Disclaimer: I do not own any part of Full Metal Alchemist.

A DRUG TO KILL-

The Colonel had sent him here with very little explanation.

"The townspeople claim to have seen a man creating monsters in their vicinity. We can only assume that these 'monsters' are Chimeras."

Chimeras, individuals produced by grafting an embryonic part of one animal on to the embryo of another, either of the same or another species. An illegally practiced science experiment.

"Out of the field alchemists we have, you are the most familiar with situations such as these."

That's right. All in all it was still Human Transmutation. He knew plenty about that, and had the nightmares to prove it.

"This is why I am assigning the mission to you Full Metal. I've caught a whiff of a promotion in the air, so don't screw this up."

Cocky bastard.

"If all goes as planned, you'll be on your way back tomorrow. I'll be waiting with dinner."

Manipulative to boot. Maybe that was why he'd stayed with him for so long. No one else could take his temper or the other's ego.

Edward grimaced a small smile beneath his brother's looming hulk of metal.

"Don't worry Brother, I called the town police. They'll be coming soon with help."

His throat continued to swell and he choked on his saliva in response. He wouldn't have to wait long.

"Brother! Are you okay? Here, just sit up and wait a little longer."

In and out, in and out. The subconscious reaction sprang forth ten fold to keep him alive. Immune response was it called? Trust his body to attack itself when he wasn't damaging it in some fight.

How could he have known? The basement that he and Al had stepped into was decaying. Bits of food and what looked to be animal remains were littered over the floor. The damp moisture had led the wooden walls and ground to mould. Everything was spawning thousands of spores.

Regrettably, the culprit responsible currently had his head set in between the vice like jaws of his precious creations, which were dead as well.

He was a scientist after all. He should have known what was wrong the second he set foot in the god forsaken realm.

Ed felt himself choke and his body went into short convulses. His vision went white as his eyes rolled back into his head and Alphonse began to scream.

It wasn't Roy or Al's fault, it was his. He could have realized!

"Don't do this to me! Please Brother!"

He croaked, the result of trying to tell Al not to cry, forgetting that his metal brother couldn't in the first place. White foam seeped through the corners of his slightly ajar mouth.

The frontal lobe of his brain seemed to slow with each second, while the back took over.

He knew Alphonse could not help him. What was the chance there would be some epinephrine kicking around this dump? Not very likely.

"Brother, the medics will be coming. And they've probably called Colonel Mustang by now. If you stay you'll get to see him."

Al was trying to comfort his brother, how cute. Not that it helped really.

His hospital records knew of it from his mother, but the military did not. At the time he signed on, he saw no reason to include it. Perhaps he should have.

"It is an immediate and severe allergic reaction to a substance. Symptoms include breathing difficulty, loss of consciousness and a drop in blood pressure. This condition can be fatal and requires urgent medical attention." That was what the doctor in Risembool had told his mother when she took him in. All from eating some bad bread, he'd nearly given her a heart attack.

Edward wheezed in a hungry breath that his oxygen starved heart and brain craved.

An allergic reaction, anaphylaxis was it called? It sounded right.

It seemed sickly funny that what helped to cure most people could kill him.

He began to seizure briefly, then became still.

"Brother?"

After all, a scientist would know.

Sir Alexander Fleming, a brilliant man. Utilized a medicine made from moulds and used it to further kill many kinds of bacteria.

"Brother!"

Penicillin, the first of the so-called wonder drugs.

"Edward!"

Why did Alphonse sound so worried? Everything was fine, wasn't it? He couldn't remember. All he knew was that he was suddenly very tired, probably from his brain shutting off.

"EDWARD!"

Who was shaking him? He wished they'd go away.

He heard whimpering, but found he did not care. And his mind went blank.

Edward Elric was allergic to penicillin, the medicine made from moulds.

And for you Bio or Med students, I am aware that penicillin was put to use in the early forties. That fact has been changed with what we call an artistic license, so no complaining!