Hey y'all! I'm back! Welcome to my world of insanity once again! (laughs) All right. First and foremost, I guess I have to post the warnings:

1) This is yaoi. RoyEd to be specific. No like, no read.

2) Character death . . . (stares blankly) I'm sorry . . .

3) This is an Mpreg. That means male pregnancy. If you don't agree with this, then (makes a whistling sound while pointing) the 'Back' button is right up there. I love answering questions and don't mind constructive criticism, really; I'll even take flames—however, if you're going to flame me, make sure it's because of my horrible writing skills and not because of the mpreg.

First of all, you were warned right here, silly.

And secondly, my mother works for a hospital, two of my friends are nursing majors, Nana (my friend/coauthor) is a pharmacy major, and I myself was once a biology major/chem. minor—I know that men can't get pregnant outside of a laboratory. So don't bother yelling it at me.

(sigh) But, if you feel the compulsion to scroll down and tell me how deplorably written and wretchedly conceived the story is, go right ahead. But, you must know that all flames will be fed to my corgi, Sooner . . . who certainly doesn't need them, believe you me. Also, I'm going to ask everyone to TRUST ME here, okay? Some things may seem strange, but I know what I'm doing and everything will be explained later on.

All right—now that that's out of the way, let's get on to the story.

Disclaimer: I own two FMA shirts, two DVDs, five mangas, and a book of the art . . . That's all.

"Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live."

-Norman Cousins

Chapter I: That which is Forbidden . . .

The chalk trembled violently in his unsteady hand, the path that would normally be a smooth, gently curving line showing signs of the pure, unbridled emotions that were surging through the young alchemist, inhibiting the task that he would find like second nature on any other occasion.

Any time but this.

The careful curve of the outermost circle of the array came to fruition by painstakingly slow degrees, but at last, Edward connected both ends and stood to double-check everything. Despite the desperation he felt to use the circlenow, and despite the tiny voice that was screeching at him from the very depths of his racing mind that it was perfect, Ed did not act on those impulses. He knew that if one thing—one symbol, one line—was out of place, then everything could go very horribly wrong.

Then, he might never get Al back.

Edward didn't even know if this would work. He was well aware that human transmutation circles were meant for human transmutations. Body alchemy. Creating homunculi.

He didn't know whether or not he could definitively use the process to put Al's soul back into the now battered, lifeless armour. The blonde's amber, red-rimmed eyes unconsciously traveled to the crumpled pile of unfeeling steel, which now lay just outside the completed circle, silent and motionless. Ed bit back a sob and tore his eyes away from the cataphract—the thing that had been home to his brother's soul for so long.

His body, his corpse, his tomb.

The elder and only remaining Elric focused his thoughts back on the transmutation circle—the one he now had transcribed onto the hard concrete floor of the cemetery groundskeeper's vacant shed—studying the complicated design carefully.

After the failed attempt with their mother, the brothers had burned any and all written traces of the design for their human transmutation circle along with their house. All Edward had to go on was what his prodigal mind remembered from all those years ago.

And the pulsating array on his basement floor was one thing in particular that the teen would never be able to forget. He only hoped that his memory was accurate enough.

A sudden rush of adrenaline—coupled with the despair and rashness that he already had flooding his system—coursed through his veins like a toxin; with another quick, almost haphazard glance around the circle's perimeter, Ed nodded fiercely to himself, convinced that it was just as he had remembered it all those years ago.

The human transmutation circle.

The symbol of the ultimate taboo.

The thing that—he prayed to a god he wasn't sure existed—would bring his little brother back to him . . .

Major Edward Elric peeked around the corner of the small house, his golden eyes narrowing as he scanned for any signs of movement. Though he couldn't see the bastards, he knew that the enemy was close.

He could sense them.

Almost as if to prove that notion correct, a projectile was suddenly lobbed at his exposed head from the nearby bushes; Ed squeaked in surprise and yanked his face back, just as the object ricocheted off the side of the house.

Damnit, the blonde teen thought heatedly to himself. That was too close.

Swallowing the lump of apprehension that had welled up in the back of his throat, Edward turned his tawny eyes to his small unit of six, seeing the anxiety, fear, and determination that he felt reflected right back at him. "All right troops," he said quietly, nodding to each of them in turn. "Here's the game plan. I need half of you—Mullins, Hicks, and . . . Potts—to stay put. You need to stand guard of our base of operations—protect it with your lives. Got it?"

The three soldiers indicated each gave a quick nod of assent, their eyes shining brightly, and Ed continued, "The rest of you—Falley, Caldwell, and Oord. You're gonna come with me. We're gonna move in and ambush the enemy base—we have to capture that position at all costs, understand?

"Now," he said, straightening his stance. "Are there any questions?"

There was a moment of tense silence—the members of his small unit looking back and forth at one another nervously, clutching their weapons to their chests in giddy anticipation—before one small soldier near the back, Potts, raised her hand and spoke:

"Can we have a timeout? I have to go potty."

One of Edward's golden brows shifted position on his face and he reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "We're playing War here, Jessie," he explained as rationally as he could to the small child. "There are no timeouts."

Of course, the little blonde girl's bladder was obviously not aware of the rules of the game and would have none of it. She squirmed about madly, her bright, blue eyes brimming with frustrated tears, and pressed her hands between her knees. "But I gotta go," she whined pitifully.

Ed stared down at the wriggling form for several seconds, before sighing exasperatedly and reaching up to scratch distractedly at the base of his braid. "Fine," he yielded. "I'm sure Izumi will let you use her bathroom. Go ask her."

As Jessie Potts mumbled a hushed "thank you" and scampered off towards the front door, the alchemist turned back to the rest of his "troops" and asked tersely, "Anyone else?" The five remaining kids stared up innocently at the displeased look on their commander's face and quickly shook their heads in a unanimous negative. "Good," he said flatly.

Turning back to gaze around the corner of Izumi Curtis' house, Edward scanned the yard for any signs of Alphonse or the other neighborhood children that had roped the unsuspecting brothers into this little game. Really, all they had wanted to do was stop by and pay a visit to their teacher for a few days on their way back from a mission—if Ed had known what he would end up getting himself into, he would have headed straight back to Central.

Edward sighed dramatically and leaned his automail shoulder heavily against the side of the house. He was trying his hardest to get back to the task at hand and forget about the fact that he had just opted for spending his time in HQ, getting shouted at and picked on by his superior officer, rather than playing a game in the quiet town of Dublith.

The Elric shook his blonde head. He didn't think the idea of young children learning tactical combat skills from a dog of the military would sit very well with their parents; however, Izumi had charged the older boys with keeping the children busy, this was what they wanted to play, and it would certainly be a cold day in hell when he would voluntarily spend time with the colonel . . .

"Mr. Edward?"

The Fullmetal blinked as the small voice interrupted his reverie, and turned to look down at one of his soldiers. The large copper pot that the Caldwell boy was using as a helmet had settled down on his brunette head in an odd way, the rim bending the shell of one of his large ears down at a peculiar angle and making him look like a German shepherd puppy. The comparison between the two wasn't helped any by the fact that he was now staring up at Ed with a pair of bright brown eyes.

The blonde mentally swatted the image away and frowned down at the boy. "Yeah, Thomas?"

"We gonna . . . y'know?" the boy questioned, wringing the handle of his ladle-weapon nervously. "Attack or something?"

Edward regarded the kid for a few short seconds, before slowly turning his attention to the rest of the squad. They were all nodding at him, as if silently asking the same question that Thomas just had. The alchemist sighed.

Before the game had gotten underway, the kids had explained to the two confused Elric brothers that the point of this little exhibition was to obtain a flag that the enemy had set up at their base. So, all Ed had to do was get the flag away from Al—who would most likely be camped out next to the base, doing his damndest to look big and intimidating to the opposing troops—and this ridiculous thing would be over.

He knew that said brother and flag were now positioned somewhere near the back of the house.

"Now," Ed mumbled to himself. "How to go about getting to them."

Thomas blinked, tilting his head to one side—further adding to Edward's belief that he had been a dog in a past life—and quietly asked, "What?"

Ignoring the question, the blonde closed his eyes briefly and began to wrack his brains for some way he could distract Al long enough to get around him and get the flag away—he might have been a suit of armour, but the younger Elric was quick, both mentally and physically. It wasn't easy to pull the wool over his eyes.

Ed just needed a distraction.

A distraction.

His golden eyes flashed open . . . and he grinned. "Hey guys . . . have you ever heard of a little thing called 'cannon fodder'?"

"I can't believe you sent those little kids out there like that," Alphonse Elric scolded.

Ed, who had been walking along with his hands shoved down into his coat pockets, staring up into to dark night sky, glanced back over his shoulder at the suit of armour. "Huh?" he mumbled. "What're you talking about?"

It was near midnight and the brothers had just arrived back in Central; they had been heading for the dorms, when the younger brother brought up the point he had been brooding over for the past half-hour.

"Those kids, Brother," Al repeated, sounding annoyed. "This morning, back in Dublith. You sent them running at the others like sheep to try and distract me, didn't you?"

Once he realized what his younger brother was going on about, Ed grinned up at him and stated, "Yeah, I did. I wish I could have seen the look on your face when they rounded the corner like that, screaming and waving their spatulas and ladles and stuff." The blonde allowed himself a little chuckle at the thought, running a gloved finger under his nose to relieve a tickle.

"That wasn't very nice, Ed," the younger chided, his clanking footsteps echoing off of the buildings along the quiet street. "You wouldn't make a very good commanding officer, seeing how willingly you would sacrifice your troops."

The Fullmetal shrugged one shoulder, turning back to face the direction he was headed. "It was just a game. Besides . . . I got the flag, didn't I?" he asked nonchalantly.

"Barely."

Edward harrumphed indignantly. Though it was true that he had ordered the children to charge in and attack Al's base as a distraction, his brother had apparently seen through the subterfuge. When Ed had come up from behind—having circled the house from the other side—his brother had been ready for him and had simply lifted him off the ground by one leg.

Of course, Edward Elric was not one to be lifted.

He had clapped his hands together and reached up to touch the gauntlet that now had his automail leg in its grasp; Al had, predictably, let out a startled yelp and had dropped his older brother. The teen had fallen to the ground in a crumpled, blonde heap, then had flipped over and scuttled like a maritime crab past his brother's legs.

Alphonse had barely managed to shout something about how they had promised not to use alchemy and how it wasn't fair, before Ed yelled out over his shoulder, "All's fair in love and war! Get him!"

At that command, the five remaining children of his squad had stopped whatever personal battles they had gotten involved in and rushed forward to commence in beating Al's armoured legs with their assorted kitchen-weaponry. It had given Edward just enough time to get back to the enemy fort and capture the flag. His troops had cheered as he had waved the little red square of cloth over his head triumphantly . . . and he had to admit that he kind of enjoyed it.

He would never admit that to Al, though.

Back in the present, the blonde alchemist scoffed. "I still got it."

The suit of armour rolled his red eyes at his brother's childish behavior, vaguely wondering why he or Izumi had ever allowed the teen—with his aggressive methods well-known throughout Amestris—to play a battle-game with children. Alphonse feared that some of them might have picked up some of his brother's more unsavory actions, as well as some of his colourful vocabulary. This probably would have gotten their Teacher into trouble with the kids' parents, which undoubtedly meant trouble for the Elrics as well.

Al sighed hollowly and went to tell his older brother something of the matter; however, all thought and motion suddenly stopped when the boy's eye caught something off to his left.

Movement.

It was just for a brief moment, but it was enough to fully draw the Elric's attention. Noticing that the familiar clanking of metal feet had suddenly ceased, Ed halted in his own progress to see what had caused his brother pause. "Al? What is it?"

Alphonse stared at the alley for several seconds, straining his eyes in an attempt to once again catch the motion of shadows against shadows; however, after nearly ten seconds of silence, the armour turned to face Edward, reaching up to absently rub the back of his helmet. "Eh . . . I just thought that I saw something."

"Really?" The blonde blinked his golden eyes several times and looked over at the alleyway that the younger alchemist had indicated. "What was it?"

"I'm . . . not sure," Al squeaked. "But, it's gone now."

Ed snorted and spun around, starting up his path to HQ once again. "Probably just a stray cat or something, Al. Come on . . . let's get back to the dorms before it gets too late."

"O-okay," Al muttered distractedly, watching the darkness within the alley for a few more hesitant seconds, before turning away and following after his brother. "Ed?" Alphonse questioned once he had caught up to his brother's short, but quick gate.

"Hm?"

"Tell me again why we didn't just stay at Teacher's house tonight and catch the train tomorrow, like we were supposed to?" The younger boy's echoing voice sounded annoyed and accusing. The truth was, the brothers Elric had been scheduled to arrive back in Central the following day—they had completed their mission early and, being in the south, had dropped by their teacher's place on the way back. Alphonse had been under the impression that they would be staying until the following morning, but Edward had insisted that they leave that night, so that they could get back to HQ early. "I thought that you liked putting off your meetings with Colonel Mustang until the very last minute?"

Edward threw an annoyed glare over his shoulder at the suggestive tone Al had taken and expelled a harsh snort of disdain at the mention of his superior's name. Alphonse, had he a mouth and the ability to smirk, would have been doing so right then.

The blonde seemed to sense the mirth radiating off of his brother nonetheless and turned away before he got too upset over nothing. "Because, Al," he answered patiently. "If we waited until morning to catch the train, then I'd have to go see that bastard as soon as I arrived. This way, I can shower, get some rest and food, and—"

"Finish up your report?" the younger asked teasingly.

Ed grumbled, but said nothing to refute Al's accusation as the two of them rounded the corner and arrived at the entrance to Central HQ. The blonde sighed wearily, so happy that they had finally made it to the dorms—hot shower, warm food, comfortable bed, hell yeah!—that he chose to forget the fact that Al had, once again, just beaten him in another argument.

He was getting annoyingly good at that.

"Come on, Al," he called over his shoulder and began to ascend the front stairs into the building, his stomach growling impatiently at the prospect of a meal.

He thought that he heard Al start to make a reply . . . but suddenly, out of nowhere, the wind picked up and came billowing down past the two teens; the close proximity of the buildings and narrow streets put even more pressure on the warm wind, compressing it into near cyclone-force proportions. Windows rattled their alarm at the assault, newspapers went cartwheeling down the deserted street, and somewhere, a single wind chime sang its merry song.

Edward stooped over and pulled his coat tight against him, back against the sudden onslaught. He winced as his own braid caught him hard in the face, slapping him like a betrayed lover; however, just as quickly as it had begun, the wind died down. Edward straightened his stance. "Whoa," he proclaimed with a laugh. "What was that about?" Grinning lopsidedly, the blonde turned to see how his mountain of a brother had faired against the wind. "Hey, Al, you oka—"

Ed stopped.

"Alphonse?" asked the Fullmetal, his brow quickly furrowing. It appeared as though the brutal assault of wind had felled the suit of armour near the base of the steps. Al wasn't getting up . . . and he wasn't moving.

"Al?" he called out again. "Come on, Al. This isn't funny." Ed heard the tremor in his voice and swallowed hard before slowly, cautiously beginning to make his way back down the stairs.

Each step underfoot—

One.

—each ragged breath he took in—

Two.

—each foot that he got closer to his fallen brother—

Three.

—Edward felt his heart beat faster—

Four.

—felt his panic quickly rise—

Five.

—and his gut churn painfully in his abdomen—

Six.

—because his brother was lying there—

Seven.

—facedown on the cold concrete sidewalk—

Eight.

—and Ed was screaming Al's name at the top of his lungs—

Nine.

—because it took thirteen seconds—

Ten.

—for the light to hit the armour just right—

Eleven.

—and for Ed to see the huge hole—

Twelve.

—that cut right through to where his blood seal was . . .

Thirteen.

"Al . . . Al? Al! AL!"

Edward Elric, Fullmetal Alchemist, stared down with gritty determination in his eyes and a sharp ache in his heart at the soulless casing that had once held his brother. The pile of armour now sat motionless in the centre of the perfect circle, beckoning him, begging him to help . . .

"Al . . ." he whispered into the darkness, silent tears making their way down his pale cheeks. "I'm so sorry."

This would work. It had to. He didn't care what he gave up. Even if he got caught, kicked out of the military, and thrown in prison . . . it would be worth it. Because, as far as Edward was concerned, a world without Al in it wasn't one worth living in.

He would succeed in this . . . or die failing. Kneeling down next to the circle, Edward shut his eyes and steeled himself . . .

Then pressed his hands against the array.

Yes, I killed Al. I know—I suck. Please review and tell me just how much I suck, if y'all don't mind. Next chapter will be out I-don't-know-when.