Hey guys, it's me, with my first full FMA fanfic!

Or, at least I hope it'll end up that way. So far I have the prologue, but considering I am bad when it comes to finishing my fanfics sometimes... *hangs head*

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this first part!

Prologue

Alphonse couldn't remember what happened the night before, but he did have a fairly good idea of what must have happened before, based on what he saw now.

No, not just what he saw, but what he felt as well. In fact, it was the fact that he could feel at all that told him, as he hadn't been able to experience any physical sensations since that fateful day when he and his brother had tried to bring back Mom. The suit of armor that had acted as his body wasn't built for that, and while he did miss the sensations that came with a human body, Al had quietly accepted it, trusting that one day his brother would fulfill the promise that he would have his body back no matter what it took to do so.

And it was clear to him that his brother had finally been able to succeed. Al could feel again, could feel the warm sunlight that filtered through the window caressing his skin, could feel the soft blue blanket that covered his naked body. He felt his hair tickling his bare shoulders and his back, hair that was long and overgrown due to years of neglect. He also felt unbelievably weak, his head was pounding like his brain was being bashed against the inside of his skull, and his stomach was painfully hollow, since his body hadn't been fed since he lost it—but even those feelings were better than the nothingness he'd experienced for so long.

Al held a hand up in front of his face, taking a lot more effort in doing so than it would normally take, and simply stared at it in awe and wonder. The hand was a pale, bony thing with long, yellowish brown nails and almost nothing else besides skin and bone. It looked so brittle that Al half-expected it to fall apart if he so much as moved it, and yet—

It was his hand, the hand he'd been born with, rather than the empty leather glove that had functioned as his hand for almost five years. Knowing that gave Al a simple yet incredible joy, one that overwhelmed him even more than the sensations that were currently assaulting his body like a pack of rabid dogs. He finally had his body back, after all these years, and that was all that really mattered to him at that very moment—

A metallic glint caught the corner of his eye, and even as he struggled to sit up and get a better view, he already knew what it was. It was so odd, seeing his armor body from outside of it, still and unmoving now that his soul was no longer occupying it. He briefly considered what he would do with it now that he no longer needed it—it wasn't like there had ever been a situation like this, at least, not that he knew of—but then he quickly decided that he'd worry about it later, when he was feeling better.

He attempted to stand, but of course his legs were too feeble to hold his weight, and he collapsed to the floor, which made him hesitant to try a second time.

Just then there was a knock at the door. Al quickly pulled the blanket off the bed and wrapped it around himself. "Come in," he called.

The door opened, and Winry came in, her eyes widening as she took in the scene before her. Her hand flew to her mouth, and she stared, at a complete loss for words. Al completely understood the look on her face—he couldn't quite believe it, either, and if he didn't know any better, he would have thought that he was dreaming.

"Al," she finally whispered. "Your body…"

He nodded, smiling up at her. "I know, right? Brother did it. He…" Al trailed off as he realized something. "Where is he, anyway?" He hadn't really thought about it up until this moment, as lost as he was in the excitement and joy at getting his body back, but when he imagined this very moment before, he had always assumed Ed would be there, celebrating alongside him. Al knew his brother would've helped support his weight if he were here right now, and probably with that big, happy smile that came so rarely now.

But Ed wasn't there, for whatever reason, and Al couldn't possibly fathom why. Why would his brother not be here with him, so soon after getting his body back? What on earth could have made his brother leave now, of all times? And, more importantly, when would he be coming back?

"We should—" Winry started, but then immediately stopped as he got on his hands and knees and started retching violently. He continued like that for several minutes, heaving so hard he half-expected his insides to come out through his mouth, but of course nothing came out, since his stomach was empty to begin with. Once it passed, it left him feeling weak and exhausted, his headache perhaps worse than before. Briefly he considered whether all this pain was really worth having his body back, but then quickly dismissed that thought—of course it was worth it. It was worth all this pain that he was experiencing right now, if it meant that he could feel the warm sunshine on his face, the cool rain dancing on his skin. It was worth it, being able to enjoy all the sensations that came with being in a human body, sensations that were lost to him when he had that cold and unfeeling metal body.

"Are you okay?" Al wasn't sure at what point Winry had gone to his side—he had been too preoccupied with his own dry heaving to pay any attention. He was about to answer her worried question, but then it all became too much, and an ocean of blackness washed over him, not allowing him a chance to fight against it as it dragged him down into the depths of unconsciousness.

The next time Al woke up, it was in a hospital bed.

It took him only a second to recall everything. Once he did, he tried to sit up

, and once again it took quite a bit of effort for such a simple task. He looked around and saw Winry sitting in a corner, watching him. She smiled softly at him when he met her gaze.

"You're awake," she said. She stood up and went to the table next to his bed, picked up a little bowl, and handed it to him. "Don't drink it too quickly," she cautioned.

Al did as he was told, though it was difficult—after all those years of not eating, broth seemed like the most delicious thing in the world to him. The warmth of it filled his stomach, and he felt almost sad when he finished it, already longing for more. But instead, he asked, "Where's Brother?" He had asked the question before already, but Winry had failed to answer him, for some reason.

The moment those words came out of his mouth, however, her expression darkened, and she sat on the bed, looking worried. "I don't know," she admitted. "I don't know where Ed is. I mean, I'm sure he's fine, wherever he is, but still…" She didn't need to finish her sentence for Al to know how concerned she was. It was strange that he wasn't here, knowing how much he always cared about his younger brother, and how this meant to him just as much, if not perhaps more, than it did to Alphonse himself.

A horrifying thought popped into his head, and he tried his best to get rid of it, but to no avail. "You don't think… that to get my body back… he… " He couldn't make himself finish the sentence. The idea of his brother, gone, just so he could have his body back was unbearable, and at the same time terrifyingly likely. After all, Ed had been willing to sacrifice his own arm just to keep his younger brother in the land of the living…

If that was what happened, then Al didn't want his old body anymore, not if it came at the cost of his older brother's life.

"I hope not," Winry whispered, her face anguished. "He had to have found some other way. But it does seem like… like something he would do." That was just how selfless he was, even if he acted otherwise. It was one of the many reasons why she loved him, and at the same time it killed her inside, filling her with fear that his selflessness, particularly where Al was concerned, would cause him to be taken away from her at some point. "But maybe he's fine. Maybe he's just fallen asleep somewhere, and we're blowing this whole thing out of proportion." Even as she said it, she knew it wasn't the case, but she ignored the nagging voice in her head that told her so and tried to pretend that everything was okay.

Al looked at her, eyes wide and pleading. "Can you find him, please?" he asked. "I… I want him to be here."

Winry nodded. "Of course," she told him, though it wasn't just for his sake that she was agreeing to this. She also needed to see Ed for herself, to make sure he was okay—after all, there had to be some reason that Ed hadn't been there with Al to help him get used to having his body back. She could only hope it wasn't something bad. Because if it was…

She shook her head, trying to clear her head of those kinds of thoughts, and left, sincerely hoping that everything was okay like she was trying to tell herself they were. She asked around first, trying to see if anyone had just so happened to see Ed, but with every reply of, "No, I haven't seen him at all today," her heart sank lower and lower. Finally, she found herself at the room him and Al were staying in, and what she saw there seemed to confirm her worst suspicions.

She had to have missed something that morning when she came in and found Al back in his original body. Either that, or something had changed between then and now—but whichever it was that really happened, it didn't matter. All that mattered to her was that Ed's stuff was gone.

In fact, it almost looked as if he was never here in the first place, as the room was completely empty of any trace of him. His alchemy books, which would normally be scattered on the desk, were gone; all his clothes were gone, and even the bed, which he sometimes left messy and unmade, looked as no one had ever slept in it the night before. She couldn't help but notice a folded-up piece of paper on the nightstand, which gave her a tiny bit of hope—at least until she opened it up and saw what was on it.

The moment Winry came back and saw Al looking hopefully at her, it was all she could do not to burst into tears right then and there.

"He left a note," she told him, holding it up for him to see. "He left a note, and he didn't leave anything else…" Winry tried to contain herself. "I haven't read it yet." She'd only skimmed through it, but that was plenty enough for her to see what was written there.

She handed the note to him, and he accepted it, staring at the piece of paper now in front of him. It was definitely from his brother—he'd recognized the cramped, barely legible scrawl immediately. Many parts of it had been vigorously crossed out, but not so much so that one couldn't tell what had been written there. Ink had been smeared a little in some places, and water stains warped the paper, making it appear as if someone had been crying while writing it… but that couldn't be right. That couldn't possibly be right, because Edward Elric simply didn't cry. He hadn't cried at their mother's funeral, hadn't cried when they failed to bring her back. He hadn't cried no matter what life threw at him, remaining strong no matter what, using said strength as well as his keen intelligence to get them out of even the most hopeless of situations. Perhaps it sounded like an exaggeration, but Alphonse certainly wasn't lying when he told people he couldn't remember ever seeing his brother cry.

"It must have been really difficult for him," Winry murmured, touching the note with two fingers. "I can only imagine what happened, that he felt the need to… to go, and to take all his stuff with him."

They read the note together, hoping for some sort of explanation as to why Ed wasn't there with him.

Al, Winry, if you're reading this, then yeah, I left. I feel like the world's biggest jackass for doing so, for sinking to that bastard's level no matter how much I swore that I never would. Makes me wonder if he saw leaving as necessary, somehow—but that doesn't make things any better. It doesn't make me hate myself any less for having to do this, even if I couldn't figure out any other way to fix the mess I made and keep anything from happening to you.

Al, I know you're probably wondering what the hell happened—I can hardly believe it myself. Shit, I don't even know what I did, not really, but that's what I'm trying to figure out. I just hope you understand that I have to do this, and that I can't stand it if anything else happened to you as a result. –I- -a-l-r-e-a-d-y- -f-u-c-k-e-d- -u-p- -w-h-e-n- -w-e- -t-r-i-e-d- -t-o- -b-r-i-ng- -M-o-m- -b-a-c-k-,- -a-n-d- -i-t-'-s- -a-l-l- -m-y- -f-a-u-l-t- -t-h-a-t- -y-o-u- -l-o-s-t- -y-o-u-r- -b-o-d-y- -i-n- -t-h-e- -f-i-r-s-t- -p-l-a-c-e- I was the one who did this, who created the mess in our lives that ultimately led to this, so don't worry about being responsible for it. Just take care of yourself, alright? –'-C-a-u-s-e- -T-r-u-t-h- -o-n-l-y- -k-n-o-w-s- -t-h-a-t- -I- -w-o-n-'-t –b-e- -a-b-l-e- -t-o- -a-n-y-m-o-r-e-.- You got your body back, after all, -w-h-i-c-h- -m-e-a-n-s- -I- -h-a-v-e-n-'-t- -e-n-t-i-r-e-l-y- -f-a-i-l-e-d- -a-t- -b-e-i-ng- -y-o-u-r- -o-l-d-e-r- -b-r-o-t-h-e-r- which is all that really matters. Enjoy it for me, 'kay? Eat all the foods you put on that list of yours—after the hell that you've been through, you deserve it.

Winry, I'm not sure how to say this, but –l-a-t-e-l-y- -I'-v-e- -c-o-m-e- -t-o- -v-i-e-w- -y-o-u- -a-s- -m-o-r-e- -t-h-a-n- -a- -f-r-i-e-n-d

-I-'-m- -n-o-t- -e-n-t-i-r-e-l-y- -s-u-r-e- -w-h-e-n- -t-h-i-n-g-s- -c-h-a-n-g-e-d- -b-e-t-w-e-e-n- -u-s-

-D-a-m-n- -i-t-,- -i-t- -i-s-n-'-t- -f-a-i-r- -t-h-a-t- -I-c-a-n-'-t- -t-e-l-l- -y-o-u- -I- -l-o-v-e- -y-o-u- -s-t-r-a-i-g-h-t- -t-o- -y-o-u-r- -f-a-c-e

Just be happy, okay? Find some guy to love you, take care of you, and give you all the kids you want. –a-l-l- -t-h-e- -t-h-i-n-g-s- -I-'-d- -d-o- -f-o-r- -y-o-u- -i-f- -n-o-t- -f-o-r- -t-h-e- -f-a-c-t- -t-h-a-t- -I-'-l-l- -p-r-o-b-a-b-l-y- -n-e-v-e-r- -s-e-e- -y-o-u- -a-g-a-i-n- Just take care of yourself, like I told Al, and live a happy life. –I-t-'-s- -n-o-t- -l-i-k-e- -a-n- -a-s-s-h-o-l-e- -l-i-k-e- -m-e- -d-e-s-e-r-v-e-s- -a-n- -a-m-a-z-i-n-g- -g-i-r-l- -l-i-k-e- -y-o-u- -a-n-y-w-a-y-

And that's pretty much it. I wish I could say more, but I don't really have much time. Don't even bother looking for me, because if something happens to either of you because of me, I wouldn't ever be able to forgive myself for it.

Take care of yourselves,

Ed

Neither one of them said anything for a little while, too shocked to speak. It had been clear that something major had happened, but how bad could it have possibly been, that Ed had seen no other choice but to leave? Alphonse had finally gotten his body back after all these years, but at what price?

"What happened last night?" Winry asked quietly, needing to know, because perhaps then she could figure out what happened to him. Her heart felt like it was shattering into a million little pieces the moment she saw Al shaking his head sadly.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I can't remember a single thing about what happened last night. The last thing I can recall is Brother being excited about something—really excited about something, now that I think about it." Al considered it for a few moments. "Whatever it was probably had to do with me getting my body back. But that's all I know. After that… nothing." Al looked completely and utterly dejected at the realization. He knew that his brother would probably have been glad—after all, this just meant that whoever it was that drove his brother into leaving wouldn't have any reason to bug him, as he knew nothing about what happened last night—but really, all it did for Al was make him determined to find out what happened. Ed might have been under the continuing impression that he had to handle everything by himself, that there was something wrong with letting some of the burdens he had to face land on shoulders that were not his own—but while Al didn't doubt his brother's abilities, not for a single second, he also knew that Ed was being unfair to himself, and was too stubborn to believe that things didn't have to be that way.

Once he got better, Al decided, he'd find out what had happened that night, would find out what price his brother had to pay to get his body back. He'd unlock the memories that were now hidden from him, and though he knew he wasn't nearly as brave or as strong or as smart as his older brother always had been, Al would do whatever it took to stand at his side and help carry whatever burdens that Ed thought he had to deal with alone.

He told exactly as much to Winry, who only sighed and said, "I just hope he's okay. That idiot… of course he'd go and do something like this." Only Ed would try to protect his brother and the girl he cared about by leaving—and hate himself immensely for it, thinking that leaving was completely unforgivable even if it did seem to be the only option.

Just then the door opened, and in strode none other than Colonel Roy Mustang. He stopped when he saw Al, a brief look of surprise showing on his face before being replaced by a stiff smile.

"So," he murmured, "he finally did it, didn't he? Fullmetal finally did what he set out to do in the first place. Though—" he looked around for a moment, seeming confused, and continued, "I thought he'd be here, honestly. I need to speak with him about something really important. He's still a part of the military, after all, even if…" Roy stopped again, looking at the two teenagers, only just beginning to realize that something was wrong.

"What?" he demanded. "What's going on?"

Their only response was silence.

The train station was as busy as usual, so naturally the officers had their hands full trying to search the crowd. They tried to comb through it as well as they possibly could manage, but still, it was very much possible that the Fullmetal Alchemist could have easily slipped away before the military could catch him.

One particular officer—a fresh-faced young man who had barely joined the military a few months ago—was all too eager to follow orders, but at the same time couldn't help but question them (not out loud, of course—he knew better than to do something like that when he was at the bottom rung of the ladder, so to speak). Why were they after the Hero of the People, anyway? What happened that made the government order the arrest of the renowned child prodigy that gave the rest of the military a positive light?

But either way, orders were orders, so here he was, following them to a T—because what else was he supposed to do? That didn't change the fact that they were damn difficult. He'd never met the Fullmetal Alchemist before, so all he had to go off of was the description his superior officer gave him, and as much as he and his comrades had searched, there was not a single soul that had matched that description at all.

At one point he strode over to one of his companions, wondering if his fellow officer had any more success than he'd been having. "I don't see him," he said, "What was his description again?"

"Gold hair and gold eyes," the other man murmured. "Though he could have easily disguised himself, you know." His statement really made sense—after all, no one else had such a unique description. He wasn't sure of much concerning what happened between the military and the esteemed young alchemist, but he didn't doubt that the kid probably didn't want to be found that easily—so the idea that he'd probably find a way to disguise himself was, for the most part, a no-brainer.

"Then how do we know if it's really him?" the first man asked. He looked around and noticed a pale-haired man with sunglasses passing them from roughly ten feet away. He certainly looked suspicious—but from what he knew, it was probably some guy who was part Ishbalan—after all, they were the ones who wore sunglasses in order to conceal their blood red eyes, especially after the war that killed so many of them. Though it was likely that he was exactly who they were looking for…

"Well, they did say he was supposed to be really short," his companion replied. "So there's one thing that might help us."

"So, he's probably not that guy?" the young soldier asked, pointing at the man he was looking at.

The other soldier followed his finger. "Nope, probably not. He looks a little too tall."

And with that they continued their search, which was, unfortunately, just as fruitless as before.

Once he stepped outside the train station, Ed couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief—those officers had stared right at him and decided that he wasn't the person they were looking for. He supposed it was a good thing that he had been too hollowed-out from what he had just done to really react to those officers' remarks. He couldn't afford to give himself away now, even if he had just been called short for about the billionth time. After all, it was clear that they had already found out, and were already trying to find him. Ed couldn't let himself be found, not after what had just happened.

He tried not to consider what he'd left behind—it was too painful—but unfortunately he couldn't help himself. He briefly wondered what Al was doing right now, and how he was faring now that he had his body back. Ed could only hope that his younger brother heeded the warning he put in the note he left behind, though he had a bad feeling that Al wouldn't let that stop him. After all, if the roles were reversed, Ed sure as hell wouldn't let that stop him.

And as for Winry… well, the thought of her brought a whole river of sweet anguish, especially knowing that there was no way she would have him now. Not after this.

Ed looked back at the train station even as he began to walk slowly away from it. The case was on now—that much was clear—though for how long he wasn't sure. He just knew that he had to figure out exactly he had done, figure out how to fix it without his baby brother having to pay, and bring down the homunculi before they could get involved and make things even worse for the sake of their own hellish interests.

It seemed to be pretty much impossible, of course—but really, Edward Elric never let that stop him before.

For those of you who haven't guessed, the parts in the notes with dashes in between every letter are the crossed out bits, because I couldn't think of a better way to show that.