"Here!" Al whispered to himself, knowing there had to be someone who could help here. Partially releasing his brother's torn, bloody body, he reached up and banged on the gate. "Please help me!" Al screamed into the speaker. "My brother needs help, he's dying, I don't know what to do, and please just help us! Please!" Al begged, shaking the gate.

There was no response, and the front door of the house didn't open.

"Help me! HELP!" Al screamed.

Roy Mustang sat by the fire sipping tea, a contented smile on his face.

Get a wife, he says. Pshaw. Who needs a wife when I have fire? And myself, of course.

Outside, amidst the thunder and pouring rain, it sounded like some sort of commotion was going on.

"Probably a bunch of hobos with too much time on their hands." Roy scoffed, bringing his teacup up to his lips and taking another sip.

"HELP!"

Roy jerked. That was definitely a distinct cry for help—no doubt about it. Being the Lieutenant Colonel he was, he couldn't very well let somebody scream for help on his front porch all night, could he? Then again, maybe it was just more hobos causing trouble….

"Please! He's dying! Help!"

Roy stood up, setting his cup down on the coffee table. Not only was there death now involved, but that was most certainly the cry of a child—a young one. Ten or eleven, perhaps?

Roy stepped onto his front porch and peered into the blackness, squinting and shielding his eyes from the elements that pounded into the pathway.

"Please, sir! My brother's dying!"

He saw a small child frantically banging on the gate and trying to get in. There was a bundle next to him. Probably a wrapped up blanket with food or clothes inside.

Roy hesitated, but then removed his gloves and shoved them into his pockets, dashing out into the water and stopping at the gate to speak with the boy.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked.

"Please! My brother! He got hit by a car, but the driver left! I don't know what to do, and I'm scared!"

"Stop that sobbing, first of all." Roy's voice was cold, and the boy shut up instantly. "Second of all, where were your parents? Why weren't they watching you?"

"Our mother… died… and father… we don't know where he is." The child hung his head, started to cry.

"Don't start that again." Roy flung the gates open, frustration showing in his eyes. "Now, where is your brother?" Probably has a few cuts and bruises. It'll only take a moment, then I can call the orphanage and have them keep these little—

"He's right there, sir!" The boy pointed to the bundle, and Roy tensed. That bundle… was a human? That bundle wasn't moving… and that bundle was seeping red into the rainwater.

Roy opened the blanket up and saw the tattered form of a young blonde inside. He had blood streaming down his face and through his hair. His chest was torn open, and road rash covered his arm and leg. Even the automail was—auto…mail?

"He attempted human transmutation…" Roy muttered to himself. At this point, Roy had a choice to make. This boy had done something detestable, and he could easily leave the child on his doorstep and walk away without dirtying his hands. No one would blame him for punishing a sinner such as this. Or… he could keep the boy… and cover up the automail….

A small fist closed around Roy's jacket as the rain poured down, soaking the trio by the gate.

"Please… he was scared… and I know he regrets it… he wanted Mom back… Please!" the boy screamed. "Please don't punish him!"

Roy suddenly found himself knocked flat on his butt with a child clinging to him and screaming.

"Let him live, please!"

"I told you twice now to stop that infernal wailing! You're giving me a headache!" Roy shouted.

The boy jumped away, and Roy stood up. "Regardless of your brother's reasons, what he did was forbidden, and I cannot allow that to go unnoticed. I'm sorry for your loss." Roy turned and started up the path back to his house.

He couldn't. He just couldn't take those two in. If he was ever found out, he would never have a chance at becoming the Furher… He just couldn't, and the world would have to get over that!

His steps slowed, and he glanced over his shoulder. The younger brother had thrown his body over the older one's, and it looked like he was trying to keep the dying person warm.

Roy's hands balled into fists and he cursed under his breath, standing in the rain for at least five minutes before turning and going back to the two boys. He picked them both up in his arms, earning a surprised yelp from the only one still conscious, and started back towards the house.

"Thank you, sir! Please, just call the hospital! You don't have to keep us! We'll leave you alone, and we—"

"Unless you want me to drop you right now and continue to the house without you, I suggest you learn when to talk and when to be quiet. Learn fast." Roy's voice was once again sharp and businesslike. There would be no tom foolery within his house, especially not because of two brat children who meddled in the wrong affairs.

"Yes, sir," the boy whispered.

"Good. What's your name?"

"Alphonse Elric. Everyone calls me Al."

Roy nodded. "What's your brother's name?"

"Edward Elric. We call him Ed."

Roy nodded again, entering the house. "You two stay here. I'll call a doctor and we'll set you up in the guest room. You'll be fine there, right?" The way he said it made it very obvious that Al and Ed had no choice. They would be staying in the guest bedroom even if Roy had to strap them down to the bed and knock them out with chloroform. Hmm… knock out with chloroform. Now that was an idea.

Roy shook his head and continued to the kitchen to grab the phone.