Sandra and Al walked around the town, searching for the familiar shop by a certain corner where they had met the old man eager to give any answer given in Spanish. Sandra was back in Ed's body, a confirmation in most of her theory that she had given to the rest of the team the night before. Her fingers twitched, an excited chill running through her body as she looked from window to window down the street.

"Where is he?" She wondered aloud.

~~~~~~~ The Night Before ~~~~~~~

"How do you suppose this happened?" Mustang asked, gesturing towards Sandra while staring at her. Sandra made a swatting motion with her hands and scowled.

"Stop staring at me like that. And as for this," she said, looking down at herself, "I don't know."

Mustang sighed and leaned back in his chair, forcing himself to relax in his swivel chair. After doing so, he tensed up again, irritated by the setback. He tapped on the papers on his desk, drumming a beat on the lists of Alphonse and Sandra's. Mustang noticed that his angry tapping had drawn the attention of Sandra, who had put a hand over her mouth in a concentrative gesture, her brows furrowed.

She peered past the tapping fingers, and onto the pages themselves, staring at the writing on the pages for an inkling of an idea. Her brows furrowed even more, and then widened in surprise. She put her hand over her face, shadowing any feature on her face that Mustang wold have been able to see.

"Al?" She sighed. "Was there any Red water left after Ed and I switched bodies, on the train?"

Alphonse shifted, tilting his helmet on a confused manner. He didn't know what that had to do with the random switch at night. Nonetheless, he remembered that after the woman and the others left, he had knelt down to get Ed and looked around desperately, far too focused on his brother that he had barely glanced at the last remnants of a clear red substance on the ground beside him.

"Yeah, there was. By the seats."

Sandra remained silent, her hand still guarding her face. Slowly, her hand slid downwards, cupping her chin. Mustang looked at her former cozy-fired eyes and noticed that they took on a more fiery manner, ready to consume any form of obstacle with a steady flame. She chuckled.

"This makes a lot more sense now."

"What does?" asked Havoc. Sandra turned to face him and gestured towards herself. "This does! The... the completely random switch at night. It shouldn't happen, but it did. Guess why." Sandra glanced around the room, opening the question for anyone in the room. Havoc stared across the room, mimicking the same wave of of blank confusion on everyone's face except Sandra's.

"Fuck logic?" He asked. Sandra whirled around and snapped a finger at him. "Bingo."

Havoc's eyes widened in disbelief. The office was sent into a shocked silence and quite a few eyebrows were raised in doubt. Had Sandra finally cracked?

In her defense, she raised her hands side by side. Her eyes twinkled in with anticipation as she asked, "Can any of you explain why- or how more likely, Ed and I were able to switch bodies in a flash?"

Mustang stared at Sandra's hands, both palms facing each other. He watched her twitching fingers in understanding, he too remembered the thrill of a discovery, an electric tingle that raced from the nape of the neck down the spine and through the fingers, though Mustang couldn't say that he felt the same way. How could Sandra and Ed switch? Sandra said it herself, there was no way their world had existed but as a means of entertainment. A story created by one person, loved by many, and spoken by many as well. How could a figment of imagination tap into reality?

"What does that have to do with the remnants of Red water that was left after the incident?" Al asked. Sandra pointed towards the papers on Mustang's desk, as if saying that all the answers were on that flat piece of mahogany wood.

"I was tackled." She said abruptly, an unexplained statement that only Alphonse apparently understood, his soul-fired eyes glowing brighter, with a short gasp escaping his armor in a small echo.

"Then the reaction was cut off!" Al yelled. He began to pace, picking up the energetic excitement coming from Sandra. He mumbled to himself, counting on his fingers, relaying everything that happened before and after the train incident in his mind, a frenzied race for memory.

"Which means I'm a defect." Sandra finished. She strutted around the office with a giddy attitude, her mood keeping her on her toes. "This is almost as good as it gets." She muttered.

The rest of the others glanced at each other, sure of themselves that Sandra had missed the true meaning of being a failed experiment, so to speak. Wait a minute...

Roy snapped, causing the rest of the room to flinch in concern, rising cautiously when no trail of flame flew through the room. "So that means they can't get to you, am I correct?" He asked, oblivious of their confusion.

Sandra raised a palm in rebuttal. "No, they can still get to me, but they didn't necessarily succeed either." She said, her other hand absentmindedly rubbing her still sore neck. "If I'm here, that means Ed's there. In my world. In our own respective bodies."

"But how's that possible?" Havoc asked, checking his watch. He blinked in surprise while watching the hands tick by.

Sandra smiled, the first one Mustang could even register as one. It seemed... forced, but before he could question it, the smile faded away.

"Let's add the fact that Ed and I are defects. This is going to sound far fetched, but listen."

And she told them. Her theory that since the process hadn't been complete, traces of their personality, feelings, their individual souls were mixed, a tangled mess that needed to be fixed in order for the switching to stop. The matter of fixture was one of two options: complete the operation, or reverse it. If no option was taken, they would continue inhabiting each other's bodies, but no proper bond would hold because both souls were mixed towards a state of confusion, and what better way to add more confusion than the very prospect of night. A time where one's state of mind is muddled, almost an amnesiatic sense of direction and placement, a perfect moment for a quick switch from the unsuspecting souls.

Still, her theory was met with a wave of uncertainty. The uncertainty was slightly dismissed as the evident sound of footfalls echoed up to the doors. The mini crowd in the room held a silent breath, hoping that the footfalls didn't belong to a lone passerby. The steps came closer, and Sandra could hear the excellent breathing control from the rest of the soldiers, while she herself felt suffocated.

The doors opened, and the air stuck in her throat hitched.

The figure walking through the doors was revealed to be none other than Falman, holding a rather bulky package of both cloth and ice, and everyone released their bated breaths and relaxed.

Falman walked calmly towards Sandra and held out the cold package towards her, which she took with eager hands. She slapped the cloth against her neck in an instant, her eyes fluttering with the chilled satisfaction of the ice cloths medicinal traits. She noticed that once she closed her eyes, she felt even more fatigued, both the day's and night's activities draining her.

That or the hospital back home had pumped her body full of drugs.

~~~~~~~ Present ~~~~~~~

"What do you mean he's not here?!" Sandra yelled at the shop keeper.

"Sorry, son. But when a nurse came to get him with an order he had to go." The man defended.

When he had opened the shop just minutes before, Sandra and Al had asked him where Daniel had been seen last (though they didn't use his real name), and the man answered that he had been taken away only a few hours after the day before. By his tone, he was practically relieved that Daniel was gone, Sandra wanted to slap the shopkeeper senseless. She had barely reigned in her anger and disappointment to be able to spit out her question.

"How many nurses were there?"

"Just one. 'Bout my height, dusty blonde. Though he looked more like a soldier than a nurse to honest, pretty buff for a skinny guy."

Alphonse put a gauntlet on Sandra's shoulder, her hunched shoulders loosening themselves slightly. He could already tell she wanted to hurt the middle aged man behind the counter. It was pretty obvious that he didn't notice the malice dripping Sandra's or the fact that she could barely be restrained with a calming hand. Al was almost tempted to release Sandra on him.

Somehow he could tell Sandra would be able to scare the man into caring.

Sandra clicked her tongue and stepped around Alphonse, jamming her hands inside the pockets of Ed's pants and stormed out of the stifling building, a dark scowl marred across her face. As he followed her, Al could hear the unpleasant swears and insults she muttered under her breath. This was not a side of her he would like to see again.

A half hour walk and mini rant later, they were at the foot of Amestris House of the Unwell thanks to the kind direction of an elderly lady that had a relative there.

"Can you please tell Lillith that I've haven't got the strength to visit?" She had asked slowly, her whispery voice shaking with a small tremor.

Walking up the steps, Sandra's anger turned slowly in anxiety. What if she slipped up? What if they thought she was crazy? What if they were working for the "bad guy's"? It wasn't until she reached the front doors when she started to rationalize her thoughts, loosening her grip on the rough sketch in her hand. The shopkeeper didn't give enough details for her create a proper profile.

There was a woman sitting by the front desk, and she had a small wondering smile on her face. She was busy speaking to a young man holding a clipboard tightly, his knuckles white. She carefully pried it away from him, with soothing tones, and she take a small leave of her chair to sit the man down.

Sandra took a liking to her.

The woman sat back in front of her desk and smiled widely at the both of them, brushing a strand of brown hair behind her ear. "Are you visiting a relative? Or is there a more," she dropped her voice lower. "Serious matter?"

Sandra nodded her head and passed the rough sketch onto her. She took it with a smile and examined it carefully, her bright eyes narrowing slightly. "Is this man... a patient here?" She asked slowly.

"No." Sandra and Al shared a look. "We were told that he works here. This man found an elderly tourist believing he was insane, speaking a different language and all that."

The nurse looked up with concern and slapped the rough sketch onto the automail hand, so fast she didn't register the steel appendage.

"I know everyone in this building." She whispered with wide eyes. "I've never seen this man before in my life."

It had been at least a few hours in Sandra's room, and Ed still didn't know that much about her. Which led him to, guiltily, search her room for any new information that he could find. He did though, limit himself from her personal drawers containing articles of clothing. Just the thought of it made Edward's cheeks flame hotly.

But still, he tread on, his eagerness for answers rising after he discovered a large angry bruise on his neck, once he woke up back in Sandra's body. Still, he found nothing of the sort to help him learn about Sandra.

The best he could do after a while of unfruitful searching, was clean up the room as much as possible. The saxophone was propped inside it's case, the cluttered desk was cleared,and the floor had been mopped, which shined with a sleek brown when the sunlight splashing through it like honey on molasses.

He sighed and stepped back, putting his hands on his hips, surveying the room. It looked fantastic, even the walls looked less depressing now that there was sunlight present. He patted his hands together to dislodge any dust and walked out into the hallway, dragging the bucket of scented water with him. The scraping of the bucket drew his attention away from the room, and back to his thoughts. He needed to know more about America, more about her world.

If only he could actually get his hands on some information.

Dunking the remnants of the mop water down the bathtub drain, Ed watched the murky water flow away with blank eyes. He was watching the water, but at the same time his thoughts were somewhere else, back home. He felt his insides curl with sadness and he realized he was homesick. His nose burned with the thought of Alphonse being alone and unknowing of his condition.

He sighed again. 'Pensamientos son malo' He thought. Edward stood straighter in shock and looked around the bathroom to make sure that no one had whispered into his ears. With no one around, Ed was left to himself, he had thought that phrase without learning any language. He doubted that sentence in his head was even a remote language.

He ran into Sandra's bedroom, grabbing her phone and tapping furiously into the phone.

G-o-o-g-l-e

He clicked at the suggestion "translation" and tapped into the phone, shocking himself further when he typed the message in his head with clear understanding. The detection was Spanish, it was a language, he had thought, and he read the translation: Thoughts are bad. Ed dropped the phone onto the bed, and sat slowly beside it. He had counselled himself in a different language, as if he had known it by heart.

He stared at his hands, both flesh, both that didn't belong to him, belonged to a girl, and he felt like a freak of nature. A mess. He put his head in his hands and glared at the floor in hot anger as if it caused his troubles. His vision unfocused, and he blinked, causing his anger to flare hotter when he saw tears hit the floor. "Dammit." He whispered. Had he no control of his emotions either?

He rubbed at his eyes, and stood up in defiance. He was not going to sit there and cry. He didn't deserve to. If Al couldn't do that much, then Ed wouldn't either until he had finally retrieved his body.

He walked downstairs, aiming for the kitchen sink. It did have the coldest water in the entire house. He had barely turned the corner when he heard Sandra's mother speaking from the living room, and he walked towards that direction instead.

"- you, she's changed. Ever since that accident at the cemetery."

Edward stopped. He hid behind the wall by the stair's banister, trying to hear the conversation.

"Yes. No. Just listen for a seco- will you please-" Sandra's mother paused, Ed could tell she was annoyed before her huffed breath. Suddenly she yelled at the phone, and Edward flinched behind the wall.

"Don't you dare speak of her that way!" She exclaimed. "She's more lively, more expressive, more active ever since the suicide!"

Edward slapped a hand over his mouth to prevent the gasp escape from him. He didn't register the silence in the living room, Sandra's mother sat in sudden dispair, her breathing had become harsher, and it hitched occasionally.

"You have no idea, no idea, how broken she was after she witnessed everything." She sobbed into the phone.

Witnessed...witnessed

Ed slid from the wall and sat on the cold floor. He shivered, from the shock or the cold contact he honestly didn't know.

It fit. Very horribly it had all fit. Elise had used a gun on herself, Sandra watching with wide eyes.

Was it a last minute trigger? Was Sandra trying to plead?

His stomach gave a lurch, and he ran as fast he could up the stairs, thankfully they were carpeted. He blankly wandered back into Sandra's room, now understanding in full circle why she kept it so dark. He numbly walked to a random wall and slid down it as well, trying desperately trying to control his breathing.

'Witnessed...witnessed' rang in his mind. He shook his head, the force of his movement making the panel give way behind him. He fell back with a stifled scream, he didn't want to alert Sandra's mother, she was distressed enough already. He groaned as he kneeled in the secret space behind, he was shaking so hard he shook a small makeshift table inside.

He crawled inside, taking in his surrounding enough to comment on the beauty as he realized it was a small study room. Perhaps created by Sandra. Small journals were everywhere, containing dates that lead from years before, to a more recent time. He opened a small black journal, the date read four days before.

The night before the accident.

He tried to read the inscription on the journal and saw the words were so scrabbled he couldn't read, they were in some code. He closed the book with a snap as he realized that he was holding Sandra's diary. He would be in hot water if Al could see him now.

Edward placed the book back on the makeshift shelf on the wall, and glanced above the front the desk. There was a cork board, covered in pictures, news clippings, sticky notes, and just about anything written on paper was on it. Ed crawled closer to it, squatting awkwardly so as not to hit the ceiling. There was a cold draft in the small room, and Ed didn't like where it was flowing.

Frankly, he didn't like cold weather, especially when it was on his neck. It made him shiver more than he would like. Rubbing the back of his neck, Ed sat in front of the desk, shuffling the mess of clippings on the table for a decent report to read, Some caught his eye, some didn't. He was close to examining the cork board when he felt his skin go cold.

A clipping was covered by few papers and he only read a few words.

-ing. Occupants presumed dead. Search continues.

Ed pushed the rest of the papers away, grabbing the slip of paper and scuttling as quickly as he could towards Sandra's room again. He plopped onto her bed, reading the paper with narrowed eyes.

American Plane Missing. Occupants presumed
Dead. Search Continues.

June 26, 2013

Families are distraught as the search for plane N-63521 continues without much hope.
Shortly after taking off, officials say all contact was cut from the tower, preventing the employees from tracking the plane.
Witnesses also say when stocking the carrier, very strange incidents began to occur.

"Things would disappear." Said Kadence Caz. "I would put a suitcase down, and when I would go back
to put more stuff, it'd be gone."

Another employee was reporting a sparking red glow, though he a first believed it had been some of the lights
from the plane. "But," He said. "Something smelled wrong. A lot of copper. The plane usually smells
like luggage, you know, leather, cloth and plastic stuff."

Edward sat stiffly on the bed, listening carefully, keeping his eyes on the door. He then ran from the foot of his bed and hurriedly stuffed the clipping under Sandra's pillow, just as Sandra's mother walked through the door. He sat by the pillow, blocking the small corner that was still visible. Sandra's mother sat by him quickly.

"Honey." She sighed. "I know these last few ears have been hard on you, but,"

Ed took a deep breath in, waiting for the worst to come out of the woman's mouth.

"Ever since what happened at the cemetery, you... changed. Is there something wrong?"

Edward started, waving his hands around and blushing fiercely. 'Damn emotions' "I'm fine mom, honest." Wrong answer. "Mom" narrowed her own eyes, and she stared down at Ed with something akin to suspicion.

"Pequeño." She whispered.

Ed felt his grip on her hand tighten, and let go of it, not realizing that he had done so. His cheeks burned brighter, and he began to scowl, which somehow appeased her suspicion. She bent her head lower, kissing Edward on the forehead.

"You know I love you honey, I'm just teasing." She stood up from the bed and rubbed at her face, shielding her puffy eyes. "Boy, I'm beat. I'm going to nap on the couch." She strolled out the room, sashaying in a tauntingly way, almost making Edward scream in anger. After he heard her steps fade into the living room, he grabbed at the pillow hiding the news clipping, screaming as shrilly as he could into the pillow. He didn't care, he needed to vent his frustration.

'SHE FUCKING CALLED ME SHORT!' He yelled in his mind.

Laughing. I'm laughing. Aww man, that felt good. Thanks for reading, I hope you can leave a review and that this chappie answered any question you had. (Looking at you Lilly)

Wow, like wow. My family dodged a bullet couple days ago. We thought we had to move out, and my mom could find a decent place so we were really frightened for a second. Then at the end of January the landlord said we could stay.

That mole, she almost gave me an asthma attack.

I will write as fast as possible so I can update at a better pace but I'm not promising anything, so

CHOW! _