(AN: This was sort of requested by Sueszi, I guess. I started it early because I got an idea, but other chapters probably won't come for quite some time. Bear with me please).

Humans are horrible creatures.

They beg for things they don't need, and complain whenever things don't play about exactly as they've planned. They cry themselves to sleep over the littlest of things, claiming to be abused and depressed when it's really all just for show, and they talk big to others, thinking that they are the only ones with problems, without anything to back up their claims.

They hold fears, deep within their hearts, but are too proud to admit a single one, and instead keep such emotions inside themselves to bear alone. They curse the names of others, when they really should be working on how to better themselves, and they kill each other, their own race, their own people, over silly squabbles that mean nothing more than a single grain of sand. They recklessly fling themselves into danger, thinking themselves to be invincible and unable to be harmed. They start fights with their partners, their wives, and their husbands; always sure to get the last word, for that is all they think matters.

Humans always hold their secrets close, along with their friends, but their enemies are always closer, and they care more about ruining the day of another than giving joy. They cause misery, and hardly ever try to make amends with their mistakes, and they turn away from the ones who need help the most. They laugh whenever another cries, and they take pride in their own personal fortune, rather than considering the misfortune of another. They would rather die than to sacrifice even a bit of their precious time, and they feel no guilt in leaving the less fortunate behind them in the dust.

All of these things; these facts, these truths, have led Edith to the conclusion that humans are simply horrible creatures. After 17 years of dealing with them, after being with them, up close and personal, Edith knew that. She knew what it was like to be the victim of a selfish, jealous human. She knew how it felt to be preyed upon by those who sought only to cause destruction, and how it felt to be forgotten, or traded in for a newer version. She knew. She really, really did. And now, after 17 years and all of her experiences, she had finally given up on humans; on humanity itself. She had decided that it was past her expertise; that nothing she did, nothing she said, could ever change the hopelessness that occupied the Earth in the current age. She could do nothing to change any of it; not the mindsets of these humans, and least of all, herself. Edith was helpless to change a thing, and though she said she didn't care anymore, she hated the feeling.

Of course, as she was also human, she had never told anyone of her discomfort, but that was beside the point. None of that changed the fact that all of these problems, created and upholded by humans, were constantly swirling through her head. None of that hid her own storm of a mind that was always, always in motion; often ending with dampened spirits and a fit of tears. None of that condoned the fact that she was the only one noticing the problems with the world she lived in, and certainly, not the fact that no one but her realized all deaths in this age were caused by the apathetic minds of the humans today.

Most of all, none of that brought her brother back.

See, just two short years ago, he - Callum, age 11, as he had been at the time - had walked right into the traps of humanity. He, with his captivating smile; dimples high, and eyes sparkling, had introduced a concept that was new and frankly unheard of in their family. Alchemy.

Callum told her frequently that it was his newfound passion; being the scientific study of the transformation of matter from one material to another. And he, thought he was young, and his dreams still had time to change and morph, loved it dearly.

Every night, she would find him up late, stuck in textbooks he had been fortunate enough to find in numerous libraries and sales. His smile would always be gone, at those times, but the light in his eyes - green as a dense forest - never faded. It was like there was a lamp within them, and with every new discovery of knowledge, the flame would rise higher, and glow a little brighter, up until the very second when his eyelids would fall from exhaustion. Edith would find him asleep, with his head on the table, and every night, she would carry him back to his bed, where she would tuck him in, and with a final kiss to the top of his golden hair, she would seek rest herself. The morning proceeded in a similar fashion.

At the breakfast table, he would still have his nose jammed into the spine of a dusty book, and his mind would be absent from their discussion so much, that even as she tried to ask him something, he would scarcely ever answer. Of course, Edith didn't mind. She was happy that he was finally becoming interested in something, and more anything in the world, she wanted her little brother to be happy. She would serve him breakfast, make him lunch and dinner, and tuck him into bed at night. That was all she asked for. Nothing more, not even him spending more time with her - with a present mind - would make her any happier than she already was. Edith simply didn't mind. She only wished those days could have lasted longer.

After only a few short months of his alchemical endeavors, a problem arose. Callum, supposedly immune, as they had seen thus far, had caught a cold. And, as medicine was scarce in the small town they lived in, Edith would have to travel a great distance to retrieve it. She would have to leave him alone; with no one there to tuck him in, and with certainly no one to cook meals for him. Callum would have to fend for himself. And, as he was already sickly, not to mention the fact that he had zero experience with housework of any kind...Well. I think you know where this is going. To sum it up, the fact was that Edith had to go, or he might die without the medicine. However, at the same time, if she left him, he might just die from starvation, or from any other sudden attack of something that she wouldn't be around to prevent. Callum could die, and that fact alone had her hesitating to begin the trip. In her heart, she knew she had to, but still, the hesitance was still there. Still so real that it had even her own words faltering in her mouth before she spoke them.

Edith waited another day before she set off to the neighboring city.

The journey took a good four days, and throughout them, she was constantly worried about her little brother; even to the point where she would almost break down entirely in a fit whenever she imagined his little smile fading. Edith would clutch a hand to her heart, and her heart would continue to hammer, but even as she tried to calm herself down, the fear would stay for minutes on end before she finally found the strength to continue. After what felt like hours, she would be able to stand once more, but after each attack, a little more of her will would be drained away, and at the climax of her trip, Edith had barely had enough courage to inquire about the medicine, much less enough to tell of her tale. Her voice had quivered terribly as she had spoken about it, and even now, as she was remembering it, she regretted how weak she had been at the time her brother needed her most.

Currently, he only thing Edith remembered from the encounter with the doctor was that the medicine had been expensive.

On the way home - a heavier bag at her hip - the fear had returned once more, and before she knew it, she was hobbling down her driveway on unsteady feet; a sloppy proceed of steps that quickly turned into a jog. She bit her lip fearfully, and her tired pants were heard by neighbors and animals alike as they watched her with pitying eyes - with sympathy that she hadn't understood at the time. Edith tore through her front door in a hurried rush, and she raced up the steps; calling her brother's name, and after not hearing an answer, becoming even more worried. Something wasn't right. Something was wrong.

"Callum?!" she called. "Sweetie, I've got the medicine!"

Her voice was frantic, and even as her mind proceeded to feed her with the worst possibilities, she still pressed on in her search. Her hands shook as they retracted the medicine from within her purse, and they continued to twitch as she clutched the plastic bag tightly within her fingers.

"Callum, this isn't funny!"

With that sentence, her voice cracked terribly, and before she knew it, before she even entered the attic and saw what was to be seen within, the tears were spilling down her face.

Her sobs seemed to shake the entire house, and they only erupted with more ferociousness as she burst into the attic; full of boxes and dust, strewn about the floor and shelves, as well as - which was a more recent addition - blood. Something that didn't look human was writhing on the floor, possibly alive, but more than likely just dead, and vaguely, she heard the sirens of the ambulance becoming louder and louder as they approached her house. At that moment, something broke inside of her, and before she knew it, she had slid to her knees in a new reinforced fit of wails.

Edith didn't have a clue as to what the thing on her carpet was; if it had devoured her brother, or if that was him himself, but at that moment, she decided she didn't care. She picked up whatever objects she could find on the ground, and in open boxes, and she threw them at the creature; screaming curses at it all the while.

There was countless fine china and silverware, old clothes, and precious heirlooms of her family that entered and then disappeared from her hands in mere seconds, and before she could stop herself, she had emptied entire boxes, and had also created a pile of shattered glass and broken items where the creature had once been. With one last bit of pent up anger, she picked up a book. And it was then, at that very second, that whatever sanity she had had left disappeared.

This wasn't just any book; not just any children's tale that she had whispered calmly to her brother when he was nothing but a toddler. This was a textbook. An alchemy textbook. And it was open to one, specific page.

The art of human transmutation.

Appalled; Edith let the book drop from her fingers, and within a single moment, she had scooted as far as she could from the vile thing that she was instantly certain had taken her brother from her. Tears were still streaming down her face, and the deafening sound of footsteps pounding against her stairs ate away at her consciousness, but she did not let her mind leave her until she had seen a passage which could never again be unseen.

'This art is forbidden. All that have attempted human transmutation have never returned the same, if they return at all, and all attempted human recreations have been nothing but failures.'

Her eyes skipped down to another paragraph.

'...The need to perform this forbidden alchemy is often accelerated by loneliness, and most especially the loss of a loved one. Many had been so damaged by grief that they forget about the consequences of any one action they take, and they act upon whims that would never have been considered on other occasions.

'...In conclusion, though we have limited information on the topic, human transmutation is taboo, and should never be attempted. There has never been a single successful transmute, and even if you're ambitious enough to want to outdo the other, previous alchemists, selecting this as your object of attention is foolish. It is recommended that you steer clear of anything regarding the subject. Please act with caution, and consult a trusted friend or adult if you are considering this. Now, for more on carbon...'

Cryptically, the passage ended, and before she had even realized that there were others in her room, hands were lifted her from her place on the floor; and another set was prying her clenched nails away from her face. Tears continued to streak down, creating streaked paths through the dirt that had coated her face from her journey, and her sobs quieted down to a whisper; which was honestly more deafening to her than the louder ones had been. Her head was spinning, and she could only barely hear the words that the men inside were speaking to her. Vaguely, she could make out a head of black hair, and another with the same shade as her brother's, but Edith couldn't make out the purpose of their presence.

Why couldn't they just let her grieve in peace? Why couldn't they… And more importantly, why were they…

"Miss, we're going to take you down to the station now," one of them said softly; those words being the first sentence she had fully understood in the entire time they had been there.

"Calm down, everything will be fine."

No, she desperately wanted to tell them. No, everything wouldn't be fine. Her brother was gone. He was everything to her. If he was gone, everything was not fine.

All that exited her throat was another dry sob.

"I'm going to stay here and investigate. Havoc; get her to the station."

The one bracing her shoulders tensed. "Yes Sir."

The other one - who was obviously in charge - nodded at him; dismissing them both. Edith looked up at him weakly, only to see a mixture of emotions on the dark haired man's face. There was pity, definitely, but more than that, there was also an undeniable look of discomfort; like he was guiltily holding onto information he knew she would want, but couldn't give her. She outstretched a hand, and after looking at it confusedly for a few seconds, he grasped it.

"Edith Garland." her voice shook slightly, but as she had just sobbed enough tears to last a lifetime, she was proud of how well she kept herself together.

"I will be consulting you on this matter upon your return. Please be prepared to answer my questions."

This time, the man smiled, and though the discomfort was still there, the pity left. Instead, he looked almost as if he admired her spirit. And, as she must admit, if her brother hadn't just attempted to bring back one of her dead parents, and was now either dead or missing, Edith would have returned the gesture with a look of determination instantly.

However, as her brother was all of the things listed… She could do nothing but hold his stare, lest she start crying once more.

He smiled solemnly again. "Colonel Roy Mustang, Miss Garland. And I expect to hear more of you in the future."

She nodded, and in the next moment, the one named Havoc was dragging her away. The Colonel watched them go, and she looked back at him with a blank expression.

Though her eyes were so raw she could barely keep them open, she forced herself to gaze one last time at the mound of material that her brother had created with alchemy; a science she now considered to be despicable. Her heart began to rapidly beat against her chest, and something - though she didn't know what that something was, at that point - burst inside of her.

She would bring her brother back. She would do everything she possibly could to take back what something created by humanity had taken from her.

And slowly - ever so naturally - she allowed her fingers to tighten around the textbook she had managed to snag, and clutched it firmly to her chest.