Disclaimer: Do not own FMA.

A/N: Beginning of the shortening of chapters...

Chapter 1: Reports

Ed sat up in his bed, gasping for breath. His left arm was shaking, but he didn't feel any movement in his right. His heart was thudding against his chest. The breeze coming through the open window hit him in the face and woke him up fully. Why had Al left the window open again? Ed swung his legs off the side of the bed and leaned his face against his hands, groaning a little.

How many times had he dreamt that? How often had he seen her face while he slept? The guilt that plagued him was so great still; it was hard for him to sleep. But it hadn't been his fault, really! She was an independent girl, he knew from that alone. Even if he'd had a choice in the matter, he wouldn't have been able to change her mind from taking that bullet for him.

For him.

That was why he was so guilty. That bullet had been meant for him. If it hadn't been for her, Ed would probably be dead now, or paralyzed. Countless times he'd replayed those few minutes in his head, thinking about what it would have been like had he been hit, instead. They were the same height, and it hit her in the upper abdomen. Making himself think about it again, as punishment, he could imagine the pain in his mid-back, where he should have been shot.

Punishment.

Yes, he was punishing himself. If he had been more alert and hadn't let his guard down, then he would have sensed that other presence. It had been his fault in so many ways that she had been taken away from him. Time and again, Winry had tried to convince him that it wasn't his fault; that it was just the way she had chosen to go. Ed hadn't listened. It was his fault she had been taken and he refused to believe otherwise.

But it didn't follow the Law of Equivalent Trade! She had been taken from him, just like his arm and leg, but what had he been given in return? For his leg, he had been given that thing he'd transmuted with Al. For his arm had been Al's soul, transfixed into that armor. But for her, what did he have? Grief, shame, and self-hate. But none of those were equal to her! What else had he gotten in return?

"What else?" he said angrily to the wall. "What else did I get?"

"Brother?" Al asked from the other side of the room.

Ed took a deep breath to calm himself. "Yes, Al?" he replied evenly.

"Are you thinking about her again?" the younger boy asked.

The eldest—no, second eldest—laid back down onto his bed. "Yeah." He let out long sigh. "Don't mind me, Al," he said softly. "I'll be fine." A yawn escaped.

"Good night, brother," Al murmured, but Ed was already asleep again.

Isabel stared out the window lifelessly. Why? That was the only thought, the only thing that processed in her mind. Why had things ended up like this? Just as she had been given another shot at happiness, it had been taken away ruthlessly. Her happiness and her brothers both, all in one fell swoop. Why hadn't she been permitted to go back to them? It had been six months since they'd been reunited for six hours. Why did she have to live in a mental health facility? She hadn't done anything wrong, and she was sure she wasn't crazy.

"You're answering your own questions again, Isabel," her psychiatrist said.

She spared him a quick glance then gazed back out at the rain. She didn't care. She didn't care about this place. She wished it would just burn down and turn to cinders. She just wanted to get back to her brothers. What were they doing now? Did they even care that she had "died?" Did they think about her still? Or had they forgotten her that day to go on living their previous life? Were they depressed because their elder sister had been taken away from them again?

"The only way you'll ever get out of here is if you start talking to us, Isabel," the man, who was shorter than Ed, told her. "Now, what's on your mind?"

She ignored him. Why did he even try? He knew she wouldn't say anything to him. She hadn't spoken one word since she'd woken up in the building. She'd written plenty of things in a journal, but the psychiatrists read it so she never put too much detail in them. No sense in them getting under her skin and knowing what she was thinking.

In fact, if they knew how much she thought about using her alchemy to get out of that place, they'd probably have her on so many medications she couldn't tell which end was up. So she left everything about alchemy out of her journal. Mainly, she wrote about how much she hated the food there, and what the other people in her wing talked about. Nothing of great importance.

"Very well, your hour is up anyway." The man stood up and closed the very nearly empty folder. "Tomorrow afternoon, I want progress. Don't make us have to influence you to speak."

That was an empty threat. They would never do anything to her that involved taking her hands out of the stockholders. One second out of them would be their demise. On her wrists were tattoos that allowed her to perform alchemy without drawing a circle. Lucky for her all the doctors were too stupid to think of removing them. Or were they smart for not even attempting?

Isabel was led out into the hall and then escorted back to her room. There, she was under heavy surveillance. Her walls were made out of a material that resisted any marking at all. There were guards watching her to know if she would try to perform something on the walls or the bed. She had no surfaces in her room except for her bed. Even then, there was no way she could form a transmutation circle. Maybe they were smarter than she gave them credit for. They'd covered all the bases of keeping an alchemist from using their ability.

She was tired. For the past few nights, she hadn't slept. She hadn't allowed herself the luxury of sleeping. Not while there was a chance of escape. There was a military official coming soon for some reason. The people working in the ward would be too flustered to notice what she drew during her journal entry. If she had enough time, then she could transmute the bonds over her wrists to something easy to break. Then, she'd do as she pleased.

What she wanted to do was get out of this ward and find her way back to Rizenbul to find her brothers. She'd stop at nothing to do that. God help whatever stood in her way.

There was a knock on her door. She said nothing still. Let them think she was asleep. Better yet, let them think she was dead. Then they might just throw her out into the street. Yeah, that'd be good. A smooth getaway. That was just what she needed. Or maybe they'd just start leaving her alone when it wasn't time for a meal or an appointment.

"Miss Elric, you have a guest," the guard outside her door said.

A guest? She sat up in her bed, alert. She placed her hands on her thighs and watched as the door opened. It creaked on its hinges as the gap slowly widened. The clicking of booted feet echoed in her empty room. The blue pants looked so familiar she could gag. Her eyes trailed up to a face. His black hair was messily cut and scattered everywhere. The dark depths of his eyes pierced her. But what made her lose the gasp in her throat was his scowl.

God, he was good at that.

She couldn't believe who it was.

"Edward?" Winry stepped out onto the balcony and saw Edward leaning on the rail. The wind ruffled his unkempt hair and blew it in his eyes, but he didn't seem to mind. "I brought you something to drink." She held out a cup.

It took a moment for life to come back to Edward but he finally looked at her. "Thanks," he murmured and took the glass. He didn't drink, though, only held the mug between his palms and continued to stare at the sunset. The sky looked almost exactly how it had that day, six months ago to the day. There were purple, pink, and orange clouds lazing about in the horizon. The sun was just dipping below some hills in the distance and was blood red. It reminded him of Isabel's blood staining his shirt as he'd carried her into the house.

Winry stood next to him and leaned on the rail as well. "So," she murmured.

After Isabel had asked him to forgive her, Ed had picked her up and ran inside. He met Al, Auntie, and Winry at the door. Auntie had immediately turned to phone for someone to pick Isabel up and drive her to the hospital. Ed had told them there wasn't enough time and turned around. He'd started running towards the town. He would make it in time, much quicker than it took for someone to drive to the house and then drive back.

But tears had blinding his vision. About twenty meters from the house, he'd stumbled, but Al had helped him stay afoot. Ed hadn't even noticed his brother running beside him. When they'd reached the hospital and demanded that someone see Isabel that second, the doctor had taken her back. Alone in the almost empty waiting room, Ed had stood facing a window. His mind had been assaulted with thoughts and reasons why. Not one had satisfied him.

Why had she been taken away from him so soon! "Why?" he asked the air.

"What?"

Ed looked down at his cup and shook his head. "Nothing. Forget it," he mumbled.

"You know, you need to start thinking more about what you're doing to yourself, Edward Elric! You've been so depressed lately that you've lost weight! You're even more of a bean now!" Winry yelled. No response to the word "bean." She sighed. "Edward, it was six months ago. You need to get over it."

Very carefully, Ed set the cup on the edge of the rail. He turned a steely glare on Winry. "She was my sister, Winry. I hadn't seen her for nine years. We only saw each other for less than six hours before someone killed her right in front of me! I don't even know who did it!" he said harshly.

Winry took a couple steps back. "Edward—"

"My sister was taken from me by a stranger like that and you want me to forget her?" He took a few deep breaths, but his shoulders began to shake. "It was my fault, too," he murmured. "It was all my fault she was killed. If I had been paying more attention to what was around us, then she might still be alive. But I was more focused on my fury than the person only a few yards away." Ed turned back to the rail and looked down at the contents of the cup. He vaguely registered the sound of an engine approaching.

"Ed, I didn't know you—"

"Forget it, Winry," he growled.

"But—"

"I said forget it!" he shouted and knocked the cup off the rail. It hit the ground with a shattering crash. Ed focused on it finally and then saw a familiar form looked back up at him.

"Winry-san, does he normally greet guests like that?" Major Armstrong asked.

Winry shrugged and left. Edward scowled again. He would have scowled at the ground, but he couldn't see anything for the tears in his eyes. Finally, someone else knew the truth of what he felt, but he was too proud to admit he wanted help to deal with it. He didn't want Winry to get more involved in this than she should. He couldn't take it if something happened to her, too.

"Edward-kun," Armstrong said when he came outside again. Ed ignored him. "I have news for you from Colonel Mustang."

"Great," Ed mumbled. More mocking remarks about his absence, probably. The man never seemed to know when to stop. One of these days, he was going to get a beating from Ed that would scar him for life.

"You may want to sit down somewhere," Armstrong advised sagely before saying more.

Ed continued standing, but he turned to face the Major. "Go on. Let me know what Colonel Mustang wants to mock me about now."

Armstrong shook his head. " 'There is a chance your sister is alive'," he quoted. " 'I'm going to confirm that now.' " Edward looked at Major Armstrong in shock before he fell back onto the floor. " 'Report to Eastern Headquarters as soon as possible. And Edward? Don't fall.' "

He couldn't believe it. Isabel was possibly alive? Where had Colonel Mustang heard that? Edward had been there when they'd proclaimed her death. He'd seen her pale form, touched her cold skin. He'd denied the papers to allow the government to take her body. He'd wanted her to be cremated and have her ashes buried near their old house so she would always be there. He'd been the one to bury her remains! And now he was hearing there was a possibility of her still being alive?

"What kind of sick joke is this, Major?" he demanded from his spot on the ground still. "Because if it's the colonel being a jerk, then he's going to regret this!"

Armstrong looked down at Ed understandingly. "This isn't a joke. I saw the reports myself."

"R-Reports?"

"There are records of an Isabel Elric in a Dublith City Psychiatric Ward. Why they were holding her there, we don't know yet. But it probably has something to do with the people after you." Armstrong folded his beefy arms over his equally beefy chest. "I suppose you'll want to read them yourself."

"Where are they?" Edward finally stood up and glared at Armstrong. "Where are the reports?" he asked angrily.

Al had come out just then and looked a little taken aback by the tone in Edward's voice. "Brother?"

"I don't have the papers, Edward," Armstrong said apologetically.

"Where are they, then?" the Full Metal Alchemist yelled. He appeared to be on the verge of hysteria.

Armstrong inwardly smirked at the reaction he would receive for the answer. "Eastern Headquarters."

Edward's jaw dropped as the realization came quickly. "That—He—"

"Colonel Mustang knew that if you had all the facts now that you would go to Dublith by yourself. He wanted to talk to you in East City, so he made me leave the papers there," Armstrong explained. "There's a train that leaves tomorrow morning for East City that we can take if you like."

He shook his head vigorously. "Now. We go now," Ed growled. "Come on, Al!" He headed inside, passed Al, passed Auntie, and passed a very teary Winry. He spared her a quick glance before he stomped to his room. Aware of Armstrong and Al following him, he began shoving clothes into his suitcase. There had to be a train leaving very soon for East City. If not, then they would walk to the next station. He couldn't just sit and wait around for something.

"Brother," Al said from beside him. "Are you sure we should leave now?"

"Alphonse," Armstrong said from the door. "Colonel Mustang has found documents of an Isabel Elric in Dublith City Psychiatric Ward."

Al looked at Armstrong, then at Ed, and then back at the Major. "But Isabel died, Major. She was burned and I watched Brother bury her ashes," Al pleaded. He sounded more like he was trying to convince himself rather than Armstrong.

"Al," Ed said lowly. "This is a second chance, a possibility of getting Isabel back again. I don't want to pass it up, even if it is a hunch. What if she really is alive and we ignored this? I would never forgive myself, Al."

There was a moment of silence before Al nodded. "All right. But don't you think we would wait—"

"No! We need to go now to East City. I want to find out as soon as possible."

It was he, come to rescue her. Right?

"Colonel Mustang?" the guard outside the door began. "She hasn't said a word s—"

"I know," Mustang snapped.

"And she's under high surveillance b—"

"I know! Leave us," he growled. After the guard finally understood that Mustang knew what he was up against, the door clicked shut quietly. When Mustang looked at Isabel finally, he shook his head and muttered a few choice words about the guards. He walked over to her and looked down at the girl.

She couldn't believe it. Her existence was known to the outside world? Did Ed know? Did he care? What about Al? Even though they hadn't spent as much time together, he was still her younger brother. Isabel missed them both sorely. How she'd been able to stay away from them for so long was beyond her now. But what did the colonel have to do with her? Well, besides those years in her past she would rather forget.

"Do you know why you're here?" Mustang asked. When she only stared, he added, "Anything you tell me will not leave my confidence." Isabel pointedly looked around the room. In every corner were cameras. "Very well, then. Nod or shake your head for yes or no. I repeat: do you know why you're here?"

Isabel thought a moment then shook her head.

"Do you know how long you've been here?"

She nodded.

Mustang pulled out a small notebook and scribbled something. "Do you remember what happened before you were here?"

She winced. All too well, she thought. With a little bit of a nod, she could feel the tears stinging her eyes. Mustang was still questioning her, but she was only listening with half an ear. Her mind was elsewhere at the moment. It was back at the day she'd seen her brothers again for the first time in years. She'd been so happy to be with them again, despite the obvious hurt and frustration Edward had felt. Al didn't seem to remember much of her, though. The more Isabel thought about it, the more she felt like crying. She couldn't help the first few tears that spilled over her cheeks. Finally, the colonel asked her a question that caught her full attention.

"Do you want to get out of here?" he asked. If it had been in her to speak, Isabel would have pledged life and limb if he could get her out of this place.

Silently, with tears streaming down her cheeks, Isabel nodded. He had no idea how much she would like that.

How soon? her mind screamed. She wanted to ask so badly. Her mouth formed the shape of the words, but no sound. The colonel seemed to notice her attempt to speak and waited patiently. 'Come on, you can do it. You can ask. It isn't so hard,' she told herself.

When Mustang felt like she wouldn't say anything, he nodded and started to leave. From the time he crossed the room from her bed to the door, Isabel was building up the energy to speak. Just as his hand was on the doorknob, she felt something within her change, like a switch had suddenly been hit. She squeaked when she tried to speak first. Colonel Mustang turned around in surprise but stifled it easily. Isabel cleared her throat and spoke for the first time in six months.

"How soon can you get me out?" she asked quietly.

Either Mustang was thinking or he was taken aback in shock since he didn't say anything for a few moments. Finally, he said, "As soon as I can get permission, Isabel-chan," he told her confidently.

She smiled at him. "Thank you." And he left, left her alone in her room. Even though the time that he could gain permission might be a long while, she was very glad to have the prospect of getting out of this psych ward.

A wave of fatigue washed over her. Even though it would be mealtime soon, she lay down on her bed again and stared up at the ceiling. Just as blessed sleep was about to claim her, a thought reached her.

What if Mustang was lying?

Before she could answer for herself, she rolled over and fell into slumber.