Hi, I know I'm posting this pretty late, but I wanted to throw in my tribute to October 3, the day Ed and Al burned down their family house. It's just a one-shot about the day they did it. It's a bit short and not an original storyline, but I still wanted to write it.

Rated T for blood and feelings.

I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist but, honestly, someone would be either screaming or bleeding in every chapter so

The flame was bright and hot and seared into his eyes as he stared on, unflinchingly. There was a loud series of thuds as more charred support beams succumbed to the fire and collapsed, bringing another section of the house down with his. Shattering noises filled the air as any glass inside the house became unable to stand the stress of the heat. There was a long groan as the entire building shivered, unable to hold up its own weight for much longer. And still he watched, unable and unwilling to turn his eyes away. That had once been his home, where he was born, where he grew up with Al and mom.

He missed those days, when he and his brother sat outside and read their books, coming up with what they were going to transmute for their mother next. She always loved seeing their alchemy, she was always so proud of their talent. They wanted nothing more then to see their mom's smile. It was such a beautiful smile. And, even after she died, their wants never changed, only the method in which they could see it. If only they had accepted that they would never see it again...

His left hand gripped harder on the small object that he carried. The metal felt cool through his glove, cold and emotionless unlike the raging heat that buffeted his face. The metal...just like armor. A cold, hollow shell. And his arm and leg, metal and fake, unfeeling and dead. It was always metal, wasn't it? He had once transmuted a metal dog for his mom. And he had tasted metal when he had Al had a particularly rough fight. And he had smelled it too, on that night.

The flames writhed in front of his eye and became the stretching, ghostly arms of the gate. The heat from the fire became pure, searing pain in his leg as feeling pooled into the stump and out with the blood, all that blood, covering the floor. It smelled of metal and rust. He was screaming and holding into what was left of his leg, pressing down on the wound, trying to stop that blood because maybe then the pain would go away and he wouldn't have to smell that stench anymore. Maybe this was all a dream and he would wake up from and his leg would be back and his mother would be alive and...and...Al...

There was a loud crack as one of the transmutation bolts shot past his head. The transmutation...it was still happening. He had to get to it, he had to finish the transmutation that they had started, that they had sacrificed so much for. He took one of his arms away from his stump and reached forward, trying to pull himself up from the floor. Intense pain shot through his body from his stump and he cried out in pain. Why had this happened? What had he done wrong?!

"Dammit," he yelled, pulling himself onto one knee, "this can't be happening. It can't be!" his bloody hands pressed down at the edge of the circle as bright, haunting light continued to pour into his eyes. He tried to focus on the alchemy, he tried to will the materials in the center, or wherever they were, to the form of his mother, but he couldn't do it. The pain was too great, both in his leg and in his chest, the overwhelming fear and despair that had followed him from the portal still crushing the inside of his body.

"This wasn't supposed to..." his words were cut off by another cry of pain as the heat in his leg spiked again and his arms trembled from the strain of holding his weakening body up. He looked back at his stump and bile rose to his throat at the sight of it; his skin torn and blood pouring out and pooling on the floor. He couldn't do it...he'd failed. He was going to die from all this blood loss and the transmutation would fail. He'd failed his mother and he had failed Alphonse. And then he remembered the image of his brother disappearing in front of him, his body deconstructed by the great eye that had opened in the center of the circle.

"He's gone..." he gasped, trying to keep himself steady, but the combined pain and the horrible guilt was sticking in his throat. Alphonse was gone. He was gone. Gone. GONE. "WHAT HAVE I DONE?"

Too weak to hold up his body for any longer, his arms buckled out from under him and he hit the floor with a gasp, his body shaking. He was beginning to feel light-headed. He struggled to stay conscious, but he didn't know how much longer he could stay awake. He didn't want to die, not now!

"Somebody help me," he moaned, fear coursing through his body, "somebody..."

And then he noticed that the room was dark again and there was a soft shifting from in front of him. The transmutation must have completed. His mom was there...she could help him! A rush of pure emotion shot through his body. They had really done it...but Alphonse...and his leg...

"Please mom," he croaked, managing to crack open his eyes and face where the materials had been before, "mom, please..."

But then he froze, his eyes widening with shock, and a horrified choke stopped any other words. What he had mistaken for his mother was actually a horrifying creature, it's ribs reaching out from its body like claws reaching for the sky, its limbs splayed at weird angles and its blank eyes glowing red. It's body was covered with blood that also spread across the stones it lay on. As he watched, the creature gave out a shaky, rattling breath. It stretched forward with a twisted arm, the misplaced bones scraping against each other, reaching for him, before it gave a horrible coughing sound and blood splattered on the ground and the arm went limp and the body moved no more.

"No..." he gasped, his stomach writhing at the horrible sight, "this is wrong. This isn't..."

Anguish clenched at his rapidly beating heart and tears stung his eyes as the realization of what had happened hit him. "This isn't what we wanted!"

He had killed her, he had killed his mother again. He had stolen her soul and stuffed it into that creature, a creature that only lived a few seconds, seconds that were nothing but pain. He had created that, and he had sacrificed his brother to do it. Alphonse was gone because of the mistake that he made. He was so stupid. He thought that there was nothing else to lose, but Alphonse...he had lost his only brother.

"Al..." he whimpered as he struggled to get back on his hands and knee. "Alphonse..."

But there was no response. He looked over at where his brother had been before, but all that was there were his clothes without the boy himself in them.

"Alphonse!" He cried, as if his brother was still close by. He had to find him, he had to have him back. He couldn't go on without him. "Alphonse!"

Tears rolled down his cheeks as he struggled to stay conscious. He couldn't die now, he couldn't leave this alone. He needed him back. "This is all my fault."

A surge of emotion flamed from his chest and he screamed into the darkness, "Alphonse, no!"

The world stopped spinning for a moment and determined anger filled his small body. His hand bunched into a fist and he slammed the ground. He had to do something, anything, to get Al back. But first, he realized, as a wave of weariness washed over his body, he had to keep himself alive.

Silently apologizing to his brother for ruining his clothes, he grabbed the shirt he had left behind. He carefully flipped himself over, cringing against the spike of pain, and tied it around his stump. His weak, shivering fingers couldn't manage a tourniquet, but it was enough to halt the bleeding somewhat. It would have to do for now. He didn't have much time. He had to do something, he wouldn't let the Truth take Al too...

The Truth...

And, suddenly, he knew. He knew what to do, how to get Al back. He had seen it in the portal and now he knew how to do it. There would be a price, of course, but he was willing to pay anything. No doubt or hesitance held him back as he reached forward and began to pull himself across the floor. His eye caught on one of the suits of armor in the corner of the room. That would have to work.

He dragged himself to the base of the stand and, with a great, painful effort, managed to topple the huge thing, sending a loud clanging through the room as the metal smashed into the ground, the head rolling off and away. He cringed as the effort sent another spike of pain through his body.

The world was getting hazy again. Gritting his teeth, he pushed against the wall and crawled forward, fighting against the pain in his leg and his muscles that were getting sore from lack of oxygen. It seemed to take forever to get from the feet to the head of the armor at the fastest pace he could manage, but still, he fought.

"No, dammit," he gasped, "you won't take him too."

Finally he was facing the empty depths of the suit of armor and he sat himself at the head. Without a moment of hesitation, he wet his finger with the blood seeping through the shirt and began to draw a circle on the cold metal.

"Give him back," he cried, tears running freely down his cheeks, "he's my brother."

And, through the haze of pain and fading concentration, he saw the Truth grinning down at him, its left leg now flesh instead of blank nothingness. Anger flared inside Ed and vigor coursed through his body, strengthening and speeding up his drawing of the circle. Finally, he added the last line and turned to face the Truth.

"Take my leg," he growled, "take my arm..."'

And as an image of Al's face flashed beneath his eyelids, the grief and guilt exploded and his anger was buried beneath his despair. "TAKE MY HEART," he screamed, "ANYTHING, YOU CAN HAVE IT!"

There was no hesitance behind his words. He didn't care what happened to him, he had to right this wrong. He didn't care that Truth's grin got wider at his proclamation.

"Just give him back," he yelled, "he's my little brother he's all I have left!"

He didn't know how he knew what to do, only that this was the way. He was the array and his body the circle. He clapped his hands together and the alchemy activated, a sparkling blue light filling the empty room. The door appeared behind the Truth and slammed open, the great grasping arms flying straight towards him. He flinched as they got closer, unwilling to go back into the portal of truth. This time, however, they didn't take him through, but simple grasped onto his arm and pulled it right off.

He screamed with agony as the skin and bone were rent away and blood exploded from the new wound. He could hear the Truth laughing, his voice getting more and more distant as blue light shone from the suit of armor. He shut his eyes against it, completely overwhelmed by his pain, and held his bare shoulder for dear life with the only arm he had left. He sat there while the exchange happened, praying to anything, whether it be God, the Truth, or some other force that he could never understand, that his brother would come back to him.

It seemed like forever before the light died away and silence returned to the room, besides his soft moans and whimpers. There was blood in his mouth now, he could taste it. It tasted of metal and pain and the scent of it overwhelmed his senses. And then they began to dull. He couldn't taste or smell anything now. He was fading, fading fast, but he had to stay awake...he had to know...

And then he heard a low groan and he knew that it had worked. Alphonse was back. There was a metallic shifting as the armor, its head restored, began to move and raise itself off the ground.

"What happened..."

The voice was coming from the armor and it was, undoubtedly, Al's voice. A sense of relief briefly filled him, but it was gone a moment later as the pain intensified and he gritted his teeth against the dark tide that was threatening to take him. A small gasp unwillingly left his body.

"Huh?" He cracked open his eyes and saw Al, the armor, staring at his new body, looking at his hands with, would he have a face, dumb confusion. "What is this?"

"I-I'm sorry...Al..." he managed to croak, his voice weak and trembling.

The metal armor turned, its glowing eyes resting on him before it jumped to its feet and ran over. "Brother!"

He felt more blood make its way through his fingers and he squeezed tighter, gasping with pain. The world was beginning to spin and the haze was getting thicker. He couldn't hold on anymore.

Something cold rested at his side and two strong arms fitted themselves against his back and under his legs. He shivered as he felt his stump make contact with the armor. His brother was so cold now, it numbed the pain in his side. The blood seemed to slide right across the metal. He felt the same shivering emotion cross his body that he had felt when he saw what he had created from the transmutation. He didn't want this metal, this cold, dead thing. He wanted his brother, his warm, flesh body, touching him gently instead of this large, clumsy grip he had now.

"What happened to you?" Al cried, "And me? What happened to me?"

Guilt rose up in his chest again and he gritted his teeth, the question stabbing into his heart. "There wasn't much time," he whimpered, "I used my right arm as material in a transmutation. All I could manage to do was attach your spirit to the armor in the corner..." he trailed away, the pain in his body flaring up and threatening to choke him.

"Oh no..." Al whispered.

He clenched his arm tighter against his side and gasped as more pain stabbed into his shoulder. He tried to focus on his breathing, but his lungs were out of control, each breath fast and short, his body trying to get oxygen to his brain as more and more oxygen and blood spilled out of his body.

"But...what about mom?" Al whimpered, turning his head towards the transmutation circle.

"You shouldn't look! It wasn't human." He didn't want his brother to see it too, what they had created, but he knew it was too late as Al gasped in horror.

"I don't understand, Ed," he wailed. "What happened? Your theorems and equations. They all seemed right!"

He shivered again, his hold on reality slipping, the taste and smell of blood gone from his senses. Only Al's cold, emotionless armor was left. Only that and the guilt and despair.

"It wasn't the theorems, Al. It wasn't the math...It was us."

Darkness began to press down, crushing his body, numbing all the pain in his body. A wave of incredible weariness settled over him and he finally let go, his conscious slipping away.

I'm sorry brother...so...sorry...

...

He clenched the pocketwatch harder, painfully aware of the metal weighing down his right side and holding up his left leg. It was always metal. Metal that trapped his brother's soul, metal that covered that which he had lost in his arrogance, and metal that now rested within his clenched, gloved fist, becoming soaked with the memory and vision of the burning house. And even his title. The Fullmetal Alchemist. It was always metal.

It was a fitting title. He deserved it all. It was all is fault, his fault that mom was dead again, his fault that his brother was now trapped in a merciless cage of metal, and it was his fault that they could never go back to the life they had dreamed so dearly of living once again. They wanted to see their mom smile again and now they never could. The life was burning away along with the house that stood, or had once stood, before them. They could never go back and this their final goodbye.

He shivered, but no tears came to his eyes. Enough of those had been shed already. Besides, what right did he have to cry when his brother could never do it himself? He did not deserve the luxury of crying while Alphonse was trapped in that armor. He would just have to move forward, do whatever he could to get his brother his body back. He was the one who had done it, after all. He had made the decision to drag Al's soul back into cold, dead steel. He had to pay the price. Because how could Al ever forgive him for that?

As he looked on, watching his past burn away in front of him, all the good memories of playing in the living room and transmuting in the study, all the hell that had fallen on them that night, and the eyes of his mother going blank, Al's hand, reaching forward, destroyed by the portal, resolve settled. This was the day, the day that he would start to right his wrong. He wouldn't look back, he couldn't. If he did, he feared that he would tremble and break, that he would shatter under the guilt of what he had done. So he took a deep breath and held onto the pocketwatch tightly.

"Well," he sighed, still staring straight ahead, "there's no turning back for us now, brother."

He could feel the cold metal through his gloves. The pocketwatch was the future, their new life with him as a State Alchemist, treading through mud and always searching for that elusive, impossible thing, the truth. He could never look back. So he would store this moment, this desperate, determinate moment in his metal pocketwatch so that he would never forget his promise. To make his brother whole again and right his wrong.

This was the moment.

Don't forget 3 Oct. 11

I hope you enjoyed my first one-shot. Please review and tell me about what you thought. I'm always open for criticism. I wanted to combine what both the shows gave us about the night of the transmutation. I hope it all made sense and that I got the emotions through correctly.

So yeah, let me know what you think and have a great day!

-Silver