Hello everyone. :)

I did promise you that I'd have this within a month so here it is. And it's extra long. And aren't bigger things usually better? *wink-wink nudge-nudge*

So anyways, in this chapter, I had some fun torturing characters! :D Who doesn't love doing that every now and again?

But thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter and to my special editor, Dani. :D

Enjoy.

Alphonse stared down into the opening of his canteen that he held in his hand. He gave it a half-hearted shake but knew there would be no sloshing of water inside. It was bone dry; same as almost every other canteen the three boys had brought. They only had two canteens that were less than half full each left.

He knew they should have brought more water and less food. What was the point in eating when you used more water while eating? Al had been trying his best to ration the water but somehow, the horrendous heat of the desert had gotten the better of him and he found himself and the others drinking at a constant rate. Which would be good if they didn't have a limited amount and no water source in sight.

It had been a week. A week! Judging by the stars and the maps they had brought, they were still some time away from the half-way mark. Who knew that the Great Desert had such an understated name?

Al stared up at the moon, his vision fuzzy for a moment, and became mystified by its bright, white light. He hadn't had a drink of water in hours and even though the night was significantly cooler than the day, it was still rather hot. Al needed water. He could feel that his body was in the beginning stages of dehydration: dry skin, loss of appetite, fatigue, and, of course, thirst.

He stopped and turned to look at Russell and Fletcher, who were trudging along a few feet behind them. They both held the last bits of water they owned but neither was drinking, even though it was clear both could use it. No one seemed to want to be the person to drink the last of the water, thereby signing their death sentence. But people can only go on for so long without water.

"Let's take a break," Al said, annoyed with how out of breath he sounded.

The other two all but drop to the ground where they stand. Al took a few steps back to them and sat down by the two other blonds. He could see that the two brothers were looking pretty bad and could only assume he would be in the same condition.

"We need water, guys," Al said in a commanding voice. "We can't go much further without it."

Fletcher quickly took a few small sips of his canteen before he passed it to Al, who took it appreciably. Al followed Fletcher's move and took tiny sips, not wanting to throw it all back up. Once he felt he had had enough water in his system to move on, Al pulled out some dried fruit from his pack and began eating a few pieces.

He was hungry, no, more than hungry, he was ravenous. But again, since eating took water from his body that he desperately needed at the moment, he had slowly been eating less and less. Al knew this would eventually catch up to him, when he had no water and no strength to process food, but a gamble was gamble. And willingly walking into the desert was easily the biggest gamble of any of their lives.

"You guys should eat something too you know," Al said through a mouthful of dried apple slices.

"I know," Russell said with a heavy sigh before he took off his pack and began rummaging through it until he pulled out something to eat. "Hey, Fletcher. You need to eat up."

Fletcher was lying, curled up on his side, seemingly asleep. By the position of the moon, Al had to guess that they had a few more hours until sunrise and they needed to cover as much ground as they could while it was cooler.

"Let him sleep for a minute," Al said, lying down in the sand. "We could all use a few minutes rest. He can eat while we move."

Alphonse felt his mind beginning to drift away into sleep but he kept forcing his eyes to open. He couldn't fall asleep out here in the open. They could be picked by buzzards, fried by the heat of the morning, the horrible possibilities were endless. After a few minutes of this, Al made himself sit up but even sitting up he felt sleep tugging on him. So he pulled his pack closer to him and dug out the small radio. Noise would help him stay awake. It took him a moment to find a station that came in but once he did, he set it on the ground and listened.

"… A stray bomb from the Aerugan military has hit a small town in the southwest this evening. Causalities are estimated in the hundreds but there is no definite answer at the moment."

Al moved to change to channel, not wanting to hear news stories about innocent children dying.

"… Amestris forces managed to push back an oncoming battalion this morning. The battalion had passed by the Aerugan-Amestris border the night before and had unfortunately destroyed a number of towns before they could be stopped-"

He changed the channel again.

"… It is confirmed that the Aerugan military has obtained airplanes and are now using them as bomber planes."

Al stared at the radio for a moment, unable to stop his mind from picturing Ed as a bomber plane files over him.

"There have been a series of bombing at a number of camps near the front lines. Casualties are unknown as of right now but it could be anywhere in the thousands from what we have heard."

Al closed his eyes and remembered some of the last words Edward had said to him.

"Don't try and do something stupid to try and save me. No matter what you hear. Alright?"

Al opened his eyes and glared at the radio. He was now regretting his decision to bring the radio. Sure, it helped him keep up with the news but what was the point when almost all of it was devoted to war that he was desperately trying to avoid?

"Just promise me. I don't want you to get hurt or caught or killed because you wanted to go back for me. It's my job to protect my little brother and I won't do a good job if you go and get yourself killed."

Listening to the radio only made it harder for him to obey his brother's last wish. How could he continue to run away like a coward while his brother was putting his life in the direct line of fire? Al switched off the radio and tossed it a little away from him, as if the image of it sitting there would bring back images of his imagined war.

"Come on," Al said loudly, giving Russell limp body a rough shake. "We have to keep moving. We can set up camp in an hour or so."

Al took one last sip of his canteen before he got up and began moving forwards, farther into the Great Desert.

"Come on, Goldie Locks," Winry barked as Edward hobbled around the small track. "I'm sure you could put more into it if you wanted!"

"I'm… trying," Edward panted through his gritted teeth.

It had been about a week since Edward's initial Automail surgery and only a few days since he had been given his two new limbs. They were much heavier than regular flesh and every now and again, he would feel a painful tug on his still healing flesh due to the wait of them.

Four days ago, he had been attached with this arm and leg and had stayed in bed while he slowly gained control over his fingers and toes. It was rather tedious and annoying as he stayed in bed all day while people watched him wiggle his finger and toes for hours. At lunch, he had been instructed to only use his right arm but found it not only difficult, but painful. It seemed that every time he even thought about using his left hand, Winry seemed to appear out of no where and swatted him for his thoughts of disobedience. But now, Edward was wishing he just had to wiggle his toes and master using a spoon; this was torture!

After the first day, Winry had taken them to another room down the hall from the medical room. It was just as big as the other but instead of rows of cots with wounded soldiers laying in them, there was exercise equipment: dumbbells, leg presses, barbells, and so much more. Surrounding all the equipment was a large oval painted on the floor in black paint. Edward was instructed to run laps around the track for as long as he could.

Unfortunately, whenever he stopped, Winry always barked remarks at him that made him have to run more just to shut her up. And by run, Edward meant hobbling as he practically dragged his heavy left leg.

On the first day, it had been excruciating to move his legs and Winry had allowed him to just walk slowly, but not until she thought he was done. The second day didn't start out much better but he had been able to make it a full two laps more before he felt he couldn't go on; which meant that he had to do another ten laps by Winry's standards. On the third day, he almost had something that might have resembled a jog but half way through his session, he could feel his skin on his left thigh tugging painfully at the strain and had to go back to walking, although his steps now looked more respectable. Now, on the fourth day, he was doing much better, but was exhausted.

Ed had managed a few good jogs around the track before he collapsed on the ground and then proceeded to cough up blood. He had been rather alarmed but Winry had informed him, while examining her oil-covered cuticles, that it was nothing to really worry about, that everyone did that, and then yelled him to keep going.

He had been hobbling around the track for almost an hour now, which was the longest amount of time he had been able to run, when Winry's mother, Sara, walked into the room. Edward stopped moving once Winry's attention was taken by her mother.

"It's time for lunch, honey," she said kindly. "You need to eat."

"I'm fine," Winry said a little stiffly before she turned her attention back to Edward. "I didn't say stop!"

Edward, surprised by Winry's shout, stumbled to start running and then fell flat on his face.

"Well that's what you get," Winry muttered. "Slacking on the job."

"Winry, don't you think you're pushing him too hard?" Sara asked as she eyed Edward pushing himself up from the ground and then proceeding to wipe his lips, which were stained with blood again.

"He doesn't need to be babied, mom," Winry said with a sigh before she turned to glare at Ed, who was hobbling past the two and shouted, "and he doesn't want to be babied, right, Squirt?"

"Right," Edward growled.

"But-"

"Mom, I've rehabilitated about twenty soldiers this year and I've learned that the best way is to be hard on them," Winry growled. "If they're babied, they take almost twice as long as the ones that I was hard on to gain full control."

Edward watched over his shoulder as Sara pursed her lips and narrowed her round eyes. Even from several yards away, Ed could see the slight recoil in Winry. He smiled gleefully before he almost tripped again and focused on his legs movements.

"Go down to the lunch room and eat. Now," Sara ordered, pointing to the door. "I'll watch over him for now."

"Fine," Winry muttered before she stalked out of the room. "But I don't want you to go all motherly on him!"

"Just go eat!"

As Edward looped around the track and moved back by Sara, Sara stood up and moved to the middle of the track, signaling for Ed to stop.

"Come on, sit down," she said, motioning to the wooden bench that was pressed against the wall. "Let's take a look at your knee."

Edward limped over to the bench and nearly collapsed from exhaustion. Sara sat a little away from him and patted her lap, meaning that she wanted him to prop up his leg.

With gentle fingers, Sara probed the bright red area around his automail port. Until yesterday, he had been wearing his bandages around his ports all the time but today, Winry had suggested taking them off, since he was sweating a lot during training and he'd need new bandages afterwards anyhow. It was a little grouse to see the slightly inflamed flesh as it connected with the metal that was now attached to his nerves. He hadn't quit made the connection that he really had lost his limbs and now would be using these metal ones for the rest of his life. Seeing the wound up close, however, seemed to help bring clarity to his still confused mind.

"Hmm, you really shouldn't be running on this," Sara muttered as she gave the red part a little push, earning an involuntary hiss from Ed.

Sara lifted his leg and gently set it on the ground.

"I really don't want you running on that right now," she said a little louder, staring intently at no point across the room. "it could tear and then you'd be in bed for a few more days and then Winry would be furious. But then again, the only person she should be mad at is with herself for pushing you too much."

"Yeah, what is with her?" Ed asked, feeling it was alright to ask such a question. "She really is a drill sergeant."

"I know she is," Sara said with a small smile, turning back to look at Ed. "But she means best. I know what she means when she says how we can't baby the patients but there's a line and she sure crossed it. At least for this early in your rehabilitation."

Sara's blue eyes wandered over to the stack of dumbbells that sat in one corner and her face instantly lit up.

"You haven't done much upper body workouts have you?"

It turns out that the line that Winry apparently crossed, well, it seemed to Edward that she only toed it in Sara's eyes once he had started her upper body work outs. Sure, she was kind in the beginning, but once he had gotten over the five pound waits without much hassle, she gave him the tens and made him do twenty curls with both before he could rest. By the time he was done, Winry had returned and was barking orders before she was even all the way in the room.

"He has to work on upper body too, Winry," Sara said in an attempt to placate her daughter.

"But what's the point of lifting things if he can't run?" Winry huffed with her hands on her hips.

"He knows how to walk but his ability to use his right hand is important as well," Sara said sternly, giving her daughter the same hard look from before.

"But I know what I'm-"

"Winry. He just needs a break for now," Sara said. "Tomorrow he can run but he won't be able to if he tears his skin form the ports. He's still healing."

Winry scrunched up her face in annoyance before she folded her arms across her chest, looking rather pissed off that she couldn't retaliate.

"Now, can you go check on one of the new patients?" Sara asked in a kinda but still stern voice. "He should be in bed twelve."

"Fine," Winry said with a growl before she stormed from the room.

"She used to be such a sweet girl…" Sara sighed softly, staring at the doors where her daughter had just exited from.

"I'm sure she was," Edward said, although he sounded more skeptical than serious.

Sara noticed his tone of voice and laughs lightly before turning back to him.

"I know what you mean but really she was. Unfortunately, I think some of the reason why she's like this is because of me and her father."

"What'cha mean?"

"Well, you know the Ishval Rebellion?" Sara asked, looking a little sad.

"Yeah."

The Ishval Rebellion has started when Edward was only two and had ended seven years later. There was hardly two years of piece before Amestris launched into its war with Aerugo. Some people say that Amestris cornered Aerugo because they had helped the Ishvalans during the previous.

"Well the last few years me and my husband left to help them there and there was absolutely no question about taking Winry, with her being so young. And then just when we returned and we all thought we'd be happy together, there's another war and me and my husband leave again."

Sara's face crumpled a little with sadness but she kept going.

"Winry wasn't happy. You can understand. She was older and understood more how dangerous it all was. I guess it can be hard growing up without really ever seeing your parents or not knowing them really well."

"It is hard," Edward said gravely; Sara seemed to understand what he meant within a second.

"Who went?"

"Well my dad left to go help some scientists in Central," Edward sighed heavily. "And my mom… there was a stray bomb near the beginning."

"Oh, my. I'm so sorry."

Edward shrugged, surprised that he felt a little better.

"How old were you?"

"Ten when my mom got killed. Eleven when my dad was sent away. I had to pretty much take care of me and my little brother."

Sara looked close to tears now.

"It wasn't that bad," Ed said with a shrug, not wanting to worry the woman for some reason. "The town kinda watched over us. Helped us out. Our dad sent us his paychecks every month so it's not like we had to work."

"Where is your father?"

"Don't know. Somewhere in Central maybe. I haven't seen or heard from him since he left."

There was silence between them for a while as they stared at the floor, across the room, at the weights, nothing really in particular. Finally, Sara spoke.

"You two are really similar."

"What?"

"You are. In many ways. I think if Winry ever gets over her drill sergeant stage with you, you two could get along."

"Fat chance," Ed muttered. "We're practically complete opposites."

Sara laughed.

"Opposites attract, you know," she said with a smile.

"Yeah right. Whoever came up with the saying obviously had never had any friends or never dated."

"Well I don't know about that saying but I know a few that really seem to stick with the truth."

Edward turned to look at Sara again, intrigued.

"When I was in Ishval, I was treating this one Ishvalan who always seemed to have one deep meaning after the other coming from his mouth. He was really wiser beyond his years."

"What was his name?"

She shrugged.

"I don't know. We weren't really organized enough near the end to find out his name and he never gave it."

Sara stared down at her folded, pale hands that rested on her lap. A small crinkle formed on her forehead as she concentrated on something in her mind.

"There was this one saying he always said near the end. When the war had ended and we were helping patients for a few more days, he practically said it every day to everyone. He kept saying the peace wouldn't last."

"Well he was right wasn't he," Ed scoffed. "What was the saying?"

"I'm trying to remember… I feel foolish for forgetting it now when I probably heard it a hundred times before. Hmm … I think it was something like 'there will always be the never-ending circle of hate as long as man is alive'. But I know there was more."

Sara continued to mutter to herself for a few minutes, while she tried to come up with the correct wording. Edward didn't rush her. He wasn't that interesting in what the saying really was but if it was important to her…

"I got it," Sara declared happily. "It was, 'There will always be the perpetual circle of hate as long as man is alive, for its man's nature. Thus we create perpetual conflict from this nature and a perpetual war is created'."

"Hmm…" Edward muttered. "Interesting."

"He was an odd man," Sara said. "I wonder what happened to him."

Edward went to bed later, very soar and very tired. He had barely enough energy to scarf down his meal before he fell asleep. Since he was still healing, they still placed him in the infirmary. Not something he particularly enjoyed since there were always moans and cries from the wounded and healing, but he didn't want to make too much of a fuss. These people had given him mobility and the closest thing to normalcy he'd ever have again; he could really complain.

But as Ed and the many other people hidden underground were starting to go to sleep, terrible things were happening only a few yards from the ceiling of their safe house.

Troops were marching and screaming. Guns were being fired at opposing Aerugan soldiers and those who weren't hit were firing back at Amestrains. Bomb after bomb was being dropped from the air on Amestrains and cannons were firing bombs back at the Aerugan forces. A war was taking place right over a hundred peoples heads and they were all trapped.

Next chapter, there will be more suffering. *evil smile* Much more. So get ready.

So yeah, Al and his friends are slowly dieing of thirst and Ed... well who knows what'll happen next for him. I do know, but you don't. :P Feel free to guess.

I will try to have the next chapter up sooner that this one took to get up here and please send me a review. It makes me really happy to make that little review total go up and up!

Bye,

-FSK