Okay everyone! This is my fiftieth story! Hooray! It took me since 10-15-08 to make it this far! Would 50 reviews be too much to ask? (Yes. It would. Still, review, okay?)

Part One

There was a Beginning and there was an End. At the moment, Alphonse was stuck in the middle.

The Beginning had been when he received the call from Roy Mustang saying that Central City Hospital had contacted him, recognizing Edward as the Fullmetal Alchemist and Roy as his commanding officer.

The Beginning had continued as he ran from the dorms, frustrated at the lack of details, and went to the hospital as quickly as he could manage.

The End would be when the doctors came to assure him that everything would be okay, as was usual.

The End hadn't come yet.

He was stuck in the Middle.

The doctor came out after such a long time, giving the seven foot suit of armor a weary, wary look. Alphonse stood up, feeling out of place in the dull white waiting room, surrounded by the ticking of a clock, the turning of magazine pages, the looks of horror that covered the faces of everyone else in the room as they waited for news of their own friends or family members or whoever of their relation was lying behind one of those light, brown, foreboding doors.

"Alphonse Elric?" the doctor said, his voice tired and old. Al gave a small nod, confirming his identity. "Your brother should be fine. A civilian found him at the scene of the collapse and called here on a pay phone. Edward's been requesting to speak to you."

Al nodded, his armor creaking loudly. He made a mental note to ask Winry for more oil.

Which reminds me...

"Is his automail okay? I'll need to call his mechanic if..." He trailed off, surprised at the look of confusion on the doctor's face.

"What are you talking about? Edward doesn't have automail."

He stared at his hand. Cold thin, clammy to the touch...But a hand. Not metal, not artificial, not just a pathetic replacement.

Real flesh and bone.

He could feel the stiff sheets against his fingers, the light gray color matching his skin. Deprived of sunlight, the two limbs hardly looked like they belonged to him.

But they did. He had his limbs back.

It made him want to curl up and die.

The door opened and he heard heavy footsteps, alerting him of the entry of his brother.

"...Ed?" he called softly. He sounded lost. "The doctor said that you...That you didn't...Have automail. Is he blind or something? Or are you really...?"

Ed opened his mouth, but his throat was too tight to speak. He swallowed hard, trying to force the words up. He couldn't.

He held up his shaking arm, turning away so that he wouldn't see Al's reaction...Or rather, so that Al couldn't see HIS reaction.

It (he wasn't ready to call that thing an arm or that other thing a leg) was thin, emaciated even, much different from the rest of his body.

"...Ah," Al said simply. Ed grimaced and turned around. He forced the tears back for a moment, but...

At the sight of his brother, still in that giant metal prison, the dam broke and he couldn't hold back anymore. The tears burst out and he covered his face with his (still mismatched) hands.

"I-I'm sorry!" he said between sobs, still not looking at Al. "I-I didn't w-want to...And you d-deserve it so much more...B-but I couldn't...I can't...Th-there was-"

He stopped short as a cold hand touched his back, patting him awkwardly.

"It's okay, brother. I mean...It's not...N-not..." Al's voice broke and Ed's mood fell even deeper into the depths of despair.

He can't even cry... he thought to himself, another round of tears escaping his eyes.

"...How does it feel?" Al asked, trying to sound optimistic.

Alphonse was still caught in the Middle.

To Ed, it was the very End.