So we pick up again with Sam in her room at the hospital. I won't say much, except to say that I do not own FMA, the characters, or the settings. Sam and Allie, however, are mine. So enjoy the story, review, and etc.

Sam

One nurse falls on the ground after I had accidentally stuck the needle into her arm. Two nurses are left, and they are hanging back as they try to figure out a plan. I start to inch my way towards the curtains, watching the nurses as they follow me I glare at them and back against the wall. My hand clenches the middle of my abdomen as a warm liquid starts to seep in between my fingers. I want to ask them, beg an answer from them, but I know what they will say. I'm not going to waste my breath. Instead I keep fighting, pushing my way to the curtain to find my sister.

"Nurses, it's ok."

The nurses look back at the door; hesitate, than back away from me. With a clear view of the door I see a four people. In front a man with an official uniform with all sorts of medals, a woman behind him is dressed similarly. Not looking closely to any of them I make my way to the curtain. Finally there I grab the fabric and have to hold myself up as I feel the pain in my abdomen. The bandages around my wound are soaked and blood begins to drip onto the floor. Slowing my breath I steel myself, and throw open the curtains.

My breath stops in my throat, the muscles around my windpipe contract and tighten as my knees start to shake. A sheet covers something, a small shape, and I reach out a quivering hand and peel back the white sheet. My lungs cease to work, my knees buckle and I brace myself on the edge of the bed. I stare at the sheets with wet eyes as the military guy walks up to me. He stands on the other side of the bed, waiting for me recover from the shock. Shock? I look back up at the pillow that cradles the head an innocent child that could be sleeping. Sleeping, sleeping with mother and father, Alyssa.

She is clean, but the glow has gone from her face. The blond hair lies limply around her face, her pale face. Her hands have been laid on each other on top of her chest. One glove has been taken off, but her right hand still has its glove.

"They weren't able to remove that one." I look up at the..Colonel from the looks of his uniform. He lays Allie's other glove on her bare hand. Smirking as well as I can I lift myself up and look at him, then to her right hand.

"Ya, I guess they would have issues getting this off." With both hands trembling I grab onto the end of her glove and start to unbutton the snaps that keep the glove covering her hand no matter what she was doing. Gently pulling it off, I see the other three people step closer to get a better look. Confusion on the Colonels face, shock on the others. I expected as much, I mean, how could they have known of the automail that replaced her right hand all those years ago.

"Well that explains it, or most of it at least." He locks his gaze on me once more, and I turn my head to meet it. But as I try to harden my gaze more tears gather at the surface making my eyes glassy and my vision blurred. Something silver dangles from his hands as he says something and tries to hand it to me. But pain shoots through my body once more, and this time I don't have the strength or the will to fight and I fall. My arms come around the hole in me where our attacker had skewered me with his weapon.

Nurses instantly pounce on me. Lifting me back into my bed, hooking the IV's back up, and stopping the bleeding they are finally satisfied to leave me. Back in the bed I stare up at the ceiling, not wanting to watch as they roll my sister out of the room.

"Prep her for her funeral, I will send someone over to take her to the central cemetery."

"No!" I jolt up in my bed, wincing as I feel my wound, and I look up at all of the eyes trained on me. "I-I want to take her home, I promised her, I would." I stay sitting up despite the pain until I get a nod from the Colonel. Collapsing back onto the bed I gasp in relief as the intense pain starts to dissipate from my wounds. I look over at the bag of fluid that my arm is hooked up to and read Morphine on the label. Well that explains why I can hardly move. Closing my eyes I let the deep sleep that only a drug can give wash over me and pull me under.