Title : The One In Which I Cannot Lose

Genre : Anime/Manga

Category : Full Metal Alchemist

Disclaimer : Wouldn't you want to own it?

Summary : He knew the moment he made the circle that it was wrong. But nothing could change the boy's mind now. Absolutely nothing.

Warnings : Angst, language, and possible gore/mention of blood. Oh, and, um, a little RoyXEd.

Rating : Hmm, I think I just might go with M this time.

This does not follow the story line, but is more or less the possibility of what could have happened if some of the events in the story line had been changed.

Thick clouds were creeping upon the horizon, like a ghost claiming its next victim. They moved in slowly but surely, covering the sunset colored sky, the red and yellow and golden shades disappearing into the darkness that was coming. The cold moved with it, bringing gusts of wind so bitter and chilled, just the very touch of it would sting or create some form of pain. The wind howled as though it were in agony, screaming across the landscape with a furious cry of despair.

The once green fields were littered with soldiers' bodies, some still fresh, the tang of iron corroding the air. Others had been there for quite some time, charred and blackened, their decaying faces contorted into horror and dread, others not even having had the privilege of knowing that death was coming to conquer them. They were scattered about, laying in their own pools of blood, the ground underneath them soaked with the now rust colored substance.

The remains of the few houses and residences that were left were burning, though the flames had lessened, they were still quite visible from a distance. The faded orange flames and charcoal smoke decorated their exteriors, now reduced to mostly nothing but a few beams and ashes.

There was one building that still stood, one that had been forgotten about ages ago, even before the Great War(1) had begun. It was buried deep within the surrounding forest, tangled tree branches and thorny bushes hiding it from the living. Its windows were long cracked and broken, pieces and slivers of glass corrupting the beauty that was once held within them. The roof was littered with holes, though surprisingly, it was still there, but for how long was anyone's guess.

A trail of deep crimson made a trail to its doorway, the once fanciful doors hanging wide open, inviting all those who needed shelter entry. The pews were littered with dust and cobwebs, mold spreading across the wooden objects, decorating them as though it was holly for the holiday season.

It had been silent for ages, no hymns had filled it as long as any residents of the nearby town lived. But on this day, the wonderland of isolation had been broken, inhabited by two individuals, though only one was able to breathe in the stale air that the building had provided.

He inhaled it quickly, ignoring the must flavored taste it brought to his lips. He was preoccupied, too busy to notice the small particles of ice that were busy floating through the holes in the roof, or the breath that was continuously spiraling out of his mouth at a rate too fast for his own good.

He moved as quickly as he could, hurriedly moving the chalk along the floor, distantly thankful that there was a spot big enough in the small amount of space he had to do what he was doing. White dust sprang up each time the white stick touched the floor, the sixteen year old making positively sure the circle he was drawing was perfect. There could be absolutely nothing wrong with it, because if there was just one mistake, no matter how minute it was, the whole thing could blow up in his face, a chance he dared not to take.

His hand shook as it moved at lightning speed, scribbling down the image he had implanted in his brain since he was ten years old, and inwardly, he knew no matter how old he got, he would never forget it. The blond ignored the blood that was smearing around his creation, knowing that it could only help more than hurt it.

The pain that had inhabited his small body had become numb, the boy chasing the adrenaline rush that kept him going. With each swipe of the chalk, blood oozed out of his right side, creating a river of the crimson substance down his pants leg and onto the floor, though he was careful it didn't touch the person that was laying near him, in the middle of the circle.

He couldn't help but grimace as he drug what was left of his right leg behind him, the tourniquet he had wrapped around it preventing too much more of a blood loss. He glanced at it out the corner of his eye, his brain not comprehending that his foot was no longer there, blown away by a stray mine. Pieces of flesh and bone dangled from the open wound that started at the end of his calf, the skin around it already blackening.

His automail leg was still together, missing a few nuts and bolts but in one piece; his arm however, was not. The metallic limb had been broken just above the wrist area, wires hanging pathetically from its remains. Thus, creating the need for his use of chalk.

His golden eyes were wide but dazed, slowly falling on the lifeless body that lay in the middle of the transmutation circle, the object of his affection. The only thing left keeping him alive was the hope of bringing him back, bringing him back from whatever world he had fallen into. The sixteen year old couldn't let him go, he'd lost too much to allow that.

Backing away from his creation, he traced every word written and every circle drawn, making sure each and every intricate design was correct and perfect, exactly how his father had drawn them. Assured that everything was acceptable, he moved forward, carefully crawling to the center of the circle. With a shaking and bloodied hand, he reached down, cupping the man's crimson-stained chin in his palm, staring into the lifeless onyx eyes he so badly wanted to bring life into once again. He could care less if it was taboo nor if it was selfish, he just needed someone; he needed Roy.

Feeling tears of uncertainty and fear stream down his own dirtied and blood-littered cheeks, he leaned forward, closing his eyes and letting his lips touch the ones he was going to make warm again. For a foolish second, he was sure the man had returned the gesture, but after backing away and surveying the damage done to the Colonel's body, he knew the notion to be impossible.

A bullet hole graced his forehead, deeming those deep pools of ebony resolute and no longer in use. Two more had pierced his chest, another his gut, and an unknown number in his arms and legs. The boy hadn't paid close enough attention, the only thing he could think about was getting the older man to a safe and secure place, even if he had to drag his lifeless body across the field polluted with death and destruction.

The beating of his heart resounding in his head pulled him away from the thoughts that were trying to kill him, forcing him back to the reality he wished he wasn't living in. Crawling to the outer edge of the circle, he reached for his side, taking the fresh blood that was continuing to leak and marking his right leg. Bowing his head, he placed his left hand and what was left of his right arm onto the circle, blue light immediately illuminating him and his surroundings. He closed his eyes tight, the gate appearing before him once more. He felt the black hands and fingers wrap around his right leg, yanking off the flesh bit by bit, leaving only what was above his knee, the rest taken by Equivalent Exchange, the law that he was bound to live by, whether he liked it or not.

A flash of electric blue light whipped past him, leaving behind a vision of the man who's soul he was trying to resurrect. The boy could feel awe wrap around him, the ounce of hope he was holding onto so tightly grow just a little as he looked into those beautiful onyx eyes once again. He felt the touch of a smile grace his lips as he reached out for him, but just as soon as the image appeared, it vanished, the harsh face of reality now jolting the boy back to the inside of the church.

He could feel the blood flowing out of the wound like a flash flood, splattering onto the dusty old floor at an alarming rate. The pain ate at his every nerve, but if it gave him the ability to bring back the older man, then so be it.

Realizing where he was at, he looked to the middle of the circle, staying perfectly still, waiting to see the aftereffect. No breath escaped his body as he watched the dark haired man's arm twitch slightly, the digits on his left hand moving methodically. A muffled groan escaped Mustang's lips, sending the sixteen year old into a frenzy. The boy immediately pushed himself over to the man who was trying to sit up without much luck. A thick trail of blood followed the State Alchemist as he made it to his destination, nearly throwing himself on top of the older man.

Irrational words tumbled from the boy's mouth, he unable to control the sudden overload of emotion that befell him. He wrapped his good arm around the man, crying and sobbing in the process. The overwhelming pain the sliced into his leg made him cry harder, though knowing that Roy was back somehow made it lessen.

Ignoring the heavy scent of iron and decaying flesh, he buried his dizzied head into the man's chest, stopping when the sudden realization that only one heart's beat befell his ears. The sobs came to a complete standstill as his golden orbs widened once more, taking note that the noise that was traveling through his ears was his and his alone, which only meant one thing.

Raising his head up, he peered down at the man's face, staring expectantly at the eyes that had yet to open. With a shaking hand dripping with blood, he placed it on the man's cheek, watching in terror as eyelids slowly lifted, revealing two violet orbs that windowed no soul. They were empty, completely and utterly empty, devoid of any ounce of humanity.

"No," the first coherent word the boy had spoken in ages tumbled from his quivering lips, strands of golden locks falling into his face. "No," he whispered once more, his body beginning to tremble, an impending scream haunting his throat. "It wasn't supposed to...no, this can't be..." the hoarse sliver of a voice poured from his mouth, his eyes glimmering in horror.

Edward heard another groan echo throughout his head, sending chills down his spine. He backed away, inwardly hearing that small voice inside his head tell him that he should have known better, he should've just let the man go and let him rest in piece. But he didn't. He brought him back, only what was sitting up in front of him wasn't Colonel Roy Mustang. No, this was a soulless doll, the boy's own hellish creation.

The only ones who heard his terrified screams were already long gone, their dead eyes staring up at the grey sky, watching the quiet winter snow fall on top of them.

(1) A war my pathetic little mind made up just for this one-shot.

Well, how was it? Hopefully, it wasn't too predictable.