Spork111: confused eh? well lets see. you know how they say that when you die your whole life flashes before your eyes?

Yuugiamythest: thanks so much. 32 is one of my favorite chapters too. enjoy this one, your questions will begin to be answered.

KristalChan: 0.o you're reading fanfic at school? tsk tsk, dont get caught, i would feel bad! (thanks for the reveiw!)

Into the Heavens

Suddenly there was no rocket, and Alphonse felt a heaviness settle over his soul. He was dead. It didn't matter any more, nothing mattered, the rocket would crash and his research would all have been for nothing, Germany would gain nothing and no one would remember his name, but it didn't matter because he was dead now. He was surrounded by empty whiteness, but was seized by the sensation that he was rushing towards something. Suddenly he stood in front of a Gate.

The gates of heaven, or the gates of hell? Alphonse had never been very religious, but he had learned the same thing that every child growing up in Germany had learned: if you lead a good life, you will go to heaven. Had he lead a good life? It doesn't matter. The thought echoed through his mind, and he felt vaguely that it should matter and wondered why it didn't.

Now that he stood before these gates, once they opened would he be able to ask God all the answers in the universe? Would he finally understand everything his small human brain could not conceive of? Would he gain all the knowledge he had spent his life chasing after?

The doors were dark and terrible, not made of gold or pearl or anything described in the bible and covered in symbols he had never seen before. Was he supposed to open them? Or would they open for him? He reached his hand out slowly.

"Don't."

The voice came from behind him, and he whirled around, his back now to the gate.

The figure was faded, fading, obscured by the blinding whiteness that surrounded them. Alphonse stepped closer. Could it be? "Brother?"

Short blond hair, so similar to his own, and large, honey-brown eyes; a face he hadn't seen in fifteen years.

"Al, go back." It was his brother's voice, his brother who had died in London long ago, come to meet him at the gates of heaven. Alphonse rushed towards him, and was shocked to find that although he appeared transparent he felt solid when he wrapped his arms around him. "Go back," he repeated; the voice was the same but the face was changing, becoming thinner, eyes appearing more gold than brown.

"Ed?" In this non-space, this non-existence he realized suddenly that it wasn't his form that he recognized. It was his soul. The figure changed again, becoming a little boy with unruly blond hair and a scraped knee, and when Al tipped his head he changed again to an older man with a ponytail and a beard. Edward and his brother were the same soul. Of this he was more sure than of anything he had ever learned in his lifetime. The ramifications send his mind reeling, and he felt as if the non-ground had dropped out from under him.

"It's okay, Al," Edward said, holding him gently by the arms. "You can go back. You don't have to die."

"But-" he started to protest, but Ed shook his head.

"Don't believe in equivalent trade."

The switch was immediate, as if he had never stood before the gate at all. He didn't even remember opening his eyes.

"Alphonse? Alphonse, stay with us," a voice was directing him sharply. A doctor. He was fussing over him, moving things around, issuing orders to a nurse. "We're preparing you for surgery, everything is going to be all right," he was told swiftly.

"The rocket…" he said weakly, trying to focus his eyes on something, anything.

"You crash landed, you're lucky to be alive," the doctor told him.

"Where's Alphonse?" he asked suddenly.

"You're Alphonse," the doctor said, pausing for a moment, frowning.

"The other Alphonse," he pressed. "He was in the rocket with me."

"You were alone," came the response. "There was no one else. Only you. And it's a miracle you survived."