This has turned into a series of one-shots about someone writing a letter to someone else, mainly to someone on the other side of the Gate. There will be some manga references, but for the most part everything should be post-series, pre-movie. I personally love the ideas, but I'd love to know what anyone else thinks.

Summary:
Ed and Hohenheim are in Germany together. Hohenheim brings home a book about alchemy, and Edward decides to write about it to Alphonse, with typical Edward flair.

Dear Al,
"What the hell is this!?!" Edward asked his father loudly. He was referring to a book on alchemy that his father had brought him from the library in Munich.

"It's a book on alchemy from this world." He said calmly from his seat in the study they were both in, not looking up from the book he was reading.

"This stupidity is not alchemy!" Edward slammed the book closed before picking it up and tossing it at his father's head.

"I know." Hohenheim caught the book effortlessly and placed it on his desk. Edward stood up and started pacing around the room.

"It's backwards. All of their theories are stupid and backwards." He was angry already at the alchemy book, but he became increasingly angrier as he limped slightly around the room. "Not to mention how slow this world is when it comes to medical and mechanical sciences." He was more upset by his arm not functioning than his leg, really. He could make a fist and raise his arm in front of him, but everything else was a no-go.

"Why don't you write your rant down instead of waking the neighbors? It's already ten." Edward stopped mid-step and glared at his father. "You could improve your left-handed writing skills a little."

"How can you live like this? Why do you accept this hell of a fantasy world?" Hohenheim sighed. This was a common discussion between the two former alchemists since Edward had appeared in Germany. He was getting tired of Edward's constant angry-depressive attitude.

"Because I'm not going home, and I'm not going to try to find a way to. It's not that I don't care about everyone, it's that it's too dangerous for me to be there. If someone were to force me to reveal my alchemical secrets, Amestris would fall. Alchemy doesn't exist here so we're not going to find a way back." Edward stood still for a few moments before he walked back over to the table in the middle of the room. He sat down in his chair before reaching for his journal, which he always kept nearby. It was really a research journal, for all his notes, but that was only the first few pages. He un-clipped the pencil attached to the binding before he started writing. Hohenheim stayed up a bit longer, finishing his book, before he went to bed. Edward refused to say anything; all he did was write.

The next day, Hohenheim woke up a little later than he usually did and found a note from Edward saying he was taking the "inferior book of religious bullshit" back to the library. Hohenheim sighed as he looked over the table that was filled with books and notes and other research materials that they had left out the night before, noticing Edward's journal laying open to the blank page in front of what he had written the night before.

"Well, I don't think I should read it, but this is my house..." Hohenheim muttered as he sat down in Edward's chair and flipped the page. "So, he turned it into a note for Alphonse..."

Dear Al,
I hate this world. Everything is washed out and bleak. There's barely any color, the food has no taste or smell, and it's as if everything I feel is being muffled through blankets or something.

Alchemy here is utterly backwards, too. These "alchemists" came up with theories based off of some theory a man thought up hundreds of years ago, then set about trying to fit all their chemical formulas to these theories, without even testing them! It's magic, not science, and the flow of energy doesn't exist here. There is no way to perform our real alchemy. Not with a handclap, not with a circle, not with anything.

I know you're still alive, somewhere. The fact that I did have my real arm and leg again proves our theory that things lost to the Gate through equivalent exchange are kept inside the Gate. So, you're either still inside the Gate, or are home. I hope your home, because, if not, my sacrifice didn't work and I'm in this hell for nothing.

They don't have automail either. They don't even have good prosthetics. The Gate took my arm and leg again, so it's difficult for me to get around. The Bastard helped me engineer a somewhat usable arm, but everything is inferior to Winry's work, even her at her worst when she was little. I do well just to make a fist with my hand with this crap-tatsic piece of junk.

I have never hated anything as much as I hate this world. I can't even dream when I sleep, which isn't that often anymore. I just don't need to. I haven't been hungry since I got here, either, which neither condition I can explain. Is it further proof that you're not still inside the Gate or does it mean you're dead?

I don't know, and it's driving me insane. I keep looking for a way back, but without alchemy, I'm at a dead end.

Even though the science here is shoddy and underdeveloped, there are some breakthroughs that we haven't thought of back home. I've learned a bunch about their mechanics, in my quest to get some semblance of an arm like Winry's, but some of it I wouldn't go near. They have these flying machines called airplanes and, although I'm studying them right now, I don't ever want to pilot one. There's still really primitive, but when I get home, I think I could create a much safer and better one using alchemy.

I am going to make it home to you, Al. I promise. I've read most of the scientific reports over here, and there's a theory that I've come up with that might work. I'm not too sure of it yet, so I'm going to look into it with more detail. If it does pan out, I might be home in a few years. The Bastard won't help me much, because he doesn't want to go back home. He's become wrapped up in some political/religious cult and he refuses to tell me anything about it. The bastard.

...I started writing this as a rant about the utterly preposterous and stupid alchemy that exists over here, but I guess I got off-topic a little. You'll probably laugh and then reprimand me for calling our father a bastard. And for ranting. You always did take after Mom more than I ever did, even when you were in armor. Okay, so that doesn't really sound like something I'd say, but I don't care. I miss you, Brother, and it's so lonely and cold here...

...Could this be retribution for sealing your soul to that armor? From everything you said about it, it feels like that here. Maybe the Truth is angry at me?

I really don't know anymore. I can't tell the difference between dream and reality anymore.

It all seems like some sort of nightmare, but I can't wake up, no matter what I do. I want it to end, I truly do, but the only way for that to happen is if I come back home. I'm tired of all the killing, and this world seems to be obsessed with it. The Bastard said that the deaths in this world fuel our alchemy at home, but I don't believe. I can't believe it.

I don't believe in equivalent exchange like we used to, but I do try to uphold it. All of our sacrifices didn't get rewarded, but the Bastard seems to think they were. Every time I ask him why he thinks that, he just shakes his head and changes the subject. I live with him out of necessity even though I hate it; if my arm or leg breaks, I can't exactly fix them. Plus, he can get me into the library here and get me copies of all the research.

I don't accept this world and I never will. This world... there's no reallife to it... All right, I'm making myself depressed again. I'll see you soon, Alphonse.

Searching for you...

Edward

Hohenheim quickly put the journal back the way it was before standing up and position the chair where it was as well.

"Don't worry, Edward; I'll get you home. It's the least I can do for you."

End
So, like it? Hate it? What do you think?

Shadow Kat-Lyn