looked, but I realized with startling clarity that he was crying. My fear made way for emptiness, and what he said broke my heart all over again. "I'm sorry," he whispered with his strange echoing voice, "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," was my automatic response, even though the words rang hollow, and even as I was sure he wasn’t talking to me. It was not okay, and it may never be okay again. But it seemed like that was all Alphonse needed to hear. His whimpers continued and I wished I could reach out to him, but I was afraid of what I had felt earlier. So I just sat, and allowed my own tears to fall.

Pinako sighed and pulled Alphonse away from me. She led him out of the room with soft whispers I couldn’t make out. When she returned, she silently helped me back onto the bed and ran her hands over my unfamiliar blond locks. "I think we've had enough excitement for one day. It's late, and we should all get some rest. I’ll wake you in the morning." When I didn't respond, she left and turned off the light with a soft goodnight. I fell into a troubled sleep minutes later.