Author's Note: Okay, first I have to squee because this is my fiftieth FMA fic! 8D Okay, getting down to business. This story started very small, with just a tiny thought in the back of my head and a line from my fic "Brothers Fairy Tale": "As the elder brother plunged a jewelled dagger into his own heart, he saw to his amazement that his little brother did the same." That, coupled with a few vague ideas floating around in my brain, and a lengthy discussion with a friend, erupted into this story. This is a what-if AU story, and is mangaverse, just so you know. There will be spoilers for the entire series. The major inspiration that drove me to actually write this story out was Submersed's album In Due Time. They seemed to be singing about this very story. I hope you enjoy my fic, because I know I sure did!

Dedication: For DevLeigh, because without you this story would not exist.

Chapter One: Body

"Lift me up, my soul's so hollow."

- 'Hollow' by Submersed

Edward Elric would look back on that day as the worst day of his life.

His teeth ground together against the pain, his left arm clutching the stump of his right, as his blurry vision slowly cleared. He was back in the basement study, he saw. It stank horribly in here – stank of blood, vomit, and dead flesh. He would hardly have been surprised to find he had fallen straight to hell.

Slowly, Ed's disconnected thoughts converged, reminding him of what was more important than anything else. "Al," he whispered hoarsely. His eyes strained through the steam that still clouded the room. There! A form rose from the midst of the steam. A human form. "Al," he murmured weakly in relief.

Alphonse Elric strode over to him, and he was relieved to see that his little brother seemed to be unhurt in any way. It worked. "You will die if you lose much more blood," Al said. "I must bandage your wounds."

Ed relaxed, letting the relief flow through him. He looked up at Al's face, and the faintest notion passed through his mind that something was not quite right. Before he could grasp this idea fully, however, he lost all consciousness.

The moment Ed opened his eyes, he heard a familiar feminine voice nearby.

"Oh, thank goodness!" Winry Rockbell cried, rushing to his side. "I was so worried!"

"What happened?" Ed asked groggily, wondering why his arm and leg were filled with a dull ache.

Winry's relieved expression immediately hardened. "That's what I'd like to know! Al had to carry you here 'cause you passed out! What happened to your arm and leg?"

But Ed was hardly listening to her, for everything had suddenly come rushing back. "Al," he murmured, moving to push himself up. He suddenly realized his right arm was gone, and before he could adjust his weight to push himself up with one arm, Winry had shoved him back down.

"Just lie still," she said sternly, looking annoyed.

"Where's Al?" Ed demanded, not about to be deterred.

Winry hesitated, then said, "In the kitchen with Granny." She looked uncomfortable, then asked again, "Ed, what happened? Please tell me, just this once." Her large blue eyes searched his earnestly, adding a silent plea to the one she had voiced.

Ed studied her face and saw a strange discomfort there. He had known Winry for almost as long as he could remember, and was able to interpret her expressions very well. "What's wrong with Al?" he asked, suddenly desperate.

"What?" Winry said, trying to smile innocently and failing abysmally. "Who said anything was wrong?"

"Let me see him," Ed demanded, setting his jaw. "Bring him here, or I'm going out there to him."

"All right, fine!" Winry snapped. "Just stay put; don't be an idiot. I'll go get him."

Ed watched her leave, and listened to her footsteps receding. He realized that his palms (No, I only have one palm now, he reminded himself) were sweaty and his heart was pounding. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but if Al was hurt in some way, it was his fault. This whole fiasco had been his idea in the first place, after all.

After a few more moments, two pairs of footsteps returned, gradually growing louder and louder. Ed watched the open door, watched as first Winry appeared in it, then Al. Al looked normal; there were no missing limbs or telltale bandages, not even a bloody lip or a black eye. Ed breathed a sigh of relief; Al had come out of this ordeal unscathed.

Al stood in the doorway, neither rushing over to inquire worriedly about Ed's health nor smiling sheepishly as if to say I'm sorry you took the brunt of it all. This struck Ed as a little odd. "Al?" he asked tentatively. "Are...Are you angry with me?"

"No," Al said dully.

No, not dully, Ed decided. Emotionlessly. There was no trace of anger or sadness in his voice. "Are...Are you okay, Al?"

Al looked straight at Ed at that. "That would depend on how you define 'okay,'" he said in that same strange, emotionless voice. "My body is completely unharmed. But to say that I am completely 'okay'...would be a lie. Do you not agree, Edward?"

Ed stared at Al, waiting to be told this was all a very bad joke. But Al just kept on looking at him with his gold eyes. His empty gold eyes. And Ed began to scream.

When Ed woke to the fresh morning sunlight on his closed eyelids, he thought everything had just been a nightmare. The horrible transmutation, all that pain...and Al's terribly empty eyes. But when he moved to wipe the sleep from his eyes, he found that he couldn't move his right arm. Or, more accurately, he had no right arm to move. Ed covered his face with his left hand instead as despair washed through him.

"What have I done?" he groaned.

"You have performed human transmutation," said a chilling voice nearby. For one heart-stopping moment, Ed thought it was that horrible outline of whiteness that called itself Truth, but when he whipped his head around he saw that it was Al, sitting in a chair nearby. "You attempted to bring our mother back from the dead, and when you saw it had taken me as a passage fee, you tried to bring me back with your right arm."

"Yeah, I know that," Ed said through gritted teeth. "It's just a rhetorical question. You know that."

"I do," Al said.

Ed stared at him in anguish. Al should have gotten angry, or defensive, or apologetic, or something. But he was just sitting there, looking blankly ahead, his hands resting on his knees. "What happened to you?" Ed finally asked.

"I was taken into the Doors of Truth as a passage fee," Al replied calmly – if it is possible to be calm without emotion. "You gave your right arm as the passage fee to reach me, but you were only able to take out my body."

Ed gasped and jerked into an almost-sitting position. "What?"

"To clarify, I no longer have my soul," Al replied.

Ed stared at his little brother for a moment, then fell back onto the pillow. "No soul...." he murmured, trying to wrap his mind around it. A passage from a reference book returned to him at that moment, and he slowly recited, "'A human is composed of body, mind, and soul.'"

"That is true," Al replied, even though the words hadn't exactly been directed at him. "The body and the soul are connected by the mind. The reason I am able to speak is because my mind is still connected to my body. It is also connected to my soul, though."

"Where is your soul?" Ed asked, trying to imagine what a detached soul would look like.

"It is within the Doors of Truth."

Ed jerked upright again, ignoring the flash of pain as the stump of his leg protested his sudden movement. "We have to get it back!" he cried.

"That would be preferable." Seeing Ed's confused look, Al elaborated. "A body cannot live without a soul. The mind attracts both body and soul. It is only a matter of time before the strain becomes too great and my body joins my soul at last."

"You mean...you'll just disappear someday?" Ed asked in horror. "When? How much time do we have?"

Al was a stark contrast to his older brother, remaining completely calm in the face of this horrible truth. "There is no way to know. It could be ten years. It could be tomorrow."

The expressionless face of his brother was beginning to unnerve Ed. When he couldn't restrain himself any longer, he burst out, "Aren't you scared?"

Al's blank eyes met his. "I am unable to feel fear," he said matter-of-factly. "You should already have realized this, Edward."

Ed flinched to hear Al call him by name a second time. Ever since he could remember, Al had called him 'Brother.' He couldn't remember a single time when he had heard Al call him by his name, even when talking to someone else. It was always 'Brother' or 'my brother.' 'Edward' sounded strange, when spoken in Al's voice. "You know..." Ed said uncomfortably, looking into Al's blank eyes and then quickly looking away again. "You can...still call me Brother...if you want."

Al looked at him blankly. "Why?"

Ed stared disbelievingly into those empty golden eyes. That one little word seemed to have pierced right through his heart; he felt a stinging pain in his chest like a knife. After a moment, Ed realized his eyes were blurring with tears. One rolled down his cheek, and he turned his face away from his emotionless little brother as he began to cry harder and harder.

If anyone had looked in on the room, they would have been met with a very strange sight: Al, sitting calmly on a chair and staring blankly ahead; and Ed, sobbing into his pillow as if his heart would break.

By the time Winry and Granny Pinako came in to change his bandages, Ed had made up his mind. "Granny," he said firmly as she gathered up the bloody bandages. "I want you to give me automail. I'm going to need and arm and a leg for what I'm going to do."

Granny Pinako frowned, her long pipe drooping. "Ed, you're not still trying to-"

Ed quickly shook his head. "No. I want to become a State Alchemist." He ignored the gasps this announcement brought forth. "I'm going to get Al's soul back...if it's the last thing I do." He looked over at Al, who sat in the same chair, staring blankly back at him. Then he returned his gaze to Granny Pinako.

The little old woman clicked her tongue and pulled the pipe out of her mouth. "All right, but it'll take three years at least for you to recover and become coordinated enough to use automail like your original limbs."

Ed fell silent; he hadn't realized it would take so long. He glanced uneasily at Al, remembering what he had said about the uncertainty of his existence. Ed's hand clenched into a fist on what was left of his leg. "We may not have that long," he whispered. "I have to get it back as soon as possible." He firmed his resolve and looked up at Granny Pinako. "One year!"

Winry looked worried, but Granny Pinako just stared into Ed's hardened gold eyes for a while, until finally she smiled grimly and said, "I might as well warn you now, you'll be coughing up blood if you push yourself that hard. But I can see I can't do anything to stop you."

A fierce delight ripped through Ed's chest, and he turned to grin at Al. Then he saw his little brother's expressionless face, and the smile slipped away. As Winry and Granny Pinako left to begin preparations for the automail surgery, Ed clutched the sheets silently, his resolve hardening even further. He had to get Al back to normal!

In the months that followed, Ed experienced pain such as he had never even imagined. Yet all through his feverish and sleepless nights, all through his pain-ridden, frustrating days, he continued to push himself onward. For every day, he saw Al's blank eyes, his expressionless face, and he was reminded of the soul that was out there somewhere.

As the months dragged on, Ed slowly became used to Al's lack of emotion, as did Winry and Granny Pinako. But he never fully adjusted; he was always aware that this was not how things were supposed to be. Al never smiled at him anymore, never spoke encouraging or soothing words to him. There was nothing in there of the Al he had known from birth.

One day, after the promised year was almost up, Ed slowly walked down the grassy hill to the river. His metal limbs were about as coordinated as he thought they could get, though he had come to the realization that fine motor skills would have to be restricted to his left hand. He had learned to write and use eating utensils with his left hand, and was slowly getting used to the constant weight of two metal limbs. In all the fuss and bother, he had allowed his hair to grow long, and had taken to braiding it to keep it out of his face.

When Ed crested the hill, he saw Al sitting by the riverside. As the months had progressed and Ed continued to spend the majority of his time with his little brother, Ed had come to the surprising conclusion that there was still a little bit of Al inside that body. His habits were the same, and he still petted Winry's dog, Den, quite a bit. He had grown out his hair just like Ed's, keeping it in a ponytail most of the time; Ed knew that Al would have done that if he was still whole. Al also seemed to wander down to the river quite a bit, just as he had before. He never looked sad or contemplative while he sat there, but Ed sometimes wondered whether he felt closer to his soul when he sat there.

"Are you fully healed, Edward?" Al asked tonelessly.

Ed had gotten somewhat used to the way Al addressed him, but it still sent a pang through him when he heard it. "Yeah," he said sadly, smiling a little as he looked down at his brother. He had also grown somewhat used to the unresponsiveness of his little brother. He knew he would never receive a smile in return, but he forced himself to smile anyway. He had to treat Al just the same as always. This was his little brother, after all – even without a soul.

Ed sat down next to Al and for a while, the two of them sat there quietly. It almost felt like it had before all these terrible things had happened, and Ed pretended that nothing had changed. He pretended that the silence between them was congenial, that Al had just made a joke, that they had just finished laughing and now were sitting in peaceful silence. A quiet smile found its way onto Ed's face.

"Edward?" Al asked, shattering the fragile image. "Why are you smiling?"

The smile instantly evaporated and Ed sighed, facing reality again. "I was...just remembering. Remembering how things used to be." They were silent again for a while, and Ed felt a question burning against his lips. He tried to ask it, but he was too afraid of what the answer was. He didn't think he could stand it if Al said....

"Come on, Al," Ed said hurriedly, standing up. "Let's go home. We're going to be leaving bright and early tomorrow morning."

On the train to Central City, Ed tried to run through all the things he had to keep in mind while taking the State Alchemist Certification Exam. He rehearsed his story again and again ("I lost my limbs in the Eastern Border War"), and his reasons for wanting to become a State Alchemist in the first place ("I promised my only remaining family member that I would"). He was still very nervous, though he tried not to show it. If the military discovered he had performed human transmutation, if they found out his brother had lost his soul...there was no telling what would happen.

"I have been thinking, Edward," Al suddenly said in his usual toneless voice, breaking into Ed's thoughts. "I will become a State Alchemist as well."

"Why do you want to do that?" Ed asked in surprise. "Only one of us has to become a dog of the military."

"You wish to bring my soul back, do you not?" Al asked simply. "In a similar manner, I intend to give you back your arm and leg."

"Al..." Ed murmured, leaning forward and looking deep into those empty golden eyes. "You want that? You...have desires?"

"I do not," Al replied blandly. "That is impossible without a soul. But I can remember what I thought and felt when I had my soul, and I know that I would want to see your limbs restored, Edward."

Ed leaned back, trying to wrap his mind around what Al had said. He didn't want, but he knew he would want.... "That must be so confusing," Ed said, putting a hand to his forehead.

"What must?"

"Trying to figure out what you would want if you had a soul."

"I can understand why you would think that," Al said, which was about as close as he seemed able to come to agreeing. "But there is one thing I hardly need to think about to decide: If I had a soul, I would want to have my soul back, so that I could be like you, Edward."

Ed looked at Al, pained by these words – and also confused by their logic. After a moment, he inexplicably started to chuckle.

Al did not look confused when he asked, "What do you find humorous?"

But Ed couldn't answer; he shook his head and tried to suppress his laughter. He barely even knew why he was laughing himself. All he knew was that Al's words had struck some ironic sense of humor deep inside him. And as tears began to leak out of his eyes (though whether they came from laughing too hard or not, he never knew), he realized that, more than anything else, he wished he could just have a good laugh with Al again.

"Well, congratulations," Colonel Mustang said with a smirk as he handed a document to Ed. "You're officially a dog of the military now."

Ed took the document with a grin and looked down. "'Full Metal?'"

"That's the second name the Fuhrer gave you," Mustang explained, sitting down comfortably behind his desk. "Quite ironic, wouldn't you say?"

Ed grinned even wider. "Quite a mouthful," he said, slapping the document down on the desk. "I'll take it!" He turned to share a grin with Al, then remembered he would find no answering smile. With the discipline he had developed over the last year, however, he managed to keep the smile in place even as Al stared blankly back at him.

When Ed turned back to Mustang, he could see the tail end of the odd look he had been giving Al. Ed immediately frowned and snapped, "You got a problem, Mustang?"

"What?" Mustang said hastily, his face clearing innocently. After a few moments under Ed's glare, however, he sighed and glanced at Al again. "It was a wise choice to not let him take the Exam. He would never have passed the psychological exam; a lot of nasty questions could have been asked. He's...not normal, and it shows."

Ed furiously slammed his fists onto the desk and shouted, "Stop talking about him like he's not here! He can't help the way he is! It's not his fault; it's-" His voice caught in his throat, and he bowed his head over his fists, desperately trying to master himself. Desperation and guilt spiraled upwards through him, threatening to overtake him completely. It's all my fault, he said to himself over and over.

Gradually, Ed became aware that Mustang had risen from his chair and walked around his desk to stand right beside him. "I'm sorry," he said softly, all hint of mockery gone. "I guess...I really don't understand at all."

When Ed felt the Colonel's hand on his shoulder, he immediately jerked away. Without speaking, he grabbed Al's hand and marched out of the office. No, Colonel Mustang didn't understand. All of this was his, Ed's, fault. And he was the only one who could make things right again.