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alcesverdes) wrote2007-04-12 02:52 pm
alcesverdes) wrote2007-04-12 02:52 pm
Entry tags:
[FMA] The House In The Rain
Title: The House In The Rain
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Ed and Al find a house that belonged to a dead alchemist and they think they could find some answers there.
Characters: Ed & Al.
Spoilers: None.
Note: To![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
veneotaqueen, because of her thesis defense.
The rain came out of nowhere, or so it had seemed to Ed, who was now running through the forest looking for a refuge, and was thanking the lack of lightning. Ed was getting angrier and angrier by the minute, and not only because he was wet, hungry, and cold, but because one would've think that, with his countryside upbringing, he'd be able to predict the weather through subtle signs like the change in the air's humidity.
Or like the clouds gathering above his head.
But he had been too absorbed to notice even that, trying to mentally decipher that alchemist's notes, the same notes Al was still working on back in the town's library. And that was the silver lining, Ed thought; he wouldn't have to worry about his little brother's metallic body rusting. Even if it was never that much of an actual problem, since Al took very good care of the armor, oiling it up everyday, but that didn't stop Ed from worrying about it. On the matter of Ed himself rusting—or rather, his automail rusting—, well, it was concealed underneath his clothes, and the thing's inventor—and also Winry—had been kind enough to remember the patient's hygiene.
Before the rain, Ed had been walking already for little over an hour, following the instructions an old lady had given to him to get to Reinhild Lange's, the local alchemist, old manor. She had died a couple of months before, and it was rumored that she had owned quite an extensive library, with very rare books, unique, centuries-old editions, but no-one knew exactly where they were. Mrs. Lange had kept her laboratory a secret, and her sudden death made her take all of her secrets to the tomb.
A little cliché, perhaps, but it had been the perfect bait to get the Elric brother's attention; there was a chance that the answer they were looking for was in one of those books.
Asking around, the Elrics found out that no person in town wanted to go to the manor anymore to look for the laboratory. They said that the place was haunted, and that unspeakable things happened to the fools who dared to disturbed the ghosts that dwelt there.
The idea amused Ed to no end. “You know, Al, I'd laugh in the face of those ghosts if ghosts existed,” he had said.
The brothers began their formal search by going straight to the notes of Mrs. Lange that were currently in the library because no-one in the small town knew what else to do with them; those notes had been in the kitchen when they had found her body, and were the only alchemical-related items lying around. Ed had shown his watch when he requested to see them, but the truth was that the librarian was pretty much willing to show them to anyone.
After Ed and Al had been fruitlessly through the notes, the first suggested going to the manor and poke around.
“You just can't go into private property, brother,” Al had said.
“Whose private property? You heard them; there are no heirs, so the place doesn't belong to anyone except perhaps the government. And, right now, I'm the one representing the government here, so I can very well go in there.”
Al stared at him.
Ed was certain that his brother agreed intellectually with his logic, but that he didn't approve of it. Still, Ed was going to keep his ground, the first step of which was to stare back while keeping the smug smile.
Finally, there was a deep sigh and the suit of armor lowered its shoulders as an obvious sign of surrender. “Fine, let's go,” Al said.
“Actually, I think you should stay.”
“Excuse me?” If he could've done it, Al would've raised an eyebrow, that was for sure.
“I think you should stay and keep working on those notes. There's still a chance that something might be in them and, at the same time, it's possible than the key to decipher them is in the house. I don't really believe they'd let us take the notes out of here, and there are too many of them to copy, that's why I think we'd cover more ground if we split up.”
Another long sigh. “Just be careful, all right?”
“Don't worry, Al. I'll be back for lunch.”
And yes, it had been a couple of hours before lunch that Ed reached the two story building, but the long walk—and later, the run—had made him really hungry. But the chances to find something edible around the damn place there were practically nil, so he left that for later.
The next thing in Ed's to-do list was to dry himself up. And for that, he needed to go inside.
The main door was locked and Ed didn't feel like going around looking for an open window or a back door; if it hadn't been raining—maybe—he would've done it, but since the rain was steadily growing heavier, Ed didn't feel remorse about using a little alchemy to enter and avoid catching a cold—or even a pneumonia.
Still, being inside the manor was only slightly better than being in the outside; the only real difference was the lack of rain.
The place was cold, damp, and smelled funny, the two first qualities increased by the height of the ceilings. The furniture was covered by white sheets and there were spiderwebs all around. There were probably mice—and rats—too, but those animals were usually smart enough to remain hidden.
There was also a chimney in the back of the room. Good news, finally. Ed uncovered a couple of chairs to use them to start a fire; he also took a good look at them, so he could recreate them if someone complained.
The fire was lit in no time; Ed proceeded to warm up while observing his surroundings.
The walls by themselves told him nothing. Obviously, he would have to uncover everything if he wanted to find clues in there.
There seemed to be several other rooms in the house, including, most probably, an attic and a basement. That would be enough to have him occupied for a while.
And Ed was still hungry.
“I better begin now,” he mumbled; he had decided he was dry enough and warm enough.
Ed checked every drawer he found, and he even looked for hidden ones. He found two, in the second floor, a couple of meters away from the stairs that led to the attic. The drawers were full with love letters that didn't match the handwriting in the library's notes. Mrs. Lange had been fairly popular in her youth—and in more recent times too, if one was to go by the dates. Either way, other than revealing Mrs. Lange's interesting past, those letters weren't useful at all, so Ed put them back.
Just as he was closing the drawer, he heard someone calling his name. Startled, he turned around; he saw no-one there.
“That was probably the wind,” he told himself, and was about to shrug it off when he heard it again, now clear enough to being mistaken for the wind. “Al?” Ed asked, though he was sure that hadn't been his brother's voice—or the voice of anyone he knew, either.
“Edward, come here.”
“Who's there?” Ed said, trying to sound more annoyed than alarmed. Only Al knew he was there, and he had given his name only to the old librarian—who had forgotten it seconds later, since he had kept calling him Edmond.
“Come here, Edward, come here.” It was impossible to say, by the voice alone, if it was a man or a woman.
“Where are you?”
“Over here! Over here! Come with me!”
This time around, Ed distinctively heard that the voice came from the attic.
Ed took a deep breath and began to climb the stairs. He was beginning to feel truly annoyed, and he wanted to know who was calling him and why.
Besides, Al knew he was there, so that ground was covered.
There were more spiderwebs up there in the attic than in the rest of the rooms Ed had been so far put together. And more dust too.
As he looked around, Ed noticed a table and a couple of chairs, and a window in the back, covered with a thick curtain, but there was no trace of the person who had called him.
Still, it didn't hurt to ask. “Are you there?”
“Look through the window, Edward,” the voice said.
Ed folded his arms. “Why would I do that? C'mon, show yourself!”
“Look through the window.”
Ed pointed a finger to the nothingness. “Show. Your. Self.”
“Look through the window and I will.”
Ed slapped his face with his hand—the left one. “This is stupid! If you don't show yourself, I'm going to drag you out!” With that, Ed closed the door to keep his new friend inside the room and went to look for the voice's owner, to no avail.
After a few minutes, Ed drummed his fingers on the table. He had begun to feel scared, but he reminded himself that he had been through a lot worse regarding supernatural situations for a disembodied voice to give him the creeps.
“If I look through the damned window, will you come out?” Ed asked.
“Yes, I will. Look through the window, Edward.”
“I'm coming, I'm coming,” Ed grunted.
Ed got to the window, opened the curtain, and looked through it. The rain was still going strong, with no signs of stopping anytime soon. “There, I've looked. Now what?” Ed asked, turning around.
He faced a long-haired figure that pushed him hard against the window. Through the window.
Ed didn't feel the crystal shattering, but he felt himself falling down, along with the rain.
When Ed opened his eyes, he found himself in front of the chimney, in front of the fire he had started a while ago, judging by the amount of wood that remained.
“What the heck?” he asked while checking himself. He had no wounds. “I must've fallen asleep,” he mumbled.
The wind and the water against the windows told him it was still raining.
Ed decided to go bring Al with him as soon as the rain stopped; after the dream he had just had, the place made him a little uncomfortable. But of course Ed wasn't going to tell his brother that.
He got up. On the meantime, it wouldn't hurt to take a look around—or was it a second look around? Probably yes, since all the sheets were on the floor and many the rooms seemed familiar. He even found the same love letters in the same secret drawers.
He close them again, and again he heard the voice calling his name.
Fighting a shiver, Ed pointed a finger—the middle one—toward the attic door. “I'm not going up there, d'you hear me, bitch?” He then walked to the main door, his back all rigid. Screw this, he thought, I'd rather be out in the rain.
There was a laughter, a very happy one, and this time Ed lost the battle against the shiver.
The laughter had come from right behind him.
Ed turned around and there it was, the same long-haired figure, but Ed couldn't see its features, since there was a blinding light coming from behind it, so all Ed could see was an open-armed silhouette.
“Who are you?” Ed asked.
“Come with me to watch through the window, Edward.”
“We've been through that before! Who the fuck are you?”
“Come with me, Edward, come with me.”
The figure reached out to grab Ed's arm, but he jerked away just in time. “Don't touch me!”
Ed tried to punch and kick his opponent, but the figure moved and ducked and blocked too fast. And kept trying to hold him, and there was no way Ed would let him. He decided that a retreat would be a wise move, given the circumstances, so he went toward the door without giving his back to the thing.
But the thing was faster. And stronger too; when it finally grabbed Ed's arms, he couldn't make its cold hands to let go of him.
The thing dragged him somewhere. Next thing Ed knew, he was looking up at the sky and raindrops were falling down to his eyes.
And then, the voice called his name again.
“What do you want?” Ed asked.
“Come with me.”
“Come where?”
“Here, with me. Come here.”
Ed realized then that the upper part of his body was hanging down from the attic window, and the only thing between him and imminent disaster was the thing's black, cold hand on his shirt.
“Don't you dare,” Ed said. “Don't you dare to let go!”
“I won't let go. I'd never let go. Come here, Edward, come back, please.”
“Back?”
Ed opened his eyes again and found himself staring at an unfamiliar ceiling. “What—Where—?” He tried to sit up, but a huge, cold hand pressed his forehead back against the pillow. Ed recognized it as Al's hand, so he didn't fight it. Besides, he felt too tired to do it anyway.
“You need to rest, brother,” Al said. “We're in a hospital; you'll be all right now.”
“What—?”
“I'll tell you later. Now sleep.”
Ed closed his eyes, not only because Al's tone—though soothing—compelled him, but because he knew he did need to sleep for a little while.
“Reinhild Lange was very sick,” Al began as soon as Ed declared himself able to listen to the whole story. “She was in constant pain from unknown causes, and she was trying to create an analgesic to help her, but she ended up with an hallucinogenic soup instead that damaged her nervous system permanently. She didn't know it back then, but I noticed when I managed to crack her recipe.
“Also, I realized that the fumes would've still been lingering in the house; that was the only explanation to the ghosts everyone was talking about, so I went there to tell you, but,” —Al pointed at Ed with a finger— “you fought back like crazy when I tried to get you out.”
Ed blinked. “Um, sorry.”
“Don't worry about it. My theory is that the heat of the fire you started potentiated the hallucinogen; that's why it had a faster effect on you.”
Ed scratched his chin. “That, and probably the chairs I used for it were impregnated with the stuff, so...”
“Yes, that's probable, too.”
“Well, now that we know the cause, it'd be easier to go looking for the books. I mean, since you're not affected by the—”
“Uh, brother...?”
“What?”
“Erm, how do I tell you this?”
Ed frowned. “What happened, Al?”
“The thing is... Ah... The house sort of burned down. Completely.”
Ed gaped.
Al giggled nervously. “When I was chasing you down, the fire got out of control and—”
“Why didn't you put it off?”
“Because I had to take you out first!”
Ed sighed and covered his eyes with his hand. “Some luck,” he said.
“I'm sorry, brother,” Al said.
“No, I am sorry. I mean, I haven't thanked you for helping me out in the first place.”
“You're welcome...”
“And probably there wasn't anything important in those books. I'm sure they were the usual deal, you know, the basic ones everyone has.”
“D'you think?”
“Yeah.”
“So, now what?” Al asked, after a pause.
“Now we get me some breakfast; I'm starving.”
“Brother...”
“After that, we'll take the train to the nearest town. And the next dead alchemist's house we find, you go in first.”
Al tilted his head. “That sounds like a good idea,” he said.
Ed grinned. “I know. It's mine.”
Al pushed his brother against the pillow again. “I think your brain needs more rest.”
The brothers laughed and Al went finally to get Ed something to eat.
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Ed and Al find a house that belonged to a dead alchemist and they think they could find some answers there.
Characters: Ed & Al.
Spoilers: None.
Note: To
veneotaqueen, because of her thesis defense.The rain came out of nowhere, or so it had seemed to Ed, who was now running through the forest looking for a refuge, and was thanking the lack of lightning. Ed was getting angrier and angrier by the minute, and not only because he was wet, hungry, and cold, but because one would've think that, with his countryside upbringing, he'd be able to predict the weather through subtle signs like the change in the air's humidity.
Or like the clouds gathering above his head.
But he had been too absorbed to notice even that, trying to mentally decipher that alchemist's notes, the same notes Al was still working on back in the town's library. And that was the silver lining, Ed thought; he wouldn't have to worry about his little brother's metallic body rusting. Even if it was never that much of an actual problem, since Al took very good care of the armor, oiling it up everyday, but that didn't stop Ed from worrying about it. On the matter of Ed himself rusting—or rather, his automail rusting—, well, it was concealed underneath his clothes, and the thing's inventor—and also Winry—had been kind enough to remember the patient's hygiene.
Before the rain, Ed had been walking already for little over an hour, following the instructions an old lady had given to him to get to Reinhild Lange's, the local alchemist, old manor. She had died a couple of months before, and it was rumored that she had owned quite an extensive library, with very rare books, unique, centuries-old editions, but no-one knew exactly where they were. Mrs. Lange had kept her laboratory a secret, and her sudden death made her take all of her secrets to the tomb.
A little cliché, perhaps, but it had been the perfect bait to get the Elric brother's attention; there was a chance that the answer they were looking for was in one of those books.
Asking around, the Elrics found out that no person in town wanted to go to the manor anymore to look for the laboratory. They said that the place was haunted, and that unspeakable things happened to the fools who dared to disturbed the ghosts that dwelt there.
The idea amused Ed to no end. “You know, Al, I'd laugh in the face of those ghosts if ghosts existed,” he had said.
The brothers began their formal search by going straight to the notes of Mrs. Lange that were currently in the library because no-one in the small town knew what else to do with them; those notes had been in the kitchen when they had found her body, and were the only alchemical-related items lying around. Ed had shown his watch when he requested to see them, but the truth was that the librarian was pretty much willing to show them to anyone.
After Ed and Al had been fruitlessly through the notes, the first suggested going to the manor and poke around.
“You just can't go into private property, brother,” Al had said.
“Whose private property? You heard them; there are no heirs, so the place doesn't belong to anyone except perhaps the government. And, right now, I'm the one representing the government here, so I can very well go in there.”
Al stared at him.
Ed was certain that his brother agreed intellectually with his logic, but that he didn't approve of it. Still, Ed was going to keep his ground, the first step of which was to stare back while keeping the smug smile.
Finally, there was a deep sigh and the suit of armor lowered its shoulders as an obvious sign of surrender. “Fine, let's go,” Al said.
“Actually, I think you should stay.”
“Excuse me?” If he could've done it, Al would've raised an eyebrow, that was for sure.
“I think you should stay and keep working on those notes. There's still a chance that something might be in them and, at the same time, it's possible than the key to decipher them is in the house. I don't really believe they'd let us take the notes out of here, and there are too many of them to copy, that's why I think we'd cover more ground if we split up.”
Another long sigh. “Just be careful, all right?”
“Don't worry, Al. I'll be back for lunch.”
And yes, it had been a couple of hours before lunch that Ed reached the two story building, but the long walk—and later, the run—had made him really hungry. But the chances to find something edible around the damn place there were practically nil, so he left that for later.
The next thing in Ed's to-do list was to dry himself up. And for that, he needed to go inside.
The main door was locked and Ed didn't feel like going around looking for an open window or a back door; if it hadn't been raining—maybe—he would've done it, but since the rain was steadily growing heavier, Ed didn't feel remorse about using a little alchemy to enter and avoid catching a cold—or even a pneumonia.
Still, being inside the manor was only slightly better than being in the outside; the only real difference was the lack of rain.
The place was cold, damp, and smelled funny, the two first qualities increased by the height of the ceilings. The furniture was covered by white sheets and there were spiderwebs all around. There were probably mice—and rats—too, but those animals were usually smart enough to remain hidden.
There was also a chimney in the back of the room. Good news, finally. Ed uncovered a couple of chairs to use them to start a fire; he also took a good look at them, so he could recreate them if someone complained.
The fire was lit in no time; Ed proceeded to warm up while observing his surroundings.
The walls by themselves told him nothing. Obviously, he would have to uncover everything if he wanted to find clues in there.
There seemed to be several other rooms in the house, including, most probably, an attic and a basement. That would be enough to have him occupied for a while.
And Ed was still hungry.
“I better begin now,” he mumbled; he had decided he was dry enough and warm enough.
Ed checked every drawer he found, and he even looked for hidden ones. He found two, in the second floor, a couple of meters away from the stairs that led to the attic. The drawers were full with love letters that didn't match the handwriting in the library's notes. Mrs. Lange had been fairly popular in her youth—and in more recent times too, if one was to go by the dates. Either way, other than revealing Mrs. Lange's interesting past, those letters weren't useful at all, so Ed put them back.
Just as he was closing the drawer, he heard someone calling his name. Startled, he turned around; he saw no-one there.
“That was probably the wind,” he told himself, and was about to shrug it off when he heard it again, now clear enough to being mistaken for the wind. “Al?” Ed asked, though he was sure that hadn't been his brother's voice—or the voice of anyone he knew, either.
“Edward, come here.”
“Who's there?” Ed said, trying to sound more annoyed than alarmed. Only Al knew he was there, and he had given his name only to the old librarian—who had forgotten it seconds later, since he had kept calling him Edmond.
“Come here, Edward, come here.” It was impossible to say, by the voice alone, if it was a man or a woman.
“Where are you?”
“Over here! Over here! Come with me!”
This time around, Ed distinctively heard that the voice came from the attic.
Ed took a deep breath and began to climb the stairs. He was beginning to feel truly annoyed, and he wanted to know who was calling him and why.
Besides, Al knew he was there, so that ground was covered.
There were more spiderwebs up there in the attic than in the rest of the rooms Ed had been so far put together. And more dust too.
As he looked around, Ed noticed a table and a couple of chairs, and a window in the back, covered with a thick curtain, but there was no trace of the person who had called him.
Still, it didn't hurt to ask. “Are you there?”
“Look through the window, Edward,” the voice said.
Ed folded his arms. “Why would I do that? C'mon, show yourself!”
“Look through the window.”
Ed pointed a finger to the nothingness. “Show. Your. Self.”
“Look through the window and I will.”
Ed slapped his face with his hand—the left one. “This is stupid! If you don't show yourself, I'm going to drag you out!” With that, Ed closed the door to keep his new friend inside the room and went to look for the voice's owner, to no avail.
After a few minutes, Ed drummed his fingers on the table. He had begun to feel scared, but he reminded himself that he had been through a lot worse regarding supernatural situations for a disembodied voice to give him the creeps.
“If I look through the damned window, will you come out?” Ed asked.
“Yes, I will. Look through the window, Edward.”
“I'm coming, I'm coming,” Ed grunted.
Ed got to the window, opened the curtain, and looked through it. The rain was still going strong, with no signs of stopping anytime soon. “There, I've looked. Now what?” Ed asked, turning around.
He faced a long-haired figure that pushed him hard against the window. Through the window.
Ed didn't feel the crystal shattering, but he felt himself falling down, along with the rain.
When Ed opened his eyes, he found himself in front of the chimney, in front of the fire he had started a while ago, judging by the amount of wood that remained.
“What the heck?” he asked while checking himself. He had no wounds. “I must've fallen asleep,” he mumbled.
The wind and the water against the windows told him it was still raining.
Ed decided to go bring Al with him as soon as the rain stopped; after the dream he had just had, the place made him a little uncomfortable. But of course Ed wasn't going to tell his brother that.
He got up. On the meantime, it wouldn't hurt to take a look around—or was it a second look around? Probably yes, since all the sheets were on the floor and many the rooms seemed familiar. He even found the same love letters in the same secret drawers.
He close them again, and again he heard the voice calling his name.
Fighting a shiver, Ed pointed a finger—the middle one—toward the attic door. “I'm not going up there, d'you hear me, bitch?” He then walked to the main door, his back all rigid. Screw this, he thought, I'd rather be out in the rain.
There was a laughter, a very happy one, and this time Ed lost the battle against the shiver.
The laughter had come from right behind him.
Ed turned around and there it was, the same long-haired figure, but Ed couldn't see its features, since there was a blinding light coming from behind it, so all Ed could see was an open-armed silhouette.
“Who are you?” Ed asked.
“Come with me to watch through the window, Edward.”
“We've been through that before! Who the fuck are you?”
“Come with me, Edward, come with me.”
The figure reached out to grab Ed's arm, but he jerked away just in time. “Don't touch me!”
Ed tried to punch and kick his opponent, but the figure moved and ducked and blocked too fast. And kept trying to hold him, and there was no way Ed would let him. He decided that a retreat would be a wise move, given the circumstances, so he went toward the door without giving his back to the thing.
But the thing was faster. And stronger too; when it finally grabbed Ed's arms, he couldn't make its cold hands to let go of him.
The thing dragged him somewhere. Next thing Ed knew, he was looking up at the sky and raindrops were falling down to his eyes.
And then, the voice called his name again.
“What do you want?” Ed asked.
“Come with me.”
“Come where?”
“Here, with me. Come here.”
Ed realized then that the upper part of his body was hanging down from the attic window, and the only thing between him and imminent disaster was the thing's black, cold hand on his shirt.
“Don't you dare,” Ed said. “Don't you dare to let go!”
“I won't let go. I'd never let go. Come here, Edward, come back, please.”
“Back?”
Ed opened his eyes again and found himself staring at an unfamiliar ceiling. “What—Where—?” He tried to sit up, but a huge, cold hand pressed his forehead back against the pillow. Ed recognized it as Al's hand, so he didn't fight it. Besides, he felt too tired to do it anyway.
“You need to rest, brother,” Al said. “We're in a hospital; you'll be all right now.”
“What—?”
“I'll tell you later. Now sleep.”
Ed closed his eyes, not only because Al's tone—though soothing—compelled him, but because he knew he did need to sleep for a little while.
“Reinhild Lange was very sick,” Al began as soon as Ed declared himself able to listen to the whole story. “She was in constant pain from unknown causes, and she was trying to create an analgesic to help her, but she ended up with an hallucinogenic soup instead that damaged her nervous system permanently. She didn't know it back then, but I noticed when I managed to crack her recipe.
“Also, I realized that the fumes would've still been lingering in the house; that was the only explanation to the ghosts everyone was talking about, so I went there to tell you, but,” —Al pointed at Ed with a finger— “you fought back like crazy when I tried to get you out.”
Ed blinked. “Um, sorry.”
“Don't worry about it. My theory is that the heat of the fire you started potentiated the hallucinogen; that's why it had a faster effect on you.”
Ed scratched his chin. “That, and probably the chairs I used for it were impregnated with the stuff, so...”
“Yes, that's probable, too.”
“Well, now that we know the cause, it'd be easier to go looking for the books. I mean, since you're not affected by the—”
“Uh, brother...?”
“What?”
“Erm, how do I tell you this?”
Ed frowned. “What happened, Al?”
“The thing is... Ah... The house sort of burned down. Completely.”
Ed gaped.
Al giggled nervously. “When I was chasing you down, the fire got out of control and—”
“Why didn't you put it off?”
“Because I had to take you out first!”
Ed sighed and covered his eyes with his hand. “Some luck,” he said.
“I'm sorry, brother,” Al said.
“No, I am sorry. I mean, I haven't thanked you for helping me out in the first place.”
“You're welcome...”
“And probably there wasn't anything important in those books. I'm sure they were the usual deal, you know, the basic ones everyone has.”
“D'you think?”
“Yeah.”
“So, now what?” Al asked, after a pause.
“Now we get me some breakfast; I'm starving.”
“Brother...”
“After that, we'll take the train to the nearest town. And the next dead alchemist's house we find, you go in first.”
Al tilted his head. “That sounds like a good idea,” he said.
Ed grinned. “I know. It's mine.”
Al pushed his brother against the pillow again. “I think your brain needs more rest.”
The brothers laughed and Al went finally to get Ed something to eat.
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Ok, all joking aside, I really enjoyed it. I love poor Ed's hallucinations, that was very unexpected. A very enjoyable read. ♥
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Still, I hope that helps. :P
And thank you for commenting.
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Interesting read and definitely entertaining.
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I'm of the opinion that the fandom does need more gen. :P