AN: Hello. Here's my first attempt at some fanfiction. Flames are welcome! We can build a bonfire! Comment what you will, just please try to review in the first place. Obviously critiques are highly valued. Thanks and enjoy!

She sighed as she stared out the window, reminiscing. It was an act she rarely allowed herself to do, but today Izumi wasn't up to being active. She had had another coughing fit early this morning, leaving her slightly drained and more than happy to just sit. Her thoughts wondered, eventually following down the path of how she got her coughs in the first place.

Love. It was all for love in the end. It was a selfish act, but she had experienced a love that had been taken away from her too quickly. Her child had been perfect, or at least in her eyes. What mother doesn't think that way? But her perfect, little child was fragile. Too fragile to make it in the harsh world. So her child died.

And Izumi was broken.

So she delved into the forbidden knowledge of alchemy, human transmutation. She worked her way through the tangles of insubstantial facts and intricate designs until she had her formula. It took so long, she almost lost hope. But she found it. Her only regret was not telling her husband, whom she loved as much, if not more, than her child. But she was doing this for both of them. He just wouldn't understand. So she kept it a secret, a minor discomfort but everything would soon be over, and then it would pass. Once they had their child again. Once she got her baby back.

Anticipation seemed to burst through her chest on the chosen day. She had prepared everything, captured every little detail in her plan, and was ready. Her husband was out, and she was alone with nothing but her chalk and necessary supplies. Formulas ran through her head….35 liters of water, 20 kilograms of carbon, Four liters of ammonia…. Her hand steadily drew the circle and added the runes...One-and-a-half kilograms of lime, 800 grams of phosphorous, 250 grams of salt…she collected her carefully gathered materials in the center of the circle…100 grams of niter, 80 grams of sulfur, Seven-and-a-half grams of silicon… she knelt down at the circle's edge, unafraid. She had researched long and hard and knew what she was doing….100 grams of saltpeter, 15 other trace elements…the list ran through her head, and, as she finished, she placed her hands on the circle. She was certain of success as she opened herself up to the flow of energy and started the transmutation. All of the materials were there, all of the steps were taken, all of the knowledge was gained, to resurrect one human baby.

White. Nothing. A figure, blank and cruel. An explanation. A deal. The figure, now clad in her own organs. Hands, grabbing and relentless. A revelation. Knowledge, splintering her mind. A scream. Pain.

Izumi found herself lying in her bed, an empty room welcoming her waking. She was confused. She couldn't remember how she had gotten here, only flashes of strange events. She had been about to transmute her child, bring her baby back into her life and…

She remembered: the white expanse surrounding the Gate; the Truth, an empty, merciless being explaining her mistakes with glee; the dreadful realization of what she had done; then the deal; then the knowledge; then the pain. Izumi tore herself back to reality. But there was no escaping from what she had done. She felt the stabbing pain in her abdomen, a permanent proof to her sins. The door opened, and her husband walked in, carrying some flowers. He stopped when he saw her awake, the rushed to her side, setting the flowers on a side table as he grabbed her hand. And more explanations were given. Her memory filled in. And the child, her baby, her little perfect creation, had been reduced to a horrifying mess of flesh and bone and blood. She had done it again. Brought her child into the world, and killed it a second time.

When the boys came to her, forbidden memories resurfaced. She refused their request. Train them? Impossible. Not after what had happened. But then she heard about their mother, or rather, lack of one, and her heart ached. What could she do but take the boys in? Agree to train them as she tried to fill in for their lost parent? So time passed, and they grew. She taught them about alchemy, giving them the lessons all children should learn from their parents. And the love. Izumi had adopted them, or at least in her heart she did. While they could never be her baby, they were lost boys, too young to be on their own. So Izumi shared her love with them, and was given some love in return. Her holes filled a little, and, while they would never completely heal, the edge was taken from her hurt.

Eventually, she sent them home. She had given them the alchemic knowledge, among many other lessons, to form a solid foundation. Personal research and experience would be their guides now. So time passed.

And they came back. She heard they had arrived at her house and she was excited to see them. She didn't want to show it though. Why tell the world she had such a soft spot for the kids? And she got her first glimpse of them. They had definitely grown! But something was off. The elder's face was drawn tight with sorrow and stress. Engraved into this boy's face was a lifetime's worth of experience, but nothing good. The younger brother's face… was hidden behind a mask. His voice came out of a large suit of armor. Uneasiness slid into her as she stopped and really looked at them. She knew the general signed and picked them out of the two boys. And her heart seemed to stop.

No.

She'd forbidden it. She'd stressed the dangers. It could not be. But the evidence was set in front of her, in the form of her two boys. And her heart seemed to die, even as she kept her face cool and blank. They needed to talk.

And they did. Away from the noise and bustle of her house, she and her boy talked. And the story came out. Halting and dead, the worlds fell upon her. Each was a blow to her heart, and, as she listened, she wondered. What had been going through his head as he attempted this forbidden act? Had he been confident as she had been, safe in the certainty of his supposed knowledge? Had he been reciting the materials he had needed, a repetitive chant to ensure his success? Her heart couldn't bear the sight of her boy so defeated. Her sin from all of those years ago bombarded her mind. She knew why he did it; she understood what he had been going through. So she couldn't judge him. What right did she have to judge after making the same mistake, years ago? Her love came forth again and burned through her. She loved this boy, and would continue loving him and his brother no matter what happened. So she reached out for him. To show that she understood, that she had been through the same thing, and that she was there for him.

And she hugged her boy.