Author's Note: (Disclaimer: I do not own either the concept or storyline of FMA)

Wow, I haven't posted in months…thank you so much (!) to everyone who reads the story, and I'm so sorry that I haven't updated since last year.

I'm kind of sad…I had the next four or five chapters of this written out but then a virus wiped my computer clean :( Oh well, life goes on.

Oh! And to all those who don't know what the Kristallnacht is, it was an incident in the 1940's (it might have been the really late 1930's) where the Nazi party (and sympathizers) attacked and destroyed many Jewish synagogues.

Thanks for reading and again, I apologize for such a delay in updates!

Love, AL

P.S. I promise that there is going to be EdxWin very soon! It's a little difficult to incorporate into the story right now, since they are still in different worlds but I absolutely love them together and am going to lead up to their reunion in the following chapters.

I remember the Night of Broken Glass, the Kristallnacht. My father had taken me on a picnic early that afternoon and I had begged for us to stay until dark so that we could watch the stars. The violence was already in full swing as we walked back to our apartment in the city. Shrill screams dispersed high into the night sky like the plumes of smoke which stung my sleep-ridden irises.

The men destroying the synagogues left us alone; there was no doubt that we were Aryan. Despite this, my father was still arrested by the end of the night. He had been caught trying to put out the flames as well as save a man from being beaten by the unruly mob.

I watched with wide eyes, a terrified child, as they beat him until his coat was stained red. My uncle came to get me at the station later that night. I remember the tears in my baby cousins' eyes as they cast their gazes upon me-scared and shaking and covered in my father's blood.

I was but a toddler when the Second World War was being put into motion. The universal sorrow and chaos which followed was my childhood. I was sympathetic, although not shocked, when my teacher first taught me the history of the Ishablan War. It was a truly terrible thing, but I had witnessed something similar before.

No world can escape the throes of war. But save that fateful night in Germany, I was only ever a spectator of war-never truly a victim. Maybe that's why this time was so different, why the world became such an obscure haze.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" some words, and then a gentle knock. Or maybe the knock came first. I opened my eyes, nearly blinded by the sterile white sheen of the hospital room.

My attempt at sitting up was feeble and I was soothed back down by whoever was standing in the doorway. "Don't get up," they told me softly, approaching the bed. With each step, the blurred features of their face became clearer. Although my vision was getting better, all things distant still appeared as shapes to me.

"That's quite the battle wound."

Immediately, I forced myself upright, causing pain to shoot up my arm and across the front half of my chest. An arm adjusted the pillows behind me so that I could sit up comfortably. "Thanks," I gasped while trying, and failing, to form a smile.

I could see my visitor clearly now. A small but kind smile rested on Abel's friendly face as he slipped his arm out from under me. "I thought I'd be the first to congratulate you."

"Huh? On what?"

He slipped his hands into the navy blue pockets of his military pants, the silver chain of his stop watch twitching slightly. "You haven't been told? That makes sense…considering everything that's happened…" he murmured.

"What, what it is it?"

"You're a state alchemist now."

I was tired of feigning excitement. I glanced down at my free hand, resting in my lap and replied with a quiet, "Yeah, I heard."

Before he could reply, I glanced up at him with a small smile, "thank you."

Although his gaze was smothered in sympathy, I refused to break away from his stare. I decided that I would accept the sympathy just this once. That for the first time since my admittance, I would act like a normal patient in a normal situation with a normal gun-shot wound.

"So…how's the shoulder?"

"I've never been shot before," a small laugh escaped me; "I can't say that it wasn't an interesting experience."

Our eyes both landed on the layers of gauze covering my shoulder and the dark blue sling that suspended my left arm. "My concussion was bad either, so I'll be released soon."

"That's good to hear." he smiled.

I decided not to tell him the other news-what they'd discovered about my body or about the new scar between my small breasts, a puffy red line that stretched neatly down to the peak of my rib cage. When I first came into their world, Mustang had muttered something about a miracle-that I was lucky not to have lost any part of me when I went through the gate. I hadn't thought much of it at the time, but now I couldn't push that moment from my mind.

I had only been awake for a few hours when the doctor told me…he'd looked over my x-rays and informed us of what he'd found…

"You're missing a lung…I investigated this when you began to cough up blood after we removed the bullet. One of the blood vessels that used to connect your two lungs together was leaking into the one that remains and your body was forcing itself to cough the blood out in order to keep itself from drowning. We had to operate immediately or the blood flow would have become too prominent for you to handle…"

I didn't listen as he explained the procedure that they had preformed.

I twitched, startled, as Abel's hand brought me back from thought. His fingers lightly grazed the crown of my forehead-brushing a couple of stray strands of hair to the side. "Sorry," he murmured, pulling his hand away from me. Before I could respond, three figures crowded the doorway.

I hadn't noticed before, but the hall outside my room was busy with nurses and frantic visitors. "What's going on?" with an air of solemnity, Abel turned to the figures.

One began to speak, and I recognized her voice at once.

"The hospital is being evacuated." There was no need for Riza to explain. Drachma's soldiers had been stationed in the city ever since the attack, although they had left the hospital untouched. Everyone knew they would eventually come to occupy the hospital as well, but no one had any clue as to when. Finally, the time had come.

My throat tightened and I cringed at what was to come-I knew this feeling. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping to prevent the tears that were building up. I could hear a pair of boots against the tile and opened my eyes as curiosity got the best of me. There was a significant collection of water now in the corner of my eyes and I knew with one more blink, I'd be done for.

Rolland was stepping forward into the room but was stopped by his mother, whose hand rested lightly on his shoulder. "You," she said, turning to the third figure-I recognized her to be the raven-haired woman from the alchemist exam, "go help evacuate the other patients."

Then, addressing Abel, "That goes for you too."

Although hesitant, they both nodded. With a small flick of his hand, Abel mouthed a 'goodbye' before strolling out of the room with the other girl. "Rolland," Riza's voice was gentle as I tried to discreetly wipe the first tears from my cheeks, "find Alina and bring her to the station. We'll be waiting for you there."

"Don't you-" Rolland stopped mid-sentence after a stern glance from his mother.

I was unable to fight it any longer, and broke out into sobs as he turned the corner. Riza sat down on the edge of the bed beside me with a stable arm gently draped just below my shoulders. It was too much. I was tired, so very tired.

With everything that happened…Mischa and the little girl and the alchemist exams…my throbbing new scar…it was too much. The weight of my head became too overwhelming and I allowed it to fall against Riza's chest. Snot snaked down the ridge of my upper lip and, in an attempt to draw it back into my nose, I sniffled so hard my brain hurt.

My face was wet with relentless tears as I sobbed like the child I'd been repressing inside of me for a little less than two years. I didn't have to say a word.

Riza wrapped her other arm around me and with great care, pulled me in close. Her slender fingers ran through my matted, sweat-stiffened hair and in the moment she murmured a mere five words:

"It's going to be okay."