Alrighty, I have helped to make this story, but the original idea was wreakhavocs, so I give her full credit (except that she doesn't own FMA plot or characters. If she did she would have been obliged (on pain of death) to loan them to me by now.) So this is a short little drabble that she came up with, emailed to me, then I edited and added on, and this is the complete result, as far as I'm concerned. She may or may not post this, or something that she tweaked even more, but this is as finished as it gets for me. if you like, I might ask wreakhavoc if we can continure the story, and ya'll would love to see some long wreakhavoc sork, wouldn't you? It is angsty and has suicidal thoughts, but nuthin' really gory happens, so if that don't bother you; read on, my valued um...whatever you ares. But you are valued, that's for sure. Especially if you REVIEW!!!!

MY LETTER TO YOU

Alphonse crept into the small library where Edward had fallen asleep on the desk, writing a letter. Al shook his metal head ruefully; he still slept with his stomach out. Alphonse turned Edward over and slung him over his shoulders-although the younger brother, Al was strong. He hauled Edward up to his bedroom and put him on his couch, arranging the blanket around his brother's fragile sleeping form. He smiled one more time, then left the room, and quietly crept over to the library. Stepping up to the short wood desk, Al turned over the letter. "Dear Mom," Al read quietly, feeling the cold, grief filled almost-emptiness that seeped out of the letter and its writer. I know I shouldn't pry but…Al thought as he opened the crisp, manila envelope, showing straight, polite, black letters that stepped crisply across the page.

"Dear Mom, I can't tell you how much I miss you. Al and I are doing fine, we hope you're fine too. There's going to be a day, Mom, when Al and I bring you back, not just a skeleton. I'm so sorry, mother. I'm sorry that you had to go through that. It was all my fault. I don't expect you to forgive me, but Al needs you."

Al rubbed his fingers across the spots on the otherwise dry paper. As if drops of water had fallen and dried. He felt a huge void opening inside himself. Ni-san never cried. But, that was exactly it, Al realized. Edward never let his feelings show, never took the pressure off of himself. He never allowed for any respite for himself, he just kept holding it all in.

"Not a day goes by that I don't struggle with myself and try not to seem sad and try hard. Al doesn't need to see the pain that I'm shouldering. It's so hard, holding up this mask. They think I'm tough, and no one can touch me, but Mom, all I can do is try so hard not to cry and resist the urge to sink into the sea of pain that I'm drifting through, because you and Al are all I have, so I cant disappoint you. I must get you back.

But, like I said, I don't expect you to forgive me, and I'll leave as soon as I can get you both settled. Al might think it would be good for me to be around you, but I feel that I can never forgive myself for what I did to you both. I will serve in the military, try to get appointed to one of the fronts or border conflicts. Maybe, if I'm lucky, a stray bullet might end my horrible effects on this world. I will burn this letter in the morning-it would be too painful for Al, and he would never let me go if he read this. Don't worry, I won't commit suicide; I refuse to bring any more pain or disgrace to my family. I love you. Please, please, forgive me for everything I have done to you. I love you………forever, and ever. Just let me go. It is so painful, this cage for my feelings, this well painted façade. The letter ended, streaks of salt testimony to unspoken pain. Al sat down on the whicker chair. His brother, his Ni-san. Always happy, joking around, or growling a beast-like reply to an insult. Asking for nothing, always caring. Tell me the care for me wasn't a 'painted façade,' ……please. But no, the care was real. He loves all others but himself. And he can understand any pain, because he is drowning in his own.

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- A silent scream ripped from the young boy's throat. He had trained himself to make no sound, for his sleepless brother's sake. His mother still smiled, blood drenching her lips and apron, a river of guilt.

"It's too bad you couldn't put me back together…" her whisper rasped inside his heart, "MOOOM! Mom!" he screamed without a sound, just a breath of air to indicate the nightmare's passing. The wet of silent tears woke him, crying and sobbing deep wracking sobs for somebody, anybody to come, to help him, to hold him. He forced his wide eyes closed, trying to wash out the sickening image of the corpse that was supposed to be his mother, but his mind only brought fresh visions of her, piercing him more with each dream, every night the same …. He couldn't feel anything in his chest ripping, breaking, because his heart's many torn pieces had already been scattered to the wind. It could never be put back together again. And so Edward Elric wished that his real heart would just leave him; leave him to die.

See? It was definitely a a combination of both of our writing styles XD short;from me and very well done;from wreakhavoc.

We both love you very much, and would appreciate some more REVIEWS!!!!!